Monthly Archives: August 2011

Glitter

Stratford Circus cafe:
Glitter, gold and green, on
Brown skin
Smilingly shyly, she apologises
For her appearance
She is in a play, she explains

Later, on the bus:
Gold and green, on
Brown skin
Lips defiantly orange
Hair piled perfectly high
A loose strand tucked neatly away
With manicured hands
She does not apologise
For herself.

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About small stones

Um…. So this is kind of the wrong way around – I should have written this post before the previous one.

Let me start with an apology to Fiona Robyn. I wrote my last post, having heard about small stones (and loving the idea!) but not knowing where they originated. Then today, someone sent me the link to Writing Our Way Home and I downloaded Fiona’s lovely little e-book, How to Write Your Way Home. If you are struggling to motivate yourself to write (or would just like a new way to write), I highly recommend reading this lovely little morcel. It didn’t take long to read but it did nourish me.

At first, I thought I would simply edit my last post and link to Writing Our Way Home , but then thought that wouldn’t be right – that wouldn’t be my truth, as Fiona might say. So, I decided to write this, to give credit where its due.

Fiona – If you’re reading this, thank you for the inspiration.

Small stones

Some small moments of mindfulness from the past week:

She boards the bus/in hat and stockinged feet/I wonder at how poised she seems/when I in just a vest and shorts/still can’t stand the heat

Sunlight cuts through trees/making irridescent leaves/An unusual purple flower flutters in the early evening breeze/its in moments like these/I breathe

You sleep deeply/when we’re outside/tiny fingers holding tight/to daytime dreams/Your feet curl and you sigh/your toenails need cutting

She talks quietly, with authority/she seems to be the boss/the other three hold heads low, humbled/they all look equally lost

A smashed watermelon/Its scarlet flesh a much needed splash of colour/to this grey street/I stop and stare at the pigeons eating/It’s unusually quiet for this time of day/I feel like I have intruded on a secret afternoon feast

Needle and Thread – a fresh take on creative writing

On Saturday, I went to a creative writing workshop. It’s been a long time since I spent this amount of time on my creative self, and it was much needed.

The workshop in question was ‘Needle and Thread,’ run by Ebele. I have known Ebele for some time now, having met several years ago on the open mic circuit, and cannot overstate what a warm, grounding prescence this woman is. Her mango-love filled hugs draw you in and melt away any insecurities you might have been feeling and replace them with an empowering self-love. Honestly. I am not exaggerating.

So, the workshop. Needle and Thread takes place at Kai Personal designs, in Stratford (London, UK), a lovely space where Tumaini creates beautifully crafted bespoke embriodered products. From cushions to bookmarks, Tumaini creates each piece with love.  We there to drink in this environment and weave its magic into our words.

Sometimes workshops can bring out my inner critic, but not this one. There is no room for perfectionism in Ebele’s world and she even has all participants pledge to leave any negativity at the door before we begin.

A wide range of women, from the amazing 10 year old girl who had a breathtaking way with words to women in their 40s whose words were heavy with experience, created such a wonderful energy that my four month-old baby (yes, I was allowed, encouraged even, to bring baby along!) napped for the first time in days. After the workshop, we each recieved individual bespoke bookmarks embroidered with three words we had chosen on it. My words? Golden. Embrace. Awake.

If you are based in London would like a fresh take on creative writing, I highly recommend spending your Saturday afternoon at one of Ebele’s nourishing Needle and Thread workshops.

Below are the pieces I wrote on the day, hope you enjoy:

Needle and Thread

Yellow, red, golden thread
A button rainbow and cowrie shells
Sunlight pouring in through an open window
Reminds me of holidays and revitalised, I fell
Into the soft embrace of creation
And, fuelled by mango juice, I write

My hunger sated
The energy these woman have created
Fills me up

The mirror reflects
Beauty, Strength, Love

I am relaxed
I am refreshed
I am awake
I am.

Quietly creating

Rhythmic
Hypnotic
Quietly creating
Lime green people – full, round, loving
A triangle suddenly seems to hold
A refreshing beauty

Usually I find white noise to be
A distraction
Today it lulls me, womb-like
Into a state of quiet wakefulness
And I re-create
Myself.