writing Archives

Writing the way through – a wholehearted story

September 27, 2019

In this guest post, Sally Morgan shares her experience of writing the way through cycles and seasons to a wholehearted life.

This is the 22nd guest post in our Wholehearted Stories series on Quiet Writing! I invited readers to consider submitting a guest post on their wholehearted story. You can read more here – and I’m still keen for more contributors!

Quiet Writing celebrates self-leadership in wholehearted living and writing, career and creativity. This community of voices, each of us telling our own story of what wholehearted living means, is a valuable and central part of this space. In this way, we can all feel connected on our various journeys and not feel so alone. Whilst there will always be unique differences, there are commonalities that we can all learn from and share to support each other.

I’m delighted to have Sally Morgan as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. Sally and I met via Instagram and shared interests in creativity and writing. In this story, Sally shares how her writing practice has been a tool, process, support and safe place for stepping into wholehearted living. Read on!

Moving into writing

It’s a late-summer morning, still early, and I’m sitting on my patio writing. There’s a comforting weight to my journal, open on my lap, and my pen moves quickly across the page. I’m lost in the writing. This is how I start most days, with Morning Pages, writing at least three pages in longhand. It’s a process I’ve come to trust and value, a meditation of sorts.

It’s still cool on the patio this morning. There’s a hint of a breeze and a faint scent of the ocean. But the sky is a deep blue and the sun, when it filters through the trees, is already warm. I write it all down. The deep green of the cedars lit by early-morning sun. The rich aroma of my morning coffee. The tok-tok-tok of a raven watching me somewhere in the trees. This noticing grounds me, helps me move fully into the writing.

Reminders of cycles

It’s lush out in my backyard, still green, despite the lack of rain. The cedars and firs tower overhead, shading salal and sword ferns and an almost accidental patch of lawn. It’s a wild and unruly space, a perfect place for writing. As I write, I notice that the ferns are a deeper, duskier shade now; they’ve lost their springtime sheen and brightness. Behind them, the creamy blooms of the ocean spray bushes have dried to deep golden, dying away for another year. And now, all around me, I see descent. Dying off. The inevitability of fall. This reminder of cycles.

There was a time when I was less attuned to these subtle signs, when the weeks dropped away until suddenly the holidays were over and it was September. But my writing practice has given me a deeper sensing of the seasons. I watch for the first pale sword-fern stems poking up in spring, the clutched spirals slowly unfurling into bright green fronds. I notice as the fronds take on that darker, dustier hue as summer progresses, how the outer fronds brown and then die off into September. It’s one small way I’m more deeply attuned to the seasons and to the cyclical nature of our lives.

Being aware of seasons

As I write this, I am nearing the end of a short season of rest after a long, full season of houseguests and parties and important celebrations. I’ve become more aware of these seasons and of how I can best embrace each one. During the season of houseguests, I was able to throw myself fully into the fray, into visiting and day trips and shocking quantities of wine. I knew there would be time for rest when our company was gone. There would be time to slow down and step away, time again to drink water. When I am journalling, I am in tune with these cycles in my life, and I can give myself permission to fully embrace what is.

I’ve also come to understand that there are other, overlapping kinds of seasons. After three years of writing nearly non-stop and under deadline at work, I’m not writing much for myself at the moment. There was a time when I would have felt panicked by this, but not now. Now I recognize the bigger patterns, the pushing and then the need for rest. The immersion and the need for time away.

Writing as a safe place

I haven’t always written Morning Pages. I came first to a journalling practice more than twelve years ago, as a way to save myself. In June of that year, my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer. In September, my then-husband announced he was leaving our marriage. I had to write. I was compelled to write, and in that time period, I wrote as if my life depended on it. I hadn’t read Julia Cameron at that point, and I suspect that The Artist’s Way was not the book I needed in that season. But I knew Natalie Goldberg’s book Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within and I followed the rules she laid out in the book: Keep your hand moving. Lose control. Go for the jugular. They were rules that served me well as my life spiralled out of control.

In that season I fell apart. I clung to my friends and to my three little boys like a woman drowning. My journals were filled with disbelief and grief and anger. But in those journals, I found a safe place to descend into despair, a place where I could immerse myself and fully experience my sadness. It was a painful and necessary period in my life. A descent and a dying.

