Cultivating hope

Why your writing matters now more than ever

Dear friends,

On the morning after the US election results, I woke from a vivid dream. I dreamed that I was resting in the warm, hummocky body of the earth, a place of red dust and sandstone, in the middle of the desert. The swell of the land held me, its folds and openings, its soft mouth pressed against my skin. I could feel the gentle rhythm of its breathing, pulling me closer to the centre of something ancient and humming, the source of life itself.

For a few moments after I opened my eyes, I felt a feeling of peace, even in the midst of all the grief and fear.

I have just returned from ten days in the Arizona desert. I was on a work trip, as part of my current research project about climate emotions (more of this later). At the end of my trip, I was lucky enough to be able to spend a day exploring the desert in the company of

Eric K. Carr

, a very dear friend and author of the gorgeous Ars Zoetica, who some of you will also know through our Restorative Writing community. Eric and his husband Richard generously made the journey to meet me in Phoenix and I treasure the time we spent together, including exploring the extraordinary formations at Papago Park (seen in the photo above). Eric shared stories about the saguaro cactus ancestors and – in one of Eric’s many gifts – he created a beautiful saguaro ritual for me.

A couple of days later, I was back home, watching the election results coming in and thinking of all the people I met in Arizona who are deeply committed to equity, and the sacredness of the earth that holds us all.

Now, more than ever, we need one another. Just like the ancient communities that I learned about on my trip, people who wove baskets and decorated clay pots, carved tools and jewellery from wood and bone and expressed their feelings in petroglyphs on the rocks, we need to be able to honour and live through our creativity in our everyday lives. Our innate creativity enables us to feel connected – with the earth, with one another and with all the extraordinary beings with whom we share this enormous gift of being alive.

I know that you know this already. That is why you’re here.

It’s my birthday today and I want to say thank you to all of you – for creating this space with me, for reading my words. I am so grateful for another year on this beautiful earth.

I’m about to go for a walk in the woods, to say thank you to my friends, the trees. But first, I wanted to thank you.

Here’s a reminder of some writing invitations that might be helpful this week:

Intimate Immensity: Writing to restore ourselves to ourselves, one another and the earth

Suggestions for writing about the big scary difficult things

Or you could try this.

Writing Invitation

Take a single sheet of paper and on it write three things you are thankful for; or three things that make your heart soar; or three things you’d like to invite into your life; or the names of three beings who bring you joy.

Do this slowly and deliberately.

Notice your breathing.

Let your hand move to the rhythm of your breath.

When you’re ready, decide how you’d like to send your words out into the world.

Here are some ideas, but you may have many more:

You could put them in an envelope and send them to someone in the mail.

You could read them to someone.

You could fold them into a paper plane and let them take flight.

You could tie them to a tree, or bury them in the earth.

You could take a picture and send them to me in an email. I promise I will reply.

You could fold them into a paper boat and launch them. (In case you need a reminder, here’s a video of how to make a paper boat.)

This last is inspired by the UK edition of Margaret Atwood’s Paper Boat: New and Selected Poems.

I’m imagining each of us sending our words out into the world.

What power there is in this. What loving resistance. What hope and connectedness.

Podcast: The wonderful

Helen Sword

has turned our conversation in her WriteSpace last year into a podcast for her Swordswings series. You can listen to it at The Writing and Wellbeing Walk.

I’m also looking forward to listening to another podcast in Helen’s series, The Writing through Uncertainty Walk with Michelle Boyd.

Publication: Huge congratulations to a member of our Restorative Writing community, Candi Martin, on the publication of her beautiful book, Burnt Ice Cream:

‘Giving voice to the voiceless, Burnt Ice Cream details the struggles associated with illness, caring roles, growing up in poverty and a related lack of opportunity. In this excellent debut collection of poetry, Candi Martin draws attention to the most vulnerable within our local communities as well as detailing her own story: from working class child to artist and educator.’

Next Writing Together live session:
Thu 14 Nov 7pm (UK time)

Looking forward to seeing you next Thursday for a live writing session on Zoom. Keep a look out for the Zoom link.

With love,

Sophie
xoxo