Sometimes when I get a download, I just have to grab the first bit of paper and pen I can see and write.

It feels as if I haven’t got the time and patience for my visual journaling practice and I’ve just got to get the words on the page.

Like short, sharp, frenzied sex after a drought, a stream of consciousness shit comes rolling out of me. From my body. Onto the page. Words here. Paint there.

And within this pile of words/ marks are glimmers, signs, clues for next steps, moves forward. Invitations.

I’m been resting, after a full on time of exams and work and in that resting time, I did nothing creative except breathe. Breathe a little deeper and longer. Fuller.

There are still times when I have that moment of dread, that I’ve forgotten something. That I should be doing something else instead of doing nothing.

I know time will heal the wound. Time will suture the skin over the rupture and this period will become a memory. A trace left in an ache running down my neck and shoulder. A dull tugging at my soul.

Anyway, I’m back here. And I’m not going to try and fill in the gaps. The gaps are important, these liminal spaces where possibility and potential are ripe.

I come back with plans to share a new series of posts which I’m loosely calling my ‘Summer Field Guide’. My plan to get intentional about the summer ahead ( or here already!) and offer myself space to play, get curious, dream and imagine. No pressure just {BEING} my inner child out loud.

I’m excited.