This was quickly followed with the writings and (re)drafts of Darkling, my poetry/hybrid collection published in October 2024.
After this 2025 has been a period of extended rest and refusal.
But something has been niggling me. The desire to create with paint again. the desire to play without expectations and outcomes/ products.
I’ve just scratched the itch through scrolling through Pinterest. Adding another abstract or landscape painting to a board that I’ll probably not look at again.
But it satisfied this niggling feeling. Until it didn’t.
It was going back into the classroom. Completing a few days of supply that pushed me over the edge.
The time I gave away for money. The time I’d lost pursuing my own pursuits. And realising that I wasn’t pursuing all the pursuits I wanted to pursue in the time I had/have.
So out came a creative sketchbook, inspired by the 30 days sketchbook challenge created by Cheryl Taves over at Insight Creative.
This is as much as I’m willing to share for now about the challenge, my creative sketchbook, processes and insights.
One of my rules is that it’s just for my eyes only. I want to see how this rule changes my practice. I want to create without fear but with curiosity. I want to give myself all the freedom without worrying about what others will think or say or comment on.
It’s not like I’m hanging on other people’s responses and reactions but I have gotten into a habit of just sharing anything and everything on my blog and I’m curious to see what happens when I keep things to myself.
Just for my eyes, heart, and soul only.
So far I’m enjoying the process of the challenge and I’m reflecting and paying attention to what makes my heart sing, what’s my creative vocabulary, what pushes my energies.
Do doubt whatever I explore within my creative sketchbook will be showing up in everything that I create. In everything who I {BE}. For sure.
For my birthday, my beautiful and talented daughter gave me 107 Days by Kamala Harris. I might have dropped some hints beforehand but boy was I pleased to receive this gift.
As soon as I heard Harris had published a memoir all about her run for the President of the United Stated of America, I knew I had to read it.
During that remarkable time from 21 July 2024 to the election 5 November, when Harris was propelled into the run for office, given such a historically short time for campaigning, I was hooked.
Hooked into hope. Having a black/ brown woman as president of the United States wouldn’t just be radical and amazing it would change the world. Harris would change the world, not just through what she stood for in terms of policies, but more importantly what message her face in the White House would say about us to the world. Thanks once again to a black woman stepping up, caring and making changes not for egotistical, selfish gains but for the benefit of all
I’ve always been in conflict with Black Feminism, in that reality that black women receive the worst treatment from everyone within society and yet we go to bat, stand up and fight for everybody’s freedom. We lead from a foundation of love while at the same time surviving and thriving within a world that does not give that same love in return.
We are destroyed on the daily and yet we still love ourselves and each other. That is what we have to do, love ourselves in the face of being unloved by others.
So here I am reading 107 days, feeling as if Harris is talking directly to me because of her writing style and because I’ve watched far too many of her speeches and interviews to hear her voice while I’m reading, I’m taken back to that time of campaigning and I’m crying when I’m reading.
I’m crying for what Harris had to go through during this time and after. The behind the scenes undermining and neglect, to the public abuse and questioning of her credentials, intelligence and race, by her opponents as well as those who were supposed to be her supporters.
How there’s nothing more revealing of what is within a person’s heart as when a black/ brown woman walks into a room and what that individual says or does in response. Do they see the black/brown woman? Do they recognise them for who they are/ as a human being or do they operate through a stereotypical, misogynoir lens?
I’m crying because during those 107 days, I bought into the whole Harris campaign. I had to. No choice. I knew that to get a black/brown woman elected as President was a long shot, was believing in unicorns, was hopeful, blissful dreaming for groundbreaking change.
And I was all in. I had to be. I had to believe it was possible otherwise what’s the fucking point! what would that be saying about how I viewed myself and my place in this world?
I’m crying now not just because of all those hopes and possibilities being dashed when Harris didn’t win. But also because of what the world is like now because she didn’t win and the dick for an arse who is now in control of the White House and what a fucking mess he’s making of the job, the country, the world. how many people he’s hurting and killing because he didn’t give a fuck. Because he doesn’t and never will care. Harris cared and cares.
I’m crying because my heart was broken then when Harris didn’t win and it’s breaking now as I read how Harris was graceful and joyful in her appearances and actions during the campaign while dealing with racist, sexist shit behind the scenes.
