December is here. To keep me connected to each moment, each experience I intend to offer myself the gifts of gratitude and attention during the lead up to Christmas. Call it an advent calendar of opening doors each day to reveal an image and a reason to be grateful.
Today was all about the snow. Walking in the snow was magical. Crisp, fresh and clear air and so much beauty to relish and share.
What a wonderful gift to start the last month of the year with. Expect more photowalks this month as they are simple but oh so joyous. Thank you.
It’s been a few days (weeks?) since I’ve been here. And I do hate it when I don’t turn up here because I’m missing out on opportunities for connection, with self and you, at the same time as the longer it goes in between posts the harder it is to get back here.
But I’m back and it was something I wrote on my journal last month that spurred me on to turn up. And I wanted to share it with you as it inspired me to feel better.
And these aren’t my usual activities which I go to to feel better but looking over the list this morning, I can honestly say I’ve been leaning into them the last few weeks without knowing it’s been so. I love when we get the chance to take a step back and reflect and see our journey. I’m so grateful for that.
So what has been making me feel better:
1. Cleaning my space. Be that handbag, bedroom, side table or whole house. I’ve been reaping the rewards of moving my body in cleaning/tidying up and then having the satisfaction of sitting down in a decluttered clear space. It helps the mind to gain clarifying also.
2. Eating something healthy. I’ve been deep in essay writing mode and have been living on toast and crisps and wine! But when I take the time, a break from the grind, to make a salad, or stir-fry and sit and eat mindfully, my body is not only fuelled with the good stuff but I’m resting in a space of joy. I enjoy my food and have the double whammy of knowing I’ve just given myself health.
3. Playing some good music. I’m known to have the tunes blasting in the car, especially as I’m using a friend’s mini convertible. Roof down, tunes high and I’m singing along. But I forget I can do the same within my home. Okay maybe not as loud as when outside. But putting on the mini speaker linked to my Tidal music account, I can move throughout my house listening to the music I love. Music that inspires. Music that I can’t help moving my body to. Music that brings back good memories. And bad. But still manages to get a smile out of me.
4. Lighting a candle. This is a simple act. One I’ve been doing more and more recently as I have candles in every room of my house. I’ve been having them on repeat as I attempt to create a welcoming ambience for anyone viewing the flat. Yes the landlord is selling the flat we’re renting so we have to move. So more people are flowing through the space and having candles glowing is my way of keeping the air clean and scented. It reminds me to take deep breaths and trust that everything is going to turn out for the best. Vanilla, cherry, cinnamon and lavender are my favourites at the moment.
5. Drinking water. Oh my. Now this one is a game changer but I admit I forget it. Daily. Water. I love water inside and out but when I get buried under tasks and emotions, I forget to drink water. That feeling of cold liquid journeying down my throat through my chest to my gut is refreshing, revitalising and a blessing. It only take a moment but still obstacles get in my way. I’m carrying a gallon sized bottle around with me as a means of getting more and enough water. It’s a practice and I’m leaning into it.
6. Sleep a little ( or more). Maybe it’s my age. Menopause. Or the time of year, or my body and mind and soul is just racked with anxious vibes but sleep has been evading me of late. But I’m not going to make it an issue. I’ll take sleep when it comes. And if I can help it, I’ll nap when I feel tired and stay in bed that extra hour if my body calls for it. I rest in other ways too. Be that zoning out in front of the TV, reading or an evening walk. All are a rest from ruminations and allow me to switch off.
7. And finally BREATHE. Yes yes yes. We breathe all the time as it keeps us alive. But how deeply are we breathing? It wasn’t until I picked my meditation practice up again did I realised how long I’m been breathing in the shallows not having the utilising the full capacity of my lungs. Living in the shallows means I’ve been panicking, being on edge, anxious, living on scraps of air when I could have been taking and enjoying big juicy expansive breaths that calm and recalibrate my whole body. I’m breathing deeply. I’m stopping what I’m doing/ being at times to take a few deep breathes. They reoxygenate my body and give me pause for gratitude. Gratitude for being alive in this moment.
