It’s Aries season and I’m feeling angry. And nothing fuels my writing quite like anger…
A lazy weekend of reading in bed brought me to an old but brilliant Autostraddle article: a roundtable of writers thinking about the future in terms of how they want to feel, instead of what they want to do.
I haven’t read the book which inspired this piece, but the idea of envisioning goals in terms of feelings, rather than achievements, really struck a chord.
In the little apothecary, “how do you want to feel?” is the question I most often ask when helping people choose a remedy, or some suitable natural skincare. It works so much better than “what do you want?” Out of all the products in the shop – let alone in the wider world – how do you even begin to choose what you want, or figure out what you need? Identifying how you want to feel is a good first step.
So: how do you want to feel?
At the end of a week which has brought the world tumbling down around me, I am pausing for a moment to reflect on what I have, and to feel thankful for it.
My partnership with a fellow human, who loves me with a kindness and wisdom that can still catch me by surprise. This week, when he heard some big news that I felt pretty shaky about sharing, he responded with a picture of a snail. I knew exactly what he meant.
The friends and family who trust my intuition, sometimes more than I trust it myself, and accept the creative chaos of my decisions as part of who I am.
My mother, whose tireless capacity for reinvention in the face of every challenge and change is a gift she handed down to me.
Tiny Dog, for bringing playfulness into our lives, and for consistently (doggedly!) reminding me to enjoy the simple pleasure of resting in a cosy home.
Our home, solid walls and a roof which hold us here, giving us stability, actually physically grounding us in this place, a blessing I have never really had before.
Endless inspiration from ‘out there’ – the corners of the internet where magic can be found.
And you, for reading.
new moon in Pisces
Today I am a tattooed aspiring-tarotist.
How very unlikely that seemed, not so long ago.
I’ve spent about a third of my life wanting a tattoo and not getting one. Then, this afternoon – on the spur of the moment, with about 12 years’ consideration – I finally did. My reasons might make for uncomfortable reading, and not just for my parents (hi mam, hi dad, I still have no idea whether I would ever want you to read this), so I will leave you with the beautiful image and haiku which inspired it while you decide whether to read on.