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Wandering

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"Our stories and images and sounds create, explicate, or point to a deeper meaning that helps us receive, celebrate and be fed by beauty and bear what is hard. And if the meaning revealed by the process of creating is often more implicit than explicit, still it does not fail to feed us. Because what it feeds is not our minds but our souls and souls do not need explanations; they need only to touch and sit in the centre of the meaning that is enfolded in being..." Oriah Mountain Dreamer 
Earlier this year I participated in Meghan's delightful Horsefeathers course which was an utter revelation. She shared the quote above with us and encouraged us in a practice of showing up creatively that has really unlocked my ability to make things joyfully without worrying about whether they (or I...) am good enough.

I'm so grateful for that piece of the puzzle which has really shifted my daily experience and allowed a lot more whimsy to flit through these weeks.

The images here a…

Wings and whimsy

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Over a year since my last confession but I'm at the start of three weeks of whimsy! Led by delight I have an urge to write here. Who am I to argue? All this whimsical wandering is facilitated by furlough leave from work, I wonder how many other dusty blogs will see a little more love during this coronavirus pandemic?

The images here are some of my creations from the Spirit Wings painting course offered on a pay what you can basis at the moment by Kelly Rae Roberts. What an utter delight it has been.


Full of inspiration, an exploration of what creativity is and a whole framework for playing and opening a channel to listen to your intuition/highest self/ the Universe. It's been an unexpected shot of pure magic. Something that I have been craving and trying to find my way back to these past couple of years.


"Rediscover your worth, your potential, your creative spirit and then go and fly on its wings to places you won't ever want to leave." Kelly Rae Roberts  Yes! T…

Ways I keep together

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I feel like this world breaks my heart about a hundred different ways every week at the moment. The horrors we witness, and then up through the cracks of the latest tragedy, the tender shoots, the beautiful ways humans reach out to one another to help each other tentatively move forward again. Those of us still blessed or cursed or blessed to be here. I hear an internal narrative that says it's all too much for me to take in. I am challenging that, staying present for the reality of it, mindfully, finding personal stories behind platitudes and headlines, understanding more about how we all process and grieve and flail. I look for the moon. I knit. I think about the equinox. I stop and smell primroses. I say thank you to my toes. And I love, the best I can, as many as I can.

Removing the shutters

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Somewhere in the middle of last month, while working through my initial reactions to the conversations about racism in the knitting community, I saw the danger of avoiding the Political. In the words of others, who didn't want their false picture of a cosy community disrupted, I saw a reflection of myself.  In the last couple of years I have tried to shut out the world when I haven't liked what I am seeing. When I sought to avoid the Political I attempted to also avoid the political. I hadn't fully acknowledged that. I hadn't seen that even being able to attempt to avoid the political, was due to my layers of privilege. If anything, I'd resisted acknowledging it, because I felt like I didn't have the strength to work against the structures that distribute so unfairly.

I'll be forever grateful to the women that spoke up, and continue to speak up. Grateful that finally they are being heard more widely, more loudly than before. I'll be forever sorry I did…

Rechilding

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I'm afraid to google the term 'rechilding' in case it goes the way it did when I searched for 'adult play' a few years back. Is sex still the most searched for thing on the internet? Hard to remember that when you tend to type in things like 'yoga for sore feet' or 'quince gin recipes'.

Anyway, all of that to say that I asked November for a beautiful day, after the first of the month dawned with the lowest of skies. To my delight today could not be more different. Blue skies, bright and warm, so I asked my too often ignored inner child what it wanted to do this morning. Taking a banana smoothie to the park seemed like a very easy request to grant.

The sound of letting go

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It's a big yawn. A soft exhale. A carefree squawk of laughter.
This year has been utterly different from what I hoped and planned for at the start of the year. It's brought many challenges and many unexpected gifts - more often than not out of those challenges. The end of the eternal winter and the start of the spring found me very low and I reached out for help. Antidepressants and counselling. Life rafts that have helped me float on through a year where the physical constraints of my knee injury had taken away two of my greatest balancers: regular yoga classes and long, wonder full rambles. They continue to help me now as I wait for an operation on my knee. Wait and unravel. Slowly slowly. No matter how slowly I think I am going there is a level beneath that my soul craves. Not a standstill but ponderous, languid, incremental.
I write this from my room of my own. Feeling a pull back to this virtual space as I seek to kindle sparks of inspiration. The eternal building proje…

From the mossy hollow

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As we descended towards the shortest day I could feel the need to turn within very strongly.  I kept coming back to the image of a mossy hollow. Tucked in the earth, at the roots of a bare tree, a space where I could curl up in to a ball and let the days pass. It sounded soft and comforting, but the slowing has been awkward, and though the body tells me what it needs, keeping the mind, and the world around me to the same pace is always the challenge. As my new knitting project grows, I see the browns and dark greens are like the manifestation of the hollow. Happily a softer, cosier representation. Knitting this wrap is a process that literally helps me create the space I craved. I have been falling home from work and into its embrace all week. The long rows create a rhythm that wasn't in my hands as they scurried at the socks. Warm and safe from epic rains and winds. The hollow is the dip my bum is making in the sofa cushions.

I thought I only started on the Orchard Grass Wrap ov…