years of marriage 

My husband, Alan and I have been together longer than I can remember, yet I’m still surprised by the turn of events, sometimes. At these points, I have to chuckle.
Alan, annoyed,  has said that I mine our lives for writing material but I do believe it’s not just my story to tell, so I do shy away from writing about our marriage as it is, while in the thick of things.
This relationship, when two individuals come together into a partnership, does play a significant part in my life and to not explore and reflect upon it in within my writing is denying a part of myself. As well as living a lie, as believe it or not, marriageland is not all hunky dorky.

During the years we’ve been together, Alan and I have experienced the rough with the smooth. They say a couple’s relationship changes when children come along. And that much is true. There’s had to be a lot more understanding and communication and patience. And sometimes it hasn’t always been there. 

I’m not offering marriage guidance here as I’m not an expert is marritable bliss. I only know what works and doesn’t work for me/us. So we’re still in the thick of moving house. This follows on the back of months of ill health, cancer treatment and hospital visits. You don’t realise the calm within your day to day until it is disrupted. You don’t realise the love and companionship and trust within your relationship until it has disappeared.
This isn’t a post about Alan and I spliting up, far from it. But it is a post about holding on and appreciating what you have when you have it. It’s obvious but sometimes we fail to acknowledge it, fail to act upon it, fail to live it. 

As we settle into our new home, the time and space has arisen to speak my needs and concerns to Alan as well as to check in with him about his needs and concerns. We’re still part of this dance, growing all the time as individuals and together. But it never ceases to amaze me as you hold a crystal up to the light the myriad of shapes and colours and delights that are revealed.

3 card spread 

This is weird right! Or it is just meant to be?! I’ve just competed my first 3 card spread in the new home. I was asking the questions: who was I/ am I/ will be.
This spread is nearly identical to a recent reading I had with the lovely @rootandrattlesnake regarding my business. The only difference is the middle card.
The cards are telling me something and I am listening.
My old self has gone. The Sheree of many years giving to please everyone and needing outward success and other people’s approval has gone.
The woman standing here now is artistic and introspective with a dark intensity which I claim and nurture.
Those four wands waving at me again signify a completion. In business I saw it as Iceland – The Retreat coming to fruition watch @livingwildstudios
As a person, I see this as all my hard work from reaching rock bottom, from stripping away all the shit and facades in order to see and accept authentic me will pay off/ is paying off each day as I continue on this path, as I become complete – whole.

savouring the moments 

Even though the last few days have been full on with the house move ( and we haven’t finished yet), I am pleased to say that I have managed to find the time and space within each day to stop and admire my surroundings. I can recall moments of stillness when I have been present; catching myself smiling into the season, noticing the changing light, sensing the coming chill. Relishing the ruby richness of the berries. 
It really has been a gift to experience these moments of clarity, these moments of bliss in the sheer speed of passing time, and the sheer frenzy of activities. 
Time is running out in terms of getting the house cleared as well as for my favourite season being here in all her golden edges.
Tonight while driving back from the council dump, high up in the sky in front of me is a sliver of the moon. She moves out from the dark, slowly revealing a pale silver cheek. I feel blessed in so many ways,  to be living this life now. Thank you.

Visual Journalling Workshop

 

I’m moving forward. I’m taking a leap. I’m putting myself out there.
I’m planning a visual journalling workshop in my local area for 21st October 2017.
This is something I’ve been wanting to offer for a couple of years now but the time hasn’t been right.
But maybe there isn’t ‘the right’ time. Maybe when you do it that’s the right time.
I’m working with a local charity, Old Low Lights Heritage Centre. They have a lovely, spacious and light
community room that you can hire for events.

What is visual journalling?
This is something I get asked and it’s something I’ve tried to answer here on the website with different posts about my practice.
At it’s basic level, visual journalling is play. Play in a safe space; your own journal.
It’s a space where you can explore your thoughts and feelings without fears or worries or judgement because those barriers are sidetracked through the doing.

Within any visual journal workshop, we get rid of the blank page straight away with paint. We use disused credit cards and gift cards to smear the colours that are calling to our souls over the white spaces. Just by doing this small, simple act our energies have shifted, we’re out of our heads and into our bodies, feeling joy and excitement within creativity.

From this point, while we allow the paint to dry we can start collecting images. Images that we are drawn to, that are calling us, that are the answer to a certain theme we’re exploring in our lives, a question we are holding in our minds, or an issue we are trying to work through. Theses images will become part of our journal pages as well as our journeys. Images have a way of cutting right to the chase, right to the core of an issue and anchors into us to create a shift in our feelings and thinking.

Once we’ve laid down some images, we work with a specific writing prompt to get us to open up to ourselves more. This is all taking place in a group yet the details are all within your unique journal. You experience the support of the people around you, the sisterhood, as you bravely dive into yourself.

