The walk is blustery. A chill sets in. The stone wall from centuries past worn into smooth layers, slips and trips around memories.
She breaths deep and releases aeons of pain. Her body relaxes into the currents. And with arms wide, she lets go. Her shadow is a moving dark mass across the landscape.
Her heart, the energetic space of unconditional love beats for all, pumping the blood of life throughout and between this landscape and hers.
Proud as a wolf, protective and loyal, she still burns for the life that could have been. If she has said ‘no’ instead of yes. If she had walked on instead of stopping to pay attention.
Burning from the inside out, she has mastered the guise of calm and delicacy to anyone watching her. She has mastered the guise of contentment and love. But she smoulders.
But sometimes, a flicker escapes usually when out in the wilds. Usually when alone under the pale moon. Then you will see her prowl. Then you will hear her howl.
Walking and writing for wellness. That is my choice of self-care.
Today saw me hold the first meeting, as project coordinator, for the forthcoming project Black Nature in Residence.
This is a project funded by Art Council England which will run for the rest of 2020 and into next year, where four black writers will be in residence at different natural heritage sites in the North East of England.
More details will follow over on Earth Sea Love as things develop. But for now, believe me when I say, I’m excited about my opportunity to be in residence.
Jon Hopkins at The Sage Gateshead was phenomenal. His kind of music, electronica, is not usually my kind of music. But it was my husband, Alan who invited me along. As a kind of date. Jon and his support, Hayden Thorp, did not disappoint.
Polarity the show, with lights and haze, we a mingling of the gentle with the raw. There was tenderness and harshness. Closing my eyes, and the music getting into my body, I fell into a trance hard and profound. Letting go and just floating on the beats was an amazing experience and one I haven’t felt in a while. There were moments of sheer frenzy and then moments of stillness. Beautiful. I want to explore more of Hopkins’ music as well as Thorp’s because I’ve found having preconceived ideas about certain music genres can close me off from moments of clarity and enjoyment. I’m going to practice being more open to newness and stuff outside of my usual radar or comfort zone. Who knows what doors this will open inside me?
A dull turquoise, maybe even duck-egg blue, worn and distressed
nestled into an alcove, pushed back to not intrude upon the small room.
What do you hold, what do you conceal? And you fine chair, straw seat
spindly legs and arms, who do you invite, who do you hold?
Passing questions, I hold, as I pass through this room. May I say
an artist’s room? Maybe. But the easel will hold the result. Hold the answers.
Don’t you just love the sound.
Click clack. The sound of metal keys
springing up to hit the taut paper
leave a black mark behind
that mesh together to make a word a sentence
a whole piece of writing.
The sound makes me feel useful
and diligent. The sound makes me feel
creative and inspired. The sound reminds
me of play and make-believe and efficiency.
Today, I’m 60 posts into my #100daysofblogging here on my website. I think the first two months of the year have flown by. As we look towards Spring, I feel hopeful that I will fulfil this challenge, I feel hopeful that I’m learning so much from the journey.
During these 60 days, I’ll not lie, I’ve lost the spark, the creative spark from time to time. Those days when I can’t be bothered to come here. Those days when I’m tired or busy or just can’t face the blank screen. But making this commitment to myself has brought me back daily.
The spark is rekindled by remembering my purpose and passion. As the cheetah above signifies. Sometimes I just need to stop and check in with myself and check that I’m doing something for the right reasons. For something true to me.
I took upon this challenge for myself because I wanted a means to keep in touch with my creativity. I believe that action breeds action. Touching the bubble keeps the bubble afloat and important and in focus. Blogging helps me keep writing here and elsewhere.
The spark is rekindled by turning up. Do something. Do anything. Move forward. One word at a time. One foot in front is another. But don’t give up. The spark is rekindled by the feelings I experience when I know I showed up for me once again. It makes me smile. And Lord, do I like smiling.
Living Wild Studios 