I’ve been writing. After making the decision to finish 2022 out strong through writing every day for the final 100 days of the year, I’ve been turning up for the writing. And just that.

But what does that mean in practice?

For me turning up to the page daily, putting pen to paper, focusing on the practice of writing means I get out of my own way. It means, I’m practicing leaving my anxieties and worries about the writing, the book, the finished piece to the side. I’m not allowing these thoughts and feelings of success or failure to take up space in my head and heart. I’m done with allowing this to sap my energies and stand in the way of the words coming out.
I know I said I want this Mixmoir to be the platform from which I launched my credentials as an expert in Black Nature. And I wasn’t lying and it’s still my desire. But I’m forgetting that, allowing my ego to fall at the wayside as I step onto this path of turning up to write for the sake of writing.

I’m writing. I’m a writer because each day I put words on the page. The words which want to flow out at this moment. Just as these words are flowing out of me now for this blog post. I have no agenda, no word limits to hit, no structured piece to complete. No external goals as such. The goal has been met by just turning up and being open and listening.

Just switching things around, or is it prioritising the writing, the practice of writing instead of the output, product, outcome, makes this happen. Makes it sacred, makes it here, makes it real.
Instead of wasting time and energy on the what ifs, I’m channeling that time and energy into the writing, the practice, the process. And this makes me feel so much better, happier.
I just turn up and continue to be open, letting the words flow onto the page; desireless for perfection, formless in terms of structure or containment and trusting in that everything is connected.

I like this feeling. In fact, I love this feeling. This freedom on the page as it means I keep turning up as I want to continue to feel this way about my practice. I also know things change, things are impermanent. So I don’t want to force the issue as that would be leaning back into my ego. But it’s this realisation that I don’t need any external validation or material success to write. I just do it. Write.

I had the pleasure of carrying this book of poetry with me on my walk along the West Highland Way last week.

I mentioned to Dal that I’d be taking her along for the adventure through carrying her recent poetry collection release, (un)interrupted tongues.

It’s a slender collection so no weight at all to carry long with me. But that’s just limiting this collection to it’s physical size. Emotionally and psychologically this first collection of poetry from Dal packs a punch.

Exploring her cultural heritage through her mother and father as well as being a lone brown girl in a northern town, I saw myself in a lot of what I read. I empathised with the child written off by the British education system but by herself also.

I recognise the potential and freedom and transformation that is made possible for the speaker within this collection through creativity, through playing with language. Through this practice, we can (re)create ourselves on our own terms and return home to ourselves.

Gaining an understanding of where we’ve come from, our rich heritages and ancestors, gives us a solid foundation from which to reach for the stars.

Within this collection, even when our links with the our histories and cultures are no longer with us physically, what we continue to learn from them and appreciate about the gifts they have bestowed on us through their presence and love remains with us now and into our uncharted futures.

This collection from Dal Kular is a little gem that keeps on giving and is definitely something I treasured on my travels and now as I return home to me.