patience

Making myself comfy

| Sheree

After a busy week, where it felt as if I didn’t get a weekend, because I didn’t as I was permaculturing and fugitivity spreading, I’m making myself comfy and cosy.

I’m all wrapped up in bed, catching up with my creativity. Catching up with myself.

And I feel so grateful for this cosy fort, for the week I’ve enjoyed, mostly on my own terms, and for the weekend to come. Rest and creative fugitivity.

I’ve still got mothering and taxiing duties this evening but I feel, in my cosy fortress, I’m on my own time/space.

I get to play and be curious and satisfy my desires. And right now all I want to do is be here. Right. Now.

I’m safe. I’m warm. I’m stealing my life back. Each cosy, comfy fort at a time.

Buy me a coffee!!!

| Sheree

Today was the first day I’ve gone for a coffee off of the pledge of support from someone else.

I had some time to meet myself on the page and I thought let me grab a coffee and dream myself into the first quarter of next year.

I’m grateful for the people who have bought me a coffee through the links on this website. It really means a lot as it’s a reminder to myself that I deserve to take a break, to watch the world go by and have those all important conversations with myself.

Thank you supporters.

Dark days

| Sheree

Going out to work this morning, trying to beat the traffic and not be late.

Coming home from work this evening, trying to beat the traffic and get back as soon as safely possible.

I missed the light of the day. I missed a chance to breathe in the cold, crisp air of coming winter.

I missed the light of day and the chance to just breathe unhindered by tasks and being here there and everywhere.

Today, I have so much gratitude for my life, for those days when my time is mine to do with as I so please.

That I can please myself. Having some days taken up with other tasks, tasks for others, tasks for a system I do not believe in, does suck the light out of my soul never mind my day, each time.

Out of sorts I am

| Sheree

These last few weeks of November have found me out of sorts if I’m being honest.

Things that I’ve committed to, or poured my energy into haven’t gone my way or come to fruition.

The disappointment has been at times crippling as well as left me questioning.

Am I good enough? Am I putting my eggs in the wrong basket? Am I really going to bring about change in a system not looking to change?

The sheer effort to keep pushing that boulder up the hill is taking its toll. There’s a voice that’s getting louder saying, why bother?

What the fuck am I doing anyway?

It doesn’t help having these thoughts and being ill too. It doesn’t help that I feel I’m making progress and then turn the next corner to just get knocked back.

While I sit and lick my wounds, doing all the things I said I would never do again, I have to ask myself what am I doing? Where am I going? And would it be just better for me if I stopped caring so much, stopped fighting the ways things are and just give up/ in and accept the crumbs I’m given and be grateful.

Like I said – out of sorts I am!

these are a few of my favourite things …

| Sheree

I’ve missed a few days here.

I don’t know if I expressed it openly but I’ve been trying to post every day here in honour of a practice from years ago of being creative every day.

This last week, home alone and probably depressed, I’ve been beating myself up for not doing more. More out in society as well as within my own practice. I’ve been on a rollercoaster of emotions and I’ve not been kind towards myself.

Coming out the other end though I can see that I’ve been doing what I’ve needed. Rest yes but also quiet, small magic.

I’ve been collecting brown paper from packages. I thought I’d use them within the creative retreats I facilitated this year but it didn’t happen. So I have a very large pile and what I love about the brown paper apart from the sound and texture is the un/uniformativity of it.

These papers are teared to fuck. Fragile and worn and rough. And I love feeling them. So this week, I might not have been posting here but my sitting room became a factory conveyer belt as brown paper got the credit card treatment of smeared paints. Acrylic paints that I’m using up that I love the mixtures of, that gets under my nails and onto the carpet. And I love it. One side wait to dry and then the next and then let’s fold and put these single sheets together to make a whole

This practice has made me whole again this week. I’ve been writing within this new journal this past couple of days and I feel so good to be doing so. Better.

I’m grateful to wake up each morning and {BE}. I’m grateful that I’m no longer chasing recognition and the big bucks. I’m grateful that I don’t give a fuck about being perfect and always having to smile.

I’m grateful for the community I have around me. Cultivated over years. They care for me and I care for them.

I’m grateful to myself for never giving up on me and for always having my back even when it feels I’m falling apart. Falling apart but big hands to put me back together again, but better.