Followers

Winter Solstice – the Longest Night


‘Rage, rage against the dying of the light’.

Of course, in his famous poem Dylan Thomas wasn’t speaking about the dark nights of winter but about death, but, in fact, the two aren’t so far removed. Winter represents the literal and metaphorical dying of the world around us. We watch as leaves wither and fall from the trees, catch our breath as the cold, darker nights draw in, and find ourselves longing for the sweet, light relief of spring.

At Christmastime, signs of our rebellion against darkness are all around us. We seek consolation in the commercial frenzy of present-buying, festoon our homes in coloured lights and overindulge in food and alcohol and late-night partying. We kid ourselves that if we do these things, the dark will go away. But it isn’t banished, merely temporarily displaced. For many, Christmas is a time to gather together with friends and family. For others, it’s a lonely time – a reminder of those whose absence leaves a gaping hole in our lives.

For Christians, of course, Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jesus. It’s a time of incarnation – the coming of God into the world in the form of a tiny, helpless baby. So the time of darkness and death becomes, paradoxically, a time of light and birth. ‘The people of Darkness,’ says the prophet Isaiah, ‘have seen a great Light’.

There is much darkness is our world at the moment – but also much light. The newspaper headlines scream a world of hatred and division. But while getting in the last-minute shopping today, I saw an elderly couple kiss one another tenderly on the lips, then tease one another gently like new lovers, which perhaps they were. I saw a kind lady chatting to the beggar outside Tesco for a long time and asking him what he’d like her to buy for him and his dog when she went shopping. I stood and watched for a long time as the gulls circled in the sky above me, tucking their wings into the perfect streamlined ‘V’ to ride out the currents. All of these things gave me joy. These things convince me that there is still love and light and hope in the world.

‘in him was life, and the life was the light of humanity. The Light shines in the Darkness, and the Darkness has not overcome it.’ – John 1:1-5

In the days before electric lighting, our ancient forebears would while out the long winter nights huddled around candles and open fires, sharing storied to pass the time. 

Like the winter trees, we shed the leaves of our smiles for a while, to travel down deep to the roots, from whence all inspiration flows. Rather than fighting the darkness, we can learn to embrace this time of quiet and soulful reflection, which prepares us for the busy time ahead when we are ready and shoot and branch our nascent ideas into the world.

Blessed Solstice, Merry Midwinter, Happy Christmas. May you find the source of the Light that lies deep within you. May you nurture it and keep it safe that, like the candle shining in the darkness, when the time is right and the world ready to receive it, it may shine its brightness for all to see.




Image: https://pixabay.com/en/solstice-winter-december-snow-1436685/ public domain picture, CCO creative commons.

Listen with your eyes…



I was walking up the hill on the way back from school. It had been a long working day and I was tired, hot, and anxious to get home. Suddenly, my three-year-old daughter stopped dead in her tracks and pointed, excitedly: “Look, Mummy! A spider!”
“Yes, yes, I see it. Come on now, we need to get home…”
But she stood stock still, and refused to budge, adamant: “Mummy, you’re listening with your ears, but not your eyes!”
I stopped and looked at the tree she was pointing at for the first time, and we both stood and watched, entranced and fascinated, as a spindly-legged spider spun her web before our very eyes. Each miniature gossamer thread grew as we watched, creating a structure of intricate beauty, delicate, yet strong. I’ve no idea how much time passed. I’d already forgotten whatever it was I’d been anxious to get home for. Instead, the two of us stood transfixed, enjoying this special moment together – listening with our eyes.
Mindfulness, at its very simplest, is a simple choice to live life in the moment. Approaching situations mindfully, we can momentarily forget our cares and anxieties and simply enjoy and appreciate the here and now.
A lot of the time we do things without really being conscious of them at all. For instance, how many times have you eaten an entire meal and not really tasted a single mouthful? Or got to the bottom of a cup of coffee without realising you’d drunk it?
We spend much of our time on autopilot – in a way, we have to, otherwise we’d get nothing done. We become expert multi-taskers. It’s not unusual to find me, of an evening, simultaneously cooking a meal, sorting socks into pairs, and editing and article! This is even more the case in today’s multi-connected, multi-wired society. We are all instantly contactable at the click of a button, even in the privacy of our homes. With social media and aps such as Instagram and Facebook, there are always voices to be heard, messages to be checked and responded to, news items and personal matters demanding our immediate attention.
Being connected can be helpful, and even give us a sense of community. The problem is that unless we make a conscious effort to stop occasionally, to switch off and slow down, we risk missing out on life’s richest moments.
There’s an internet photo doing the rounds at the moment, a picture of tourists on board gondolas in Venice, the most beautiful city in the world. It could be the perfect picture-postcard shot, but for one small detail. Every single person in the picture is looking at the screen of their mobile phone. In their eagerness to tell the rest of the world about their amazing experience, they are missing out on the beauty and joy of the moment itself.
Often, if we’re honest, we’re all like that. Here we all are, on this beautiful and amazing planet for, if we’re lucky, 80 or so years, on the journey of our lives – and we’re missing the whole show!
So why not take a moment or two today, just to listen. Listen with your ears, your eyes, your whole self. Because that’s really, in essence, all that Mindfulness is. It’s incredibly simple, when you think of it. But also life changing.