Healing and inner wisdom

And then in late spring, I began to notice the first pale stems of healing. The slow unfurling of hope. The first tentative steps as I began putting myself back together. It was a slow process, and cyclical, one that has taken many years. In that spring, I began to see the learning I needed to take from my experience. I began to see the possibility on the other side of divorce, and to craft a new vision for myself and my little family. For the first time, I sensed freedom and felt hope. There was still much to face – the legal separation, my father’s impending death – but I was beginning to trust my strength and my resilience.

And I was beginning to trust my inner wisdom. By that point, I’d filled a number of journals, and somewhere along the way, a calm, loving voice had appeared in my writing, a voice far wiser than mine. You’re going to be okay, it told me. Your boys are going to be okay. As I wrote, I began listening for that voice, actually asking for guidance. What am I meant to be learning here? What do I need to remember as I move forward? Will I really be okay?

Writing the way through

Just about the time that I was getting back on my feet after the separation, my dad died. In many ways, this was a greater loss for me than my marriage and I expected that my journal would once again be my refuge. But I was shocked to find that I couldn’t write about my dad. I wrote about my concerns for my boys and for my mum, and about all sorts of other tangential things, but my sadness was too deep. Suddenly though, poems began flowing out of me. I’d never really written poetry before in my life, but I think that because I’d been writing so consistently, I was able to connect with an intuitive, deeply emotional part of myself in a period when there was no logical way to approach or express my grief. Again I cycled into descent, and again, I wrote my way out.

In the years since, I’ve fully committed to the practice of journalling, recognizing that it is the most effective way for me make meaning of my experience and – eventually – to grow from it. I’ve written through further heartbreak, through further challenges, and through the many transitions and seasons of my life. Journalling has also helped me to trust my writing voice enough to follow other creative urges, and I’ve continued to write poetry, as well as a couple of unpublished novels, a blog, and a self-published memoir.

Trusting in writing practice

The greatest gift of my journalling practice, though, came during a three-year period when I lost my speaking voice. During that time, I could only talk in a breathless, squeaky little whisper, making most of my daily interactions difficult if not impossible. In that frightening time, as I underwent scores of tests to figure out what was wrong with me, my journal was the place where, if I listened to my wisest self, I could write myself off the edge. It was also the place where I figured out the self-care practices and boundaries I needed in my life to prevent this from happening again. And, of course, it was the one place in my life where I could trust in my voice. Even though my speaking voice was unreliable, I could trust in my writing and in my writing practice.

Over the years, my faith in this practice has deepened to a place where beginning a new journal is a sacred act. I use the first few pages to record gentle reminders about what I need to be my healthiest self, things like stillness, solitude, and self-compassion. I also have a list of what matters most, because for me it’s easy to overcommit. Finally, I include quotes to guide me and reminders from the previous journal. In my current journal, I’ve written, I can trust in my knowing and my inner wisdom. I do not need to seek every answer outside myself.

Writing into a new season

My practice has also evolved. I no longer worry about keeping my pen moving. I write more slowly and thoughtfully, and I make time every day for gratitude and for that wise, loving voice that is always there if I listen for it. But I still write nearly every day, trusting that this practice is one of the great gifts in my life.

I’m heading into a new season now, one that will be both busy and marked by a significant transition, as my middle son embarks on a months-long overseas adventure. I know that I will have moments (maybe days) of sadness and fear and uncertainty. But I also know that I will find solace in my journal. And so, while the weather holds, I’ll find my way out to the patio, journal and coffee in hand. I’ll notice the air as it cools, listen for the first of the autumn birds, and watch for the other small markers of fall. I’ll write into the fall, through the descent into winter. I’ll write about my dark moments and the light, trusting by now that I can write my way through practically anything.

Key book companions along the way

The Light of the World: A Memoir – Elizabeth Alexander

The Artist’s Way – Julia Cameron

When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times – Pema Chodron

The Blue Hour of the Day: Selected Poems – Lorna Crozier

Eat Pray Love – Elizabeth Gilbert

Old Friend from Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir – Natalie Goldberg

Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within – Natalie Goldberg

This is the Story of a Happy Marriage – Ann Patchett

Journal of a Solitude – May Sarton

Still Writing: The Pleasures and Perils of a Creative Life – Dani Shapiro

About Sally Morgan

Sally is a writer, teacher and mama. She’s on a journey to live a less driven and over-committed life, and to invite more contentment, grace and beauty into her everyday. She’s currently preoccupied with voice, purpose and slowing down.

In her forties, Sally spent a couple of years speed-dating her way through half the men in Victoria, BC. Her memoir, An Alphabet of Men: Dating My Way from Adam to Zak recounts that time in her life. Occasionally she posts to her blog, at www.trustingthejourney.ca. You can connect with Sally on Instagram

Photographs by Sally Morgan, used with permission and thanks.

