rest

At More Ease

| Sheree
Duck Pond, Tynemouth

End / beginning of another week. Depending on if you see Sunday as the end of the week or the beginning of the next.

For me it’s and/both. Sundays are usually change over day at our house as Ella goes between my home and her dad’s. Sometimes we do things on a Sunday or sometimes we don’t.

We just take it easy.

But usually on a Sunday I reflect on the week gone and plan for the week ahead. It’s a ritual of getting my head in the game. Not the outside societal, capitalist game. No, my own game. The Sheree Mack Game, which runs counter to the White Supremacy Culture game of go go go produce produce produce and strive for perfection at the same time as avoiding conflict and being grateful for the crumbs from their table. Yeah counter to that game as I refuse to be part of this system, where my labour is being bought and sold to support the actors, that are white people.

I’ve been hibernating for months now and I’m still tired. Go figure. Maybe my exhaustion is more than a year in a dumb ass job but runs much deeper. A generational exhaustion that I just can’t shift which has to be recognised but will take a lifetime to ease.

Ease. Yes that would be welcome.

There are moments when I grasp these ease and feel it spread across my back, untightening bunched up muscles. Making my spine fluid rather than ridged. These times I can feel my heart and soul float and I’m relaxed into whatever I’m being. But these are just moments. The aim is to extend these moments into longer moments, into days and months.

I’m working on being so but it is a practice. So when I say Sundays are reflecting/ planning days. I don’t mean around a to-do-list of jobs that need to be completed in order to bring in the tainted coin. I mean, where did I experience ease this week and where can I factor in/ plan for more ease next week. Where did I experience joy and pleasure and how can that be replicated moving forward.

Yeah in the Sheree Mack Game, all the rules and tasks are different to the societal external game. At more ease and I know I’m winning x

On A Reading Tip

| Sheree

Quantity over quality is a characteristic of whet supremacy culture. Say like with social media, we are wired to focus on the numbers. The number and amount of followers, likes, comments gives us the buzz. Keeps us returning usually. Rather than the quality of interactions. The quality of connections.

But in this instant when I say I’m on a reading tip and boast that I’ve read 12 books already this year, fiction, poetry and non-fiction, I’m taking the buzz of the numbers because I know they were quality reads.

Last year saw me fall off my reading horse. Reading was only happening when I had an extended amounts of time off the clock. Summer reading mostly. I didn’t have the bandwidth or desire to read at any other times. I was too antsy and not able to settle, as too many demands were pulling on my attention.

So I’m really happy that this hibernation season has seen me dive back into books. Physical and digital books. I do not care which as long as I’m reading, expanding my thinking and formulating new pathways of understanding and connection.

So White Tears Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad was completed yesterday. And it so feeds into my experiences with white women. Even though they’ve caused offence, been racist that is, it’s me who’s consoling them and making sure their feelings are not too hurt. Or it’s me having to apologise because my reaction to their racism or them touching my hair without my consent has been deemed far too aggressive and not very collaborative by the organisation or group I was working with.

They are used as a weapon, white tears, to shut down the conversation. To get the white person out of an uncomfortable situation and out of having to look at themselves and their behaviours.

It was so validating to read this book and recognise that it doesn’t just happen to me and that this is a centuries old tactic of the damsel in distress. And that damsel is white as Black and Brown women have never been deemed woman enough to protect. And all this shit is wearing thin with Black and Brown women. Believe.

This book was an extension of an article Ruby Hamad wrote back in 2018 for The Guardian. You can read it there and just know that one Black woman, Lisa Benson, who was working as a journalist at the time got fired for simply sharing this article because it was deemed ‘an attack on white women’. White tears in action right there!

Boudoir

| Sheree

I’m in my own private bedroom, withdrawn from the outside world. But I’m far from sulking or even pouting. I’m in my pleasure. I’m in my delight.

Reflections on January

| Sheree

Hey y’all, how you doin’?

I hope you’re keeping safe and warm as the weather and climate at the moment is freaky. Those times of being secure in the seasons and what would happen weather and temperature wise are gone. Gone. And there’s still people out here denying climate crisis. Please.

I’ve been easing into February after my time away in Barcelona. I sure did enjoy my time away. And let’s get one thing straight. Me going away is not me trying to escape my day to day life. Or to bury my head in the sand and ignore stuff. Nah man! Me taking myself away, spending money on experiences rather than material things, is me giving myself the time and space to dive deeper into myself. To strengthen the person I am becoming on the daily.

