I am sitting here on a morning of light mist; watching the sails bob and imagining I can hear their jangle from my desk, and I am overtaken by a feeling a gratitude: to be a woman, alive, with a creative life and an inner life and the freedom- oh the freedom- to roam. I am thinking: I am the first generation of women in my line who has had this freedom, and what a privilege that is- to have gone to college, to have travelled, to be untied to the labour of a kitchen or the 'duties' of a wife, to have a desk and a pen and the whole space of a day opening up before me; that I get to choose to turn to the page, and to my words and the worlds therein. I am listening to 'Sonderling' by Joep Beving on repeat. It is the perfect soundtrack to the beauty of it all. So this morning, from my desk, I am sending waves of thanks, feeling the women in my blood cheering us all on, wishing us on, living part of their life through us, onwards and onwards through the waves of our words, our creative acts, our inner lives and the moulding and meltings of our hearts into new life-giving forms.
And if you don’t have a day today, do you have an hour, do you have five minutes, or a fraction of that, to honour the lineage in your limbs and the talent in your veins, to offer something outwards again, into the ether of the collective creative, into the great big quilt of life we all get to weave. We need your stitch in time. --
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