Where am I?

Wednesday night, and just off a plane from Washington I find my twitter account has been spammed. Apparently I'm sending out DM's to people offering them a chance to earn hundreds of $s. I'm not too anxious about friends - they seem to know instantly that anything involving successful moneymaking couldn't have come from me, but the strangers I'm getting to know via Twitter - I'm worried they might have clicked.

But I also feel dirty. As if someone's been reading my diary (cue today's writing prompt!). I hate the idea that someone's using me for their own purposes. Sending out their scams under my name. It's the problem with the internet. It becomes part of our lives, and then suddenly - with something like this - we realise that it's not actually real life. That something as important as our online identity can be taken away from us this easily. With a few clicks of the keyboard.

So yesterday, I needed something special to take the bad taste away.

And luckily I got it.

I'd booked on Tristan Gooley's Natural Navigation day course the minute after I finished nterviewing him for a recent feature in Psychologies Magazine, and I've been looking forward to it ever since.

Of course I had to get lost on the way to the venue, The Royal Geographical Society, but blame the morning sun, the walk through the park, the benches dedicated to dogs, the outdoor swimmers in the Kensington Lido. I wasn't complaining.

It was the perfect start to a perfect day. Tristan is a great, enthusiastic teacher that somehow makes you feel you 'can do it.' Even me. Mind you, he'd got me from his introduction when he asked whether natural navigation - navigating by the stars, the sun, plants etc - was really necessary? Is any kind of art necessary? he asked. Well, as he said himself, it is if we want the richest possible life.

We spent the day looking at how the sun, the stars and the moon work. Stars rise and set! I'm sorry but can I repeat that - stars rise and set. Like the sun. Am I the only one in the world who didn't know this? I can't tell you how happy it's made me. My life is certainly richer now. I watched them last night. The little sparkly blighters. Rising and setting away as if no one was watching them.

Hah. Take that Twitter worms. This is the kind of rich, possible life you'll never know about.

And if you want to watch the stars rise and set yourself, you can start to learn how to identify them yourself through this software, free to download here. Or if you want to go on one of Tristan's courses, and join me and the other 200 or so people who have learnt this rare art, check his site for the next course coming up.