Editorial

I write this editorial in October, in the midst of strong winds and heavy rain. I find myself continually looking out the window at the pouring rain, feeling regretful that my family will not be able to enjoy time outside this weekend, and worrying about old trees in my garden. The oft repeated refrain ‘where did the summer go?’ comes to mind, as for me, the rhythm of the seasons changing has felt sudden. The Journal also has its own kind of rhythm, although in a similar fashion I always feel surprised by the deadline for the December issue after the summer break. Inevitably, these rhythms are disrupted by frequent ‘storms’ which threaten to throw our well laid plans off course – papers are delayed, a last-minute issue emerges around consent, or our publishing software is glitching. Now in my fifth year at the Journal, I’ve learnt to anticipate, and indeed plan for this. What could be a storm, then becomes a minor tremor, and we recover our rhythm. This is possible, largely because the Journal is healthy – we are fully staffed, are generously supported by a large group of volunteer editors and peer reviewers, and receive a steady stream of high-quality new submissions (many from warmer climates than the UK!). We can weather many storms.

Rhythm, music and time are themes explored in some of the papers contained within this issue. Ansaldo explores in this issue’s first paper how, when working well, the dialogue between therapist and patient can have a musical quality. She is particularly concerned with how one develops the capacity to ‘play music’ in therapy, and how as teachers and supervisors we support its development:

To play music, a therapist needs to be able to find their own voice (Horne, 2023), while relinquishing the constraints of an excessively strict analytic stance … they need to be able to access a degree of internal freedom: an open and flexible psychic stance in the encounter with patients, leading to spontaneity and creativity in the therapeutic work.