I haven’t done this in a while but I’m feeling it today. The mid-week slump, nevermind hump!
After a restful weekend, I used to rush into my Mondays and do all the things. Get everything in order for the week ahead. Full blazing glory that meant come Tuesday, I’d been down and out. Knackered.
It’s been awhile since this knackered feeling has hit me on a Wednesday. After a couple of days of emotional roller coasting and focusing on traumas and past hurts, moving my body to move the energy, today I’m staying put on the couch, alternating between coffee with hot buttered toast, and YouTube and reading. Eyes drooping and head nodding.
I really don’t give a fuck as this is the point of my hiatus, hibernation for the next 3 months, to rest and retreat and dream. If I’m feeling like doing fuck all then I’m doing fuck all. Nothing.
My worth is not measured in how much I achieve in a day, how many things I can cross off that never ending to-do list. My worth just is. I’m here. I’m enough.
So excuse me while I stretch out a bit deeper into the couch of many cushions and blankets and flick through the line up for an afternoon movie, a black and white one maybe. Old school. LUSH.
Our body-temples are divinely designed to restore themselves, but we must rest in order to do so. For rest is not a reward…it is our birthright. And rest helps us to indulge in soft sacred spaces where we are reminded that we are intrinsically worthy of love, concern, care, and pleasure. – Sensual Faith, Lyvonne Briggs
This week was back to school week but things could have been worse. A cold weather front has hit the UK. Yes it’s cold up North but it could have been worse. At least we’ve had the light. And it’s remained dry even if each morning the windscreen has been frozen.
I’m grateful because I’ve had the privilege of spending quality time with Miss Ella and supporting her on her journey to her GCSE mock examinations. She’s capable, she just needs to believe in herself more. And that’s where I can come in, for sure.
Cullercoats Bay
I’m grateful because I managed to get into the sea twice this week. And there’s still time for more. The sea produced some big waves which were beautiful and dangerous. There was a lot of jumping waves and giggling like the little girl I didn’t get to be when growing up.
I’m grateful to be able to control where I direct my time and energy. At the moment that is all towards myself, first thing, and then I’m ready for what the rest of the day throws at me.
I’m grateful to nature ( until I find a better way of referring to her/ me/ us) as I take my cues and guidance from her and continue to hibernate and rest and dream. LUSH.
My word of the year is LUSH. And I’ve shared about my reasoning around choosing LUSH, here. On a basic level, I just love saying the word. By the end of the year, I know those around me are going to be sick of hearing the word, LUSH. But I know I’m not going to stop saying/ using/ projecting LUSH.
LUSH needs support moving forward. LUSH needs to spread throughout my life and practice. LUSH is my mantra and I want to direct this energy into bringing about change in my life. Going with the flow at the same time as maybe directing the flow. For me it is all about energy, and for the last couple of years, my energy has been warped, abused, stagnant and awry. So 2025 is me taking it back.
LUSH is a start. And to support this feeling, I have three other words that are coming into the mix, which are coming to my aid and will be used as my guiding forces, this year and beyond, along with LUSH.
So what are these words I hear you ask?
DREAM CONJURE FUGITIVITY
For me these supporting words feed into LUSH as well as each other. They all I feel have a sense of magic and possibility about them.
TO DREAM. I think I do this daily through my visual journaling practice. Everything that comes to fruition in my life, things that I make happen for me and others, starts on the page, starts within my visual journalling. This year, I’m adding some more energy, potent energy into those pages as I intend to dream big, dream bold, dream beautiful.
TO CONJURE. This is where the magic lies. I love the word conjure. It has come to take on more meaning over the last couple of years as I’ve explored it in relation to Black Feminism, Black women and another way of knowing. Another way of being in this world which draws upon our ancestors, Mother Nature and our innate wisdom. I want to conjure with intention this year and be open to what appears, what happens. I want to step into my power as a CONJUR WOMAN ( See Romare Bearden) and appreciate all the layers.
FUGITIVITY. I have Dal Kular to thank for bringing this word into my life as well as supporting and inspiring me in the use of it too. Fugitivity is state of being and movement. It’s a way of moving through this world where you are your own authority and guide. You refuse that which has been refused. It’s a divestment from white supremacy culture, the structures and systems which state that I will never be good enough, white enough, human enough. Another life, another way of being is possible. And I’m exploring the possibilities.
I’m mighty happy with the supporting words this year I have with LUSH, because already sharing them here and thinking/ feeling on them, in the process they are already bringing about change, SLOWNESS as well as JOY.
Have you decide on your word of the year yet? Are you going to support that word with some other words? Let me know in the comments, I’m interested.
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.
I think from the time of my MA in Creative Writing, 2003 at Northumbria University, I’ve had the dream to write a crime novel.
Reading crime fiction is a guilty pleasure of mine from being young. They scare me and thrill me at the same time. I don’t try to guess who’s the killer or kidnapper or criminal. I’m just there in the thick of it; engrossed.
There has been times through the years, where I’ve said, this is the time, I’m going to write the crime novel. Start the reading and taking notes, fleshing out the story. Only to get a few weeks down the line and my patience has worn thin. I’ve lost the spark. I’m hit with the massive FEAR of failing.
It’s like a don’t give myself the time and space to crash and burn. That I jump to the end and make it all crap and useless, only after writing a few pages. That it’s okay to fail as nothing is perfect, super deluxe on the first pass.
But I think I’ve come up with an idea. What if I trick myself into thinking all I’m doing is writing a page. Not a whole crime novel, just a page. How would that work out for me?
Page 1
The beach is empty. The sky cloudless, grey moving to blue with the sun being up for over an hour. The usual dog walkers are out marking the sand with prints and shit. Some clean up after their dogs like good citizens. While others never look back.
Littered with glossy seaweed and feathers, as if a bird battle has gone down, the beach is flanked by a rotting pier. Or wooden construction used in the past to mark out bays within the sea for long forgotten trade. Now just an eye sore and gathering point for the bored youth trapped in this seaside resort.
But down there within the shadows and the shallows is one naked white body. A woman, lying on her stomach, arms beside her sides, palms turned up. Her blond head is turned towards the sea, tangled with seaweed and sand. The sun beams down on her bare arse resembling a conch. Her swollen face reveals gaping blue lips around cracked teeth.
It’s a chocolate lab sniffing out crabs around the pier who finds her body. Barking to its owner to come see, gulls flock down to squark the find too. Then they circle, eyes piercing the sea, maybe looking for her missing feet.
Living Wild Studios 