threads

threads

#liberatedlines:: amplify :: day 6 #threads

Yeah man, I’m a strong black woman. Independent, resourceful, push me down and I get back up. ‘Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down. ‘ As the advert used to say.

Hell I’ve even been proud to state that I’m an independent black woman. But that’s not my whole story. This is not all of who I am. Something I have to explore and step out from behind this cardboard cut out of a woman of colour. And something those looking at me and judging have to realise; I am more than just one story. I have many multicoloured threads running through me that I am just starting to be brave enough to explore.

I’m an introvert. I hate crowds. I’d rather stay quiet that speak up and out.

I was a girl who idolised her daddy even though he beat her to keep her quiet.

I was a young woman who didn’t want to be like her mama; a virgin till married and then only being with one man for her life. So I slept around at Uni so I could at least feel I had variety. Even if none of them touched my heart or my ‘g’ spot.

I was the career woman following education’s path right up to doctorate level thinking at least then they would listen to me. Take me seriously. I was wrong.

I am the mother who is constantly second guessing herself if she’s doing a good enough job or not. This time, this energy could be better off just giving them my attention. My love.

I am the wife now who lives like a virgin.

I married a man who each day expects me to be that strong black woman. When each day all I want to do it climb into my woman cave and write. I want to dive deep inside of me to give in to all parts of me. To embrace the light and the dark. I want to be able to play in my shadows 24/7 and not have to worry I have to come back out to make the tea or go do the school run. I want to be free of this strong black woman hashtag so I can break apart, break down with the aim to build myself up in a different way. In a way more aligned with my soul, my heart, my voice. Not influenced by any outsiders or societal situations but staying true to the multicoloured threads that take their hue from the rivers flowing inside of me. Wild and free.

#liberatedlinesamplify

naming my bones

naming my bones

liberated lines:: amplify :: day 2 – Can you class teeth as bones? As when the North wind blows and gusts straight through me as if I am air, I smile. Later my teeth ache, like the cold has seeped into my teeth, into my bones.

The cold can nestle within my womb for days. I feel it bedding down. Not bothering to warm through. Instead content on chilling me from the inside out. Right through to the tips of my fingers and toes.

I look at my hands and wonder. You can have more than 206 bones, you know? Unnamed bones that develop in areas of friction and tension and stress.

I feel unnamed bones in the in the palms of my hands. Because I’ve always tried to please, giving away parts of myself in the hope of being validated and loved.

I feel unnamed bones in the soles of my feet. Because I’m trying to walk back to me now. Trying to get back to my whole self; the self who was lost behind masks others forced upon me and the ones I took up eagerly, if it meant I belonged.

Gut and bone and bleed. I name these as authentic me. Sinewy strong fibres knitted close together. Taking up the slack. Gut and bone and bleed. Lined up like rows of teeth, ready to do battle, ready to bear my soul. Gut and bone and bleed.
#liberatedlinesamplify #namingyourbones #authenticsheshe #alchemy #belovedbodypeace #hygge #practice #wildsoulwoman #voice #standinginmytruth #patience #compassion

there is darkness

there is darkness

liberated lines:: amplify :: day 1

There is a darkness … I am the mother who sleeps in late because I skywrite my intention days before. It’s Monday morning and I’m playing hooky from expectations. I scrunch my pillow up closer feeling into the silence of the house, holding my dreams of the day.
I am the tender of others even when alone. As I put the washing in, prepare the evening meal, wash the dishes, dry the dishes, turn the dishes over. I am a healer while still healing myself. But isn’t that always the way?
I am bed and pen and computer and toffee-nut coffee. I navigate the bends in the river, I want to say with grace. But I know with strength.
In the darkness, I bed down, make myself cosy as I know here, layers of self echo and shed, amplify and shimmer.
Right down to the bone and soul, there is alchemy with patience, alchemy with compassion. I am becoming, always becoming into my truth.

#liberatedlinesamplify #throughouttheday #hygge #alchemy #intothedarknight #compassion #patience #authenticsheshe #liberatedlines #belovedbodypeace #alchemy #atthecrossroadsofshouldandmust

In Bed With SheShe

in bed with sheshe

I know it’s not all about me …

I took my mother-in-law to her radiotherapy session this morning. Her last one. Yes!!! She got to ring the bell afterward; the sound telling the world that she has completed her treatment.

