Dreaming of Iceland

I’ve started a portfolio for Iceland. It seems an age since I was last there, but I am making plans to return. Bubbling under the surface of everything else that is happening in my life, is the body memory of how I felt while I was there. How I felt I opened up like blossom  to who I really was inside. That I thrived on the silence and solitude and the beauty of the landscape. Some how the serenity and honesty of the landscape, reflected something inside me. I recognised myself there, and I want to capture that feeling again as well as replicate it here, in my every day life.

How is the question?
I need to return to find out.

Out in the sun

I got up at about 5.00 am. Ella was calling. I ‘d had a rough night’s sleep. Couldn’t get off. Too many things, ‘worries’, running around my head. So up and down tending to Ella, was annoying just something else to add to my disturbed sleep. This went on until 5.38. I’m thinking this was a sign that I should be up and out in the world. So I put Ella into our bed and got dressed and out the door before I could think about how tired I was.

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It was a lovely morning. The sun was up but still playing with colours as it graced the sea and rocks. I walked with a brisk pace, with purpose as it felt right to be up now and out, getting some exercise, starting my day with good intentions towards myself. I was out for 50 minutes. I got back and practiced yoga for 15 minutes. Then created a green smoothie for breakfast and settled down in my space to write my morning pages.

Before I knew it 2 hours had passed. This is an indication of how much time I need at the start of every day to come home to myself before I’m ready to start the rest of my day with others and responsibilities. I am being honest with myself here, and if I want to see out the rest of my day in a balanced, happier and truer way, I need to make sure that more times than not this is how I start my day, even if it means getting up at 5.30. It’s not a luxury but a necessity.

‘ The quality of light by which we scrutinize our lives has direct bearing upon the product which we live, and upon the changes which we hope to bring about through those lives. It is within this light that we form those ideas by which we pursue our magic and make it realized.’ Taken from Audre Lorde, ‘Poetry Is Not A Luxury.’

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Playing With Colour


I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I’m not even sure if ‘they’ would call it art.
I just know I’m having a good time.

I love colour. Always have. As a child, I would fill a piece of A4 white paper with doodles. I would colour the whole sheet in with colour. Different colours, All the colours I had in my colouring box. And then I would give these creations away.

I loved to give them to my Dad, as a sign of love. I wanted him to these creations to the bookies with him, to show to all his friends. To show how proud he was of me. To show them ( and me) how much he loved me.
I’m not sure if he did show his friends my colouring in. I just know I gave them to him, wanting him to be proud of me. To make him happy. To make him love me.

These days, as I sit quietly, swirling bright marker pens across a sea of white I feel a giddiness in my core. The fluttering of excitement starts in my belly and travels towards mt throat where it has to erupt into ‘aarrr’ or laughter. I experience pure joy at the sight of rich ruby red taking over white. Shocking pink crowding out white. Turquoise swimming into white territory. Witnessing colour moving into the blank spaces and taking over, talking and mingling with each other is a pleasure that I want to repeat again and again. Like an orgasm. I want more x