It’s the afternoon. And I’ve just finished another visual journaling spread. I might have been up at 7.30 and came to the page but again, remembering yesterday, I’m here to slow down. I’m here to savour these moments of light and joy.
I might have even shifted rooms in the process, moved from the bed to the couch. Exposure to more light and more bird sounds. Seagulls squawking and trees budding casting shadows on the living room floor.
The energies are quickening. There’s a fizzing of excitement in my stomach, my core. Who know’s what the day will bring?
The day has already gifted me time and space and colour and light and an immense feeling of peacefulness. Mindfulness. Kindness. Thank you.
April is National Poetry Month. Yes and as I’ve mentioned a good time to write poetry. But for me writing and reading/ reading and writing goes hand in hand.
Not only am I inspired by other people’s words, I’m invited into other worlds, internal and external worlds. Possibilities around structure, themes, ideas and voices are opened up for me.
Reading feeds my soul. Something I forget from time to time when things go awry ( I love that word ‘awry’. I first came to this word through Lucille Clifton’s poem, ‘Signs’).
You see what reading can do to my writing? Introduce new vocabulary. Expand my horizons. Make me smile.
So along with the writing this month, I’ll be reading poetry. I usual read at least one poem a day, after signing up to Poetry Daily , a few years ago now and not unsubscribing as I have in the past.
Add to that one poem a day, collections of poems, whole book collections and then you’ve got yourself a sweet honey pot of inspiration and ideas and joy.
So look out for the poetry I’ll be reading and sharing here over this coming month.
Today, I dive into Katie Marya’s debut collection, Sugar Work, which came to my notice through Poetry Daily, with her poem titled, ‘A Response to the 2018 IPCC Report’.What I loved about this poem was how issues about the environment through the report were being looked at from a slanted angle. Through our bodies and babies and families and friends. How in order to see what we are doing to the planet it has to come to our doorsteps, our bodies first. But of course we are all connected.
I’ll let you know what I think as I go on with Marya’s collection. I’m looking forward to diving in.
Straight forward writing on lined paper with a sticker here and there. I felt the need to get things out of me. I felt the need to get distractions out of the way and write from the heart.
Each day I turned up and completed three pages of long hand writing. Some days more. There was an outpouring. Leaning back into Julia Cameron’s Morning Pages helped.
This morning, the first day of April, this happened.
Altered book journal spread
My energies shifted. I wasn’t feeling the lined pages, black ink journaling this morning. I was feeling the need to slow down and wait for the paint to dry kind of feeling.
Yes Spring is here. And I’m embarking on a poetry challenge as well as my travels. But my body is saying there is wisdom to be gleamed if you take the time and space, now this morning, to slow down and listen.
So I listened. I have to slow down as I cover one page/ one spread at a time with paint to conceal the text underneath. Maybe still bleeding through in parts.
Altered book journal spreading drying!
While I wait for the paint to dry, I search for inspiration in images and texts. I don’t have any agenda and I don’t feel any frenzied feelings to get this done and done quick.
I’m taking my time because I have time to slow down, breathe, enjoying the grey light, the sweet vanilla latte, the birds making nests.
Thoughts come and go. Fleeting. And I don’t worry. If I need to capture them, they’ll come back around. The hairs on my forearm feel the draught coming in through the open curtains. Or is it from the open window in the kitchen?
My forefinger twists strands of hair into locks as I flick through a magazine, looking for images, text and colour. I take another sip of coffee, now cold because time has been slipping by.
Not away. As time spent in my creative process is time needed not wasted. It’s time I’m grateful for. But I can only mark this time, this gratitude, these feelings and sensations, when I slow down and be present.
