My first real contact with Barbara was when she offered me a foot massage. Until then I had seen her as a very sweet old lady with whom one should mind one’s Ps and Qs. I imag­ined that she had led a very sheltered life and was easy to shock. But in that one ses­sion I discovered a wonderful, open being to whom I could say anything without being judged and who could help me find solutions without giving me advice. In Barbara’s presence I always felt that I was the only person who mattered at that moment.

I discovered very early on her wonderful sense of humour. It bubbled under the sur­face waiting to be released in that very dry manner common to Scottish people- deliv­ered with a straight face so one is never quite sure whether it’s meant to be funny or not!

When I asked Barbara if she would give a session on foot massage in my Sacred Dance workshops she readily agreed and it became a very popular feature in the workshops from then on. She enjoyed par­ticipating in the Meditation in Movement workshops with me and was a great asset giving comfort, love and wisdom where she saw it was needed. Such was the power of her being that the whole work­shop was filled with her gentle and quiet way of going about life. She also enjoyed Paneurthmy and would come to as many sessions as she could.

During the New Year’s Event she attend­ed many workshops including Sacred Dance and Belly Dance! She tackled every­thing with enormous enthusiasm. Not for her the shawl and rocking chair, she had too many new things to try.

Nothing was too much for her even when it was! She would invite the whole group to tea during the workshops when she could have been resting.

I will never forget the look on her face when she was doing my feet. We would look into each other’s eyes while she probed with very strong fingers looking for ‘crystals’. When she found one I would squirm or yell according to the degree of pain.

“Does it hurt, dear?” she would enquire gently.

“Of course it does!” I’d retort.

She would give her sweetest smile and say, “Oh, good.”

This meant that she had found the prob­lem and could work on it, but on my first visit I misunderstood.

“Barbara, you’re a nasty sadist hiding under the guise of a sweet little old lady.” I told her.

“Oh don’t tell anybody.” She answered.

We had a beautiful farewell evening of meditation and sharing for her, and above and beyond our grief was gentleness and humour. She will not grace our lives any more but I have found it easy to tap into her presence and ask her to show me how to live as she lived.

Editor’s note: This article was previously published in One Earth Magazine Volume 9, Issue 4 Spring 1990.