‘The wave makes a sullen sound’ - symbolism and the sea



I live within walking distance of the beach, and the sea is one of the first things I see when I open my curtains. I love that view because it is always changing. Some mornings the sea is flecked with gold and red, at other times the sky is stormy grey, with the thinnest line of sunshine streaking down through the clouds. On a calm night, when the moon is full, the surface of the water looks like silk. At other times, it’s wild and choppy and I fall asleep to the sound of a distant foghorn blaring its ghostly warning to passing ships.

Since I’ve been living here, the sea has entered my subconscious like an unseen presence. Mermaids, seal wives and selkies sail through my stories. Even the poems I’ve intended to be about other things often feature the sea or water as a metaphor. It’s as if it has become part of me.

The sea, of course, is full of symbolism. At its primordial mythological level, the sea represents the watery chaos that existed before the world was formed. The first book of the Bible describes ‘formless depths’ – the Hebrew word is ‘tehom’, from which the chaos monster Tiamat also takes root.

Water is death

If water represents chaos, it is also a harbinger of death. I was born in Southampton and most of my ancestors were sailors. From my nan’s tiny cottage (now long-since demolished) overlooking the busy docks, sons, uncles and brothers would depart, often for years, with no guarantee of return. Along the walls of every major port are plaques commemorating the names of those whom the sea has claimed as her own.

Water is life

Paradoxically, water is also the stuff of life. Millenia ago, our ancestors crawled from the sea onto dry land. We are 65 per cent water and need water to survive. The human body can go 30 to 40 days without food but only two to three days without liquid.

Flux and flow

In mythology, water is often depicted as feminine. The pagan symbol for women resembles a chalice cup. She represents the ebb and flow of female intuition and emotion, drawn by the monthly cycle of the moon. She is also the element of imagination, of high adventure and fairytale. Perhaps this is why, when faced with the sea, my first inclination is to sing.

Water is the element of emotion, our tears spilling through from soul to reality, the expression of love, or loss, of great joy or unspeakable pain. When words will not do, our tears speak.

Tears have healing powers

A woman who was a sinner poured precious oil over the feet of Jesus with perfume and wiped them away with her tears, and found herself forgiven.  Like the ocean, tears are salt water. Our tears, when we cry, contain a chemical called ‘lysozyme’, which washes away bacteria and prevents infection. After crying, our breathing and heart rate decrease, and we enter into a calmer emotional state. Crying releases stress hormones and other toxins and stimulates the production of endorphins, our body’s natural pain killer.

Water transforms

Almost all religions use water in their purification rituals, to symbolise cleansing, both inward and outward. When we are cleansed, we are transformed and made ready to encounter the divine. To enter the waters is a metaphorical drowning, a little death, a baptism, a rebirth. In fairytale, water is liminal, having the power to cross over worlds. Humans discover new lands and dream of adventure on distant shores; mermaids lose their tails on the sands to become recast as wretched human lovers; seals shed their coats to dance naked and free in the moonlight.

Water transcends

The tongues of the waves sculpt new landscapes, carve out rocks, transform our hard and brittle edges to soft sand. So water is at the same time destructive and constructive, building up and knocking down. The clamour of waves upon the beach calls us to greater depths – of emotion, of feeling, of spirit. The salt of the water, which echoes our own tears, invites response.

Water never stands still

Like water we are in a constant state of creative flux and flow. Ideas and energy pour through us, are born and reborn through words, paints and sounds. Like the waves, we are constantly pulled this way and that, never settling nor stopping. There are hidden depths beneath – places in which, if nurtured, beautiful things might live and grow, pearls of great price caught beneath the weeds. It is our job, as creators, to dive deep and dig them out, to polish them up as best we can, and hold them to the light for everyone to see. 




Sources:




Overcoming writer’s block - mindful tips to boost your creativity



Have you heard the one about the writer who sat down to write a piece about how to overcome writer’s block but had to give up because she couldn’t think of anything to say?

I’m guessing we’ve all been there. One minute, the ideas are coming so thick and fast that you can barely get them all out on the paper. The next, you find yourself staring at a blank page, wondering if you are really cut out for all this ‘being a writer’ lark?

The problem about so-called writer’s block is that it’s almost impossible to define. Some writers question whether it really exists at all? But as someone who has spent far too many hours staring at the blank pages of an existential crisis, all I can say that it’s all too real to me!

I thought of writing a series of friendly bullet points about how to overcome writer’s block, but it seemed somehow, too simplistic a response to a complex problem. So here’s the best I could come up with…

It’s not writer’s block, it’s a thinker’s block
One of my favourite quotes about writer’s block is from John Rogers: ‘You can’t think yourself out of a writer’s block, but you can write your way out of a thinker’s block.’ Writing is difficult. If it was easy everyone would be doing it. But giving up was never in my nature. We’re in it for the long haul, right? Most of the time when I struggle to write, it’s either because I’m tired, or lacking in confidence, or need to spend more time planning. All of these are problems that can be fixed. If all else fails, put down the pen (or iPad or mobile), take a break, have a coffee or two, or even an early night…and then start again. And again. And again, until it works.

Go easy on yourself
The thing about the creative process is that it doesn’t happen all at once, or even predictably. Usually, I begin in a blaze of enthusiasm, with a great idea, start writing it down…and then it tails off. Perhaps I haven’t planned far enough ahead, or maybe the critical editing part of my brain takes over. But sometimes ideas just need some more time to germinate. On a couple of occasions, it has taken me over a year to write a poem! So if it doesn’t happen all at once, don’t worry. Take a break, have a bath, get out into nature, feed the pigeons (for some reason, I always find feeding pigeons inspiring) and come back to it later, once your creative seed has had a chance to take root.