I hope you find some inspiration in these practices and try a few. They make me feel better and sometimes we all can do with a reminder of what does make us feel better so we can lean into them more often and more deeply.
As I was saying over in the introduction to the recent episode released from The Earth Sea Love Podcast, apart from the year flying by, May was the month that kicked my butt. It’s officially going down as the worst month of 2023, so far for me. But hey I’m still here to tell the tale and I’m grateful for that.
I have to give some credit to still being here and getting through the trenches down to my walking practice of May. I completed the Mamathon as hosted by Girltrek and clocked up 53 miles. Of course I did more walking than that in May but these are the miles that were recorded with my Garmin watch. Just trying to keep everything recorded so I knew when I hit the miles, I knew I was banking them towards this challenge.
I’m so glad I took up this task. I started it with Miss Ella and finished it with Miss Ella yesterday afternoon. Even though she was full of cold she joined me to mark the occasion. I also went over on my right foot again. Same place / same injury as the one that stopped me completing the West Highland Way last year. But I’ve been icing and elevating it as well as walking on it today. A bit swollen and bruised but okay to walk on.
And I’m pleased about that as I would be most upset if I was out of action again just when I feel as if I’ve gotten into some kind of walking routine. Girltrek are running their Black History Bootcamp podcast this year again, which entails 21 days of meditations of Black stories are shared. So I’m just gonna keep on walking in June to the sounds of this podcast and clock up some more miles.
The West Highland Way is on again this year. Birthday week with dear friend, Alex, we’re walking the way together. More details to follow. Already excited about completing it. See what I did there? The power of positive energy. It usually get’s me through. Got me through May. Thank you very much.
May 2023, will go down as the month that kicked my butt. Hard.
On so many fronts, and with many changes and challenges. Maybe I’m being melodramatic in the scheme of things. In the scheme of things, my life and challenges are small and insignificant. But it’s my life. And hell if I don’t pay attention to it. {BE} in it. Present.
I’m glad May is over and I have that beginning of a new month kind of excited vibe. But before I jump into June, I’d like to give thanks for what May has delivered to my door. The good and the bad. As I believe, even the bad, difficulties and pains, turn out to be blessings later on down the line. I just have to keep the faith and trust that all will be revealed in time.
For now I’m grateful for:
the late night walks with the sun just going down and a chill in the air.
the pleasant company of Miss Ella when she’s in a good mood! And also when she’s not as she still makes me laugh!
the bonds of friendship with people near and far, for long and short periods of time.
the opportunity to share my words with other people.
the opportunity to share my artworks with other people
the success of applications submitted.
the rejections of applications submitted as they always give me the opportunity to reflect and refocus.
the promise of a restful summer.
the green plants that keep me company and lift my mood.
the morning black coffee and dark brown sugar.
the comfort of hot noodles.
the roof above my head for now.
icepacks, and comfy sofas, YouTube content and music.
humour, wherever it comes from.
my body, big or small, young and old, she has always been there for me.
late night conversations.
single malt whiskey.
the dawn chorus.
workshops and readings facilitated by others that really support my creative practice.
morning pages, visual journaling and words/ images/collage.
an endless supply of brown moving boxes and tape.
selling, donating, giving books away and feeling lighter in the process.
As it stands I’ve completed 20 miles of the 52.4 miles for the month of May. Nearly half way there and not even half way through the month yet. So pleased with how I’m moving.
I’ve mentioned my mum and walking , but she’s not my only inspiration when it comes to putting one foot in front of another.
At this time of year when growing up in Bradford, May light nights and rising temperatures, after tea ( as I am a Yorkshire lass!), each evening we would go out for walks. Dad and Mum, sis and me.
Of course I didn’t want to do it. It felt like a punishment. A cruel exercise is working out our energy before bedtime. How I hated going to be in the light nights.
We set out from our maisonette flat, take the bridge over the dual carriage way, to walk up the hill past the textile factories and into the rabbit warren estates of ‘Little Jamaica’.
