Its been a long time
I didn’t think I was going to see you again
See you haven’t changed
Its good to see you anyway – Alexander O’Neal
I’m finding my way back to my creativity here. I’ve been using all my energy and creativity in creating a new home for myself and my daughter. All will be revealed. All in good time. For now, wishing you a lovey, restful weekend. Keep safe.
I had the pleasure of being part of the Prompted By Nature podcast this month. It was good to have a chat about my relationship with nature and the work I’ve been completing within the region, with Earth Sea Love, offering opportunities to Black, Asian and ethnic minority women and girls to enjoy experiences with/in nature.
We talk about amongst other things:
* The importance of BAME visibility and representation in natural spaces and the marketing of nature-based brands as well as the need to motivate a new generation of black women leaders
* The financial side of accessibility in nature
* Land as holding trauma and associations with enslavement
* Nature as a space of oneness
I’ve just listened to the podcast for the first time and I was smiling along with the conversation, as it is so good. I share a lot and there are some words of wisdom that we could all take away. Check it out here. Thanks.
Black earth darkness. Daffodils in greens.
The big house on the hill shrouded by trees.
You at the window watching for my advance.
You always waiting alone to let me home.
A wound of grief, dark as the night,
swells in her hands like sycamore leaves.
I was attempting to complete my second round of #100daysofblogging while also creating a poem a day for National Poetry Writing Month in April. I was going well. I past the mid-point, and I just ran out of steam. And I also think enjoyment. I wasn’t really inspired with what I was writing. I think I was writing for writing sake. To fulfil the challenges and not my soul. Sometimes this works for me. I know in the past, I’ve created daily words for years and thought nothing about it. But I suppose I’m getting older and wiser and also figuring out what’s important to me and no one else. What my gut has to say about things takes precedent.
I have been writing in other places though during this impasse on the blog. I have a piece over on Medium for the The Binderful Blog titled, ‘Learning to Stay Inside,’ and documents my journey with the Coronavirus. I have also returned to my mixed-media memoir and I’m happy to say we’re in love. We spend a lot of time together getting to know each other again and working out what’s working between us and what’s not. We’re open and honest with other, basing our relationship on our vulnerabilities. I’m more than satisfied with how things are working out between us. I know I have to keep honouring this process by turning up each day and just touching in.
Turning up here today to find some words I needed for the memoir, meant I took the time to read over some past posts. See where I was at different times over the last five years. While reading, I gained a sense of perspective as well as pride for what I have created here. I love my website, because it’s attempt to present me and my process to the world. And it’s not polished or professional but it is real. It gives you a glimpse behind the curtain. It’s honest and vulnerable and it is so me.
So I’m not going to beat myself up for not completing a challenge. And I’m also not going to beat myself up if I miss days, or weeks before coming back here to blog. I’m learning to treat myself with more grace. And how that’s looks it still a work in progress but I do know as Michelle Obama wisely said, it is becoming.
” Becoming isn’t about arriving somewhere or achieving a certain aim. It’s forward motion, a mans of evening, a way to reach continuously towards a better self. “
To cool down after a hot shower, I sit with my flesh exposed.
From the open window, a cool Spring breeze caresses my skin.
I feel delight in the simple pleasure of air, of space, of me.
Seagulls squawk and voices mumble across yards. Cars roam.
Hanging baskets of white and pink blooms sway.
I seat and soak it in, swelling from the inside out with love.
In this moment, I am beautiful. I am all I need. I am enough.
Ted Blaine, musician
After Gabrielle Calvocoressi
I journey back sometimes
and remember when I was riding
up front in that hot metal can.
I could see her in the rear mirror,
patting down here hair
and fixing her lipstick.
I should have done things
differently, little things,
like carried her bags
into the service elevator.
Let her know that I didn’t
think it was right, the way
they treated them Negroes.
One time, I heard her humming
while watching the world whizz by.
It was awful sweet the way
she could drift off into the music.
My mama was the same when she
had breath in her body. Sometimes
I dream of singing. Mostly
it’s that Billie’s comes back.
We’re traveling in the hot tin bus
but we’re upfront together
and she’s telling me
a thing or two about improvising
as the trumpet runs off
dancing with the piano.
water. sea. ocean.
the black body. from Mother stolen.
learning to swim. for freedom.
foam. air. white.
the black body. walk back home.
Learning to die. for freedom.
And here, we begin our ascent.
Please be careful of your footing.
There are loose chippings.
Look up. See how the sun graces
her face. Depending on the time
of the day or time of the month,
she may greet you with her broadest
smile, inviting. Other times, shadowed
and closed. You have been warned.
As we advance, observe the lumpy,
bumpy terrain, discoloured in places
with distinct dark spots. She was born
with these. And here, stop, examine
the outcrop revealing her core. Layer
upon layer of flesh: emotions
and intuition and wisdom. Years
of neglect has made this particular part
almost impassable. Look away if you have to.
And here, finally, we reach her peak.
Or should we say, peaks. Sagging
too far into the clouds. Inexcusable.
But, we are blessed to witness her
during the fleeting blossom season.
Enjoy the cherry clusters lining the path.
Careful as slippery when wet. And we
wouldn’t want you to loose your chance
to prod and poke and objectify this
rare and formidable mountain.
Listen.
Trees have
the whole story.
They
balance their
roots and canopy
So
every fibre
is provided for;
a
solid base
nourishes every thing.
I’m
going to
copy the trees.
I’m
going to
dig in deeper,
look
after my
foundations, to grow
tall
and wide
and bloom resplendent.
Living Wild Studios 