Harris was used just like any other black/brown woman, brought in to repair and save the day, without given the proper support or time or resources to do so. But expectations were and still are there to excel beyond anyone/ everyone else while given less than in terms of resources, grace, the benefit of the doubt.
What Harris achieved in 107 days was remarkable and historical and downright amazing. But does she receive her rightful credit and accolades? Not a fucking chance.
I’m crying because I still have hope in the face of such shit. I’m hurting with hope.
Hope is a practicing and we have to keep practicing.
When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
When I was five I said to my mum when I grow up I want to be a lollipop lady.
I saw a lot of lollipop ladies as I walked to and from school each day. Not only did I love the bright yellow uniform and the hat. But I also loved how they had the power to stop traffic.
Lollipop ladies just walk out into the road put down their lollipop stick and stick up a hand and the cars stop for them.
I thought that was cool.
But the main reason I wanted to be a lollipop lady was because they were always smiling. They always greeted me with a smile and a good morning or the question, ‘Good day at school?’
Lollipop ladies not only looked like they were enjoying their job but they were also sharing that joy with others, even if only for the little time it took for me to walk across the road in front of them with the cars at bay.
They were smiling.
So I wanted to be a lollipop lady when I was five and I told my mum. My mum said I couldn’t be a lollipop lady. No, she said. Maybe when you retire but not until then. You can be anything you want to be Sheree, she said. Save being a lollipop lady until you retire.
I better start filling out my application then as I’m getting old (er).
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.
Describe your most ideal day from beginning to end.
A week ago today, I took the journey back to Montserrat. I first visited this multi-peaked mountain range, home of a Benedictine monk monastery, back in 2007 maybe. Then, I was staying in El Bruc, a small village at the base of the mountains, at the artists retreat, Can Serrat, for a month. A bunch of us from the retreat decided one day to climb the mountain range to reach the top, the monastery. To see the Black Madonna we had heard of.
It was hard going. Taking hours, at times using my hands, feet, knees, elbows to reach the top, climbing sheer rock face and rambling through the forests of the National Park.
I was always behind, at the back of the group. Moving slowly, holding everyone up. They kept stopping to wait for me. I told them not to but they said they had to. That they couldn’t leave me alone on the woods. Not knowing where to go, which path to take.
I didn’t ask for their help. They it took upon themselves to be responsible for me. And they resented me for it. Once we reached the top, and entered the Basilica, they all climbed up further steps to go see and touch the Black Madonna. I didn’t go up. I saw her from afar. I denied myself the opportunity to be with her because I was tired. I was also ashamed for moving so slow. For not being as fit as the others in the group. I was upset because my body let me down but also that these strangers had made me feel like shit for being me. For being a fat Black body who wasn’t good enough. I allowed them to take away my joy and self-worth all because I was unfit and slowed them down. But I didn’t ask them to wait on me or look out for me. I wasn’t a child but they seemed to think it was okay to treat me as such. And I allowed them to.
Fast forward to last week, the end of January 2025 and I return to Montserrat. This time I get up early, to catch the special train to Montserrat from the centre of Barcelona. It’s an hour ride on a commuter train heading north out of Barcelona. The train is packed and I’ve overheating with my two coats on, thinking it would be cold in Barcelona in January. I was wrong. The temperatures were glorious. Winter sun has a way of easing the bones, warming the flesh and making everything fluid and relaxed.
The further we moved out of the city centre, the more the train emptied. Until we were moving within the shadow of mountains and trees. The train can let you off at two stops for Montserrat. The first stop is for the airlift up the mountain which takes 4 minutes. The second stop is to catch the slower train up the mountain. 15 minutes of a steep, slow winding climb. I took the second stop as I was in no rush.
Even on the return to Montserrat, I chose once again to make slow progress. Taking my time to reach the final destination. Yes my body is older this time. I’m probably even fatter but I knew I wasn’t going to allow anyone else to dictate my process or to take away my joy.
Once I reached the top of Montserrat, well not really the top, the main station/ base where the shops and cafes are, I popped into the information centre there in the hope of getting a funicular further up the mountain. It wasn’t working this day but I could walk up an easy path to the top if I wanted.
