
Sharing My Practice – 003




This is the journal from an altered book. A small book of poetry which I reclaimed and repurposed for my visual journaling. And I completed it this week. So this week will be sharing the spreads from this little beauty.



What is one word that describes you?

“You know life is hard,” my mother once told me with resignation in her voice. She continued, “For years, I’ve been struggling. I’m just plain tired now.” I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or herself , but once again I hardly listened. I was grown, I knew everything. I was a fool. Here one day, gone the next, I never got the chance to agree with my mother; that yes, life is hard. Too damn hard sometimes and there are people, put on this earth, who take it as a personal mission/ vendetta to make it even harder for some people. But hey I’m not here to complain.
This year, I made myself the promise to practice certain things, certain ways of being.
One, to quit the complaining as it only drains my energy.
Two, to stop saying to myself and others that time is flying, that time is going so fast, what’s that all about? (But come on, admit it, time is flying. We’re past mid March already!) Yes stop this stating that time is flying malarky as it’s energy sapping.
And three, to get my arse out of bed each morning, go to my creative corner and practice my visual journalling because this shifts/ boosts/ aligns my energy.
Some days I win, some days I lose but I know just like life, like everything really, it’s a practice. It’s about turning up each day for me and not having an agenda, or any idea what I’m going to create or know down which path my attention will flow. I just know that when I practice my visual journaling, intentionally showing up at my desk each morning, I feel better. Simple.
Yes there are all those insightful and wise deductions I could make about this practice and the effects of it on my creativity, life, work, relationship with self and others. But on the most simplest of levels, it makes me feel better. It sets me up to be present for the rest of my day.
Since November 2023, I’ve been practicing this little old practice of getting into my creative corner and creating/ being. Usually in altered books, or homemade junk journals or hand sewn books. Moving my hands to smear paint across a page, adding text and images, and stickers and sometimes even crafting found poems from cut-outs, makes me happy. I can say that now because I’ve had months of this practice under my belt. And I feel better because of it.
The one word that best describes me is ‘practice’ and I get to be me, daily, each morning with my visual journal practice which makes sure I’m myself from each moment to the next for the rest of the day. And for this I am grateful because my mother might not have found the secret and passed it on but I feel as if I’ve stumbled upon what makes this life less difficult, less hard, less soul destroying. Practice.
Keep checking back for the rest of the week as I’ll be sharing a spread each day from my visual journaling practice. And eventually all will be revealed in a new portfolio page around this practice. Thanks for reading. And see you again soon 🙂
“He knew exactly what she meant: to get to a place where you could love anything you chose — not to need permission for desire — well now, that was freedom.”
Toni Morrison in Beloved (1987), pg. 191


“Remember the earth whose skin you are: / red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth / brown earth, we are earth.”
Joy Harjo

“My body is an argument I did not start,”
Morgan Parker
Tell us about your first day at something — school, work, as a parent, etc.

After Krista O’Reilly-Davi-Digui
Learning to move from head to heart,
moving into greater vulnerability,
everyday feels like the first day.
There is the risk of doing or saying
the wrong thing. Hurting others
as I learn to express myself,
what I want, what I need
makes those close uncomfortable.
And yet,
as I step deeper into fugitivity,
linger in the edges, skin prickly
with expansion. I trust.
Take self-authority and do not hide
from this becoming, this vulnerability.
Offering myself and others grace
and compassion, I walk on, slow,
with heart in hand.
I’ve spent decades hating on my body.
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?
My body supports me in this mission.
Every. Single. Moment.
Thank you x