At More Ease

Duck Pond, Tynemouth

End / beginning of another week. Depending on if you see Sunday as the end of the week or the beginning of the next.

For me it’s and/both. Sundays are usually change over day at our house as Ella goes between my home and her dad’s. Sometimes we do things on a Sunday or sometimes we don’t.

We just take it easy.

But usually on a Sunday I reflect on the week gone and plan for the week ahead. It’s a ritual of getting my head in the game. Not the outside societal, capitalist game. No, my own game. The Sheree Mack Game, which runs counter to the White Supremacy Culture game of go go go produce produce produce and strive for perfection at the same time as avoiding conflict and being grateful for the crumbs from their table. Yeah counter to that game as I refuse to be part of this system, where my labour is being bought and sold to support the actors, that are white people.

I’ve been hibernating for months now and I’m still tired. Go figure. Maybe my exhaustion is more than a year in a dumb ass job but runs much deeper. A generational exhaustion that I just can’t shift which has to be recognised but will take a lifetime to ease.

Ease. Yes that would be welcome.

There are moments when I grasp these ease and feel it spread across my back, untightening bunched up muscles. Making my spine fluid rather than ridged. These times I can feel my heart and soul float and I’m relaxed into whatever I’m being. But these are just moments. The aim is to extend these moments into longer moments, into days and months.

I’m working on being so but it is a practice. So when I say Sundays are reflecting/ planning days. I don’t mean around a to-do-list of jobs that need to be completed in order to bring in the tainted coin. I mean, where did I experience ease this week and where can I factor in/ plan for more ease next week. Where did I experience joy and pleasure and how can that be replicated moving forward.

Yeah in the Sheree Mack Game, all the rules and tasks are different to the societal external game. At more ease and I know I’m winning x

On the road again

Thorntonloch Beach, Dunbar

For years, I used to travel into Scotland, maybe with work in Dunbar or Edinburgh, and stop off on route at this beach, Thorntonloch Beach.

It’s nothing spectacular, apart from stretching out at the feet of Torness Power Station, but it would be a good place to stop and stretch my legs and calm my spirit.

I remember stopping there on my first trip to Iceland and being all giddy as I watched the waves roll in. That was May 2016.

I say all this because for the last few years and the last few trips across the border, I haven’t stopped and walked this beach.

I do not know why. Maybe I didn’t want to step back into a former Sheree. Maybe I didn’t want the hassle of sand in my toes. Or maybe I just didn’t register why I really used to stop at this beach.

I used to stop at this beach, to just be. To breathe. To be present.

Torness Power Station, Dunbar

And this time as I skip across the border, I pull over, park up and just be with the beach and sea.

The Message

What advice would you give to your teenage self?

Darling, you were never too much. You were only too big and too bold to those who couldn’t see their own light.

Baby, you were never too much. Your cup overflowed in ways that the parched could not understand

Honey, you were never too much. You were always just right.

Consistency

I’m using my morning routine as an anchor. Each day comes and goes, but I can show up and repeat a selection of rituals which keep me present and bring me joy.

When there are days when I hit a funk, when the energy is low and I forget about the abundance in this world, I lean in a bit more fully or a bit longer into a certain practice until I come back to myself.

Today, I needed to move with the sea. It’s been two weeks since I’ve been into the sea what with being away and experiencing the come down. So I promised myself last night, today is the day to return. I kept this promise to myself, strengthening that muscle of trust in the self.

It was freezing and beyond. The wind chill was sharp and painful. The waves were high out there. But I walked in and out, did my acclimatising dance and gave thanks.

I thanked the sea for being here, always to greet me. No matter how long I’ve been away, or how broken I turn up. She is always there to greet me in all my fucked up glory and I thank her for holding me, for rocking me back home to myself. To her. To the universe.

Boudoir

I’m in my own private bedroom, withdrawn from the outside world. But I’m far from sulking or even pouting. I’m in my pleasure. I’m in my delight.