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Lusciously Nurtured – a wholehearted interview with Dawne Gowrie Zetterstrom

August 20, 2019

In this interview Dawne Gowrie Zetterstrom, author of Lusciously Nurtured, shares her personal story of living with, writing with and learning from Fibromyalgia as well as her thoughts on wholehearted soulfulness.

This is the 21st guest post in our Wholehearted Stories series on Quiet Writing! I invited readers to consider submitting a guest post on their wholehearted story. You can read more here – and I’m still keen for more contributors!

Quiet Writing celebrates self-leadership in wholehearted living and writing, career and creativity. This community of voices, each of us telling our own story of what wholehearted living means, is a valuable part of this space. In this way, we can all feel connected on our various journeys and not feel so alone. Whilst there will always be unique differences, there are commonalities that we can all learn from and share to support each other.

I’m delighted to have Dawne Gowrie Zetterstrom as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. Dawne and I connected via Instagram and we decided to shape this post as an interview. It has been thrilling to see Dawne write and publish her book ‘Lusciously Nurtured: A Personal Journey of Soulful Self-Care and Intuitive Healing Living with Fibromyalgia’. In this interview, Dawne shares her personal story of living with, writing with and learning from Fibromyalgia as well as her thoughts on wholehearted soulfulness. Read on!

Hi Dawne, thanks for joining Quiet Writing and sharing your wholehearted story via this interview.

To begin, would you like to tell readers a little about yourself:

Based on the Jung/Myers-Briggs personality indicator, I am an INFJ which means I am a bit of a complex character, deeply introverted with extroverted behaviours. I am an idealist and dreamer at heart but can be extremely organized and focused. My super-powers are empathy and intuition which makes me a highly perceptive person. However, these two qualities also work to my detriment at times, as does idealism, as you can well imagine. As a result, I like a lot of space and quiet time, and I value my freedom immensely.

I also have profound concerns for humanity and world affairs and the protection of those basic freedoms in our societies, that appear threatened today. In this body/ avatar, I am 85% South Asian in origins, having over 14 genetic strains in me from most continents, except Australia (Sorry). I was born in Trinidad & Tobago, a tropical island in the Caribbean, subsequently living in the UK for over 25 years and now in Sweden with my Swedish husband, Dan and basset hound Klara. I am essentially a creative and although I am very capable of understanding abstract theories, I enjoy representing them creatively. I am told the INFJ’s ideal city is Paris, for its culture, history, style and beauty. I certainly do love beauty and adore creating beauty on many levels in my life, but maybe I love London a little more, might have to visit Paris a couple more times.

It’s been exciting to read your beautiful new book, ‘Lusciously Nurtured: A Personal Journey of Soulful Self-Care and Intuitive Healing Living with Fibromyalgia’. You talk in your book about ‘wholehearted soulfulness’. I know wholehearted is a word that has evolved to have special meaning for you too. Can you tell us what ‘wholehearted’ and ‘wholehearted soulfulness’ mean to you and why they have been important in your healing journey?

Wholehearted for me means living from the heart/ core/ centre and vibrating my life through the heart. The Biblical representation of the word Heart is not just about feeling but the “ruling centre of the whole” or “the place from which desire springs.” (Google) When I was in my early 20s, a seminarian shared this concept with me that the heart is the seat of decision and it stuck with me. So, yes feeling but also decision and commitment to the core, which was for me, at that time living a meaningful life driven by integrity.

Wholehearted also encompasses integrity and truth which is a willingness to learn about myself and who I am in this time, space and reality. For many years my mantra was “Go in the direction of your dreams and live the life you imagine…” (Whitman) This wasn’t just about my physical life. It also encompassed the way I wished to feel and my long-held desires, of sustaining my life through life-giving work and expressing myself in a holistic way in the world. This could be summed up in the poem I wrote to myself which I explain in the book, Lusciously Nurtured:

To rear bees/ To plant trees/ To write poetry/ To be

When we talk about desires, we are referring to our ideal way of living and being. Two primary aspects of my wholehearted life were to heal myself from Fibromyalgia, by resting more and growing and eating our own food; and to write with the hope that it would become a foundation for my sustenance.

Wholehearted Soulfulness is the commitment I made with myself to follow my dream and make this life. My poem was a summation of that dream: a reality formed through co-creative action with Universal law and Spirit guidance. It has taken turns and twists, but that’s okay, we are on course.

