I’ve taken quite a shine to Loch Morlich. It’s a place that keeps on giving. And a place I long to return. I leave it with a renewed commitment to my self-love journey. To devoting more time, care and attention to myself. Diverting the attentions I might have been giving out willy-nilly to other people, thoughtlessly, I redirect back to the source. Me.
7am, Loch Morlich
I entered the loch today as the sun was rising. I broke the surface of the loch, with its shards of ice and glided out. Slow expansive circles ripped upon the lochs surface as I took slow, cold strokes. It was freezing and it was painful, but I didn’t want to stop, to get out and leave the loch. But I did.
My finger tips were white for a long time after my swim. I used hot water to bring back some feeling into them. They were so painful. But this pain, along with my body submerged without the frozen loch, are all a reminder to feel again, to live my life to the fullest and give thanks in the process.
Yesterday, I clocked up 17 miles on my walk into Aviemore and back. So today was a talking it easy kind of day. But I still needed to move my body. To explore the camp site and be with the loch. So a morning walk it was.
Sun just up. Loch serene.
10am, River into Loch
Some days, to keep the creative juices flowing and the blood pumping, I take a walk out. Stretch the legs and clear the head. All those great thinkers from time have sworn by taking a walk and a problem is solved.
Sun up. River flowing.
2pm, Loch Morlich
As the afternoon wears on, I usually get a slump in energy levels. If I was home, I’d crawl under a blanket and ride out the low energy. Picking on myself for being so lazy and not doing something to shift my energy. Today I got back out to the loch and noticed a nip in the air. A rise in the wind speed and a reluctance to get into the water.
Sun descending. Loch rippled.
5.30pm, Loch Morlich
The aim was to enter the loch with the sun going down. But I couldn’t be arsed. There were too many people round. I was the only Black body around for miles as well as the only body I’d seen for my stay entering the loch. I was too tired to be singled out any further. So I walked the loch. Around to the point of the sun going down and the loch taking on the colours of dusk. I was glad I walked out again.
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!
What do you do when you’re practicing self-love and have a whole selection of rituals to support this practice and have been following them each day for the year of 2025 so far and then one day you are just so tired that you don’t have the energy to muster the right move in the moment to demonstrate said self-love instead of self-harm?
You create a blog post about it all as a reminder as well as a source of inspiration to motivate yourself to make that self-love gesture or movement which is needed in that moment instead of continuing down that oath of self-harm and self-neglect.
I’m reimagining a better version of what a lover feels like. I’m walking away from what feels familiar and safe. I’m listening to what my soul is crying out for.
How I yearn to show up in the world might not always be accepted and celebrated. But that’s okay because the person who needs to accept and celebrate my relationships is me.
I’m pouring myself into the people I’m choosing to be my people. No longer holding out or resenting those who don’t serve me.
I’m doing things differently because I choose to and that excites me!
This is what I’m noticing when I move my body outside. Sharing the beauty in decay, something I used to shield myself from out of fear. But now I appreciate the natural cycle of things. From death there comes rebirth. A renaissance.
Not sure why or how but I went with it. It got me outside the house into the sun. A cold day but we had the light.
The light pulled me around the park, as I walked ran walked. Second run of the week. So what if I took an extra day between each run to recover. I got back out and I’m grateful.
My mood has remained up as the day has gone on. And I say I don’t know why but I think I do.
I think because I’m building up the trust I have in myself is the thing. Because I’m consistently showing up for myself with my morning routine. I’m showering myself with care and attention. And I’m feeling the benefit of it, through waking up with a smile of my self.
It’s a circle – I give into my pot in order to receive.
For the past few years, I’ve been trying to protect my mornings. I’ve tried to not schedule morning meetings so I could give myself the time and space to ease into my day. I’ve found that when I give myself this time and space in the morning to be/do what makes me feel more like myself, then the rest of the day runs better. It’s about prioritising my needs and wants before I face the world and give myself to it and other people.
So the past few days have seen me try to embed much more ritual and intention into the start of my day. I would do certain things that I know were good for me but some days I would forget and rush off into the day and then realise later on what I had forgotten to do. A simple act of getting water into my system first thing could be overlooked if I wasn’t being mindful in my mornings.
So on reflection, I realised that I was still protecting my mornings, but I wasn’t being/doing the things that I needed and wanted to do with consistency. And there’s the rub. Consistency. Consistency over complexity. Keeping things simple and doing things over and over again has the potential to bring about change, clarity and joy. Consistency doesn’t have to be monotonous and regimental as I feel I’ve been looking at it over the years. Consistency can be cozy, and constructive and pleasurable, for sure. Well this is what I’m thinking now as I try to become more consistent with my morning routines and rituals. And of course it’s a practice, like everything is. And some mornings I might fail at the practice but really it’s not a fail even if I forget something from the routine. What the point is, is the mindful intention of practicing a morning routine and remembering why I am doing it. To prioritise myself.
So what does my morning routine look like? And sharing it here is just another way for me to remember it, remind myself, to embed it. To make it became second nature with time.
On waking, give thanks for waking.
Water out/ water in
Back to bed to mediate
Read in bed
Move body
Coffee and journal
Get ready
Start day outside – walk
Come back to gratitude at the end of the day and share 3 things I’m grateful for
Repeat
What do I have to do to make this happen? To make this a habit? Do it and keep doing it. It isn’t a chore or anything difficult. It’s giving me a chance to make sure my mornings are SLOW. There’s room for self-reflection, self conversation, self-love. Do it and keep doing it. And if I miss a step, go back and do it when I remember. As soon as I remember. And not to beat myself up about missing a step but offer myself some compassion and grace. I’m not trying to be perfect or a morning goddess. But I am trying to be me, more me. More whole me.
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