Visual journaling, altered book or not, gifts me the luxury, no the necessity, of slowing down and {BEING}. Thank you x
Words: adapted from ‘Conjuring Hands: The Art of Curious Women of Color’, by gloria j. wilson, Joni Body Acuff and Venessa Lopez
we crave joy. unmediated, defined by self, not by others.
for me, joy is intertwined with the idea of ‘safety’.
for me safety means not only protection from White hands that hold sticks, stones, batons, and guns.
but also safety from White minds and from White eyes.
in the past, in attempts at safety, i have resorted to running, literally and figuratively.
i fold in on myself to avoid harmful interactions. to keep myself safe.
i’m no longer prepared to relegate myself to the corner of the room. i go to the waters seeking guidance from the ancestors, seeking safety, seeking joy.
Spring’s in the air. Filled with love. There’s magic everywhere. When you’re young and in love- The Flying Pickets ( well that’s who I heard sing it first and I’m sticking to it!)
April is just around the corner. The blossom will be blossoming. And I’m returning to my first love; poetry.
We’ve been in and out of love over the years, poetry and I. Sometimes she hasn’t treated me well, while other times I’ve neglected her and gone off with some other genre of writing.
I don’t even know if we’re good together, as I was brought up on dead white men’s poetry and I could never measure up to them and their creations. And then somewhere along the way, I gave up trying to.
But when I’m facilitating writing workshops, I say poetry is just ‘playing with words’ in order to break down the fears and insecurities we may be bringing into the creative space. ‘Playing with words’ eases the pressure and injects a bit of fun into the proceedings.
So I’m taking my own advice and going to spend April playing with words each day on the hope of creating some kind of whole at the end of each day.
For more ease of creation, I’ve decided to base my creations around one theme/ focus/subject which is loosely around Black British history through the photographs of the past that are in the public domain along with an exploration of the Race Relations, Commonwealth and Immigration Laws which came into effect during the 60s and 70s.
I’ll also be touching upon the uprisings that also happened during these turbulent times as a demonstration of push back against the messages of go back home even though for the second generation of immigrants onwards this has been the only home most of us have known.
So this is the intention, as I also attempt to tap into the surging, fresh Spring energy of the season, to reconnect my ancestors’ bodies with nature through the process of playing with word to create poetry this April.
I hope to document some, if not all of my creations here as a means of accountability and in the spirit of sharing stories.
From time to time, I’ve tried to keep a gratitude journal. I’ve read the research and heard the stories about expressing gratitude for your life and what is part of it, here and now. This is a great practice in order to be more present in your life as well as be happier.
I saw expressing gratitude and writing it down as just another thing to add to my to-do list mostly. I resented the time spent on it as as well as beating myself up for the times I missed a day or two. I felt like this was just another indication of me failing.
I think as part of my intentional healing journey of 2023 ( have I talked here about it?) I brought gratitude back into my day, or I’m trying to. Offering myself grace and compassion when there are times I forget to complete it some days, I allowed myself to start small.
Today, I am grateful for …
This is how I start each entry and I allow myself to just mark one thing I’m grateful for. One thing. One sentence. Most days it’s doable. Most days I remember. Some days there’s more than one think, more than one thing to be grateful for. But there are still some days I forget and the days run away from me. But I do not sweat it. I pick it back up when I remember.
I keep this little notebook with the image of Frida Kahlo on my bedside table. I love this little notebook. I love Frida Kahlo but I also love how I feel when I write in this book. I feel better. I feel present. I feel grateful for what I have, how I feel, what I experience. Fostering positive energy for the here and now rather than energy wasted on what I don’t have or want instead.
The research is right. Practicing gratitude does foster appreciation and happiness for the things and people in your life. Now. Simples.
Here are a few gratitude moments captured in this little book of gratitudes from the beginning of the year so far:
Today I am grateful for the reminder that I am loving, loved and loveable.
Today I am grateful for the time and space to create a vision board for the year ahead.
Today I am grateful for my body to be able to walk and get into the sea.
Today I am grateful for my lie in. For rest and sleep.
Today I am grateful for the opportunity to put things right .
Today I am grateful for the connections I am making, with myself and others.
Expect to see more posts about gratitude as I delve deeper into the practice and the effects it is having on my life. What contributions it is making to my healing journey?
As you know, I had the honour of being part of a group exhibition at the BALTIC this winter, Hinterlands, with my creative archivetitled, A Country Journal of a Blackwoman( Northumberland).
