New website, new blog…and the end of a tough year! It feels interesting to start with an ending. I’m hoping this blog will be a much more regular and intimate space for me to share and connect with you. I’m going to try and set it up so that some of my entries are locked and accessible to Patreon patrons only, this will depend on my web development skills.
Yesterday I knew I wanted to go for a walk. I’d had a few late nights, and have been releasing a lot of old fears and shame and recognising a lot of old beliefs which still cause me distress. Like many people this year has been full of turmoil and loss for me as well as providing a different context in which to reflect on the state we are in as a human species and my part in that.
After a night of visions and wild dreams, tunnels and portals into the underworld of my being, I contacted a very new and little part of me who just wanted someone to stay with them through all the uncertainty. Reconnecting with this part of me I felt their shock and how new they were. In my body I felt like a newly hatched chick or a butterfly just out of its cocoon, fragile, exposed, full of hunger, easily overwhelmed, disoriented and vulnerable. It was helpful to be able to see that I could offer love, reassurance, presence and support to this part of myself and start learning how to grow into this new shape by just being present to them and going slow.
Part of the process this year has been recognising how much I am still in hiding. How deep and potent the shame is within me and how the neurological scars I live with still impact my life today. I was given a copy of Underland by Robert Macfarlane which is really supporting me to go on my own journey into the underland of my experience and to bring what I find into the light and know it for what it is.
In the morning I went shopping for some ingredients for a miso soup. I had hoped to find a small Jerusalem artichoke to add flavour to the stock but sadly they didn’t have any at the organic food Co-op this week.
After I’d unpacked my supplies I made a peanut butter sandwich and wrapped it in the bee’s wax wrapping my mother gave me for Solstice. I walked out from my boat along the canal it was a really cold bright day. About forty minutes into my walk I came to the community gardens and spotted a friend who was pruning an apple tree. She asked me for some advice about the pruning and we chatted for a little while. Would you believe it in a box just past where my friend was pruning were a few Jerusalem artichokes with a sign saying free. I picked on out for my miso and wandered on. Then I came across another friend climbing off her boat we said hello and shared a hug (I quite forgot the Covid rules for that moment). I enjoy these casual encounters. Sometimes living alone on a narrow boat can feel quite marginal and a bit lonely (especially when things go wrong!) but the community along the canal is very supportive and there is a gentle spirit of solidarity among boaters which I have found across the network.
I left the canal and headed up through birch woods and fields. I am passed by two very beautiful horses and their riders coming down. I feel a sense of sorrow when I see horses reigned and with bits in their mouths. I know that there are new ways of natural horsemanship which seem to be more respectful and attuned with the horses rather the convention of subjugation that is still predominant in UK. That said I also wonder about the riders, what are their stories and I am sure they treasure the horses and are doing their best as far as they are aware. I greet them and go on. One of the nice things about writing is that it offers a space to present and share ones thoughts and impressions without suggesting they are the sole reality.
As I walk among the thick trunks, their bases draped in mats of mixed green mosses, the light is fading and the birds are singing.
Up, up, up, and I pass a pile of what looks like the inside of an old food van dumped by the side of the track, everything from the signs, the empty order pads and the food processor, to the seats of the vehicle. Is it the remains of a failed dream or have thieves thrown out the contents and kept the vehicle? It feels very incongruent here in the woods and again that sorrow. The lack of connection and care for the environment speaks to people, persons, a society disconnected, lost.
I stop for a sneaky wee at the base of one of the many gnarly, bare branched silver birch trees and as I’m gracefully pulling up my three layers of clothing I notice a broken egg shell in the moss. It feels the perfect fit for my feelings of vulnerability. These little synchronicities help me feel connected and in touch with wider cosmic consciousness and I feel embraced and trusting of my process and of all the unknowns that I am adventuring with.
I keep going up, up as the shadows grow, crossing the bridge over the stream and joining the pennine way. The tiny bridge is unsupported and has been built with great care and stood the test of time. I’d like to build something that stands the test of time now. I splurge through the mud to dunk my hands in the icy water and say a blessing. The cold on my face is exciting and renewing. I am ready for the last phase of my walk. I feel like much of my life has been bridging worlds. Feeling the tensions, seeing the common ground and the differences, translating, accepting alienation, observing, questioning, wandering between worlds. There was a strong call for me to journey beyond the emotional and spiritual confines of the world in which I was raised. I knew I could not survive in space that the neurotypical, violent, repressed, misogynist, homophobic, transphobic, racist and classist value systems into which I had been born would allow me. I was an emotional island and I set sail to find worth and belonging guided by the voices of my soul calling me on the winds. I have crossed many bridges, made friends with strangers. navigated impossible terrain to bring me to this moment and I’m glad to be here.
Bridge between worlds!
On a path that runs above beech woods now. It’s easy going. I’ve picked this walk because the terrain is diverse but gentle on the joints! I notice another bizarre scene to my left. Hanging between two trees is a clothes line hung with disposable dish cloths. For a second I wonder if someone is actually drying things here but it’s so far from any domicile this seems unlikely. My curiosity draws me in as usual. On close inspection I find each cloth bears a message – it’s looks like a child’s writing. ‘Bee Yourself’ ‘Choose Love’ ‘Be forgiving’ ‘Be Kind’ are some of the words. I feel mixed about this. It’s touching to see messages of love and softness, and yet the dishclothes will rot, there is a lack of regard and relationship for our home planet which speaks to a missing, a loss of great depth.
ShopSo on the one hand the shame of a failed venture dumped in the woods, on the other plastic cleaning cloths hung from a tree with messages of love and light. How do we live through this marvellous mess of a life together? Stay kind when we fail? Be ourselves with all our shame? Can I forgive the plastic dishclothes hanging in the woods that will probably fall as litter? What if I can choose love and still be angry and confused about the ways things are, sad and moved, at peace with now and hungry for change? So many things to ponder and digest on my stroll. All these signs of our human process and our relationship with our environment. Just being present with them all and with my responses. My internal flow had sped up and I come to a spring bursting through a wall moving fast like my many thoughts and but held on course by surrounding rocks. I watch it for a while until my mind eases.
My last little miracle appears in the form of a pebble painted with a heart radiating all colours of the rainbow sitting on the low wall in the dusk. As a trans queer person full of conflict and confusion in a society which doesn’t relish my kind visibility is scary and also very important. This little heart feels like a sign to keep going, to keep showing up, being vulnerable, sharing my gifts and my power. Keep opening my heart to the fierocity of love and the magic of the moment.
I wonder if the same person who made the dishclothes of love painted this stone and if one day they might read this blog (if so thank you/s 🙂 for your creativity and expression) or if the person who’s stuff is dumped by the side of the track might read this blog (if so I hope you’re okay and things get better).
Keep checking in for more folks and have a scoot around the new website or get in touch/comment I’d love to hear from you.