Fugitive Practice

For those of us who live at the shoreline… Audre Lorde

It will be 10 years this August that I started my visual journaling practice.

Then it was called Dreaming on Paper, as I completed the course of the same name by Lisa Sonora.

I needed a safe space to explore the tumult of my feelings and thoughts. I was going through a traumatic experience of escape really. Escape from the life I’d spent the past 12 years building up, that was took away in the flick of a Facebook post.

I ran away from the public, the writing community, my home as I travelled into the Scottish Highlands and Islands. To heal.

Visual journaling helped me heal. Helps me continue to heal.

Overtime, I’ve come to understand my visual journal practice as a fugitive practice. Within these paints, images and words, dreams of freedom are planned out and eventually come to fruition. Projects, happenings, events – all on my own terms.

I mean, the whole point about escape is that it’s an activity. It’s not an achievement. You don’t ever get escaped. – Fred Moten

Within these visual journal spreads, I work out how to escape, how to get outside white supremacy culture while still having to be living on the inside. Coming to terms with the thought of that the outside can only occur from the inside. Being here.

Visual journaling is me trying to create an opening, a break in the fabric in which to slip on through into the otherside/ outside, into the woods running between the trees with the dogs barking at my feet. Creating beauty, creating a beautiful space in which to linger in while the terror rages around me.

Visual journaling is a safe space, is a nurturing space, is a free space.

Tender, Undoing Self Within Night’s Skin – Day 13

I say to myself : stop. Stop undoing yourself within night’s skin.

Tell myself a promise to sort out my living habits so I don’t die prematurely like my mum.

Imagine the tenderness: like soft beige rolls of fat, like soft pink tongues languishing in wet mouths, like soft woollen blankets tickling toes.

I may no longer be the second daughter, the misfit who could conjure a soul’s reflection through colourful art.

Please night as you stretch out your skin one more time, please be tender with my damaged, twisted stars.

Revisions – Day 11

Come Again

Day 9 – Goofing off Revisions/ redrafting

Ten years. Ten long years of changes, I’ve been dreaming on paper.

I had to give myself permission.

To create again. Safely.

I was fearful. Fearful of the word. Images are safer. Images speak to the soul.

Paint. Takes me back to being a child and all I wanted was love and joy.

Tapping into this feeling of being with self, I show up to the page. Each day.

Each day, I have the opportunity to start again.

Each day I have the opportunity to meet the sunrise anew.

[the hour after] – Day 8

Letting my brain catch up with the happening, I allow my heart to stop for an instant. Feeling unmoored to make sense, far too soon.

If only I had saw it coming. If only someone had thought to talk to me before this. Maybe things would be different, maybe the wound wouldn’t cut so deep.

Needing to rewind the clocks, to go back to that ignorant bliss, that season of love and acceptance, is a fool’s wish.

Under the avalanche of words, I move silent into the dark night, to piece myself back together following a different schema, charting an undiscovered course.

[the hour before] – Day 7

I know I was in the full of it all. Life overflowing.

With all its distractions and demands and me thinking I’m the central force.

I know I was missing from the family home, chasing the next big gig, the next recognition slip.

Maybe my family had eaten for the day and I’d missed it again.

Maybe I had to circle the streets trying to find a parking space for at least half an hour.

I know I carried loads of bags with stuff packed just in case, always worried about being unprepared and found wanting.

I know I lacked the self-belief and love of self. I know I needed more of everything.

So when night fell, and I found myself still working, reorganising books for god’s sake, I know I wasn’t prepared for the public shaming.

But my gut probably knew this day of failure would come to expose me for the imposter always felt and knew.

A Study in Short Lived Adventures – Day 5

We’re always looking for answers.

I think that’s why I tell stories or lies.

The purple sky really sets off the creamy whites of those stars.

Silence plays itself. Silence.

I just wish you’d open your eyes when you hover over me.

I just wish you would see me.

Let Us Indulge -Day 4

Let us linger here in this room with the curtains closed with our other lives forgotten for a little while longer.

Let us not use words when our hands, lips and tongues can communicate our needs, our wants.

Let our breath be silken on our skin, let our bodies entwine still able to promise bloom and ripple.

Let us slow it all the way down, slowly, slow, so we can feel each stroke, each gliding smooth folding into each other.

Let us hear each others moans of joy, of wonder as our bodies wander together away from this room, this bed into our happy place where we can ride out the rest of our time here on earth.

Let us dream this lushness as we reach for each other, conjuring connection beyond the here and now, in the here and now.

Let us linger in the lingering light and just enjoy this afterglow, this pleasured pain like passing ships never to traverse these same desire lines ever again.

Stretching Into The Light, Into The Blossom

From about mid November 2024, I took myself off on a self-directed hibernation.
I might have had to do some work in a school in December but mostly from then until today, the end of March, I’ve been resting. I withdrew from the world of responsibilities and work to take some much needed alone time. I went within, into the darkness and stillness. And now as I attempt to resurface and re-engage with the world, with great difficulty I may add, I’m taking this time to reflect on this practice and process of disappearing from the world for months on end.

