A funny thing has happened lately. People have begun to ask me about winter. I live in a part of the world where winter is snowy and dark and I share a lot about it on Instagram. Apparently enough to make me a spokesperson for the cold season. So people have been asking me why
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December 21 is the darkest day of the year. Few of us modern peeps even notice it, except maybe to draw a sigh of relief that the light will begin to return now. Even fewer actually celebrate the winter soltice. But the older I get, the more meaningful it feels to do so. The more
Imagine if your body was your business, and yours alone. Imagine if you felt safe to desire. Not dream, not hope, fuck no. DESIRE. Hunger, Like some WILD THING. Imagine following the guy you just met home, because the pull is there, because you feel like exploring, without a single thought about what anyone
There was a neo-Nazi march in Sweden last week. The same day I had watched a documentary on Auschwitz with my eldest, crying my eyes out to stories of children torn from mothers and sent to their deaths in the gas chambers. A few days after I met an old lady in the forest and
Coming back from a social media break, it seems to me that half my feed is made up of quote cards, inspirational prompts and generic posts from life coaches on a mission. Some of what is being shared is really good, the light-packed words of some brilliant soul quoted back to us from eternity.
What if the thought that you have to be anything other than what you are would never occur to you again? What if the need to prove or even explain yourself simply wasn’t there anymore? If you never adjusted your opinions or choices or looks in order to get their approval. If you couldn’t
I want to share some powerful reading with you today, books that have mattered a lot to me this past year. They’ve nurtured my creativity in different ways, and they’ve also nourished me as a woman. I’ve needed that. Because honestly, things are rough in the world right now. You’ve seen the news, there’s
A ray of morning sunlight caught my eye. It fell through the window, soft as a whisper, and lit the geraniums on the windowsill from behind in a way that made the leaves look almost transparent, the colour of the petals glowing a deep velvety red. You know that moment, when it pierces you,
- In search of a simpler life
- Why I ditched a beautiful career
- To Love’s defence – A letter to my racist friend
- Why I write about sexual violence on a blog about creativity
- If you need permission to rest
- Confessions of an unprofitable human being
- How to burn a little brighter. Or, the end of a favourite myth
- The power of words – a letter from the Psych Ward