Between the Pieris and the Pear Tree

A black cat and Big Magic unfold

On Friday morning I sat in my cold tub for nearly 15 minutes in a kind of meditation with nature, soaking in the sounds, my hands raised out and clasped as if in prayer and a slight drizzle making circles on the surface of the water.

A magpie scuttling on next door’s roof. The slow drip of rain from leaves and petals. The subtle aliveness of everything growing around me exuding a kind of hum or vibration, harmonising with the chirp-chirp-chirp of the birds.

Since I got my cold tub and set up it at the beginning of March, in a little nook between the Pieris and the pear tree, both have come to life and now I’m almost camouflaged, save for my orange bobble hat. Maybe the flecks of the wool blend in with the coral and salmon-pink leaves of the pieris? Before, they were just bare and broken branches, gnarled by winter, and now suddenly they’re lush and luminous and green with new growth.

I spied a black cat climbing the wall at the bottom of the garden, indirectly crossing my path. It’s always there, it seems, every time I glance over the garden, like it lives here (it must live close). And not just that black cat, but others, elsewhere, in other places. Signs.

I’ve started re-reading The Secret by Rhonda Byrne. It was buried under a pile of papers and it felt like a good time to re-immerse in its messages.

I’ve been feeling a pull to different work, to writing - here and for the many book ideas I’ve scribbled down over the years. It feels like they’re calling to me a little stronger at the moment.

Last weekend I took part in one of Beth Kempton’s live online Spring writing events, as part of her SoulCircle membership. I hadn’t managed to attend one before but I knew (as in I felt a strong urge) I needed to attend that one. She set the scene with some poetry readings, lit a candle, then gave us a series of seasonal journal prompts for us all to write and respond to together.

The first was around what spring is bringing up for us, and here’s what I wrote:

Unfurling like a tulip, bobbing and dancing by the wall in the garden, I’m awakening to myself, again, wondering where I’ve been this last while? So many places, dark, difficult places, yet here, now, the light. I accept the invitation into it, breathe in the wonderment, the wide ocean of the world, let it seep down inside me, wash me clean, open my eyes afresh to what lies ahead and what lies a little way beyond. Beyond my pond.

I perch, wary, flit with my eyes to spy the divine: dew, sap, bark, twig. I’m in awe of the sights before me, watching the blossoms bud and caress each other, tender like lambs. A street lamp blinks on: dusk. Yet outside is ever more alive, a concert of birds, magpies, trees conversing in their hidden language - tendrils, moss, bees. An active hive awakened, a tiny peek into secret mother-nature activities and rituals, all sparking, chiming, timing together in perfect quintessence.

I want more of everything: seconds, minutes, freedom, youth if I am to ever conquer my heart and my dreams. To write. Just write! Swim, write, rise. Tell the stories, write the saga.

I think this last came up as I had family to stay from far away - Cape Town - and it reignited the spark in me about my family story and the mini-pilgrimage I went on in October 2023 to revisit the land of my mother’s birth.

Her story - which becomes my story eventually - is omnipresent in my life, growing greater the more I try to push it down. It’s not that I don’t want to write it - I’ve already begun, years before I had my children. In my head, I was waiting until my youngest begins school, which won’t be this year as we thought, but 2026.

So maybe these stream-of-consciousness ramblings are trying to bring that closer, telling me not to wait, not to delay? There’s so much story to research and to tell; a wild and vivid expanse crossing oceans.

And then I’m back at swimming and the sea, those over-riding symbols of my life.

On Sunday evening I went out for a walk to clear my head after a busy afternoon at a children’s birthday party. I felt it was essential to go out for that walk, and within a few minutes of leaving the house, I had a sudden ‘Big Magic’ moment.

It’s a decade since I read Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Big Magic, filled with insights into how to successfully live a creative life. I can’t remember all of it, but specific points stuck with me. She talked of catching ideas, of them almost choosing you, but that you had to fully immerse in them, proceed with them, work with them, otherwise they would move on to someone else, like they just needed to be told.

My family saga feels like it’s my duty to tell from my unique position of knowing, but some all of my other book ideas I’ve sat with for a long time. Sigh.

I think the message I journaled to myself as part of Beth’s SoulCircle session was a reminder that these ideas are gifts bestowed on me for a reason, so why aren’t I pursuing them? Maybe my time with them is reaching its expiration, like a publisher who hasn’t exploited all the format rights for a book perhaps? That’s worrying, because I know some of them are pure gold! I feel like I’m holding myself back somehow from this bigger creative expression, and I’m querying myself on why.

Then, as I was walking on Sunday, a whole character and story outline seemed to ‘drop’ right into my head like I’d turned on an audiobook.

I could hear her - a new female character - talking to me, starting her tale. I could see the words written on the first page of a book, under Chapter One. Other ideas I’d had for local stories connected to it like magnets, and it started to weave itself around her voice and her identity. It’s rooted in the village where I live and the surrounding areas, and it felt so alive and right there in front of me, laying itself out for me like a kind of mind-map. I had to pause and sit on a bench and write some notes in my phone so I wouldn’t forget any of the details.

That experience made me think immediately of the girl running after an idea in Big Magic (and ultimately missing it I think), and of the transient nature of an idea, but also of life.

Some ideas I think I’ll remember when I get home or sit down or journal at night, but often, I just don’t. They’re little jewels to collect like in a computer game, and if you miss them or jump the wrong way, they’re lost to you forever. Maybe.

It came at a strange moment as I’d been having thoughts about my life and whether I was following the right path, which ultimately is about my career and the next chapter.

Coinciding with my reading The Secret again (how many times have I moved it aside when I’ve moved that pile of paper, but this time, this time, I chose to take action with it), and all that I want in my life and what I’m focusing on and ultimately making my reality. Without getting woo-woo, I believe in these things and manifesting what we want, and in being thoughtful, kind and considerate of ourselves, our family, friends, strangers, nature, the earth, the world.

Time is precious, energy is precious. There’s only so much to spend in a day, a week, a year, and so many other debits to make for family and fun and the boring, life admin stuff too.

I’ve had some experiences lately that have left me feeling hurt or disappointed in certain situations, and like I want to close myself off to repeating those experiences in the future. I’m also gaining clarity on what I really do and don’t want in my day-to-day - a simplification and a more gentle pace - so it’s like my mind is working through a process of culling and creating. And I’m listening and watching out for it all to unfold.

My final journal notes from the SoulCircle event, were around identifying ideas that were too obvious to even warrant being valid.

I wrote: “Distraction is a mind-wanderer.”

Then: “Water is my Saviour.”

The first was just silliness, the second was around honing in on what really matters and personal insights that could be the basis of a book or story.

In a personal journal entry, also from Friday, I wrote down something I’d heard that I wanted to remember: “Work with the hand of the Universe”. And then a reminder quote from a cushion my mum bought me many years ago: “Never Stop Dreaming”.

I love all these signs that have suddenly sprung up all around me, and more importantly, sprung out at me so I took notice of them afresh, just at this juncture where I’m querying myself and the Universe about where I am going and what is possible.

Sunday was a New Moon.

I’ve written down my intentions.

Let’s see what unfolds.