I'm sitting at dinner one Saturday night, in a secret restaurant deep in the Shropshire coutryside, when a woman I just met asks me this usual question.

What is one to say? Any definition only leaves a person worse off than before.

I counter with a question: "What are you into? Is it sailing or sex or oil-paints?"

She laughs. "Bee-keeping!" she says. So then I know I am home.

"OK. You are walking down your garden. Can you see the plants all around you? Can you smell the dampness in the air? Are there birds singing?" - "Yes," she says.

"Alright. Go quietly to the hive and open it gently, as you always do."

"I'm there."

"Now, as you look into the hive, you see something totally unfamiliar."

"Uhmmm ...."

"You (of course) are a beekeeper of infinite resource and sagacity. So you don't panic. You just quietly close up the hive without upsetting the bees, and walk quietly back up your garden, and go into your kitchen, and make a nice cup of tea."

"That's right," she says. "How do you know?"

"OK. What are you now feeling in your body about all this?"

"Well," she observes, "There are three things ...."

"There you are!" I say, "That's Focusing! You are already now doing this mysterious thing we keep talking about" ........

24th January 2002

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