Switch off your inner critic

You know the one. You’re midway through writing something and all of a sudden you hear a voice inside your head telling you ‘This is no good; that’s rubbish; who would want to read that?’ or ‘Call yourself a writer? Why don’t you get a proper job?’ One of my favourite books, a children’s book by Laurie Fisher Huck called Magic Happens Inside of You refers to our inner critic as the Yackety Yak. Every time I hear mine, I imagine a big, hairy yak spouting lots of nonsense, and the image is so funny I find it hard to take it seriously any more. I also remind myself that no author ever wrote a perfect first draft, and that even a rubbish first draft is better than writing no words at all. And I carry on.

Create a habit

I know, I know, routine and habit aren’t the most exciting of things, but creating a good writing routine can help overcome those feelings of panic and not knowing how to start. A lot of writers swear by getting up at five or six in the morning and getting all your writing done before lunch (my good friend Rita has written two excellent books that way). That wouldn’t work for a night owl like me, so choose a routine that fits your lifestyle. I tend to write in the day while my daughter is at school, and then pick up any loose threads in the evening. Others find time at the weekend. Pick a time and stick with it. Writing is like training for a marathon. The more you do, the better you’ll get at it – and the easier and more natural it becomes.

Silence can be golden

Is your brain constantly crammed full of thoughts, worries, fears and ideas? Modern life is crazy busy! It’s not unusual to find me simultaneously writing a poem, cooking the dinner and sorting the washing – all the while trying to respond to my daughter’s constant demands for cheese strings, gluepots or cuddles! Our minds are stuffed to bursting. Did you know, the average person has around 50,000 to 70,000 thoughts a day?! With all that going on, it’s no wonder that sometimes our creative flow gets dammed out by all the debris blocking our minds! So stop…look…listen to the sounds around you. Take some time out. Even if you don’t practice daily meditation (and by the way, I’d highly recommend it) you can benefit by getting out into nature and spending time just ‘being’.

If all else fails…just keep writing

It’s simple, really. If you are struggling to find the right words, just write any words. Internationally acclaimed author Maya Angelou described her writing process like this: ‘What I try to do is write. I may write for two weeks ‘The cat sat on the mat, that is that, not a rat. And it might be just the most boring and awful stuff. But I try. When I’m writing, I write. And then it’s as if the muse is convinced that I’m serious and says ‘Okay. Okay, I’ll come.”

Do you suffer from writer’s block? What tried and tested methods do you have for overcoming it? Share your ideas and experiences in the comments below.

The Principle of Flow – How being untidy taught me a valuable lesson





I’ve been very busy this week, having a big clearout. One of the perils of living in a small house and being a parent is the sheer amount of clutter that accumulates very quickly! I must admit, I’m a bit of a magpie, with an eye for a bargain and a trawler of charity shops, which definitely doesn’t help! In the past, I’ve also been quite a hoarder, which is something I’ve had to work on. 

I’ve read books on minimalism and come to the conclusion that it’s only possible if you eat out, create nothing, have no partner and no kids! But while I’m probably never going to be a minimalist (my book collection alone sees to that!), I am slowly improving.

One of the things I’ve found really helpful in getting rid of unnecessary stuff is a secret I’d like to share with you. I call it the Principle of Flow.

Simply put, everything around us is in a constant state of flux. We like to think of time as linear, but it isn’t, it’s cyclical. There’s a reason why clocks have round faces, not square ones. It’s human nature to want to hold onto things, but that’s not the way the world is. Every day I’m getting older, my life is changing. Nothing ever stays still.

Our possessions are there to serve us. The purpose of books is to be read. The purpose of a lovely coat is to be worn. But if my books are sitting on the shelf no longer being read, they have lost their sense of purpose and become a dry, dead thing. 

If my coat is hanging in my wardrobe never to be worn, it might just as well not exist. Once my things have lost their sense of purpose, it’s time for them to move on, and serve somebody else. No matter how much I once loved them, I have cut off their flow.

At this time of year, parents are waving goodbye to their children at school gates or watching their bigger children take their first steps into adulthood as they leave home and go to university. Such partings are painful. It’s something, if I’m honest, I’m dreading. Yet, even now, I’m already preparing my daughter for greater independence, teaching her the skills she will need to survive without me. I wouldn’t be a good parent if I didn’t.

As creators, we’re an essential part of the flow. Ideas come to us, sometimes with a whisper, sometimes with a shout, and we have to make them live – on paper, on screens, or on canvas. If we refuse to do so, perhaps through fear of not getting it right or worrying about how others might respond, we kill off the idea at source. 

Once I’ve turned the idea into something concrete, I then have to set it free, to let it make its own way in the world, independently of myself. The execution of the idea was mine, and mine alone, but the spark that provoked it exists outside of me, and will go on beyond me. That’s part of the cycle of life. As creative people, we get our sparks out there into the world, and if we’ve done our job, they spread and light a fire of their own.

It’s part of us, too. We’re born, we live, if we’re lucky, eighty or ninety years or so, but ultimately we die. We don’t get to take our possessions or our ideas with us. They were never really ours in the first place. But the sparks we leave behind – the words, the memories, the seeds we’ve sown and the love we’re shown – those things live on, grow, and multiply in the lives of others. 
Those things are eternal.

What’s holding you back? – Ditch the pebble in your shoe





I promised I would tell you about the 10 Days Writing Challenge for Conscious Leaders run by Tara Nicholle-Nelson http://www.taranicholle.com/writingchallenge/. It’s been such a whirlwind couple of weeks that this is the first proper chance I’ve had to sit and write this. But, a promise is a promise, so here goes…

The idea of the Challenge is simple: you are sent a series of daily prompts, which you then use as a basis for writing 30 minutes a day, for ten days.

