I’ve just sent out this month’s Studio Notes from Substack. It’s me rambling on about beauty but you might be interested in what I have to say. Head on over there an take a look. And if you want to start receiving these notes into your inbox each month, just subscribe. It’s free.
When I was growing up, I loved Saturday mornings.
No school, even though I loved school. I had the whole weekend ahead of me with all that time to create.
It started off well, as dad would bring us breakfast in bed. It would be crackers and jam. I’ve written before about this special ritual and how I took it as a sign of love from my dad; him the strict Trinidadian who showed his roar more times that his smile.
After breakfast, we could get up and play in our bedroom, keeping the noise down as mum and dad had a lie in. I would create the magic wishing chair from Enid Blyton’s books. I would fly away to all these magical lands, where I’d meet welcoming characters and interesting animals who couldn’t wait to get to know me. With them I was the main attraction. They listened to my stories and cheered me on as I went on adventures into the forest or up a mountain. There was no place my imagination couldn’t take me.
And then I grew up. Dad died, my whole life changed and I put away my dolls and adventures as I attempted to traverse the rough terrain of middle school as the only black girl there. Only black, and fat girl there who had her period and was seen as an oddity at best!
More stories there to tell. But this morning, this Saturday morning, I wake with this same sense of expansive time ahead of me to create. To crave out my own adventures on my own terms. And this feeling brings me a whole heap of joy and excitement. As I can’t go wrong if I’m feeding my creativity; turning up to the page open.
I haven’t had crackers and jam this morning but the thought of it is making my mouth water. I’ve got the ingredients in ( cream crackers and cherry jam). I’d have to make them myself as I’ve got no one to make them for me to serve me in bed. But even that thought doesn’t dampen my spirits because I have the time and space to choose. I have the privilege and luxury to stretch out the decision around what I do or be next.
I’m obsessed with how creativity works. I’m obsessed with how my creativity works. This is what I wrote in my visual journal this morning. And it landed in my core. In my core centre. This is honesty. This makes me smile. This what I will continue to explore, for a lifetime.
Where is this year going? It is moving fast. The time that is. I’m still knee deep in my SLOW practice and I’m loving it.
I know it’s getting to the point of going back out; of shifting my energies as I’m feeling a stirring. In my gut mostly. And an excitement fluttering in my chest. For what I do not know. But I’m happy to sit in/ with the feeling for now. Appreciating the joy it brings.
I know I’ve got certain privileges. To be able to turn my back on the world, on work commitments for the first three months of 2023 is a privilege. But I also want to make clear, that I worked my arse off at the back end of 2022 to be able to do this. I’m living frugally in order to reap the benefits of rest and self-care.
I’m so grateful for the time and space to rest and breathe deeply. As well as the capacity to dream and envision a future. I have much faith and trust in what the future will bring. I know I will have to fashion some happenings myself, work out some details and projects. But at the same time, I know that the Universe has a plan also. She’s got my back and I trust she will deliver what is best for me. It might not seem so at the time, and there may be challenges ahead. But I trust her, and I’m allowing my tender heart to mend.
I’ve mentioned before how I’m intentionally leaning into my healing journey. With social episodes each month released with The Earth Sea Love Podcast.
I’m just editing the next two instalments to drop next week and I created a quote for myself which I will share here to end.
My tender heart has been broken many times but, at the same time, I know my healing lives and breathes in the openness of my tender heart.
Sheree Mack
Nature has so much to teach us if we only allow ourselves to {BE} and listen. Within nature, energies come and go in cycles; with the seasons.
There’s a time for bursting as well as for waiting. There’s a time for gathering as well as for resting.
Darkness and solitude, within society, are portrayed as somethings to be afraid of and to be avoided. I see both darkness and solitude as vital and necessary protective qualities for my energies. Allowing them to wrap around me and hold me during times of low, depleted energies and passions means, I can retreat. Rest and repair and rejuvenate safely. And come back bursting with energies and ideas and love when I’m ready.
Within white supremacy culture, the aim of the game is to be always switched on, always available to go go go and produce produce produce. The more you produce the better and the quality of such is not so much of an issue.
We are taught to always be striving for perfection. Perfection does not exist as we are flawed human beings. We know this yet this doesn’t stop us from striving for it. It’s a vicious cycle of striving, missing the mark and burning out. And striving, missing the mark, burning out.
Today I rest. I allow the feelings of guilt to slip away. I replace the chastising, criticising voices which shout about being useless and a failure and a disgrace with words of compassion and grace and love.
I deserve to rest. I deserve to take care of myself. I deserve to seek solitude and darkness.
The rest of the world can wait until I have nourished my energies and rested enough to feel ready to be its warrior again.
