Summer Wish List

Sheree may you offer yourself light

Sheree may you offer yourself grace

Sheree may you offer yourself rest

Sheree may you offer yourself love

Sheree may you offer yourself ease

Sheree may you offer yourself softness

Sheree may you offer yourself mistakes

Sheree may you offer yourself movement

Sheree may you offer yourself a deep clean

Sheree may you offer yourself hope

Sheree may you offer yourself deep breaths

Sheree may you offer yourself adventure

Sheree may you offer yourself surrender

Sheree may you offer yourself healing

Take a moment …

to list three things you are grateful for right now!

Right now in this moment I am grateful for:

a good night’s sleep and waking up refreshed.

a day of sunshine and space to create.

the love and support I receive from friends and family and the universe.

I only saw his shine once it was too late to feel it

In the dream, he comes back to me, whole and young.

He was always young in my eyes. When I used to ask him at each birthday how old he was, Daddy would answer, 45.

He was always 45 in all the years I knew him. All the years I was living, he was dying.

In the replaying of images, I play it differently.

I keep my distance until he asks for me to bring his slippers or newspaper. I offer them with bowed head. I don’t throw them at him as I used to. Escaping his rage, escaping the beats.

I keep my distance, but I want to be close to him. To hold him. To feel his love for me. Then and now, still needed after so many years gone.

To serve, he brought me up, to serve. Instead of getting the vacuum clearer out, he had us on the floor picking up the bits of fluff and crumbs. To hear his pride at a job well done was enough.

When I enter the chapel of rest, it’s like I’m floating on air, light as the flowing curtains concealing a prize. I see him now, as then …

he‘a surrounded by gold satin, his mahogany black skin shines, relaxed and unlined, sea-black lips wave-curled and still.

He looks younger than 45. Even though the plaque on the coffin lid reads 1920 -1981 – he was 61. And the time he was dying. I was living.

Poem – An Act of Faith

Isn’t that what a poem is?
A lantern glowing in the dark.

Elizabeth Acevedo

Just as dusk is falling, I walk. Affected by the elements,

head in pain from the wind, I force myself out into the dim light,

believing moving my legs will strengthen my heart.

Motherly care, higher forces in radio silence. Walk

The moon pale blue and silent. But still there. Always.

Like the ancestors, guiding. Allowing me to find my own way. Tonight.

To falter, make mistakes and loop back. Remaining open.

Trusting these windows of silence as still inspiration.

Hope holds optimism. Optimism holds joy.

The touch of joy, fine-grained dark jasper, I search for along the path.

This spiritual path of putting pen to page, again and again.

Like one foot in front of another. An act of faith.

Black Aliveness

“We are not the idea of us, not even the idea that we hold of us. We are us, multiple and varied, becoming. The heterogeneity of us. Blackness in a Black world is everything, which means that it gets to be freed from being any one thing. We are ordinary beauty, Black people, and beauty must be allowed to do its beautiful work.” Kevin Quashie describes in Black Aliveness, or, A Black Poetics of Being.

A little list of gratitude

Sometimes we can be our worst enemy. Sometimes we allow thoughts and feelings to invade our calm, our peace. Why?

Something I fail to understand or have a handle on. All I can do is practice. Have faith and trust.

So this little list of gratitude is practiced with the intention of appreciating what is right in front of me instead of skipping to the end and getting all the wires and paths crossed.

Today I am grateful for rest.

Today I am grateful for coffee.

Today I am grateful for the page and pen.

Today I am grateful for the time and space to commune with myself.

Today I am grateful for hot buttered toast.

Today I am grateful for the music.

Today I am grateful for the dawn chorus.

Today I am grateful for the sea.

Today I am grateful for the earth.

Today I am grateful for the light.

Today I am grateful to love and be loved.

End of week gratitude

The Earthcraft Oracle

When life throws you curve balls to knock you off your feet and forces you to reassess everything in your life, this is when you lean into the practices which have seen you right.

Those practices which keep you buoyed when it appears you’re drowning or about to go down.

Those practice which you practice everyday but really come into their own when the chips our down.

One of those practices is keeping a gratitude journal. And it doesn’t have to be something major or time consuming.

Thinking on one simple thing is enough to switch my thinking, to get me to count my blessings and step up again. Renewed, restored and ready.

This week has been a week of happenings and announcements and shit hit the fan moments. But I’m alive and here to live another day. So all is not bad.

I’m a firm believer that things happen for a reason. Maybe to test us. Maybe to move us into a better situation. To gain clarity and perspective. To live a better life on my own terms.

This card ‘thunderstorm’ signifies tremendous upheaval and change, happening or about to. And it is out of my control. But I must keep the faith, trust in Mother Nature that these things are happening for the best.

Things are out of my control. But how I respond to this period of upheaval is within my control.

I’m choosing to count my blessings, lean into my practices and give thanks. Give thanks for all that is going right or is good in my life right now. Here and now.

I’m grateful for the light. I’m grateful for rest. I’m grateful for a warm comfortable bed. I’m grateful for morning coffee. I’m grateful for time spent with the people I love. I’m grateful for my health. I’m grateful for my creativity. I’m grateful for all the opportunities which have and are coming my way. I’m grateful for food in the cupboards. I’m grateful for the roof above my head. I’m grateful for the air I breathe. I’m grateful for the earth between my toes. And I’m grateful for the water that holds me.

Evening Walks – Mamathon Continues

As it stands I’ve completed 20 miles of the 52.4 miles for the month of May. Nearly half way there and not even half way through the month yet. So pleased with how I’m moving.

I’ve mentioned my mum and walking , but she’s not my only inspiration when it comes to putting one foot in front of another.

At this time of year when growing up in Bradford, May light nights and rising temperatures, after tea ( as I am a Yorkshire lass!), each evening we would go out for walks. Dad and Mum, sis and me.

Of course I didn’t want to do it. It felt like a punishment. A cruel exercise is working out our energy before bedtime. How I hated going to be in the light nights.

We set out from our maisonette flat, take the bridge over the dual carriage way, to walk up the hill past the textile factories and into the rabbit warren estates of ‘Little Jamaica’.

My only joys of these evening walks, we’re picking up scraps of fur from the toy making factories and lining my pockets with them so I could stroke their softness while I walked.

The only other joy was if we called in Dad and Mum’s friend Beverley who lived over on the other side of the road, who had a son called Ivor, that I quite liked. He had Thunderbirds toys I liked to play with too.

These evening walks were something I endured. Something to get through. Now as I’m older, appreciating the light nights for walks out, I’m inflicting the same ritual on my daughter when she’s staying with me. Ignoring her complaints and marching her out the door.

And on those evenings that I walk alone, covering more miles and sinking deeper into my body and the present moment, no longer needed are scraps of fur in my pocket to keep me walking.

The act of walking itself, being outside with all nature has to offer, with heart and soul open is enough to feel joy and gratitude and light.

Dark Morels

dark morels


against roots

of ash trees


in gathering dark

night air leaning

into a textured silence

well-earned through

a receding wall of trees

night’s skin

seeping cold

under ringing mist

the water knows all.

i rise into quiet

softness melting

pour words out

of the page

the book

the room


with imagination

and howling dogs

what do I know

about vibrating

at a different frequency?

yolk yellow lichen

scattering over boulders

like blossom/ green hope

nestling under

humming black sky

i know nothing

of the night sky

as compass or map

but i stuff my heart

with fruitkeys and shells

and blood and root

to grow closer

to this land

and the water

the water knows it all.