My only joys of these evening walks, we’re picking up scraps of fur from the toy making factories and lining my pockets with them so I could stroke their softness while I walked.
The only other joy was if we called in Dad and Mum’s friend Beverley who lived over on the other side of the road, who had a son called Ivor, that I quite liked. He had Thunderbirds toys I liked to play with too.
These evening walks were something I endured. Something to get through. Now as I’m older, appreciating the light nights for walks out, I’m inflicting the same ritual on my daughter when she’s staying with me. Ignoring her complaints and marching her out the door.
And on those evenings that I walk alone, covering more miles and sinking deeper into my body and the present moment, no longer needed are scraps of fur in my pocket to keep me walking.
The act of walking itself, being outside with all nature has to offer, with heart and soul open is enough to feel joy and gratitude and light.
I have a little series of poems inspired by fungi: mushrooms, toadstools and the like.
I’ve always enjoyed looking at pictures of fungi. I’d draw them from books and colour then in with coloured pencils. I started a collection of them, when a child. In real life, I’m not too sure, I like fungi up close. I think something the way they feel puts me off. And that they are alive!
Also the idea of spores frighten me. Obviously, the fear comes from a lack of understanding and knowledge about them.
What I do know is that they are vital to life. And that whole underground system they have going on of passing nutrients and messages between plants and ecosystems and other organisms is truly remarkable. And has to be respected.
Anyway, I was thinking of pulling these fungi poems together into a mushroom zine. I do love my zines. What do you think?
Of course I have to find the time to create it. But now I’ve stated it here, it lends some kind of accountability to completing the task.
Anyway, above is a brief extract from one of the poems. I think I have about 5 or 6 of them. So I’ll keep working on them and start thinking of some cool design to go with them.
Of course being here now, saying all this, is me thinking out loud. Making some kind of commitment to a dream and making steps to seeing it through.
It’s just gone 10am here in North Shields and I sit sipping a white mocha and the light is bright for this time of year. January. Grey is resting today as a low golden light picks up the blue in the sky and illuminates.
The wind still howls through the cracks in the windows as the birds gather to migrant to warmer climes. They honk their departure. Does that sound like a warning or exclamation of joy?
What does it mean to listen? What does it mean in practice, in our every day lives?
[LISTEN]. My word of the year is [LISTEN].
My word for 2023 has been with me for a few months now. At the back end of 2022, I knew what I was going to carry with me into the next year after being/ following Open, my word of 2022.
I’ve been feeling my way into this practice of listening for the past few weeks, attempting to figure out what adopting this word for this year means to me, my {being} and practice.
Of course, I don’t have the answers as it’s early days. But I know it means paying attention, {being} in the moment, {being} present for myself and others. This means I need to slow down even more to give myself a fighting chance of listening.
We listen to our environment or do we? We listen to others or do we? We want others to listen to us but do they?
I know I’ve been developing the practice of listening to my instincts, my gut and heart more readily that my head as I trust their guidance more than ever now after decades of blocking out their messages and guidance.
I think what I want to embody, through adopting the word as a guide, is the ability to listen more closely. To allow myself to stop and pay attention as in that moment I create not just a connection with my surroundings, others and self but I make/ take back time. Presence. Joy.
I want to listen more carefully without judgment or impatience or offering advice. I want to practice listening on a much deeper level. In deeper ways. To gain clarity and connection but also to find my way home. To heal.
My intention is to listen as within this practice alone my listening can only deepen for the better, for all.
Nothing beats journaling in bed. Still half-asleep but fresh coffee bringing me around. And the day ahead. Expanding or constructing as I see fit.
I come to the page and allow my mood to guide me. What page to put pen to or image or colour.
It’s my intuition who leads the way, gently. Before my intuition was dead and gone. Repressed and forgotten. But slowly, through trust and patience my intuition is very much in the driving seat these days.
And I like it this way. She never sees me wrong but keeps me safe, creative and present.