My heart is clear
listening to my gut
allowing space for my mind
to catch up
the sea is air-force blue
and glassy
and speaks to my soul
in a hushed whisper
the same sound and softness
from my clear heart
A friend mentioned yesterday that she was rushing around completing chores so she could get back to watching the Netflix series Love is Blind. She is addicted to it, against her better judgement. This got me thinking, what is this program about?
I binged watched the whole series up until the grand finale, aired today ( but I’ve now seen it!). It’s a reality TV series which is experimenting with love. They’re trying to find out if people can fall in love, make that deep soul emotional connection with someone they have never seen. They just get to talk to each other, in separate pods with a wall between them. But over a short space of time, with only conversation to make the connection, men and women do fall in love.
But will it last once they see each other? And then what happens when they get back into the real world? Obstacles are forever put in their path to test their love. This kind of stuff really gets me annoyed but not this time. I know the tricks and devices these programmes use to keep you watching and I was all in. I could see behind the curtain, all the knobs and pulleys used to create a reaction in the audience but I’m a romantic at heart. I was rooting for the couples, one in particular, to come through it still together and stronger and married. As that was what the twang finale was all about; their weddings days. Would they get married after knowing each other for only 6 weeks? Crazy, right?
I usually don’t watch reality T.V. It’s cringe worthy. I especially don’t enjoy how black women, if ever included, are portrayed and presented. I just don’t think we come off well in these type of shows. We are there as entertainment fodder. There to fulfil the stereotype. So I’m always reluctant to watch these shows, never mind invest time and energy and emotion into them.
Love is Blind got me at the first episode. I was sitting late into the night grinning at the TV like a love overdosing idiot. There were women in there that grated on my nerves, while others especially Lauren and Cameron who I wanted to stay true to each other, love no matter what anyone else might say and live happily ever after. I think I invested in this couple because she was black and he was white. The only inter-racial couple in the whole programme. And I wanted them to work against the odds probably because they reflect my reality of being married to a white man.
I have so many issues with this series. The mere fact that marriage is out there as something to aspire to. That you’re not complete until you find your significant other. Yes I know we are sociable creatures wired for connection but how many centuries have girls been socialised into women with the belief that catching the man ( and no mention of woman) being their destiny and ultimate goal. Our fairy tale system is set up to make girls feel that one day there Prince will come along and rescue them/ or whisk them off their feet as long as they’re beautiful enough, quiet enough, good enough. So yes I have my issues with the whole premise of the series and yet I still watched it all and cried at the end.
Why? Because the kind of love that these young people were looking for, and for some I think they found l, is the kind of love where you can be yourself within. The kind of love where your partner love you from the inside out. For who you are at your core. They can see your soul and stay by your side anyway.
Maybe that is a kind of fairy tale love. Maybe that love doesn’t exist and is all make believe. But this old romantic in me thinks it can be found. And once found, held onto with daily practice of giving and receiving love, remaining open and vulnerable and honest. Communicating about everything, always.
“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost.”
― Martha Graham
Writing around this quote today, I realised that I feel energised when I create. I say ‘create’ but what do I mean?
Over the past few days of being confined to home, I’ve created pocket books, a days of December journal. I’ve decorated postcards for a international swap. I’ve put words, paint and scraps of paper to paper. I’ve collaged as if my life depended on it. And in a way it has. Because all of this creating feeds my soul and this is where my energy comes from.
My light source is my soul. If I feed this source on a daily basis then I have the energy to get through my day. And saying ‘get through my day’ sounds like a chore. But it’s not when I’m feeding my source, my light, my soul with this special, rich sauce that keeps me alive, brings me joy like playing with colour or words.
Things are not perfect and never will be. We’re not rolling in money and we have our worries. But each day, I feel I’m growing in light and grace and gratitude because I’ve made this showing up at the page a priority for me.
For me it all involves paper.
Paper and what I decide to do each time with that paper. Write on it, cut it, stick it, colour it, fold it, sew it. Paper.
I have been a seeker
and I still am,
but I stopped
asking the books
and the stars.
I started listening
to the teaching
of my soul. – Rumi
When my days are lived at a pace.
When my time is filled with noise.
When my eyes are lit up by a screen.
I feel a creeping dread up my spine.
Red ants invade my hairline
and I feel as if there is no escape.
I’m uncomfortable in my skin,
taking only shallow breaths.
Heavy and awkward, never feeling rest or calm,
I forget who I am.
I’m distracted.
When I withdraw to slow down.
When I turn off external sounds.
When my ears become accustomed
to the voice deep within my being,
I can feel my soul and she speaks
from heart of love.
Living Wild Studios 