The sea is like a non-living character in my life — a constant yet ever-changing presence, depending on the season. But it wasn’t until I returned to the seaside, having lived away for some years, that I truly appreciated how important it is to me.

There’s some pressure in the more ‘psychologised’ cultures to be open, to share, to tell your story, and it’s easy to find yourself swept along and unthinkingly revealing more than, in retrospect, you want to. There can be a great deal of centredness, self-respect and power in silence.

I have just returned from the UK to my house in rural Poland and it is traditionally time for me to moan about the lack of colour. But sometimes this blanket whiteness makes a space and a silence in which I can hear all kinds of things…

I remember first learning meditation practice, as a somewhat distracted and giggly student. The leader of the session said that “the great thing about your breathing is that it’s always with you, you even take it with you on the bus!” I was sorely challenged in my attempt to keep a straight face. It was funny but it was true, it was funny because it was true.