I took myself outside

After my wisdom tooth extraction, the energy and motivation hasn’t been there to move my body. To allow myself the time and grace to be with nature. Outside walking.

Over the last few days I’ve not set myself a challenge, but I’ve been more open to movement. What has helped me stay out there, motivated, has been opening up my senses and witnessing the changes that are happening in nature at this time of year.

We’re moving into late summer, and glimpses of autumn, my favourite season, are just around the corner. I’d like to share what I’ve been feasting my senses on as this has brought me great joy as well as the much needed kick up the arse to walk again.

It hasn’t been about the heat but more so about the light.

a much appreciated gift

After a really successful visual journaling retreat in Sheffield, which I’ll share about soon, I was gifted this handmade journal.

Made from wallpaper, eco-dyed papers and love, Dal Kular, a wonderful friend and fellow mischief maker gifted me this journal. Off shots from a bigger, much bigger journal she created in connection with her creative in residence in Peak District National Park, Dal wanted me to have this beauty.

I know Dal was proud of it and knew that I would put it to good use. I dived into using it start away. I needed the clarity of a new journal, while on the road with Kiwi and this journal is fulfilling that need and want, remarkably well.

I’ll be back later this week to share the completed journal spreads.

creative dispatches

sometimes i’m writing. my body is writing and she doesn’t know . she doesn’t know what / how/ where. the body just doesn’t know yet what to say. how to say it.

my body writes what is doesn’t know yet.

what is put down on the page, the words and language doesn’t know either. what is it trying to say?what does it know? what doesn’t it know?

i was going to say that things become clearer in the process. but that’s not true. in the process more questions are raised. not answers. but more curiosity, wonder and play.

here, i’ve cultivated a safe space. a safe container where i can be intimate and vulnerable. i can experiment and play to locate my voice, my knowledge and wisdom.

i embark on another journey with my body writing what she doesn’t know after completing an amazing commission/ gig/ assignment. i’ll share soon. i feel depleted after fullness. i’m tired but also lost.

i know i need to rest before anything else. so i rest for now. i rest in the not knowing.

peony practice

peony, oxeye daisy, foliage and rose.

i practice their names like i practice how to breathe

without you. i smell you still upon the covers, upon my skin.

citrus, moss and burnt wood. your magic seeped under

my skin into the blood. hypnotising my senses and made

me light, made me forgetful and soft. no regrets.

i only wish, i had kept my eyes open in order to see your guise slip

like a big blousy peony petal to the earth.

Writing Into the Wound

What are you curious about?

“As a writer, my job is to make sense of the state of the world; I hardly know where to begin.”

Roxane Gay
Writing into the Wound: Understanding Trauma, Truth, and Language