The days lengthen, we go out in t-shirts, pick wild garlic bursting forth from woodland banks. It is almost April, the month T.S. Eliot wrote of as “breeding lilacs out of the dead land”, “mixing memory and desire” and “stirring dull roots with spring rain”.
It is a time of light.
Buds open, fresh beginnings bloom. At this time, day starts to outweigh the night. Here’s a film I made about the vernal equinox last year, in the midst of the pandemic. It is interesting to reflect on what was happening exactly one year ago.
It is a time of war and unrest.
Perhaps it is also a time to remember that wars are happening always, unreported by mainstream media. It is a good time to support organisations in the know, such as Shropshire Supports Refugees.
It is a time of strength.
I felt this intensely last weekend, on an equinox so full of energy I charged up a mountain, swam in a freezing waterfall and returned home to a new strength class with the wonderful Jo Watkins who cleverly (with a little gym witchery) got me to lift my own body weight for the first time ever.
The very next day I came down with Covid, which is still a thing (and it’s own special kind of nasty). I am trying to rest, and do what acupuncturist and miracle worker Dr Wen recommends; say thank you to the illness. I’m not yet sure why it’s here, but feel a kind of ritual cleansing will have taken place when it’s gone.
This weekend I would have been on a lowland walking leader training course, but the universe has other plans. The lovely folk at Plas Y Brenin have let me re-book however, do check out their courses if you’re interested in outdoors skills.
It can be so easy to fall into the trap of thinking about health as ‘one step forward, two steps back’. Sub-duvet, I reflect upon experiencing extreme energy and weakness this week, as the light in our seasonal cycle balances with darkness.
These days I see those steps generally hopping sideways, rather than backwards. Memories of reaching a summit, some tools to support myself, or the wisdom to ask for help are nearby, inviting and available. Nearing 40, I wish I could tell my 25 year old self that she would feel strong one day.
Alongside a shift in the year, you may also sense a change in these writings. I feel the urge to write this newsletter as more of a blog, and perhaps to be in touch a little more often with words and thoughts.
Ideas & Dreams
I feel that someone reading this might be interested in organising some kind of artist residency together (If so, say hi). In my dreams, this means me travelling to work/create/collaborate in interesting spaces or nature for a period of time - perhaps partly with a group or community. I am about to do up a small van as a kind of travelling studio and sleeping space, perhaps we will wander your way in the coming months!
Creative Happenings
Rather than waffle on about what I’m up to in a newsletter, I’ve made a new ‘in process’ website page with some words and photos, which I will aim to update monthly. If you’re a stitcher or maker who uses zoom, Red Thread Nights might be for you. Check it out, and let me know if you’d like to join. As always, cards, poetry books and other things are available in my online shop.
Until next time,
Emily x