Gratitude for my body

Whitley Bay, 12 December 2023

I’ve spent decades hating on my body.

Too big, too fat, too black for most spaces, places, people. So I thought or was lead to believe.

I’ve spent decades trying to get rid of my body.

Make it smaller, make it thinner, make it whiter. All the time knowing I was wasting my time, energy and money. But that didn’t stop me.

I was hard wired into chasing the perfect body, the ideal standard of beauty. Which just wasn’t me and my body.

Slowly, with care, self-love, mindset changes and practice, I’m learning to appreciate my body and all the spaces and places and people she takes me.

Through my body I get to experience this world and all its terrible beauty. And right now, as that’s all we can depend on/ should focus on/ breathe into, I’m loving on my body from the inside out.

I’m offering her grace and compassion as she continues to move me through this world. Allowing me to be here, {being} myself in all my fucked up glory.

And isn’t that fucking awesome!

Today my body walked me into the sea to remind me to feel again. To remind me I’m alive again. To remind me that we are only here for a short, brief time so shouldn’t we try to squeeze all the feels, sweet and not so sweet, out of it while we’re here?

My body supports me in this mission.

Every. Single. Moment.

Thank you x

Sharing some words on substack

I haven’t looked back since I left mailchimp and took Living Wild Studios Notes over to substack. To send out a missive, a newsletter, or even just a hello is so much more straightforward and simple. It makes the task less arduous and much more enjoyable.

So I’ve just spent some time today creating the last note of the year for subscribers. And I added in an audio reading of it too, because I can.

It’s just me musing about the loss of words this year and then finding them again through listening outdoors and within. Go on over there and check it out. Warning: poetry included too!

And sign up as a subscriber if you fancy too. You’ll be more than welcome.

Returning to the Highlands

The Glencoe region of Scotland has always held a special place in my heart. When the kids were little, we’d do driving tours up there, jumping from one Premier Inn to another really just to satisfy my own cravings for the Scottish landscape. The wide open spaces, the lochs and glens and mountains.

I created a self-imposed retreat in November when other plans fell through. I took my time to drive into the highlands knowing I was returning to my favourite hotel out there. Kinghouse Hotel, Glencoe.

The plan was simple to rest, walk and create. And I wasn’t disappointed by the scenery, the service, the weather or the creativity.

It was gift to just focus on me and my creativity. A luxury I was truly grateful for. I just want to do it again and again and again.

I fell in love with a mountain and glen up there. So I’ll have to return if we’re going courting!

Buachaille Etive Mòr

Noctalgia

Noctalgia: Dark Skies Matter, Beth Maddocks

I had the pleasure of driving up the the Sill today for the opening of an exhibition to mark the 10th anniversary of Northumberland National Park and Kielder being designated an International Dark Sky Park.

Ten year again to the day 09 December 2013, this area, the largest in the UK, was recognised as an area of exceptional dark skies and should be protected.

I’m going to explore this further as well as this new word created to describe the pain and grief we feel around the loss of our dark skies: Noctalgia.

Sky grief.

The exhibition commissioned to mark the occasion as well as share the message that we all can be doing something to reduce our light pollution, we created by Beth Maddocks.

It involved a play with light and shadow, and paper and movement and sound. Exploring the nocturnal creatures and flora who depend upon the darkness to survive and who are being forced out as humans move in with their harsh electric lights.

I was inspired by the speeches and films and the exhibition and I’ve become curious.

More to come.

Not quite ready yet

I’ve been receiving emails from newsletters that I subscribe to detailing end of year round ups and reflections. And I’m not sure I’m ready yet to step into that energy. I’m still living the year in front of me now – day by day. To let me just linger in the moments. Linger in the awareness of time passing. Winter’s here and the geese are getting fat an all that. But even in these times of worry, brutality and violence, let us to a moment to breathe and give thanks.

Linger

I thought the snow would come and go especially with living by the coast. There’s something in the air, maybe it’s the salt from the sea, which makes snow here a fleeting thing.

But she’s stayed the last few days and has dug in. Fresh snow falling over night. Clinging to roof tops, layer upon layer, creating slippery paths and doorsteps.

But as I’ve said before there is something magical about snow and how it silences the air. Almost like a cocoon is created in the world you’re walking through/{being} within.

So like the child that still lingers inside of me, I’ve been taking joy in the snow lingering and transforming my world into a safe and cosy cocoon away from the harshness of the other world.

The North Sea

Do you have a favorite place you have visited? Where is it?

Longsands, Tynemouth

I’m grateful to live by the sea.

After a traumatic time in my life, I advocated for myself. I needed time to heal and forget. To be soothed and held.

So I proposed to my family a move to the coast was needed. That’s nearly 15 years ago now. And maybe that move has been thrown back in my face at different times by certain people, I’ve never regretted the move.

Being able to see the sea daily, even if there are times I forgot and neglect this ritual, has been beneficial for my soul, n never mind my body and mind. My soul.

The sea is my soul food. And there have been many times, many times in the past, now and probably to come when I will need this soul food more than I really know/feel.

And she’s there for me. The North Sea is on my doorstep. And I greet her with open arms. She is never the same sea twice and I take my direction/ way of being from her so that I’m living my life within the expansive realms of self-expression rather than within the confines offered to me via this so-called society/ culture.

The sea supports me, being me. And I give thanks to her for that. But I also appreciate her beauty and power and way of being which is on her own terms. you’ve got to love that!