I expected the prompts to be challenging, uplifting and thought-provoking. What I didn’t expect is what happened next.

A lot of the prompts were focused around the idea of creating a better vision for yourself. For the first day’s challenge, we had to create inventive titles for ourselves, using descriptions that fitted what we like to do and how we liked to be seen. I enjoyed that one. On Day 5, we were asked to write as if we were speaking to a younger version of ourselves. To my surprise, my ‘inner child’ turned out to be a disaffected teenager who was disappointed in me:

‘It could've been so different,’ she said, ‘You had so much enthusiasm, so much potential. Where did it all go wrong?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I should've listened. Real life got in the way...’
‘It’s not too late,’ she said, ‘Come here’.
She offered me her hand. I don't know why, but I took it. She walked back over to the dustbins. She sat on one, I sat on the other. Swinging our legs. Writing.
‘See,’ she said, ‘It’s not so difficult. Not once you begin...’
I turned to reply, but there was nobody next to me, only a small indent on top of the dustbin lid, where she had been sitting. Her notepad was gone too, but mine was filled with strange, unfamiliar words. I went on writing and writing. I haven’t stopped.'

But the biggest surprise came on, I think, Day 3, the title of which was ‘Breakthrough’. We were invited to write about any limiting beliefs or toxic messages we had absorbed through others which was keeping us from fulfilling our true potential. I sat down still and silent for about fifteen minutes, let my mind drift…and then it all came flooding out.

Back when I was on maternity leave, I was made redundant. Losing my job with a young baby to support was bad enough, but the manner in which it was done was deeply humiliating. As part of the rationale for ‘letting me go’, my boss had put together, in my absence and with no consultation, a document assessing my abilities. Despite having an unblemished track record and having been nominated for a national award, under the column headlined ‘Future Potential’ were the words…13 per cent.

I challenged the decision, but got nowhere and in the end, I settled for a small redundancy payout and enjoyed the chance to spend as much time as possible with my beautiful daughter. One day, when I was at the bank negotiating an overdraft, the woman cashier asked if I worked. When I told her I’d lost my job when my baby was born, she scowled at me and said ‘Oh, you’ll never work again, then’. I went home in tears, feeling an abject failure.

As soon as my daughter was at school full-time, I began freelance writing and editing. I had a steady trickle of work, and I honestly thought I had put everything behind me. But when I started on the writing prompt, out it all came….

Thirteen per cent. That figure. Somehow, in the back of my mind, that total had become lodged, like a stone in my shoe I couldn’t get out. So I looked at it. I took it out. I examined it some more.
I thought about how ridiculous it was that I’d carried that stone – for almost a decade – and allowed it to grow and grow and fester until it had molded itself to my sub-conscious. I had actually started to believe that I was worthless, that I would never do well again.

And then I thought about how ridiculous it was. How on earth could anybody put a figure on another person’s potential?!  I thought about my beautiful daughter, the moment I first saw her newborn face and perfect tiny fingers and fingernails, and of all the amazing potential she held within her – a whole life’s worth! I thought of how each one of us is a miracle of infinite potential. I realized that this number that had been limiting me for so long was just that - nothing but a random number on a page – and bore no resemblance to who I was as a person. And I made the conscious decision to throw it away.

Since then, something rather magical has happened. I have stopped saying ‘no’ to projects just because I thought I wasn’t worthy of them. I have stopped thinking of myself as a failure, limited by past hurts or disappointments. I have started valuing myself, and in the process, properly valuing other people (because they have unlimited potential too!) And the work has come flooding in – so much that I can barely keep on top of it!

I had heard of the power of positive attraction before, but I’d never really realised that my own self-doubt was the very thing that was holding me back. Once I had plucked that painful stone from my sub-conscious…I found I was able to dance!

So my message to others reading this and perhaps holding onto past hurts or feelings of disappointment or failure is this…don’t let others limit your potential. Don’t let others put a percentage on your abilities, because you have within you all the resources you need to do whatever you dream. 

Wishing you peace and blessings, always x



Ssshh….whisper it….it’s okay not to be perfect



The artist Cezanne painted the same mountain more than 60 times.
Hi there, I haven’t written for a few days, partly because I’ve been doing the Ten Day Writing Challenge http://www.taranicholle.com/writingchallenge/ (of which more later), and partly because I’ve been crazy busy juggling writing, family and work. Recently, I’ve been thinking about all the things that keep me from writing creatively. There are many, of course, and some are excuses. For instance, I often complain I don’t have enough time, but I somehow find the time to mess about on Facebook, watch funny videos of cats on YourTube and…well, you get the picture.

If I’m honest, though, the main thing that holds me back is lack of confidence. Speaking to others, I know I’m not alone in this, so I thought I’d share a few experiences. So here goes. Here are a few of my most common excuses for not writing…

‘But I’m not a writer!’

This is my greatest fear. Psychologists call it ‘imposter syndrome’ – the fear that, whatever you try to be good at, you will eventually be revealed as a fraud. When it comes to writing, it feels inappropriate, even arrogant, to award myself the same title as, say, Dylan Thomas or Shakespeare or JK Rowling. But even the most successful writers go through many drafts and face countless rejections before finding success.

