Video of Amy & her seven-year-old daughter climbing the rocks at Peggys Cove, Nova Scotia.
Episode VII - A simple study on how becoming a mother alters a woman's life. Every decision, every movement is factoring in someone else.
Creative Field Notes is a series that studies the way creativity weaves itself throughout and communicates with all aspects of the natural rhythms of life.
My head and my heart are colliding, chaotic
Pace of the world, I just wish I could stop it
Since the beginning days of 2022, I have felt this build-up of unrest and concern. Something within was becoming at odds with the world around me. I have learned over the years that this often occurs before or during significant change.
Maintaining a strong AM / PM Routine (morning workout, breakfast, journals - bedtime routine etc.)
Everything between the AM / PM routine is unscheduled (don’t freak out: appts, and contract deadlines still maintain a place in the calendar)
A weekly beach day or evening
Write a letter weekly (communicating with those I love slowly)
Document mindfully (follow the inspirations and whims)
Read for work & pleasure often.
Visit the library often.
The world we live in is not a world that is geared to slow, yet the best and most provocative work I have been moved by so often has the story of years of thought and mindful work behind it.
The one who puts every ounce of insight thought, and curiosity into their work.
One can only do that at a mindful pace and from a place of intentional space.
Yet structure is where the work is honed, which is what I also seek to find in my Summer of Slow.
I seek to mine the gemstones of meditative thinking, processing, being and creating.
The underpinnings of what it means to slow the heartbeat to hear the world around me so that when I speak and move, I am doing it from a place of anchored confidence, compassion and intentions.
Onwards,
Episode 2 - Reflections on the weight of trauma and what it means to give space for others and the situations we are unaware of.
Creative Field Notes is a series that studies the way creativity weaves itself throughout and communicates with all aspects of the natural rhythms of life.
*a note:
Throughout February, I became more heavily burdened for the words we use to communicate our own perspectives.
Watching posts on social media become more and more volatile and disrespectful.
It is damaging when we create outrage on the internet yet miss the ones beside us who are suffering.
We ‘other’ others without hesitation. We insert sarcastic emojis, gifs and snippets of news clips to demand our point and our outrage to be seen.
Yet,
Seeing the trees around us bear the weight of the winter ice and winds reminded us how much we are all carrying.
And by we, I mean…
The ‘we’ of humanity. ‘We’ the breathing. ‘We’ the me and ‘we’ the you.
’We’ the ‘every’ side.
May we collectively remember, especially now, what it means to support those who are suffering, to be the place they can recover and find strength and not the place they struggle to survive and begin to break under the weight of our own words and actions.
It leads into a dark and winding brush full of unknown twists and turns.
It weaves through thick weeds, roots of trees that bump up almost on purpose beneath your foot tread, ready to trip you up and throw you flat on your face into the dense leaves.
It winds through thickets of doubts and fears.
It unravels like never ending questions, thoughts and ideas.
It reveals a trail of intrigue, curiosity and mystery.
It turns like quick u-turns and slow meandering loop de loops.
It leaves you breathless, enraptured and full of endless wonder.
There is no telling where creativity leads…and that is the whole point.
You follow the path not because it’s supposed to be marvellous, but because the option not to seems more daunting than the former.
Embrace the journey.
Follow the leads.
The more we talked, the more we got excited about the idea. Within minutes of showering, nightly skin-care routine, and plugging in our iPhones, it felt like an opening scene was taking shape.
I ended up writing that scene to humour him and myself.
I let him read it over Christmas break.
Cut to the new year, and I knew I wanted to work on this concept more, but how?
I had other projects to attend to.
So we decided to set a goal of a specific page number a week.
It has been a rewarding and fun experience.
He gets to read and enjoy the development process of making something from nothing once a week, and I get to have a specific type of accountability that keeps me current with my goals.
In this, it’s not about perfection, but about the progress and attempt to continue the narrative.
Who knows where this one will lead us, but it’s connecting us in something I am working on. It’s an enjoyable and challenging diversion that grows me and, it gives us something to discuss that is more than just “what’s the next chore that needs to be tackled?”
She was whispering to me from a drawer.
I put on music to drown her out. I tried distracting myself with meetings, with the trappings of Christmas and the approaching new year to ignore her.
I caught myself thinking about the last time we sat across from each other.
Humilation, tears, disappointment and misunderstandings.
A gulf between us.
The louder I tried to turn up my world, the more persistent she has become from her spot in that filing cabinet drawer.
This is the way it is with projects and their creator. They don’t just come easily. They are an investment and sometimes they mean more to you than you’d like to admit.
Like an ex-lover who proved to be someone who couldn’t stick around when times got tough. Who just couldn’t explain themselves honestly and true enough for the world or you to understand them. They disappeared in the fog and stayed there while you floundered trying to fill a void.
It’s a bit like this for me and her.
We needed each other and then when I thought it was our time, she made herself scarce.
So I slipped her into a big fat file folder where she has been sitting and almost busting out of and for some reason she is choosing now to make noise about it.
This year, of 2021 to raise her voice and try to come back to me, in some strange and unknown format.
I am not sure whether I should serve tea when we meet again, or perhaps I should just uncork a wine bottle and pretend to have forgotten the glasses. See how she manages that.
Should I play Kanye West rap or Taylor Swift’s folklore?
Should I wear a revenge dress like Diana or just show up in sweats like Meredith Grey?
You might laugh at this. You might even call me fickle, but the truth is,
she was something. She was my proof that I understood the pulse of the creative world and to meet with her again, to look her in the eyes, means I have to open myself up to possibly see that she isn’t as perfect as I have remembered or that maybe we weren’t supposed to go the distance and that is that.
But there she is, making a fuss about being relegated to a file in a cabinet.
So off I go…
I think I’ll wear my oversized sweater and let my hair down.