Practicing Self-Love

What do you do when you’re practicing self-love and have a whole selection of rituals to support this practice and have been following them each day for the year of 2025 so far and then one day you are just so tired that you don’t have the energy to muster the right move in the moment to demonstrate said self-love instead of self-harm?

You create a blog post about it all as a reminder as well as a source of inspiration to motivate yourself to make that self-love gesture or movement which is needed in that moment instead of continuing down that oath of self-harm and self-neglect.

Reflections on January

Hey y’all, how you doin’?

I hope you’re keeping safe and warm as the weather and climate at the moment is freaky. Those times of being secure in the seasons and what would happen weather and temperature wise are gone. Gone. And there’s still people out here denying climate crisis. Please.

I’ve been easing into February after my time away in Barcelona. I sure did enjoy my time away. And let’s get one thing straight. Me going away is not me trying to escape my day to day life. Or to bury my head in the sand and ignore stuff. Nah man! Me taking myself away, spending money on experiences rather than material things, is me giving myself the time and space to dive deeper into myself. To strengthen the person I am becoming on the daily.

Spending time, in new and old places, travelling and meeting new people, is an opportunity to gain clarity on the person I am and becoming. It’s a concentrated time to explore my values and morals, my dreams and plans. It fills my pot with images and words and feelings at the same time as bringing out into the world insight, thoughts and actions.

So January was good in terms of feeding my pot and keeping me in rest mode and February will continue this quest of rest and dreaming.

A highlight of January, and Barcelona is in there of course, was finding a Black Madonna and child just by chance, just as I was leaving Barcelona to take to the sea of Sitges. This sighting and time spent with her was a gift. A gift I carry with me and which is fuelling how I move through the next month.

February the month of love and grace for me. As I’m not looking for love anywhere else expect from myself. And how am I showing myself love this month? Resting when it’s needed. Not rushing to do things I don’t want to do. Not being a doormat for other people. Distancing myself from toxic people and situations. Not playing the games that belittle me. Not voicing my power and choice as a way to keep the peace or to be looked upon fondly. Being honest even when it hurts including myself because life’s too short to be wrapped up in charades. Caring for my needs and wants. Prioritising my needs and wants first because then when I turn up for others there is no resentment just an open heart.

Of course February will see some more traveling as I continue to fill my pot with experiences that make my heart sing and smile shine. #onwards.

The Black Madonna of Vichy

Original post, Patreon, July 10, 2024

1. While visiting Paris in April, I’d made arrangements before I left to visit Vichy and visit the Black Madonna there in the Old Church, chapel Saint-Blaise.

I’m returning to my relationship with the Black Madonna here but still exploring this connection. This pull I sense towards these Black Virgins.

2. This chapel has always been a magnet in Vichy due to this Black Virgin of the 14th century. She is known for her miracles.

3. I’ve not brought with me the Christena Cleveland book, God is a Black Woman but I know I’ve written about this particular Black Madonna here before.

4. It was during the French Revolution, that she was burnt and only her head remained, thanks to a ten-year-old child who saved her from destruction.

5. There have been times that I have lost my head. Or been disconnected from my body. There have been times that it’s felt that I’ve been burnt at the stake. That my life has gone up in flames.

6. In 1802, her head was placed on a wooden base covered with the old cloth until 1931 when she was given a body again. Became a full bodied statue thanks to the sculptor Emma Thiollier.

7. No- one stitched me back together. Forged that (re)connection with head and body. I had to do that myself. Over years and over turbulent waters.

8. Vichy is known as the “queen of spa towns” with five healing thermal mineral springs.From the Roman times, people used to bathe in the waters, later to just taking to drink from the spring. It was only later after legends linking the healing qualities of the water to a white fairy that Christians connected the blessed waters with their miracle working Black Madonna of the Sick.

9. I’ve always thought of the sea as my medicine. She has healed me more than once. Healing is not a one time deal. It’s a practice and a process. But I’ve not been taking to the waters of late. I’ve not been taking my medicine.

10. I turn up here, create stories as a part of my healing journeys which are never linear. Spirals and circles instead.