Blog
I spend a lot of time developing my creative writing skills, writing poetry, short fiction, and personal essays. I would love it if you would visit my page on Vocal Media by clicking on the link above. It will take you straight to my page where you can browse my collection of work. Alternatively, feel free to browse the topics below. I hope you enjoy both your visit here and on Vocal Media if you venture there.
A Poem
Secrets are the silent cells that weep wetter than eyes
He imagines he sees a woman walking away from him. Her bare white feet leaving frosty prints in her wake. Long tendrils of white iridescent hair escape from under her hooded cloak and fly untamed behind her.
How do you tap into your creativity? Whether we are embarking on a new project, or we are seasoned in our craft, we can often get into a pit of ‘stuckness’.
What should I write about? (or paint? Or sew? Or compose)? I feel like I have exhausted my well of interesting ideas and there’s nothing left to lift my soul, nor that of others.
I have strategies that might help, one of which I would like to share in this post: the focus on senses. This is a deep dive into the juicy pool of sensory pleasure and exploration, focussing on smell as an example.
It was time to bid her ‘farewell’. She walked away until only their fingertips touched, the image of her sister slowly fading, until the mists that separate them grow too thick and heavy with opacity to see.
We have many choices. More resources than ever for whatever we might need. There is an option saturation that keeps us looking and depletes our time.
Finally settling for one choice would help. Only if this didn’t keep us worried about keeping our options open since we might be missing out on something even better.
Believe me, there will always be critics, hovering, waiting for an opportunity to strike. You will face rejection; your writing will not be accepted; your project is given to somebody else; your painting is still waiting for a home; no one is eating your cake.
I was very lucky recently when a friend offered me the use of her woodland lodge for a night. I arrived early and left in the evening the next day. As I stepped onto the balcony and found myself engulfed by trees and birdsong, the emotions that spun through me were palpable. Totally alone, immersed in nature, I could almost hear an almost silent tinkle of fairy-dust showering me with lightness and clarity. The rush of excitement danced with the calm of tranquillity and the blend was a perfect partnership.
If you feel that you will not measure up to your own expectations, be kind to yourself. You may be clinging on to lies about your abilities because that is safer: if you allow yourself to acknowledge positive truths about your potential, you simultaneously risk experiencing the shame of failure if things do not go to plan. So we step back and stay in that safe place. Often, we are our harshest judge and jury, but please hear that someone else will drive that car and have that amazing trip, regardless of whether or not we put the key in the ignition.
What do I want from my life? Have you asked yourself that question lately? You despair that you have not ticked all the boxes in life, or that you have ticked them all, and what now? How do you feel? Are you happy with where you are in life, career, relationships, accomplishments? Are you still waiting for your life to begin?
‘I cannot give you that information, I’m sorry’ the receptionist’s perfect English was soft, polite, and non-negotiable.
‘We cannot divulge details of our guests.’
The excitement that had rippled through her earlier, the energising sunbeams filling her with optimism, and the belief that today she was Midas, hovered overhead like exposed fraudsters. The treasure map lay in tatters, before she had even found the first clue. Voices around her taunted her ears, determined to interfere with any attempt at rational problem solving. The corners of her mouth submitted to gravity, for a moment…
She opened the heavy mahogany doors to her room and was greeted by beams of sunlight cascading through large windows, sprinkling highlights onto a polished parquet floor. Rushing towards the balcony, she turned the black iron key to release the doors, letting the sun unleash its full joy onto her uplifted waiting face. Eyes closed, for a second, she reflected, ‘I love my work, I love this place’. This place was to be her home for the next seven days.
The coffee shop was hot, steamy and filled with the familiar barista symphony of buzzing, frothing and chatting. The audience dance, whirl, and twirl to the orchestra with practised ease as lattes are scooped with long spoons and espressos downed-in-one by the hard-core. The regulars, the rushing, and the late, all pass through this daily concert … all participating in the communal orchestral salutation to the morning. All … but one.
When did you last receive a letter in the post?
I remember how excited I would be when an envelope landed on the doormat, the address handwritten and the stamp a real sticker, not a grim franking machine automation. As life, and technology stretched out before me, I wrote less and less.
You got it wrong? … try again
(if you got it right! Well done … stay as you are!)
That’s it. You’ve reached midlife, and who knows when that began exactly? The logical conclusion would be that you know yourself, you have found yourself, and you have got your sh&t together. What a neat little package that would be indeed.