Jane Austen’s early draft of Pride and Prejudice was rejected by a London publisher and left to languish on the author’s desk for a further sixteen years until it was finally published in 1813. JK Rowling’s Harry Potter series was rejected by twelve different publishing houses before becoming an international best-seller.

So just because your work isn’t hitting the best-sellers lists doesn’t mean you are not a writer. What is a writer? Simple. A writer is someone who writes. An artist is someone who makes art. A musician is someone who makes music. If you do any of these things, you qualify. You have earned the title of artist.

‘But anyone could do what I do!’

Here’s one I’m particularly guilty of. Perhaps it’s because of competitive shows like The Voice and the X Factor but it feels like, in order to be an artist, you have to be better than everybody else. Well, here’s a secret: You don’t.

I was never very keen on art at school. (Art lessons, back then, consisted of being sat down opposite a vase of flowers, or something equally dull. Those who could paint a decent vase of flowers were ‘artists’. The rest of us were not). But recently I’ve discovered Celtic art. I love the way the shapes and patterns curl and flow into one another, and drawing them makes me deeply satisfied. I’m not a brilliant artist; I make art because I enjoy it. For a long time, I hid my paintings away. I was frightened that if I showed them to others, they’d dismiss them. I felt like a fraud. What if somebody came up to me and said ‘That’s rubbish! Anyone could do that!’ Or, even worse, ‘My six-year-old child could do that?’

It was the same with my writing. I loved creating poetry but whenever I received another rejection from a literary magazine or was unplaced in a poetry competition, it felt like a slap across the face. I grew deeply jealous of the success of other poets, even to the point of resolving not to write any more. Then I realised how ridiculous I was being. Of course a lot of people could paint or write as well as me if they wanted to! But the fact is that I am doing it. It’s not about seeking others’ approval. It’s the act of creating, of leaving my mark upon the world.

These days, if somebody came up to me and said ‘but I could paint that just as well’ my response would be ‘Brilliant! I’m glad I have inspired you – now go and do it!’ Life is not a competition. You don’t have to be the best, or the best-selling, or the most successful. That’s not what creativity is for.

I was watching a TV programme a while ago about child prodigies. There was a little girl, aged about nine, who was brilliant on the piano. She was amazing, truly gifted. Yet listening to her performances, there was something missing. Yes, technically they were brilliant, but when she played she was totally static, like a machine, with no emotion. When asked after her concert why she liked playing the piano, she answered ‘Because I can win competitions’. She had been gifted with the most amazing ability, yet had failed to see the whole purpose of the music, which is uplift the spirit, to bring yourself and others joy.

‘But I’m not good enough to show people my work yet!’

Here’s another secret: The more you create, the better you will get at it. When I was living in London, I went to visit an exhibition of works by the artist Cézanne, most famous for his painting of the SainteVictoire Mountain. Did you know that he painted that same mountain over 60 times? And that’s just the ones we know about. I wonder how many more potential masterpieces ended up crumpled up in litterbins because their creator wasn’t quite happy with them?

In fact, scientists have come up with the exact formula for how much work you need to put in, in order to become good at something. They determined that it took exactly 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert in any field – be it learning a new language, training for a sport, or mastering a musical instrument. Broken down, that’s around 20 hours a week over 10 years, or about two hours a day. But even if you can’t afford a full two hours (and let’s be honest, who of us can?!), just a few minutes each day will make a big difference.

Whilst we might not all be a Mozart or a Beethoven in the making, it stands to reason that when you start out on a new skill, there’s only one way to go – and that’s up! Of course, there will be pitfalls and disappointments along the way, which brings me to my next objection…

‘I can’t do it – it’s too difficult!’

Well, hmmm, yes. Most things that are worthwhile are difficult. Or, at least, they start off difficult, before they become easier, and then become more difficult again. A few years ago, my husband and I took up archery. We started off in a blaze of enthusiasm, practicing whenever we had the chance. And surprise, surprise, we got better at it! But then after a while, we didn’t seem to be getting better at it any more. Our progress hit a plateau. There were always people better than us, and we couldn’t be as good as them. It just didn’t seem worth the effort, so we stopped.

Writing can be particularly disheartening, because it is a largely solitary activity and the process of trying to get published attracts rejection. So it’s tempting to give up. Sometimes, I hit rock bottom, and have writer’s block, and can’t write another word. But then I remember why I started doing it in the first place. I didn’t start writing because I wanted to be published, or liked, or admired. I started writing because I had to, because I couldn’t imagine doing anything else, because I had a head full of ideas that would explode if they didn’t somehow find some manner of expression. And somehow, just realising this, makes the whole process easier.

‘But I will never be the next JK Rowling/Jane Austen (insert writer of your choice)

Of course you won’t! You were never meant to be! You are you. Nobody else in the world has your exact range of experiences, your insight, your way of expression. You are utterly unique, an individual. Nobody else sees the world through your eyes. So quit trying to be like everybody else, and focus on being the best possible version of you. If it helps, imagine you have just met someone at a party. What questions might they ask you? What stories might you tell? Start with what you know. Tell your stories, as only you know how. They are rich, they are valuable, they are beautiful; they are Yours.

Do you suffer from imposter syndrome? What stops you writing, and what are you doing about it? Write and tell me about it in the comments section below. 

Writing is breathing...