We do not know as yet if all was successful. But we accept this moment with joy. She has undergone her treatment with courage and grace. And I’ve told her as such.

So when I say I know it’s not all about me … I’ve come home and I’m just so tired. I am exhausted and have just come to bed to rest. To switch off and recharge.

And there is a part of me that wants to beat myself up for being such a wuss, for feeling so tired. I know there is a sense of shame because I feel I have no right to feel this way. I haven’t just undergone cancer treatment. I haven’t been fighting cancer like my mother-in-law for the past year or so.

I’m trying to quieten this critical voice and just let things be; to acknowledging my tiredness which is an accumulation of a number of things. To stop beating myself up if I reach for the next chocolate or chuck of crusty bread instead of that green smoothie or handful of nuts and seeds.

I’m practicing letting it all be and surrendering to how things are, how I feel. How exhausted I am. And it’s hard. It means stripping away a lifetime of beliefs and behaviours that include holding up everything for everyone. That’s the way I should be, the way I’m expected to be by myself and others.

I cried today in the hospital when I saw that frail old woman almost skip into that treatment room. She couldn’t get it over with quick enough. I cried for what she’s been going through. For her family, for us, for our lives, for our fears and for our love.

I cried in surrender as I couldn’t carry on any more with everything packaged up so tight inside, a practice I’m so expert at as a means of just getting on with things.

I realise that the world will keep on spinning if I decide to take a rest now. Life does go on with or without me. With or without you.

This is starting to sound like a Jerry Springer moment, but really take care of yourself so you can take care of others.

I’m learning this and practicing this.

Trying to silence those voices of shame, guilt and selfishness. It’s not. It’s self-care. It’s self-compassion. It’s self-love.

#hygge #alchemy #authenticsheshe #compassion #practice #belovedbodypeace #cancertreatment #family #love #shame #surrender #voice #letitbe #letitgo

I’m the Obeah Woman

i am an obeah woman
I’m the Obeah woman from beneath the sea
To get to satan you gotta pass through me
‘Cause I know the angels name by name
I can eat thunder and drink the rain
Been through enough
Yeah they call me Nita and Pices too
There ain’t nothing that I can’t do
If I choose to, if you let me – Nina Simone

#rewilding #seagoddess #Nita #ocean #obeahwoman #priestess #atthecrossroadsofshouldandmust #mammy #pain #trauma #healing #listening #thecallofthewild #thecalling #whisperings #bleed #lifeanddeath #darkandlight #whole #heart #soulfood

Time and Space

Things haven’t been going to plan recently. No correct that. There’s been no plan. There’s been little reflection on my life, on things that are happening. Things are happening to me. It hasn’t felt as if I’ve been in the driving seat of my life. I’ve just had to get on with things. The things that have been demanding my time and attention. All full-time work related. Things I don’t really want to do. But if I want to keep my job, things I have to do.

So because of this scarcity of time and energy, all creative ideas and projects have been put on the back burner. At one point I was getting annoyed about this. And I must say to live with me was hell. But then I remembered HERE. Here I am on hiatus from creative stuff. I gave myself permission to be creative. But when I got into the thick of things, I forgot my commitment to self. Remembering eased the pressure slightly. But it didn’t make me feel any better as I know I am at my best when I am lost in the creating.

I am in the state of waiting until this chapter of my life ends and I can get back to making big shakes in terms of getting to know myself better. Until I can get back to sharing my story, I am waiting. I am practicing waiting as patience is not part of my make up. But during this process, this muscle is being strengthened. So maybe at the end of this phase I can celebrate my developing patience. We’ll see soon enough.

time and space

Paying Attention

As I travel to work, again I am paying attention to my surroundings. Now it is the sea as I take the ferry across the Tyne, from one shields to the next. The light always makes me relax into the moment. It is ever changing as time passes. But then when I look down upon the water, I see patterns, I see movement, I see beauty.
I’m collecting images each journey. I’m doing the work and not looking back at what I’ve created. I’m saving that until I have more time and space to reflect and move the project forward somehow. At the moment, I’ve just capturing what I see. And this makes me happy. This brings me joy and the flutter of excitement in my gut. And that’s enough for now.

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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