Is wholehearted living hard? Sometimes it is because I am stubborn and may need to be reminded of a thing several times, but at other times incredibly easy, once I am not pushing and being willful. I believe there is a difference between working hard and putting in 100% effort and being willful and domineering. Striking that right balance is important to wholehearted living.

Your journey has been around recovery from burnout and living with the effects of Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Your book provides valuable information for people working through the impact of these conditions. Is it also relevant to people with other chronic illnesses or autoimmune conditions? Or even people who don’t have any illnesses of this type?

Thank you, Terri – I really do hope it provides valuable information for sufferers of Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome or CFS. However, this book can be read by any sufferer of chronic illness and autoimmune conditions because it is dealing with the relationship that you are having with your body and developing that close physical relationship into a deeper psychological and spiritual relationship with Self.

Self is Soul – now there’s a bumper sticker moment. (Ha-ha)

But self is also determined by the make-up of the brain and the environment, so we must scratch a bit deeper down to find the Self with the capital S. Yet, once you begin listening to what might be called Deep Intuition, Spirit Guidance, the Inner Word, we begin to tap into the font of knowledge. And the font can provide answers to many other forms of illness. Now, I am not saying you are going to hear voices telling you to take X medicine, but you may be led to someone who speaks a language you understand or you may be drawn to find out more about a medicine that actually works for you. So, we return to the idea of co-creation and sometimes, you may take a wrong turn and must start again, but that’s okay. Nothing is wasted. We are here to learn stuff.

For the ordinary person, I hope this book could provide a comprehensive guide to self-care, so developing an awareness of oneself and one’s needs. In addition, this book encourages such a person to compose their own self-care practice, so that, they can begin to avoid some of the pitfalls that bring many to burn-out. It can also provide an understanding, to those involved in a high-paced lifestyle. These folks may be on the brink of becoming chronically ill and this book might alert them to take stock and redirect their course. For carers, family and close friends of patients with chronic illness, I would advise this book as an aid to understanding their predicament and possibly, getting knowledgeable of many issues the sufferer cannot voice themselves.

Congratulations on writing and self-publishing your book and sharing your story. It’s not an easy task and takes commitment and showing up. What was it like writing and self-publishing ‘Lusciously Nurtured’ especially with the effects of Fibromyalgia impacting your life?

It took me four years to write and publish this book. In the last two years, I have been intensively editing and I am still editing so the paperback will be better. In addition, I have been learning about indie publishing, thus finding the best fit for me. It’s a long time, so it required patience and being patient with my body, with life and with my inner demons.

As you’ve mentioned it required commitment, so I worked on the book every day, but I had to adjust my expectations. So, every day I tried to write or do something towards the work but not every day looked the same as I battled with fatigue, pain and foggy brain. For example: writing 500 words a day was not a realistic expectation but rather, write a couple of sentences today, edit tomorrow, rest the next, read, write a page etc. So once again, co-creation with the body. Yet, you do have to be incredibly disciplined and thoughtful.

As I got better physically, of course the writing got easier, both in the physical sense of sitting for a certain number of hours, say at a computer. Also, the head got clearer, but the demons didn’t always quieten. One of the demons I discuss in the book Lusciously Nurtured, is perfectionism. Quality versus perfection is very important to the writing process. As an INFJ character with idealism and a profound sense of justice, self-judgement is not far behind and I had to remind myself, time and again, that perfection was not the intention for this book. Quality and producing my best work were top priority for me but this book was about the message. The message was aimed at helping people to have a resource for self-care and self-healing. It was meant to raise the awareness of intuition and the power of intuitive healing.

The thing that most writers easily forget is that mainstream published writing is not about perfection, it’s about marketability. Literature is about perfection and they hold this over our heads like a sword, so when authors are declined, they immediately think “I am a crap writer.” However, in today’s world, mainstream publishing is having to adapt itself to the changing demands of literature and reading in a computerized society. This is causing a rise in indie publishing and the traditional market is already changing to these demands. So, write because you have something to say, it may be important to someone. And in the act of writing, I am improving myself always and one day, one day ……. who knows (smile)? That’s how I get the beast of perfection to take a back seat.

How have you worked your strengths and weaknesses to blend and find wholeness?

A lovely question. My answer is simply, I can live with broken.

I guess, my lesson has been that wholeness is a mythology, it’s a great aspiration but a myth, nonetheless. I am partly thinking of the Japanese art of Kintsugi or Kintsukuroi (Golden Repair). In 2015 I injured my back so badly, I was in constant pain, day and night. I could not sit, walk or perform simple tasks for myself for a long time. The only thing that felt comfortable for the body was lying flat on the floor, on my back.