‘For breath is life, so if you breathe well, you will live long on earth’ – Sanskrit proverb

inspire (v.) mid 14th century: ‘enspiren’, ‘to fill (the mind, heart, etc., with grace, etc.);’ also ‘to prompt or induce (someone to do something),’ from Old French enspirer (13c.), from Latin inspirare ‘blow into, breathe upon,’ figuratively ‘inspire, excite, inflame,’ from ‘in-+ spirare’ to breathe (see spirit(n.))  (Online Etymology Dictionary)

“The poem is a machine so simple and so efficient that it only has one moving part, and that made of the most insubstantial material: lightning and breath. - Charles Olson



BREATHE

Take a deep breath. Now take another. Every day, we take about 26,000 breaths, inhaling something like 14,000 litres of air. Breathing is the most fundamental part of human life, essential to our survival. Most of the time we don’t even think about it. But how we feel and how we breathe are intimately connected.

Have you noticed how, when you’re anxious or afraid, your breath seems to come in quick bursts? This is particularly frustrating for me as a poet and a singer, because when you’re performing, the last thing you want is to run out of breath! At its most extreme, anxiety can even cause us to hyperventilate – when you breathe so fast you exhale more than you inhale, increasing the rate of loss of carbon dioxide. This can be very frightening, causing faintness, tingling of the fingers and toes and, if prolonged, even lead to loss of consciousness. In extreme cases, it feels like you are having a heart attack.

Deep, slow breathing, on the other hand, can be very calming. Often, if I am nervous before a performance, I like to warm up with a slow, gentle song – my favourite are lullabies – because it forces me to breathe more deeply, which helps my whole body to relax.

Of course, the link between breathing and physiology has been known for centuries. In yoga, the breath is Prana or vital force. In yoga practice, we integrate focus on breath during slow movements as well as while maintaining asanas or yoga positions. If we focus on breathing, the control of breathing shifts from brain stem / medulla oblongata to cerebral cortex (evolved part of brain).

Many religions also link breathing and breath with God or the divine spark of creation. In the Bible, God breathed into Adam in order to create him, and the Hebrew word ‘Ruach’- meaning breath– was used as a term for God. In the New Testament, the word for breath, wind and spirit is the same. So when we talk having God’s spirit within us, we are actually breathing in the divine.

You might wonder why, in a blog about writing, I am focusing so much on breathing? Well, writing is breathing. When I write, I am hearing the words on my head as if they are spoken. When I perform, they come to life, living all over again in the ears of those who hear them. Whether consciously or not, whenever I write, I am also taking pauses, breaths. For a poem, this might be a breath at the end of each sentence, or each phrase. If I am angry, this will likely affect the form of the poem. Likewise, if I am feeling very calm, this, too, will become a part of my poem. I can, if I choose, use these pauses for breath to spring a surprise on the reader, perhaps pausing unexpectedly at the end of a line, or serving up a different word when they were expecting a rhyme.

But I think it goes even deeper than that. The life we breathe through our poems becomes a form of dance. The American poet Charles Olson described it as a transfer of energy between writer and reader, like an electric spark a “terrible fire” or “lovely power”. 1

Perhaps a simpler way to look at it is like this: When we create poetry, or a piece of writing, we ‘breathe in’ all sorts of ideas, influences, and images. Perhaps we also breathe in a little of the divine, of magic, of wonder. We are ‘inspired’ (is it any wonder that the word ‘inspire’ comes from the Latin word for ‘to breathe into’?)

But then, once we have breathed in, we have to breathe out again. When we breathe out our poem, it becomes a living thing again, not a fixed thing in our head, ready to be breathed in by others so that they, too, might become inspired to their own creations. And so the cycle goes on….


FOOTNOTE:

1. In his manifesto ‘Projective Verse’ (1950) the American poem Charles Olson proposed a new view of poetic structure based on breath. His ideas, which were taken up by other poets including William Carlos Williams, led to a more naturalistic way of writing, for the ear, rather than the printed page. This is possible, according to Olson, only when the poet reaches “down through the workings of his own throat to that place where breath comes from, where breath has its beginnings, where drama has to come from, where, the coincidence is, all act springs.”
Reading a poem is a transfer of the ‘energy’ of the poet’s breath and speech to the reader. He refers to it variously as being like an electric spark, a “terrible fire” or“lovely power.”



Triskele: The Triple Spiral and the Trinity



I’ve been fascinated by spirals since I was a little girl. Some time ago, whilst going through my parents’ attic I came across a pile of old schoolbooks, including my first ‘English and Stories’ book from when I was six. In it, I had drawn a picture of a spiral and spent a full page writing about how lovely it was. I still vividly remember drawing it, and marvelling at how the rings seemed to go on forever and never stop, drawing on outwards like the ripples on a pond.
Later, I discovered labyrinths, spirals you can actually walk in! The slightly dizzying sensation of winding your way slowly into the centre, a sense of satisfaction at having arrived there, and the gradual unwinding until, step by step, you find yourself back at the point you started. As I walked the path, I thought of pilgrimages, of movement, of refugees, and the fact that we are all dynamic, constantly moving and growing through our lives and never really stopping. Birth, life and death, are all part of the cycle.
And then, more recently, I discovered Celtic art. It had always been with me really. I bought a book about the Book of Kells at university, and used to spend hours poring over its intricate images. I have also always loved Mediaeval illuminated manuscripts, with their boldness of vision and layers of colour. But I had never considered myself worthy of drawing them. Until now. I think we all convince ourselves, at some stage, that we are unworthy. We tell ourselves we can’t cook, can’t paint, can’t sing, can’t write poetry. Which is not true. We might not be able to do any of these things particularly well…yet. But we can all do them. The more we do them, the better we will become. I wanted to explore the spiral for myself, to feel it moving through the page as I had done all those years ago, when I was six. I picked up a pencil. I drew.
Today’s painting, which I have just completed, is based upon the Celtic Triskele, or Triple Spiral. It is, in fact, a symbol which predates even the Celtic culture, tracing its roots right back to the Neolithic era, as it can be seen at the entrance of Newgrange, Ireland. The Triskele gained popularity in its use within the Celtic culture from 500BC onwards. It was later adopted by Celtic Christianity, and appears on cathedral carvings, illuminated manuscripts and stained glass windows. It is most familiar to many from its usage on the Isle of Man flag (the flag of Sicily is surprisingly similar!)
In terms of its symbolism, theories abound. First, like the labyrinth, it can be thought to represent outward motion, its three arms moving outwards from the centre. In a spiritual sense, it might represent power or energies moving from the centre out into the world. Like wheels, it indicates action, perpetual motion, revolution.
Secondly, it is split into three parts. These can represent, variously, the cycle of life-death-rebirth; spirit-mind-body; past-present-future. For the later Christian Celts, it represented the mystery Trinity – Father, Son and Holy Spirit, the Three-in-One or Triune God.
Finally, of course, the nature of Celtic art itself represents a sort of sacred geometry. The pencil hits the paper and follows a line with no clear beginning and no true end. The line is Eternal, travelling forward to the Centre and back out into the world, with no clear sense of where one begins and the other ends. There is no clear division between the sacred and the secular, the inner and the outer worlds.