All we have left are our memories. Memories can be magical moments and offer comfort when we miss a loved one. In the whirling mist of memories, of moments that mattered, of shared laughter and tears, there is nostalgia for what once was. Yet, when we lose someone we loved, and continue to love, are memories all we have left? If memories are the stories etched in our minds, then I believe that ‘no’, that is not all.
What would you do with your spare time, if shopping were no longer one of your regular hobbies? Yes there is the gym, the library, local choir, windsurfing, cupcake making and thimble collecting. Thank you, but how does that address the pull of the bright city lights? Living where I do, I am in a privileged position where everything is on my doorstep: rolling countryside, woodland, vibrant towns, and cosmopolitan cities. I am also a ten minute walk away from some luxury retail outlets, interspersed with enticing local shops. Staying away is like attempting to resist the sirens’ call, which is a futile exercise.
I do not remember my Grandmother ever decluttering. In fact, her home was a house of treasures. As children, my sister and I loved to explore every nook and cranny in the beautiful Victorian terrace in London. Anything that was off limits, was usually placed high up on some shelf that was frustratingly just out of our reach. This served to ignite our curiosity all the more and these unattainable prizes became our sacred chalices, teasing us in our dreams and dancing in and out of our thoughts.
Reflect on some of your Monday mornings. It may look something like this: alarm - groan - snooze - alarm - expletive - get up and comment on unfairness of the world - Monday mornings should be banned - look in mirror - groan - expletive - mental list of every flaw/imperfection/excess flesh - shower - open wardrobe - groan nothing to wear - clothes are all meh! .... you get the picture? Sounds great, doesn't it? Er NO? How are we to maintain healthy bodies and minds with such a negative start to the day?
All transitions can be scary. There, that's the truth. Midlife is yet another transition in life with physical and mental effects; however, remember puberty? Learning to walk? (probably not), your first broken heart? It is a challenging time when, as teenagers, we discover changes to our body and moods … yikes!
There are many good men in this world who claim to be feminists, who claim to respect women and strive, in their own way, to fight for women’s rights alongside them. However, I have yet to meet a man who actually ‘gets’ it. It is not in the big gestures, promotions, and declarations of respect. Most of these areas are like moving particles gravitating towards the magnet of equal status and pay in the professional domain or a conversation touching on domestic duties.
Oh my wordicles! Everyone appears to be decluttering, minimalising, scandivising and just generally chucking their lifetime’s accumulation of stuff into the metaphorical and often actual bin - yikes! Surely I will need that incomplete set of twelve cocktail glass stem rings that aunty whoever bought me for my twenty first?
It often works like this: you sit on a Saturday morning in your fleece pyjamas (OK, your elegant White Company loungewear) and see an image of the perfect outfit on Instagram. ‘This IS ME!’ you declare to no one in particular. ‘This is SOOO me, I now know what I need to buy to make my wardrobe perfect and complete YESSS!’
Still Doing It After 50? Ooh la la! What could this be I wonder? Is this too much information? Of course not my lovely readers. I am, of course, referring to the practice of ‘Body Brushing’. This is something I have executed on a regular basis before showering, since my late teens. Apart from the odd blip, this has been part of my regular routine almost like brushing my teeth.
For me, this is the month of exciting anticipation. Summer is over, we have rested and warmed our bodies - some fried, baked or toasted even, and the freshness of Autumn is lifting our spirits. Often there is still sun, using up the remains of its warmth before settling down for the colder months of the year in the UK.
Are you in your 40’s or 50’s and feeling just a little lost? What is expected of you now? Maybe you have had a successful career so far or maybe you are finally ready to launch one but feel guilty investing time in yourself? Do you look at photos of a younger you and think ‘this is it, I’ll never look or feel that good again, just have to stumble on as best as I can’? Or are you optimistic about your future but wonder what is acceptable to pursue?
Who wants to age? When we were children, we could not wait until our next birthday to be a year older, a year nearer to being ‘all growed up’. At what point do we say ‘actually, next year I would like to start counting backwards’? What makes us say that? Is it anything to do with how we feel, physically or mentally? Is it how we look? Is it how society makes us feel?
Well that's three posts under my belt and the world hasn't stopped turning! See? What have I lost? What is the worst that could have happened? Sounds easy doesn't it? But wait …. was it really easy? Whilst the end result of the three posts seems pleasing enough, what about the journey? What about the moment you press 'publish'?
I would like to buy a bench, said my husband’s Mum.
My husband is a headteacher and had sent out a request for donations towards a lovely garden area for students. It would be a place for them to meet, chat, and enjoy a few moments during break and lunch.
My mother-in-law was very clear that her donation was to buy a bench. It meant a lot to her and I questioned why it had to be a bench in particular?
There was an entire story in her response