The aim this month was to turn up here everyday and post something; words, images. Anything. Anything that would be used as evidence of my presence. Of my joy and my gratitude.
And now I look and see I’ve missed the last 7 days. And for now I don’t have the energy to go back over this week and pull out the good parts. Or maybe even the bad.
I just know that time is fleeting and speeding. Before we know it, we’ll be in 2024. And I’m not sure I want to waste any more time living in the past.
I’m wanting more and more to live in the present. This is what I’m grateful for; the time and means and ability to live in the present. Live/ love with each day as it comes.
Too big, too fat, too black for most spaces, places, people. So I thought or was lead to believe.
I’ve spent decades trying to get rid of my body.
Make it smaller, make it thinner, make it whiter. All the time knowing I was wasting my time, energy and money. But that didn’t stop me.
I was hard wired into chasing the perfect body, the ideal standard of beauty. Which just wasn’t me and my body.
Slowly, with care, self-love, mindset changes and practice, I’m learning to appreciate my body and all the spaces and places and people she takes me.
Through my body I get to experience this world and all its terrible beauty. And right now, as that’s all we can depend on/ should focus on/ breathe into, I’m loving on my body from the inside out.
I’m offering her grace and compassion as she continues to move me through this world. Allowing me to be here, {being} myself in all my fucked up glory.
And isn’t that fucking awesome!
Today my body walked me into the sea to remind me to feel again. To remind me I’m alive again. To remind me that we are only here for a short, brief time so shouldn’t we try to squeeze all the feels, sweet and not so sweet, out of it while we’re here?
I’ve been receiving emails from newsletters that I subscribe to detailing end of year round ups and reflections. And I’m not sure I’m ready yet to step into that energy. I’m still living the year in front of me now – day by day. To let me just linger in the moments. Linger in the awareness of time passing. Winter’s here and the geese are getting fat an all that. But even in these times of worry, brutality and violence, let us to a moment to breathe and give thanks.
I thought the snow would come and go especially with living by the coast. There’s something in the air, maybe it’s the salt from the sea, which makes snow here a fleeting thing.
But she’s stayed the last few days and has dug in. Fresh snow falling over night. Clinging to roof tops, layer upon layer, creating slippery paths and doorsteps.
But as I’ve said before there is something magical about snow and how it silences the air. Almost like a cocoon is created in the world you’re walking through/{being} within.
So like the child that still lingers inside of me, I’ve been taking joy in the snow lingering and transforming my world into a safe and cosy cocoon away from the harshness of the other world.
I’m sharing this spread created this morning because I’m channeling the love. The love on self. In all my fucked up glory. There is beauty in the messy. Ugly and sweet. And that’s the way it goes ( Janet Jackson style!).
Sometimes, I can feel my energy stagnating. Or being leeched away into activities, projects or circumstances that I want to be in but which if I allow it take me away from what is important to me.
I do great work and I enjoy facilitating/ creating/ coordinating it. Changing lives and bringing joy and opportunities to others, for others.
But sometimes, I have to strengthen my boundaries and batter down the hatches in order to make sure I can show up the best version of myself for myself and others.
The last couple of weeks have found me running low on energy, patience and creativity. I’ve been giving away a lot of myself, time and energy, and focus.
So the next chapter to the end of 2023, is focused on me taking back what’s mine. Taking back my time, my energy, my sparks and directing them in the directions that feed my soul. Which fuels my dreams and confidence in my voice.
And it starts with preparing my next visual journal. I’ve returned to a trusty old faithful. A pink pig sketchbook. And I’ve set up on my kitchen bench with paints and the gift card.
Every time I go into the kitchen, I create a spread. I smear drops of paint across the page with the disused credit card. I can feel my energy, my excitement and joy rising.
This simple act of moving colour across the page fills me with joy, wonder and ideas. My creativity has been lit up again and I’m looking forward to filling these pages.
Do lazy days make you feel rested or unproductive?
This morning’s gratitude
It’s been a bit hit and miss here over the last few weeks as I’ve been busy, walking and resting.
There are no lazy days. Saying a person is having a lazy day is such a imperialist, capitalist, white supremacy patriarchy judgement.
Our value does not come from how busy we are, how productive we are or how hard we hustle.
I’m done with that mentality and practice and conditioning.
I’m been resting up after my 96 miles hike for the lowlands to the highlands of Scotland and have felt no guilt or made any excuses for it. I’m luxuriated in the inactivity.
Rest is a weapon as I’ve said before. Rest is pushing back against a system which was set up not for my survival but destruction.
Rest is a Revolution. So while I write my morning pages from bed, cradling a hot coffee and a sugared ring donut, I creatively plot my next move in chipping away for the dismantling of the system.
This includes another coffee and another page of dreaming. I’m not lazing, I’m not having a lazy day, I’m creating friction, rebellion, freedom.
Today is my birthday and it dawned bright here in the Highlands. The sun has been dancing across the peaks of the Glencoe mountains but the rain and wind has followed soon after.
I wait to set off walking today. Alex is injured. A scar of a former wound has become infected and it’s touch and go if he can walk today. But the deal is if he can’t I go on.
I wait to see what happens.
Today is a short day of walking just over 8 miles but no doubt still a hard day as we attempt the Devil’s Staircase. The highest point on the West Highland Way (550m)which has claimed lives in the past as the navvies building the reservoir in Kinlochleven would take this route at night after drinking over this side and would get lost and perish in the mountains.
Nowadays, there’s a well defined path and hopefully we’ll be up and down before the light fades.
Living Wild Studios 