The Celts used to speak of ‘thin’ or ‘liminal’ places’ – crossover places from the Earthly to the Spiritual realm. According to the Celtic saying, “Heaven and Earth are only three feet apart, but in thin places that distance is even shorter.”

Most of us have visited places where we instinctively feel drawn towards a sense of something bigger than ourselves. Often these may be close to water, a literal crossing point from one state to another. I speak of this in my poem, Liminal, which was inspired by a trip to Rhossili, on the beautiful Gower Peninsula, a ‘thin place’ if ever there was one:

Liminal

I have come to the edge
Of what I know
In this place, that is neither
Earth nor shadow.

You are water
And I, land-locked,
Liminal, face the tearing tide
Hear the ocean's voice
Confirm my calling,
Cling to ancient rocks
With limpet fingers

But dare not step outside,
For fear of falling.

It is interesting that my sensation on visiting a liminal place seems first to have been one of fear. Perhaps the message of the Triskele or Sacred Spiral is to face that fear…and keep on going. I know that on the few occasions I have dared to do so, what has struck me most clearly was a sense of unity and interconnection, of being part of a much bigger picture. Much like the crazy spirals I was drawn to as a child, what we see now is only in part. The real ripples travel much further outwards than we could ever know – out into the universe and beyond.




How to Boost Your Creativity: 10 Top Tips for Mindful Creatives




Ever wondered how to give your creativity a quick boost? Here are some tried-and-tested tips…

1.       Put on some music
It’s a familiar scenario: you sit down at your desk to write and find yourself staring at a blank page for hours. You give up and go to a café instead, and suddenly the ideas come flowing from your pen.
Ever wondered why? Well, the answer just might lie in the background chatter. Researchers led by Ravi Mehta at the University of Illinois asked subjects to carry out a series of creative tasks set against differing noise levels. They found that 70 decibels – a moderate level of background noise roughly equivalent to what you’d find in an average coffee shop – was ideal. If you can’t afford the price of a Frappuccino, some gentle music, played at a low volume, will do the job just as well.

2. Switch off technology
It’s estimated we receive an average 63,000 words of information a day – and spend around three quarters of our time every day receiving and processing information. With so much ‘noise’ it’s little wonder creative thoughts can easily get crowded out. Take some time each day to switch off everything – mobiles, computers, TVs – and simply focus on the here and now. Your brain will thank you for it.
See here for more tips: https://writemindfully.blogspot.com/

3. Get outside
It’s long been known that being out in nature stimulates a sense of wellbeing, but did you know it can also make you more creative?  In a 2012 study, neuroscientist David Strayer found that backpackers were 50% more creative after spending four days out on the trail. They also showed improved evaluation and problem-solving skills. So if you’re feeling stuck for new ideas, perhaps a trip to the local park is in order.

4. Keep your desk messy
Yes, really! A University of Minnesota study found that people are more likely to arrive at creative solutions to a problem when working in slightly disorganised (rather than spotlessly tidy) environments. Great news for messy people like me – though perhaps not so much for those who have to live with us!

5. Carry a notebook
The best ideas usually arrive when we’re most relaxed – which is often when we are least prepared for them. Writing is a bit like catching butterflies; you have to catch the ideas when they come, otherwise they float away. Carry a notebook and pen, or record snippets of poetry onto your mobile. Not all of them will be usable, but the more you write, the more chances you have of finding that one idea that will. Simple!


6. Change the media
Can’t write that story? Then why not sketch it? Picture refuses to be drawn? Then turn it into a poem…or a song…or a short film! Sometimes simply changing the media you’re working in can help shift your creative block, opening up new ways of self-expression. Connect with other artists, visit a gallery and challenge yourself to write a short poem or haiku on each painting, or listen to a piece of classical music and see what stories it tells.

7. Try some colour magic
If you’re feeling blocked, try looking at something green…or something blue. Psychological studies investigating the effects of different colours on the brain have found these two colours to be the most effective for stimulating creative thought. It’s thought the reason could lie with their association with nature. Green is linked with creativity and growth, whilst blue is thought to promote positive feelings such as openness, peace and tranquillity.

