It’s a strange thing, birthing a book. At times I’ve felt like Kit here, absolutely committed, but wondering if I’m not fully aware of the extent of the ambition. There’s times I thought I should just quit. Aren’t there enough books in the world? What do I have to add? I’ve also given a lot of my power away, expecting others to understand (and validate) my vision, and when they didn’t, I took this as proof that the book should…
EVERYTHING YOU DREAM OF IS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF FEAR – George Addair. A regret-filled life is nothing to be proud of. Maybe this poem says that in a dark way. Maybe it should be more inspirational & cheery but honestly, there’s nothing cheery about unfulfilled potential. If other people cannot see your vision it doesn’t mean you’re wrong, it’s that they’re not you. Be brave. Whatever it is, just start taking small steps towards it every day. On…
Making these poetry pamphlets over the years has been an education in slowing down. I’ve felt equally enamoured and frustrated with the entire process so that there’s been times I’ve really just wanted to quit. Why do I make these? They’re time consuming and awkward and even harder to make now we live in a tiny space as I can’t just have all my book-making kit out on a table indefinitely. And yet… there’s something I keep returning to, a…
A poem to start the week. text reads The Gathering you are weary stripped of bark you have been shedding leaves resolve is blossom snatched by the wind sometimes it is too much to know you have been hacked & pruned fashioned into furniture oiled & shaped for utility (or fantasy) your heart is not inanimate she is the tree whose roots run rich with connection when you are felled the Earth grieves with the heat of the sun still,…
I was reminded of an old poem on today’s walk (it’s from the pamphlet, Prophecy: conversations with my Self, which you can download for free from my website here). For the trees There was a place she visited oneWith forests that s t r e t c h e dPlanted, regimented, ruledAnd when she spokeThe trees did not know herAnd when she spoke with the voice of the mountainThe trees did not know themselves And she ragedAnd mountains weptFor the…
I wrote this poem after weeks spent swimming in Slovenian rivers back in May 2019… is anybody else missing their outdoor swims just now? So I will relive these moments through the poems – that’s what they’re for – and keep making apples. #slowtime #riverswim #poetlife TEXT READS:Swimming in Slow Time Drop a stone into Slow Time& ride each ripple to the green water’s edge.Forget which day of the weekis tomorrow – beauty anticipated is toosoon spoiled. It is not…
A poem for the coming decade. text reads: 20/20 Vision When the Earth is heating rapidly And the air is thick with accusations When oceans fill with plastic & empty of fish When people are stacked at borders like refuse As trash is shipped freely around the world When The Machine has become so huge it extracts joy From the very marrow of you bones Remember: That this planet survived ice age & fire That the mountains are gods That…
I felt quiet disempowered at times last year as an artist, waiting for others to validate my work. This is because I stepped into ego – I became attached to wanting certain things to be a certain way instead of focussing on creating the work and having faith it would find the right way out into the world. The solstice actioned the final shift away from this way of creating – this is my life of intention, I take responsibility…
I’ve been thinking long and hard about the intention for this coming year, I’ve chased it under skeletal winter hedgerows, across undulating hills that gently magnify all the hidden shadows of the mind, and in the needly-ice-cold of winter swims. This morning, during a glorious hour of silence with @workingsilence I found this triad: syncretism, symbiosis, symbolism. Ah! This makes perfect sense! I will hold these words in my heart all year, seek out their embodiment with every step. Only…
