I turn up to meet Marianne Woolwich on a freezing, sunny morning, which is why I wear a padded jacket with my hands jammed deep in to my pockets.

"Those eyes," she waves an accusatory finger in front of my face, "speak volumes. They say something."

"Tired?" chirps our quick-witted photographer.

Marianne continues ominously, "I'll come to them later - and that jacket..." and with this she struts towards Gildredge Park, Eastbourne, purple coat tails flapping.

Marianne is a trained counsellor and the European director of Diamond Bridge Initiative Ltd, an Eastbourne-based "intuitive training initiative" which she runs with her sister Michaele Wynn- Jones.

The dynamic duo work with big business - their books are littered with names such as NatWest and Dulux - helping suits to get touchyfeely and teaching big cheeses how to dress to impress.

On a less corporate note, the sisters also run workshops and one-to-ones where the great unwashed can experience everything from mentoring to motivational courses with names such as Creating the Life You Want and Using Your Intuition.

I have plumped for the symbolic sight walk - an hour-long amble where the uninitiated learn to pick up on the "symbols" that surround us and which, Marianne claims, can give our lives direction.

"There are no such things in life as coincidences," says Marianne mysteriously. "I think everything happens for a purpose - there is too much coincidence for it not to have a meaning.

"Most of the time we are totally oblivious to the messages and signs which infiltrate our daily lives. But when you become focused on a particular subject, for example if you want a baby, suddenly all you see around you are pregnant women. It's not that they weren't there before, it is just you have a heightened awareness.

I teach people how to interpret these symbols and gain a greater understanding of what they want."

She has asked me to come with a question to be answered during the symbolic walk. Some people come to address a childhood trauma, or wanting to know when will they find a partner or a new job. I turn up unprepared so opt for an all-encompassing, "Where is my life going?" Marianne looks unimpressed. "That's a bit vague," she snaps. "How about focusing on your job?"

She leads me to a barrier which blocks the entrance to the park and asks which way I'd like to walk.

I say left. "Ah ha," exclaims Marianne, like Poirot striking super-sleuthing gold. "A leftbrained thinker. You're logical and rational. You're thinking with your head and not your heart."

Who knew a left turn could mean so much?

"Can you feel energy?" she asks.

I worry things are about to take a New Age turn. She tells me to rub my hands together as if I'm making fire and slowly pull them apart.

"Can you feel a buzzing?" "Well, yes I can, but..." "That's energy," she interrupts.

I was about to say it's probably just friction but right now I'm more concerned about the dog walker who has just watched me making invisible fire.

As we walk down a crazy-paving path that looks as if it has been laid by a cowboy worthy of a Rogue Traders special, Marianne tells me to think of the path as my life.

"What would it say about your life?" she asks. "Er, bumpy?"

I offer. "Yes, exactly," she says, before asking if anything has caught my eye. I look around...

there's grass, a few trees, a couple of dog walkers and a gravestone.

I plump for the grave, "It'll give us more scope," I think. She asks if anyone has died and I say my dad.

"Oh, look at this," says Marianne as she clasps her hands together with joy. A council worker is blowing leaves from the path.

"What if," she is barely able to contain herself, "what if that was your dad and he was clearing the path of life ahead for you?"

My dad was fastidiously tidy and he also liked to garden but, personally, I think it's a long shot - even metaphorically speaking.

We continue down the path and Marianne stops at a tree. "Did you notice that tree?" she asks. I didn't.

"Look again," she implores. Nope, still nothing. She fixes on my eyes, "If that tree represented your life, what story would it tell?" she says.

"Not a very nice one," I reply.

The tree Marianne has picked is twisted and ugly.

"Yes it's had a bad start," she concedes, pointing to the gnarled trunk, "but look at the top, it's flourishing. It's a symbol."

I guess just like the Americans say tomayto and we say tomato, I say ugly tree and Marianne says symbol. Despite my scepticism she perseveres and insists this kind of therapy can get to the root of a problem very quickly.

"It's like five hours of counselling done in an hour," she says.

"It gets to a very deep level very fast. Counselling can be quite confining - you're stuck in a room and you can't move, but outside there are prompts."

As we walk on, our path is blocked by builders. To most people this would appear to be nothing more than what it is - a group of builders laying a path.

To Marianne, it's a symbol and an important one.

"Men at work!" she squeals.

"Don't you see, your future, what's ahead of you, is taken care of. Your dad has taken care of it."

I don't see, but we continue on away and I point out a summerhouse that reminds me of a children's book. Out of the blue Marianne asks, "Were you a depressed child?"

I tell her my childhood was perfect. "Wait a minute," she says and puts a hand to her temple - Marianne is having another Poirot moment. "I need to sit down. I'm getting too much information."

She quickly heads for a bench.

"What if your parents died for a reason," she says. "Why do you think your parents died?"

"Er, because they were ill?" I offer. This isn't what Marianne was looking for. "No," she continues.

"Let's just say they died for a reason - so you could succeed."

I'm not really on board with her theory, but the abridged version is that they died as a kind of catalyst to make me succeed in life. I try to nod a cautious "y-esss" and avert my eyes, which say, "Are you nuts?"

Realising she's potentially on to a loser we head towards the summerhouse.

"Lisa, if you could have any job, where would you want to work?" she asks, changing tack.

"Er, I'm not sure," I reply. "I suppose..."

She cuts me dead. "What do you mean suppose'?" she says in disbelief. "You say suppose all the time. Why not I want'?

Supposing will never get you anywhere and it certainly won't get you a job on a glossy magazine or a national newspaper. You have to want it."

Marianne holds what looks like an imaginary ham baguette to her nose and inhales deeply. "You have to feel it," she says, squeezing the ersatz sandwich. "You have to smell it Lisa!"

And for the first time during our walk I start to see where Marianne's coming from. Her methods may at first seem a little crude, her take on life a little too literal - but the end result is very effective. Her symbolic walk is like a much-needed symbolic kick up the backside.

"Do you want to carry on cruising through life?" she asks. "What do you actually want from life?"

"A nice life," I say.

She rolls her eyes. "I can't think of anything I'd want less than a nice' life," she says. "How awful, how boring." And she's right.

"If you want nice, nice is all you will get... nice isn't exciting or fulfilling, nice isn't hanging off a yacht in St Tropez," she says.

"Women come to me looking for a boyfriend but all they're ever going to get is a friend who's a boy, because that's what they're looking for, not a partner or a soul mate. People say, This is what I want' and that's what they get.

It's interesting how few people do know what they really want."

Marianne leads me to the centre of a circle of trees and asks me to feel the energy. As I stand there gently waving my arms like a flightless bird I realise I might look like a idiot - but at least now I'm an idiot who's starting to know what she wants.

  • A one-hour symbolic sight walk costs £35.