8. Daydream
Have you ever noticed your best ideas often come to you when you’re in the bath or washing the dishes? There’s a reason for that. When we’re engaged in simple, repetitive tasks, the rational/logical part of the brain becomes less active, enabling more creative/intuitive thoughts to take control. So next time you’re feeling ‘stuck’, take a break, do the dishes, go for a walk or have a shower. Just make sure you get back to your desk afterwards!

9. Exercise
‘A healthy mind in a healthy body’ – we all know the physical benefits of exercise, but it’s good for your brain too. A new study in the journal Frontiers in Human Neuroscience (Colzato, Szaporo) shows that regular exercisers perform better on tests of creativity and are better at problem-solving than those who are less physically active. Time to get those running shoes on!

10. Meditate
Scientists are only just beginning to appreciate the full benefits of mindful meditation on the brain. Dutch cognitive psychologist Matthijs Baas found that mindfulness meditation improved people’s powers of observation, focus and ability to describe an event – all very useful skills for a creative writer. He concluded: ‘To be creative, you need to have, or be trained in, the ability to observe, notice and attend to phenomena that pass your mind’s eye.’

Too much information!




Are you suffering from information overload? If so, here are some tools to help you find the time and space to be creative again...

Consider the following facts for a moment:

• We receive, on average, 63,000 words of new information a day, via television, radio, email, messages on social media, newspapers, magazines or online.
• Ninety percent of all the data in the world has been generated during the last two years (www. ScienceDaily.com).
• It’s estimated that around three quarters of our time is spent receiving information.
• BBC News reports that information amounting to the data equivalent of all the movies ever made will pass across the Internet every 3 minutes by 2016.
• The typical Internet user is exposed to more than 1,700 banner ads per month (www. Digiday.com). • We collectively send and receive more than 500 million Tweets a day which means about 5,700 Tweets a second, on average, though the highest ever was 143,100 Tweets per second.
 • In just a single minute on the web 216,000 photos are shared on Instagram, a total of £54,000 ($83,000) sales take place on Amazon, there are 1.8 million likes on Facebook and three days’ worth of video is uploaded to YouTube.

Add to that a constant soundtrack of background music in shops, cafes and waiting rooms and is it any wonder we sometimes feel swamped?

All this clutter of information is taking its toll, both on our productivity and health. A study at Temple University, Philadelphia, found that too much information leads people to make stupid mistakes and bad choices in their work life. It can also contribute to psychological conditions including stress, anxiety and insomnia. Psychologists have even coined a term for the problem – Information Fatigue Syndrome.

Switch off
For many ‘switching off’ at the end of a busy day means curling up in from of the TV, chatting with friends online, or listening to music on the iPod. Silence – lack of noise – can make us feel uneasy, uncomfortable, or even threatened.

Many social animals, including humans, interpret complete silence as a sign of impending danger. It’s been suggested that our tendency to hum to ourselves or switch on the radio as background noise when alone in the house is an evolutionary response to this.

Silence
On the other hand, silence, freely chosen, can be helpful – even spiritually uplifting. Silence plays a role in many of the world’s leading religions, including Sufism, Buddhism and some forms of Christianity. In the Quaker meetings I attend each Sunday, silence is an important part of worship and a time to allow the divine to speak in the heart and mind.

Quaker William Penn wrote: ‘True silence is the rest of the mind; it is to the spirit what sleep is to the body: nourishment and refreshment.’

Space between the notes
Just a few moments each day spent ‘switching off’ – freed from all the usual noisy interruptions of everyday life – can have a profound effect on our mental wellbeing, giving our minds and bodies a chance to slow down, take stock and recharge.

French composer Debussy once said: ‘Music is the space between the notes’. Too much noise makes our notes clang and clash together, discordantly. Take some time to create breathing space between the notes and you’ll find life becomes more beautiful and harmonious.

 A walk in the park, a relaxing bath, or time taken to sit somewhere still and listen to the sounds around you can all be beneficial. Try it and see!



Sources for this article:
http://www.infogineering.net/understanding-information-overload.htm https://blog.twitter.com/2013/new-tweets-per-second-record-and-how http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2381188/Revealed-happens-just-ONE-minute-internet-216-000-photos-posted-278-000-Tweets-1-8m-Facebook-likes.html#ixzz4fRWAAKbV
The Princetown University research paper on Information Overload is online here: http://www.orsnz.org.nz/conf34/PDFs/Buchanan.pdf

Introduction - Start here!


Living creatively, writing mindfully.

‘The hardest part of any journey is having the confidence to start’

Introduction
Hi! I’m guessing if you’re reading this, you are a creative person. Perhaps, like me, you’ve been writing since you were a child. Or maybe you are only just discovering your creativity. Whoever you are, and whatever your circumstances, you are very welcome here. I hope we can journey together and become friends, growing in our creativity and confidence, and sparking off new ideas along the way.

There are several things this blog won’t do. It won’t:
·        Turn you into a best-selling author
·        Tell you how to get your work published and/or make money out of it
·        Show you how to write (only you can do that)

Instead, this blog aims to help you find and listen to your inner voice – your Soul Voice, if you like. Once you can do so, you will find that writing comes naturally to you – as naturally as breathing.
It will also talk a little about mindfulness, a practice which I have found extremely valuable, both personally and as a writer. Along the way, I will include some exercises which I have found useful in stimulating creative ideas, as well as useful advice and tips from other writers and creatives.
I hope you enjoy my blog and welcome any feedback.
Let’s start!

creative writing and mindfulness

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