I’ve enjoyed revisiting the exhibition throughout it’s installation, alone and with others. What has been so rewarding has been the responses I’ve received from individual directly, as well as through the BALTIC in relation to the exhibition and my contribution.
Once such response or experience really made me laugh out loud with joy and surprise and involved the statue of Blessed Martin, pictured above.
I argue that creating alternative labels for each item within my archive as a must, as a means of extending the conversation, bringing in a chorus of diverse voices into the white cube space as well as pushing back against the standard, expected practice and pushing back to decolonising the space.
The label assigned to this artefact of Blessed Martin reads:
“Blessed Martin ~ Patron Saint of Racial Harmony
“Take Blessed Martin with you. In your pocket in you bag, whatever. Whenever you go outside, traveling or just walking. Take Blessed Martin with you. He will protect your journey. Keeping you safe with the ancestors as you journey through this world as a Black woman; present and absent.” Advice from Mother given to her sojourning Daughter.”
On one visit to the exhibition, I was told the story around one woman who took the time to really read this label and then proceeded to take the statue down from display, place him in their bad and walk out with him. Luckily, they were spotted doing this and were stopped before they could leave the building.
This individual believed that if they literally took this saint and carried him with them that they would be safe and protected. My response to hearing this tail, after a full belly laugh, was that they must have needed him, at this time. And I felt humbled that they wanted to be part, gain something from this archive also.
The exhibition ends April 30 and to mark it there will be a closing event at the BALTIC.
Saturday 29 April 11am, Donation & free tickets available. This is going to be a whole day event where you’ll get to hear from the artist who have been part of the exhibition. Some will be performing, reading work and sharing natural rituals.
I think I’ll be sharing around building an archive for ourselves so we start taking back the power around who gets to decide what is collected and preserved for future generations. Who’s histories and stories are worthy of being part of an archive?
The days of March are blowing by quickly. Blink and I might miss them. I decided about a week ago now to not allow the present to slip on by unmarked.
I want to say probably over 20 years now, I have kept Morning Pages, in some form or other, inspired from Julia Cameron‘s The Artist’s Way.
I came to the pages broken, after my mother’s death, going through a difficult patch while full-time English teaching and trying to be the perfect wife and mother.
I was coming apart at the seams, trying to be everything to everyone and nothing to myself. I was hating on myself for not being good enough at anything, and trying to prove myself in an environment where I was always going to come up short.
But I didn’t know that then. I was on the sick from school, resting and re-evaluating my life and The Artist’s Way came into my life through community creative writing classes where I’d go weekly, grabbing a mocha coffee at Morrison’s beforehand. I felt like I was playing hooky from school. And in a way I was.
With practicing Morning Pages, I found a space where I could be. Allow all my mixed emotions and thoughts out in a safe space and not be judged or fail. I couldn’t fail at Morning Pages as all I had to do was keep my pen moving on the page, three pages, and never look back.
A window opened inside of me. Into a dream world. Into my childhood. Into my joys and pleasures. And I came to realise that I wasn’t happy with the life I was living. And change had to happen and happen straight away. I was impatient to start living my life on my own terms.
After being on the sick for half the year, I went back to school in the June. Had the summer holidays, went back after them and handed in my notice so I could finished in the December of that year. I didn’t have a net but I jumped anyway. That was 2003.
Fast forward to March 2023, and I’m marking the present, my life in all it’s fucked up glory, by working through Julia Cameron’s Write For Life.
Four things are the foundation of this creativity boost for the soul; Morning Pages, a daily quota towards my writing project, a daily walk and a weekly artist date.
I’ll follow up this post with a breakdown of what each one of these things entails. I’m just place marking this process here for a minute.
The image above is me out on my daily walk, with the sun shining but the wind blowing into my face. Nah, that’s not my new hairstyle but the fur on my hood. But can you see my inner shine. My light. That light comes from living in the moment. Marking the days with the simple delights of being present. Here and now.
Living Wild Studios 