Spending time, in new and old places, travelling and meeting new people, is an opportunity to gain clarity on the person I am and becoming. It’s a concentrated time to explore my values and morals, my dreams and plans. It fills my pot with images and words and feelings at the same time as bringing out into the world insight, thoughts and actions.

So January was good in terms of feeding my pot and keeping me in rest mode and February will continue this quest of rest and dreaming.

A highlight of January, and Barcelona is in there of course, was finding a Black Madonna and child just by chance, just as I was leaving Barcelona to take to the sea of Sitges. This sighting and time spent with her was a gift. A gift I carry with me and which is fuelling how I move through the next month.

February the month of love and grace for me. As I’m not looking for love anywhere else expect from myself. And how am I showing myself love this month? Resting when it’s needed. Not rushing to do things I don’t want to do. Not being a doormat for other people. Distancing myself from toxic people and situations. Not playing the games that belittle me. Not voicing my power and choice as a way to keep the peace or to be looked upon fondly. Being honest even when it hurts including myself because life’s too short to be wrapped up in charades. Caring for my needs and wants. Prioritising my needs and wants first because then when I turn up for others there is no resentment just an open heart.

Of course February will see some more traveling as I continue to fill my pot with experiences that make my heart sing and smile shine. #onwards.

Consistency

| Sheree
Sitges

This is my final day in Barcelona. Well Spain, as I took a trip yesterday southwest along the coast to Sitges and stayed.

This is the Mediterranean Sea and I got in it this morning. It wasn’t planned as I didn’t bring a swimming costume on my travel. Travelling light I was. . So it was a very fetching set of underwear that saw me right. Who knew!

Not as cold as the North Sea but still fresh. But oh so clear. Glass clear. It was just what my body needed . Now I’m chilled in a good way. Bones, and sinew relaxed, grateful for this time away with myself.

I thought I would have written more here on the blog while away but I haven’t. Saving my reflections for after rather than during. Really being present while here has been my focus. And it’s felt LUSH.

I’m proud of my consistency as I’ve still kept up with my morning routine while here as well as completing a whole month of posting on my blog for January.

Another consistent habit/ practice for January and hopefully beyond, has been honouring my body. Listening to her and giving her what she needs and desires. This is new as before it’s been denial and depriving and depreciating.

Tiger Chai and Cinnamon Roll, yummy!!!

2025 had seen, no felt, a change with my relationship will my body. I’m looking forward to exploring this even more during February. The month of love!

Mourning in the morning

| Sheree

Joy does not always come with the morning. No, joy comes with the mourning. If you invite grief across the threshold and into your home, joy will come alongside it. If you take a deep dive into your pain, comfort will be there waiting. If you allow yourself to go into the center of your suffering, beloved one, rejoicing will meet you there. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the MOURNING! – Sensual Faith, Lyvonne Briggs

I’m still reading Sensual Faith, in the mornings usually with coffee and quiet. And this morning this quite rang a bell with me.

I realise that part of this hibernation is involving some mourning, some processing of grief. I suppose I’m always processing grief, coming to terms with loss – loss of people, relationships, opportunities, moments.

Within white supremacy culture, there’s no room for grief as well as not learning the tools and practices to process grief, as individuals as well as in community.

Grieving and healing are somatic journeys. We have to get into our bodies and feel the pain in mind body and spirit in order to process the pain. Process the loss. But we can’t do this if we spend all our time and energies disassociated from our bodies, disconnecting and hating on our bodies.

This realisation landed with me this morning and it just sang. It sang out the truth so loudly and clearly that I had to take this moment and mark it. Place hold this insight and keep on circling around it/ through it/ over it/ with it moving forward.

Wednesdays

| Sheree

I haven’t done this in a while but I’m feeling it today. The mid-week slump, nevermind hump!

After a restful weekend, I used to rush into my Mondays and do all the things. Get everything in order for the week ahead. Full blazing glory that meant come Tuesday, I’d been down and out. Knackered.

It’s been awhile since this knackered feeling has hit me on a Wednesday. After a couple of days of emotional roller coasting and focusing on traumas and past hurts, moving my body to move the energy, today I’m staying put on the couch, alternating between coffee with hot buttered toast, and YouTube and reading. Eyes drooping and head nodding.

I really don’t give a fuck as this is the point of my hiatus, hibernation for the next 3 months, to rest and retreat and dream. If I’m feeling like doing fuck all then I’m doing fuck all. Nothing.

My worth is not measured in how much I achieve in a day, how many things I can cross off that never ending to-do list. My worth just is. I’m here. I’m enough.

So excuse me while I stretch out a bit deeper into the couch of many cushions and blankets and flick through the line up for an afternoon movie, a black and white one maybe. Old school. LUSH.