I enquired about purchasing a ticket to get into the Basilica and to visit the Black Madonna this time also. If I could wait till 1.15pm I could see her as well as listen to the choir sing at 1pm for a little extra cost. Of course I wanted to experience it all. So with ticket bought and time to kill, I took my body further up the mountain.
A steep mountain track hugging the rock face took me further and further into the more or less cloudless sky. And I was just breathing in the tranquility and gratitude to be able to make this journey and relive a piece of my past but on my own terms.
There were other people here but it didn’t bother me as I was in my own little bubble of joy, soaking up the sun, the smells of cypress trees and elders and then there were the bells.
Once back down, I grabbed a coffee and just sat outside and watched people go by. My excitement was building, as after years of waiting, I was finally going to see the Black Madonna of Montserrat up close.
The Black Madonna is sometimes referred to by other names, including ‘The Virgin of Montserrat’ and ‘La Moreneta’, sits behind a sheet of glass high above overlooking the alter. One hand holding a sphere is not behind the glass. Her hand sticks though the glass and is available to touch or kiss if you so wish.
Along a corridor and up some steps and then some more to finally come to the chamber where the Black Madonna sits. You proceed in a line past her. Each of us has an opportunity to stop in front of her. To touch her. To pray. I gave thanks to her. And immediately teared up to be with her. To be this close to her. To be able to touch her. I didn’t ask for anything as she is known for granted miracles. I was just happy and grateful to be in her presence.
I journeyed back down to take my seat within the Basilica to then heat the choir song. All the time I can see the Virgin high above the altar looking down on us.
The Choir @ Montserrat
The choir sang for about 15 minutes and gave the congregation a blessing. I’m not religious. I’m spiritual. But I could appreciate the feelings that arose to be within such a remarkable place and to hear such angelic voices rising within the space and vibrating back into my body. Again another emotional moment.
Once the choir retreated. I got myself back into the queue to visit the Black Madonna once again. I was all about getting my money’s worth! No not really, I wanted to say goodbye and just see her up close once again. And as I say, I’m not religious. And I’m not praying or idolising over false idols.
What I see in the Black Madonna is a Black woman. I see myself. I connect with her as she can relate to my suffering. To my body and soul. And I just want to give thanks to her for being there for me at all times. She takes my woes and my joys. She just reflects back to me that we, as Black women, are enough just as we are. No one else needs to bestow any value on us. We see ourselves and we love ourselves. Just the way we are.
After touching her one more time. I walked back into the sun and climbed a steep path up the other side of the mountain, not ready to leave this peaceful sanctuary. A tremendous amount of peace had descended on me during my time within Montserrat and I wanted to carry it with me as I left. Moving became effortless. My heart was light and full of gratitude.
For the past 5 or 6 years, I’ve created a vision board at the new year for the year ahead. It sets out my intentions and desires and dreams.
Last year, 2024 didn’t have a vision board. I wasn’t feeling the energy to create it. I didn’t have any visions. My head was down as I ploughed through some projects for others.
I missed the focus of creating a vision board as well as having some kind of loose map to move through the year. I was feeling lost last year in so many ways and I didn’t want a repeat this year.
So this is my vision board for 2025 and it lives on the wall at the bottom of my bed. So I get to see it and focus on it every morning and every night.
There’s nothing major on there in terms of big changes and tasks but it does focus on being more present as well as focusing on experiences over material things.
I want to feel all the feels and still be standing afterwards with a smile on my face. There’s a lot of gratitude grounded in this vision board as well as wisdom. As I know what makes me tick and what brings be joy but there has been times in the past when I haven’t been prioritising them.
2025 is all about my needs and wants and desires. And not in a selfish way but in the way of how can I expect other people to treat me well with love and respect if I don’t give myself this.
Or as Maya Angelou said it , much better than me …
So this is the intention for 2025. I’ll be back to explore and share how I am supporting this journey through routines and rituals and attitudes.
I love this season. This is my season. This is birthday season. And I usually have so many things planned that I blink and miss the season. And I also feel a bit gipped because this season is taken up by Halloween and Christmas celebrations that no sooner that I have my autumn leaves wreath on my front door that I’ve got to replace it with the Christmas one.
So as a gift to myself as well as some breathing space, this season I’m bringing out the poetry and I’m writing a poem a day to cherish the moment. To live and breathe into the season.
I hope to share my creations here.