But enough for now. The details of the workshop are on the flyer above and you can always contact me for further details.

Missing Stories

You may have missed her story.
There’s a loud silence
when a black woman is brutalised/raped/murdered.
Front page headlines seldom carry outrage,
hardly carry a mention.
My heart catches fire every time
I have to decipher the details
through a pinhole of shadows.

I see her being followed home from that party.
Them two stalking her apartment
thinking she’s got money just by the way she holds herself.
Or at least her grandmother must.
They break in. Gag and tie her up in the basement
where they each take their time to beat and rape her.
What I remember from between the missing lines
is those bastards making off with a few dollars,
an iPad and a laptop after they set the house on fire.
You may have missed her story.
Let me tell you another story along the same brutal missing lines.

thirst

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A taster from a new podcast coming your way – Poetry From The Heart. Starting soon the Poetry From The Heart podcast will be a time for you to relax and listen as I read to you a selection of my poetry.

thirst
when the rains come there will be sweetness
when the rains come i will be ready

i am the creature who must survive
without water

my coat and ears and kidneys adapt
to the lack

while blood vessels close to my skin
remain sensitive to sound

during the scorching heat of day
i am underground bent double with grief

every cell of my body calls
out for that healing salve – water

my creamy coat dims
as fur upon my soles cushion

sharp sand pains coursing
through my heart

at night when i should emerge
to hunt i burrow deeper

using my bushy tail to keep hidden
sweeping and protecting my solitude

i wait out the waters keeping cool

slowing my heart beat
some might say i am dead

but i will pad again under the full moon
bark at the moon sing to the moon

once again
once my cracked skin heals
once my parched soul refreshes

as the rains enters and fills my empty pores
with the welcomed sweetness of being enough

Authencity 

I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted trying to be all things to everybody. I’m exhausted trying so hard to be liked and popular. But I’m not in my new job, in the position to be liked. I’ve got a job to do. But I could be doing a better job if I wasn’t trying so hard to be funny, agreeable,and gracious.

This isn’t something new. I’ve always had an extreme desire to be liked and loved. But it is only recently that I am more aware of this flaw and have attempted to change direction. And that is exactly what I plan to do this next week. I’m giving up on being liked and popular. I’m going to spend my time and energy on getting the job done to the best of my ability. If that pisses people off, if that means I am not liked, so be it. As at least I will be true to myself. I will be my authentic self. And that may at times be ugly, but it is way less exhausting.

Artist on Hiatus : Update 

So things have started with my self-imposed residency of being an artist on hiatus. The aim is not to engage in anything creative. To try and not feed my artistic tendencies but to focus all my attentions on my paid work and not my creative work.I am finding this residency difficult as I realise I need colour in my life daily in order to live. In order to get out of bed and feel alive, I need colour within my life. It is my buzz. So deciding to wear a different coloured nail varnish each week to work is I think exercising my creative gene ever so slightly.

This colour fix is also evident within my work planner. So that every day is not a dull day, I pre-prepared each page within my planner with paint, with colour and inspirating images. I did this so that even if I am locked into the system, working 9 til 5, I can still dream, I can still scratch my creative itch.

All this sounds as if I’m not trying in this hiatus residency. But really I am. But at the same time, I am finding out more and more about what makes me tick, what makes me happy, what makes me, me. And I’m okay with that, with this residency. I am taking each day as it comes, and I know I am happy in what I am doing each day. So I am going to continue as I am doing.

I have even inspired others to re-engage with their creativity, with their dreams, through just showing up to meeting using my self-created planner. This colour focus is catching.

From the WSW vault: Trust

October 2015:

“Fuck. It was bound to come up. Trust. I have issues with trust. Ever since I found out my dad was dying only when he was actually dead, I’ve had trouble with trust. My mum and dad thought it best not to tell us kids that our dad was dying. To protect us. So when I found out it was already too late. He was dead and I felt betrayed.

I do not give my trust lightly. You betray my trust and you’re gone out of my life. Simple as that. But it isn’t that simple. Trust is about feeling safe and putting yourself out there with someone else. It’s about being vulnerable, wanting to protect oneself at the same time as taking a risk, moving out of oneself. It’s leaning in and out at the same time.

I’ve always been able to say I can trust myself. Until now. Now I’m not too sure about myself. If my actions are carried out for the right reasons, with the right intentions?

I’m at the edge of an abyss. At the edge of my existence as I have known it. And I now I have to take the leap into the new but can I trust myself in the fall?

I know it’s about love. Love of myself. There has to be the space to allow myself to fall. To know in the fall that I can still breathe, still live and will find my footing again. It’s about accepting that I am not in control and probably never was or will be. It is about trusting in the unknown. Trusting that I will be alright, that everything will be all right. I just have to trust the process. I just have to trust in me.”