my ordinary : Richard Crowther

Article first published in Cornwall Today.

At Lifetime, I meet many people who feel that they are not enough. Technology makes it easy to seem extraordinary, and we all use it to some extent to curate, edit and present our lives to others. Why be ordinary when we can be extraordinary? 

One reason is that it increases the gap between who we are and who we believe we should be. For some of us, the gap is so small we barely notice it, a mere crack, like the ones children hop over to avoid the crocodiles between paving slabs. 

But many of us will experience the difference between self-image and ideal-self negatively at some time. We might compare ourselves to extraordinary others or measure ourselves against our ambitions and feel we have failed as professionals, as husbands, as mothers... as people. At these times, the gap can feel like a chasm full of harmful thoughts and feelings that threaten to consume us.   

One way of closing this gap is to switch off from the extraordinary and connect with the quiet wonders of each day. 

Richard Crowther, the Lead Instructor at First Aid Cornwall, is more accustomed to physical than mental risk. He’s also a man with a knack for appreciating the little things. In this first Ordinary Interview, he shares some of these with us and finds that the things for which he is most grateful are humble.

my ordinary object my walking boots

People undervalue footwear but I’ve had these for three years now, and the amount of joy they’ve given me outdoors with Milly and the dog is incredible, and they never ask for anything back. We’re out in all weathers: on coastal paths, around reefs, often with Milly on my shoulders, and they give me confidence with every step. They’re the same brand I had in the army, so they stand the test of time, but when you break them in they’re like slippers!

my ordinary place a field above Falmouth

I like this particular point above Falmouth, where I take my springer spaniel. You can look back across the whole town, and it’s always a different scene. It’s just so dynamic: the tide, the people, even the field itself. You can smell changes in the seasons there. You feel the change. Really feel it. I’m thankful for that place pretty much every day. No matter how stressed I am, once I get to that little spot, maybe I’ll be with Milly, and we’ll sit and have a snack, and I just feel a thousand time better. It’s my little space. 

my ordinary memory being on a double-decker bus

I was with my Dad. England and Scotland were playing at Wembley, and we’d come to London. We were staying with my Auntie, and I remember asking my Dad, “Can we go on the big bus?” We were right in the front at the top, and I remember that sense of height: not seeing the driver but going along. I was a village boy, and I’d never seen crowds like that, certainly not from that viewpoint. You know, it’s only extraordinary now I’m a dad myself. I’ve just spoken to my old man. I did take him for granted. 

Get in touch

This year I’ll be practising gratitude at Facebook: Lifetime Therapy Gratitude Practice and paying more attention to the ordinary things. Please do join me - it’s a private group where anyone who treats themself and others with respect is welcome.

If you would like to take part as an interviewee for this column or would like to speak to one of our counsellers about anything troubling you, please don’t hesitate to get in touch: info@lifetimetherapy.co.uk.