Most creatives I know – including myself – are empaths. We’re highly sensitive people who feel the pain of the world acutely, and as a result we often feel like we don’t do enough to help relieve that pain. There’s always more suffering. There’s no end to the things that need our attention and our
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For me, midwinter is rarely the right time to kickstart anything. It is still dark and cold outside, I’m still not out of hibernation. So instead of big plans and changes, what I want to do at New Year’s is to let go. Let go of the year that passed. Let go of all the
I had a friend sitting in my kitchen a while ago, staring wistfully out the window towards the lake and the misty mountains beyond. If I lived in a place like this, she said, I know it would be easier. I’d have space to do those things I dream of. You know, to really be
It happened a few weeks into high school. I was thirteen, and I knew by then that others considered me pretty. Until then it had never been a big deal, it was just one of the many things my friends and classmates knew me as. Other things were: Very tall, a fast runner, a quick
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
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 just dream, not just hope, No: DESIRE. Hunger and crave, Like some WILD THING. Imagine never having felt those unwanted hands touching, groping, grabbing your body, on the subway, on the dance floor, in the classroom.
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
- In search of a simpler life
- Why I ditched a beautiful career
- Live it before you preach it
- 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