I know I have a lot to share here about the last few months too. I’m not sure what I have shared here. But I do know it feels good to take the time each day to exercise my imagination and be inspired to write again for me. But I’m sharing too.
I was thinking this morning back from the school run what can I do this season to support myself. Support the ease into hibernation mode but still get through the last few commitments and chores of the year. And I feel in my heart that writing poetry or attempting to dive into my dreams ( and nightmares) is a way of giving myself that much needed support. Keeping me creative but also keeping me sane.
Sometimes, I can feel my energy stagnating. Or being leeched away into activities, projects or circumstances that I want to be in but which if I allow it take me away from what is important to me.
I do great work and I enjoy facilitating/ creating/ coordinating it. Changing lives and bringing joy and opportunities to others, for others.
But sometimes, I have to strengthen my boundaries and batter down the hatches in order to make sure I can show up the best version of myself for myself and others.
The last couple of weeks have found me running low on energy, patience and creativity. I’ve been giving away a lot of myself, time and energy, and focus.
So the next chapter to the end of 2023, is focused on me taking back what’s mine. Taking back my time, my energy, my sparks and directing them in the directions that feed my soul. Which fuels my dreams and confidence in my voice.
And it starts with preparing my next visual journal. I’ve returned to a trusty old faithful. A pink pig sketchbook. And I’ve set up on my kitchen bench with paints and the gift card.
Every time I go into the kitchen, I create a spread. I smear drops of paint across the page with the disused credit card. I can feel my energy, my excitement and joy rising.
This simple act of moving colour across the page fills me with joy, wonder and ideas. My creativity has been lit up again and I’m looking forward to filling these pages.
Every year for the past 5 I’d say I’d spend time at the end of/beginning of the year to create a vision board of intentions and dreams.
I say this, for the past 5 years, except the last one. 2022 was the year I never set out my intentions, my dreams. I missed the window of magic, I felt, and just couldn’t muster the mojo to set things down.
I missed this road map, this visioning throughout the year. There were times during 2022, that I was questioning what I was doing and where I was going. But I realise now that I needed that low, down energy to heal and recover after the last two years of Covid. And it’s not over even now, but I know I have better coping and managing skills today.
So thinking about 2022, and my lack of motivation and direction, I knew when 2023 came around, my vision board practice was coming back. Not to get all productive on my arse but because I love to have this beauty pinned to my bedroom wall at the bottom of my bed and see it every day.
Vision Board, 2023
Having my vision board in plain sight, everyday, the first thing I see in the morn and the last thing at night, is a gift and blessing. I get to see and feel what I want to manifest within the present moment, each day. It’s not a bind in anyways, but it is a reminder and commitment to myself to love. Myself and others.
It brings me joy to see my vision board because it is a thing of beauty. I know everything on it has been placed with intention and love for self. With joy. And it’s not used as a to-do list of productivity and perfection. It is a beacon or siren to make sure I’m {being} in my life how my soul wants to be showing up in life for me first and foremost.
Vision Board, 2023
That’s why I call it a quiet Revolution. I’m revolting against the system, this White Supremacy Culture, from the inside out. I’m rejecting all those beliefs and practices and ways of being that have been implanted within me since being born into a system which indoctrinates us into being machines to the system. Where we repress our true selves to fit in and be accepted. Where we do not question or reject the system but uphold it and perpetuate it through our actions and attitudes towards others and ourselves.
Vision Board, 2023
So here I am sharing my vision board of 2023. Not as a ‘look at me, aren’t I clever’ kind of vibe. But to inspire. I’m always about sharing my practice to inspire. Last year I gave up early, without creating a vision board. Along with using excuse and excuse afterwards for not trying to create one.
I share with you mine so you might feel inspired to create one or not even a physical one but a space in your heart and mind for your intentions and dreams and ways of being. It’s never too late is my motto. Something I could have used last year, but some how couldn’t muster the energy to. But I think this might have been a demonstration of my lack of commitment to myself and my dreams last year and being content enough to just get by. I know I needed this time of rest in place to move onto 2023 with renewed energy and a massive intention to heal.
Swings and roundabouts. I just know everything sits better with me when I know I’m on a mission to heal from the inside out through this quiet revolution of a slow, listening, restful practice.
Living Wild Studios 