My journals are a tangle of words, ideas and quotations I gleam from all places and weave with my own words, and so this piece really resonates. Also love the idea of an earth candle 🌎 🕯️
Lovely words Layla… yes to the composting of our experiences and working to our own timing. Showing up to the yoga mat and to the page( I’m a yoga teacher and writer) are all we can do, listening in to nature and our own bodies and energies. Our calling emerging in many forms, as mothers, writers as we move through the seasons of our life. ❤️
Absolutely breathtaking. Thank you for this. My toddler loves owls, it was the first animal that captured her attention. I love the imagery you shared and will think about them showing us a way to see every time I pass our own owl collections 🤍🦉
I didn’t write of it here but my daughter was captivated by them as a toddler also. Amazing creatures & yes I think of how Robert Mc Farlane described them also now when I pass one of ours 🦉🦉💗
beautiful, beautiful, beautiful words. Thank you Layla. Yesterday a tiny tree creeper flew into our window, despite me carefully hanging silver mirror buttons to keep the birds safe. There was such a gentle thud and when I looked down her wings were stretched open revealing myriad shades of marled brown. I went out with my scarf and cradled her up gently, forming a dark woollen nest in my hands. I tentatively stroked the top of her whispered skull, and marvelled at her beak, so fine, so dainty. She blinked slowly but was conscious, alive and then I noticed one of her toes was broken, lying at an ugly angle. I felt a tender pain extend to fill my ribcage - sorrow and hope combined. Walking towards where the sun was strongest I gently lay her on the grass, the scarf still around her, as I did so she lifted her head backwards as gentle as a sigh, to look up at me, the gaze of a new-born child being fed at your breast - her round, jet eyes gazing into mine, bird into human, human into bird and I found the trust to let her be. I went back an hour later and she had gone, but I am left with the ache of unknowing and feel myself pushing into that ache like a child pushing their tongue against a loose tooth, worrying it until release - the child would find the nub of a new tooth but what will I find? I cannot let it go - is she ok? can she hold onto the trunk of a tree with a broken toe? I light a candle, feel the ache, push myself into it, blow out the candle, release the bird and sense the softness of acceptance in the sigh space within my ribs.
Some of these words I had written in my #glimmers journal that I am keeping as part of the Nesting course I am doing with the incredible @Kerrinidochartaigh she has shown me I can weave together all my different styles of writing - poetry and prose, fact and fantasy. It is such a gift.
Katrice, thank you for sharing this - I love how these words and these creatures wind around each other. Kerri is an incredible teacher and you’ve clearly stepped into a slip-stream with your words ❤️
This is beautiful. I've had the same experience of things connecting this week – I've been following https://substack.com/@kerrinidochartaigh's writing course 'Nesting' which introduced me to the work of Nina Mingya Powles, and I read about Munt Kinabalu in Malaysia which then came up in a 'University Challenge' question last night. I'm thinking about my childhood, and your description of burying the poor blackbird reminded me of ceremonially burying a baby swift when I was six or seven, and doing it near my swing so that I could sing to it. Oh, and I grew up in Northern Ireland and we said 'footering', but maybe that's because we had Ulster Scots heritage?
My journals are a tangle of words, ideas and quotations I gleam from all places and weave with my own words, and so this piece really resonates. Also love the idea of an earth candle 🌎 🕯️
Yes- a palimpsest 💗
Lovely words Layla… yes to the composting of our experiences and working to our own timing. Showing up to the yoga mat and to the page( I’m a yoga teacher and writer) are all we can do, listening in to nature and our own bodies and energies. Our calling emerging in many forms, as mothers, writers as we move through the seasons of our life. ❤️
‘Our calling emerging in many forms’ yes exactly Sam xx
Absolutely breathtaking. Thank you for this. My toddler loves owls, it was the first animal that captured her attention. I love the imagery you shared and will think about them showing us a way to see every time I pass our own owl collections 🤍🦉
I didn’t write of it here but my daughter was captivated by them as a toddler also. Amazing creatures & yes I think of how Robert Mc Farlane described them also now when I pass one of ours 🦉🦉💗
Foostering is such a brilliant word
Isn’t it?! X
This post touched my in ways I cannot describe.
Thank you.
So glad it resonated Lisa 💗
Never not foostering!
💯
This is lovely, thank you for the mention, and I’m pleased that my lobster post spoke to you 🙏🏼❤️
It landed at the perfect moment, as these things tend to do 💗🙏🏽
Beautiful 🦉
Thank you my love x
beautiful, beautiful, beautiful words. Thank you Layla. Yesterday a tiny tree creeper flew into our window, despite me carefully hanging silver mirror buttons to keep the birds safe. There was such a gentle thud and when I looked down her wings were stretched open revealing myriad shades of marled brown. I went out with my scarf and cradled her up gently, forming a dark woollen nest in my hands. I tentatively stroked the top of her whispered skull, and marvelled at her beak, so fine, so dainty. She blinked slowly but was conscious, alive and then I noticed one of her toes was broken, lying at an ugly angle. I felt a tender pain extend to fill my ribcage - sorrow and hope combined. Walking towards where the sun was strongest I gently lay her on the grass, the scarf still around her, as I did so she lifted her head backwards as gentle as a sigh, to look up at me, the gaze of a new-born child being fed at your breast - her round, jet eyes gazing into mine, bird into human, human into bird and I found the trust to let her be. I went back an hour later and she had gone, but I am left with the ache of unknowing and feel myself pushing into that ache like a child pushing their tongue against a loose tooth, worrying it until release - the child would find the nub of a new tooth but what will I find? I cannot let it go - is she ok? can she hold onto the trunk of a tree with a broken toe? I light a candle, feel the ache, push myself into it, blow out the candle, release the bird and sense the softness of acceptance in the sigh space within my ribs.
Some of these words I had written in my #glimmers journal that I am keeping as part of the Nesting course I am doing with the incredible @Kerrinidochartaigh she has shown me I can weave together all my different styles of writing - poetry and prose, fact and fantasy. It is such a gift.
Katrice, thank you for sharing this - I love how these words and these creatures wind around each other. Kerri is an incredible teacher and you’ve clearly stepped into a slip-stream with your words ❤️
Layla this post is pure medicine. Deep and beautiful healing in how you move through this world 🤎
…& so much of it woven in with the gifts and openings you have offered 💗💗
This is beautiful. I've had the same experience of things connecting this week – I've been following https://substack.com/@kerrinidochartaigh's writing course 'Nesting' which introduced me to the work of Nina Mingya Powles, and I read about Munt Kinabalu in Malaysia which then came up in a 'University Challenge' question last night. I'm thinking about my childhood, and your description of burying the poor blackbird reminded me of ceremonially burying a baby swift when I was six or seven, and doing it near my swing so that I could sing to it. Oh, and I grew up in Northern Ireland and we said 'footering', but maybe that's because we had Ulster Scots heritage?