I’d seen the trailers. And forgot. It was already out a week or so when I realised and I only had a small window of time before I was off on my travels again.
So on the spur of the moment. I booked my ticket, walked and bussed there. A late night showing. I’d be coming home in the dark.
I should say, I have a love /hate relationship with horror movies. I get scared easily. I’m very impressionable. And images especially horrific ones haunt me afterwards. But I also enjoy being scared. In a weird twisted way. It’s an adrenaline rush.
This film has vampires. And I was travelling home alone. Considering walking ( I didn’t my after all).
The cinema wasn’t really full. I settled in and right from the beginning of Sinners directed my Ryan Coogler, I knew I was going to be in for a treat. The cinematic colours and quality of the film, shot in IMAX and 70mm film, pulled me into the world created.
Set on 1932 in the Mississippi Delta, during Jim Crow, a musical supernatural action film was a beauty to behold. Michael B Jordan playing a double role as the twins Smoke and Stake, I was gripped.
Of course I jumped and screamed all at the right parts but I also got lost in the characters and their relationships and the horror of it all. The death, grief, pain and joy.
If you haven’t seen Sinners, please go see it. Best movie for this year, best movie by far for a long time. This is a movie I have no qualms about haunting me.
they say poets are reluctant to call themselves ‘poets’. well at least the ones that aren’t famous.we all have to come to the blank page. collections, awards, residencies whatever, we carry the fear of never being able to repeat that measure of success. or that we are never ever gonna write that good again. BULLSHIT. i don’t buy into self-depreciation. there’s enough of it out there without adding to it, by piling on myself. just give me a moment, to breath, to open my body, to listen to the whispers within and the world without. then i’m bound to create something. the trick is to remain open. to have no expectation. to drop the comparison trap and to just play.practice. dive into the process and {BE}. and before I know it I’ve got this singing imagine, this hook, this solid rock stance of intuition that I’ve just nailed the essence of a poem.
I hope you are well. Or as well as you can be, as I know you have a tendency to fall out of love with yourself. Waste time on not looking after yourself and beat yourself up for it too.
I just hope you’re learning because, at the moment, I think you’re doing remarkably well. You’re still here aren’t you? You’re still smiling? So you must be doing something good.
And even if you’re not, just remember that you are good. Good enough just the way you are. For reals.
And I know you have your current worries and concerns. No doubt worrying about where your next pay check is coming from and do you have to compromise your integrity to get it.
But listen, I know you and I know you always find a way. Because you are a fighter. You’re resourceful and determined and you love life far too much to just give up on it. To just give up on yourself.
I just love how you’re living your life on your own terms not being worried about what others think about you or what they might say.
I just love how you’re striving for what makes you happy to hell with everyone else. This is inspiring. This is you.
This year has seen you really lean into a morning routine to set you up for the rest of the day. And it’s been rewarding to see how this has helped you to move forward.
I say continue on this path of making sure your needs and wants are met each and every day first as this puts you in the best position to then help and support others.
Simple small things like enjoying that first cup of coffee. Listening to Love Devotion on repeat in Insight Timer. Small things that might seem insignificant but actually remind you that you are loved, loving and loveable by yourself, first and foremost.
And then look for that love from others as it is there. The love. It’s always there. Love.
Keep following those sparks that reveal joy. Which make you light up from the inside out. Solitude and quiet, just as much as company and music. Getting out in nature and moving that wonderful body of yours.
Someone said to you recently that life is long, instead of thinking of life being short, too short, so seize the moment now. And that still holds true but to think of life being long is to not only savour it now and to be grateful for it, it also means that we never really leave or die. We just transform and transcend into someone or something else in time. Over time. Through time.
This opens up whole new portals and possibilities and is exciting. Therefore, no need to panic or rush or run around like a chicken with no head. You’re okay resting, taking that afternoon nap, without fear of missing out.
Everything goes into the mix to make up this weird and wonderful life. You’ve just got to remain open, baby. You’ve just got to keep that beautiful heart of your open and welcome whatever comes your way. The good, the bad and the ugly.
Everything of this beautiful terrible life is welcome here because it is yours. Your terrifyingly beautiful life.
If you were to ask me to stop cleaning the bathroom and come and sit by you, I would.
I would gladly throw down this cloth, take off these rubber gloves and come cuddle up on the couch with you.
The sink can wait to be rinsed. The toilet can wait to smell piney. The bath can wait to gleam clean.
I’d forego to all, even the tiled floor, to come be by your side and let you whisper into my ear, caress my neck, stroke my forearm.
Tell me how lovely I am, and how you can’t get enough of me. That the stars have no contest when I smile. That your life was barren until I came along.
He’ll, I’d even leave the smudges in the mirror, to have you put your arm around my waist and pull me into a sweet slow kiss.
i try to connect beauty using words as healers of possibilities from the state within, the voice, a teacher, a sage, where my poetry winters, where I can see the ‘I’ like a clearing through the trees, where imagination lingers inch wide mile deep, conjuring for change and connection. i try language, not to trick or demonstrate my intellect, but to spark simple, stretching blossoms into ‘we’ rather than ‘them and us’. from the state without, i’m a beast, caged and muzzled. swallowed. cornered and supposedly cowered, i come out writing, wading into dangerous waters, owning my imagination to practice potential futures.
*“An ars poetica poem is a poem examining the role of poets themselves as subjects, their relationships to the poem, and the act of writing.” —Poets.org
For those of us who live at the shoreline… Audre Lorde
It will be 10 years this August that I started my visual journaling practice.
Then it was called Dreaming on Paper, as I completed the course of the same name by Lisa Sonora.
I needed a safe space to explore the tumult of my feelings and thoughts. I was going through a traumatic experience of escape really. Escape from the life I’d spent the past 12 years building up, that was took away in the flick of a Facebook post.
I ran away from the public, the writing community, my home as I travelled into the Scottish Highlands and Islands. To heal.
Visual journaling helped me heal. Helps me continue to heal.
Overtime, I’ve come to understand my visual journal practice as a fugitive practice. Within these paints, images and words, dreams of freedom are planned out and eventually come to fruition. Projects, happenings, events – all on my own terms.
I mean, the whole point about escape is that it’s an activity. It’s not an achievement. You don’t ever get escaped. – Fred Moten
Within these visual journal spreads, I work out how to escape, how to get outside white supremacy culture while still having to be living on the inside. Coming to terms with the thought of that the outside can only occur from the inside. Being here.
Visual journaling is me trying to create an opening, a break in the fabric in which to slip on through into the otherside/ outside, into the woods running between the trees with the dogs barking at my feet. Creating beauty, creating a beautiful space in which to linger in while the terror rages around me.
Visual journaling is a safe space, is a nurturing space, is a free space.
Living Wild Studios 