Firstly, I think everyone should do it. And I don’t like using ‘should’ but here I’m going to make an exception. I know it’s a privilege to take time out of work and from seeking money for a certain period of time, and I recognise that, but wouldn’t it be a better world for everyone and even living thing, if we all could hit that stop button and rest?

For me through this retreat practice, everything is put into perspective. I give myself the time and space to reflect and process all the shit thats happening in this world. And I may not come back with the solutions but I do come back with an expanded capacity for joy and grace instead of just the feelings of overwhelm and defeat.

My time away has been good for the soul because I’ve been able to remember and reclaim my body-soul-spirit connection. I’ve been able to reclaim my connection to self, nature and other people. I’m been able to come home to myself and work out, gently, what is important to myself. What are my values and morals and am I living my life by them. If not then let’s recalibrate and get back on track. And I don’t mean the capitalist make as much money and the least connection and impact kind of track. I mean the track of being the best version of myself so I can show up for others in my family and community as the best version of myself for them.

I’ve taken this time away for me but at the same time, I hope as a role model. As an example to follow. Yes money is always going to be an issue. There is always not going to be enough to go around and to do the things I want to do or live the life I want to live. But at the same time, I can live more frugal. I can spend my money on experiences rather than on material stuff. And I can take the risk and say I’m not going to work or actively seek work for a few months while I rest, while I work on myself, while I {BE}.

Of course, my bank balance is screaming at the lack of money therein. Credit owed might be rising. And I could slip into panic mode and think I’ve got to get work, quick and fill the pot back up. But if I slipped right back into this panic mode and ran around like a chicken with no head, what would have been the point of the rest and withdrawal? All that calm and serenity and centred-ness that I’ve created over the last few months would have been for nothing. Gone in the blink of an eye, just like this time away seems to have passed.

This practice of rest and slowness, is part of my practice forever! There’s no switch that I switch back on to go back into work mode. I’m not a machine or a robot. I’m a living, breathing, feeling human being, even though there are some who have made me believe otherwise. I want and need to make sure that my life reflects my priorities and values and not just plays into the system which has never got my back.

As I’ve mentioned before, I writing about fugitivity. And for me part of using fugitivity as a method or practice, is me to take my body out of the systems of production and run. Run away from the rat race, run away from extraction and exploration and stop. Or linger in the time and space of rest and nothingness. Breathe deep and allow my body to come back to life. Allow my joyathon-o-meter to rise by feeding my soul with beauty which is there to see in the every day if only we allow ourselves that time and space to {BE}.

I haven’t just been sitting on my arse and doing nothing during this hibernation, even though a lot of the time was spent on doing nothing, allowing myself to get bored and seeing how it feels and what comes up and seeing what are my go tos to stop feeling all the feels. This has been a period of getting to know myself again, which is difficult if you’re bouncing from one job to another, one project to another, where the aims and intentions are not in my control or even anything I’ve agreed to.

So yes day dreaming did enter the hibernation period. What also featured was reading and writing and walking. And sea swims and travel and alone time with nature. Home cooking, time with family and friends. Music and dancing and artwork and journalling. A lot of visual journalling. Nothing earth shattering but enough. Enough to make me realise that I’ve been running on empty, exhausted really and how harm was caused towards me and how I needed to heal.

Yes if anything, this time has been a time of healing. And this is an on-going process but I feel better equipped now to continue the healing journey.

So April is around the corner and I’ve really not got a lot of work on still. As I made the decision not to actively seek work while in hibernation also. Why take the time away from work commitments and then spend that time searching for work, applying here there and everywhere and getting stressed about finding work for my return?
What nonsense is that.

So yes I might officially end my hibernation today, but I know I still have time for me as the work commitments are few and far between. But not stressing about the things I can’t control but will focus on the things I can control. I might start to gear up to putting our feelers for work but not full throttle. Not nice, don’t like. Again, I’m not going to waste this time away on moving out of zero effort into the max.

I’m slowly easing out of my bear cave. I’m stretching slowly, reaching for the sky. Scratching my back against a tree trunk, and then I seat back down and admire the cherry blossom coming into bloom. I’m taking the time to thank Mother Earth for being with me and allowing me to rest and to resurface when I’m good and ready. I’m grateful for this time away. And I’m grateful to be able to return in my full glory as me.

Endure

This wasn’t the way he promised it would be.

Bare floors, five to a room, babies’

faces lined with hunger, piercing

cries towards an empty oil lamp.

Love squeezes out of lives.

Boys shooting boys as regular as angel

dusting on banana leaves, long

and glistening. Violence standing

caged on corners with broken

standpipes, living next to dread.

The seething and faltering silence

as the dreamed for life

bobs on a distant horizon.

The moon is nowhere in sight.*

*Laventille, Smokestack Books, 2015