Words, Wandering and Wonder

Winter Notes: being enough and doing what you love

Hello and Welcome Back!

How has this new Gregorian year begun for you? I am still emerging slowly. Whilst school and work might be back, the dark mornings are my daily reminder that it is still deep winter and there’s no necessity to rush towards Spring.

But I’m back here……daring to flourish!

During the intercalary days of the festive holidays we stayed with friends, and on a misty morning I went to feed the chickens and forage for any hidden eggs; as I pushed through the gate to the walled garden, these words from Women Who Run With the Wolves came to mind:

The doors to the world of the wild Self are few but precious. If you have a deep scar, that is a door; if you have an old, old story, that is a door. If you love the sky and the water so much you almost cannot bear it, that is a door. If you yearn for a deeper life, a full life, a sane life, that is a door.

This quote has stayed with me over many years, and that gate (pictured above) somehow symbolised for me how thresholds appear in our lives, and that they can sometimes be unexpected, and sometimes long-awaited.

For me, this year feels like one of stepping through such a gate, guided by the themes that have been quietly calling me; scars, stories, longing, faith and magic.

I don’t make resolutions but as we crossed the threshold into 2025, I pledged the 12-months to come, to three things:

1. Words - writing and reading

2. Wandering - walking and adventures

3. Wonder - awe and magic, and deep thinking

Words - writing and reading

I’ve been thinking a lot about the stories we don’t hear especially in nature, travel and adventure writing. I’m focusing on books written by women in these genres because it’s still dominated by (mostly white) men, and the voices of women walkers, adventurers, naturalists, ecologists, environmentalists and travellers are vital in these times of collapse. Their stories are not just about landscapes or geography, but about justice; who is allowed to roam, who is safe to walk alone, whose voices are heard and influential. These stories matter, and we need them now more than ever.

My first book to start the year was I Belong Here by Dr Anita Sethi. It’s a story about reclaiming space, both on the land and within ourselves. After she experienced a race-hate crime, instead of being silenced, she chose to walk, both through the Pennines and through fear and anxiety.

This is part of the description from the cover:

Anita’s journey through the natural landscapes of the North is one of reclamation, a way of saying that this is her land too and she belongs in the UK as a brown woman, as much as a white man does. Her journey transforms what began as an ugly experience of hate into one offering hope and finding beauty after brutality. Anita transforms her personal experience into one of universal resonance, offering a call to action, to keep walking onwards. Every footstep taken is an act of persistence. Every word written against the rising tide of hate speech, such as this book, is an act of resistance.

If you are dwelling on the edge of something - midlife, asking where you belong, been told that you don’t belong - you’ll likely get a lot from I belong here. It’s a beautiful, defiant, and necessary book, and I’m so glad it found its way to me.

Wandering - walking and adventures

I’ll be walking locally to stay connected with the seasons, and paying attention to the subtle shifts that happen daily. I want to fully attune to what is actually taking place around me rather than relying on the calendar or even the festivals of the Wheel of the Year.

I’ll also be adventuring further afield, not only for new (to me) walks, but to deepen my capacity to listen to the landscape and hear the stories it holds. The journeys I’m dreaming into being are about more than movement and scenery; they are intended as acts of listening, witnessing, and honouring.

Wonder - awe and magic, and deep thinking

And I’ll be practicing living with awe and wonder for the world; not just the grand and the beautiful, but also the everyday magic in the smallest moments. To borrow words from Sharon Blackie:

To live an enchanted life is to fall in love with the world all over again. This is an active choice, a leap of faith which is necessary not just for our own sakes, but for the sake of the wide, wild Earth in whose being and becoming we are so profoundly and beautifully entangled.”

I hope to share that leap of faith with you and invite you to find your own ways of falling in love with the world all over again.

Alongside the magic, I will continue to ask unanswerable questions, read as voraciously as I can and wonder about the state of our world and where we go from here.

Contribution and Collective Care

Circle of Song Choir: I joined a community choir led by the wonderful Fran André (find her on Instagram). It’s my first time singing in a group, and whilst I was nervous and self-conscious, I felt such belonging; a rare and wonderful thing.

Seasonal Living

This week’s theme was Letting Go, inspired by Deborah Glover’s 52 Weeks: A Journey of Self Discovery. Letting go isn’t something you do once and move on from is it? It’s a practice, a continual peeling back of those cliched layers.

For me, this week was about releasing old ideas of success. Those external markers of success, whether it’s five-figure months or publishing articles or being a speaker, they are not success if they are someone else’s version of what life should look like.

A blog post I read way back in 2016 entitled “What If All I Want Is A Mediocre Life” by Krista from A Life in Progress, has stayed with me, and I often go back and re-read it when I’m feeling overwhelmed or not enough! She says:

What if all I want is a small, slow, simple life? What if I am most happy in the space of in-between. Where calm lives. What if I am mediocre and choose to be at peace with that?

When I first read her works, my bones rattled with resonance, and my heart leaped; I thought the life she described was extraordinary and it was the permission slip that I needed.

If you read it - let me know how it lands for you.

Whether you run your own business, or work for an organisation or running a home, it is hard to feel ‘successful’ if you’re not reaching certain milestones (particularly around income or audience or aesthetic) but I’m noticing more and more women sharing their desire to simplify and downsize.

What if we could skip the part where we scale up only to scale back?

What if we started with with being, doing and having enough?

I want to write because I have something to share, I want to hold Circles because I love them, I want to do work (for myself and others) that feels like a contribution to the greater whole.

I’ve been seeking to let go of those last whispers of comparison and self-doubt, and relish the choices that I have made, that brought me here. And remembering my guiding question - what will my 60-year self be proud of when I meet her?

Letting go also makes space for joy; like the exhilaration of reaching the top of a Tor, singing with others, giggling with friends, family games or watching the sunrise.

A Ritual for Letting Go

I’m sure I’ve shared this before, but it remains one of my favourite release rituals (I usually do it on a Full Moon):

1. Run a bath (or prepare a foot bath). Add salts, petals, candles, music, or silence - whatever feels right.

2. Sink into the water and let it hold you. Maybe read, journal, or just breathe.

3. When you’re ready, bring to mind the things you’re ready to release.

4. Let the plug out, and as the water drains, imagine it taking all the heaviness with it.

If you’re using a foot bath, pour the water onto your garden or houseplants with love, trusting that what you’ve released will be transformed into nourishment.

My hope is always, that something in what I share resonates with you and that this feels like a conversation in Circle. Please do respond, share and reflect in the comments or the chat, or by email. It is a privilege to read your words and stand witness to your journey and current experience of life.