Brigid is remembered as a goddess, or a saint who is celebrated at Imbolc, which marks the first turning of the wheel of the year in Celtic tradition. what if, among the starting againanticipation and waitingwe were to arrive at the realisation we are not alone?what...
when asked to recall a moment of joy I rewind to this young hearts, bright eyes youthful legs entangled over the sofapyjama bottoms and painted toes inhaling take away left oversthe way our bodies melted,resting, safe,mouths and ears full of chatter and nonsensein...
This year I will turn 40, or 788,that is,if I am the sum of all the years I have been,that is,if those years all add up to something more thanwhat you seethat is,a collective culmination ofsome kind of insight that edges ever closerto what some may refer to...
Everything I look at demands something of me, that is to say, almost always, 51 weeks and weekends of the year. But this past weekend, this 1 weekend of 52, something else happened instead. Sat in a car in remote Scotland with 3 friends from times long gone by, I...
she she is all smooth all rich all deep evokes all long steady strokes all base and bass notes all low vibration all cedar mellows she gives way to melody to step-toe across waters dance like light high, fleeting and bright when melody flits and fades away she she...
whomever whoever she-ever that is who I see to the girl I was thank you dear heart you were rarely free to the woman I will be I see you through the woods I hear you breathe my she-ever my child my elder me Image by Nika Akin from Pixabay
Wellbeing is all well and good. I totally believe in it. Even when finding ten minutes seems almost impossible what with working, mothering, house-hold running. Especially all the different kinds of 'just take ten minutes to...' activities that are recommended across...
I hold in my heart the women I have known, my dear friends, my colleagues I've worked with, those I've learnt alongside. I call to mind my mentors who've listened and walked along side me. I remember the women I've read who've spoken exactly what needs to be said. I...
Notice the snail, her patterned back, her identity which grows with her. That she cannot take off, for wherever she goes there she is. Her home, her shell is her. All swirls and colours. Little by little she travels far. Feeling her way, unable to see much at all....