I had seen many health officials for treatment, but none of their advice or interventions had worked. Some even made me feel worse. Did I feel broken? Yes, I did: far from being whole or healthy. Yet, lying on that floor, I began listening to my body and allowed my body to tell me what was needed to heal. Thus, intuitive healing began. One day whilst lying there, I heard the blackbird singing so clearly it was as if her song was just for me. And in that moment, happiness pierced my heart so suddenly, I wept, because I had realised that all that was broken, or perceived as broken in my life, could not stop the joy and fulfilment that was there for me.

And nine months later, after my accident, I was pain-free.

How do I blend my strengths and weaknesses to find wholeness? I don’t believe that I have to “fix” or “create” anything in myself to be whole. It’s taken me over 50 years to reach that place. I am enough and I am “perfect” even in my brokenness: it’s part of the story.

What cultural, societal, health and ancestral issues have impacted on you feeling whole and how have you dealt with them?

You may have noticed in my description of myself I call myself an avatar. My soul has no cultural, societal, health and ancestral issues. My body does. My body has many health issues still, even though my fatigue and pain are much improved, and my viral symptoms quietened. I am now in a loving relationship with my body and I hope to continue healing as much as this life allows me and I will continue to write about it to help others. I tend to deal with things one at a time, so I look for what is calling to me the most. Right now, it’s my weight, because I am at first stage diabetes, so I am dealing with food choices and exercise programs that aid my goal, without damage to my body or dis-ease.

My cultural and societal issues affect my life from the outside in and these are issues to do with unconscious and possibly conscious prejudice in society and organisations. I am not just talking about for example racism in the publishing industry, but also sexism, ageism, gender inequality, and nationalism in our societies today. I am at odds with all of it because I see myself as a global person. I am certainly not nationalistic, but I am patriotic. I am a socialist and abhor any form of fascism. I have faced sexism and ageism in my work of education (of all places!), and I have called it out- Foul! I say in the game of life.

How do I deal with it? I accept the fact that I am at odds and I am at odds for a reason because the Universe wants to shake things up and I am a mover and a shaker. Let’s get the game on. However, I am a quiet mover and shaker, maybe I am giving too much away (laughter) but I think subversive is what I am. To be truthful and serious, the future is about change and we, (women, creatives, intuitives) must be active in that change. The way I want to be active and revolutionary is through the art of creativity and writing.

I am not saying that I don’t have my own issues with regards to racism and sexism within me. For example, as a woman of colour in the self-care business, there aren’t many of us. There is patronism and it’s very difficult to break into cliques and circles and be taken seriously. We also don’t have credibility as unconscious archetypal roles for women have become stereotyped, so I have a lot of questions. I also think the societal pressures of the 80s and 90s to spin in politics has entered the fabric of our lives and speaking out for truth becomes a rant. So, you are constantly fighting against these stereotypes and attempting to bring your authenticity into the arena. I believe it’s a process and must be lived a step at a time. Wholeness, therefore, becomes teaching, learning and negotiation.

My ancestral issues and healing are in a very personal space, now. It’s not a shadow or a secret but rather it needs to be in darkness and quiet for a while to take shape and begin to shoot. It’s something in gestation and I am excited about this.

Artwork by Trinidad & Tobago artist Brianna Mc Carthy @macabrii

You share lots of tools, tips and practices in your book. What 2 or 3 wholehearted practices would you highlight for others?

Meditation, getting quiet and silent – there is a difference there – you can quieten the body and mind. but you must also listen. Listening is very hard, so it takes practice. Every day if necessary and many times a day. This is the only way you will begin to hear your inner voice.

Physical Exercise – This can be combined with getting out in nature. Walk, run if you can, but walk in Nature. Swim, do yoga, play a sport, whatever you do try to spend some time in nature and notice things.

Keeping a Journal – Start with a gratitude journal if you haven’t kept a journal before. You are not writing War and Peace. Just empty your mind in your journal and go with the flow. If you end up becoming addicted, just keep learning and expanding your knowledge. It will begin revealing things to you.

And if you are doing all these things and you are loving yourself without apology, then you know, you know anything is possible in the game so go out and share it, be kind and help/ support someone else.

The only way to wholehearted is to know yourself and be yourself.

What’s the one message you’d like to leave with our readers to finish?

I want them to know that they are loved.

This love is closer than breath so spend quality time with yourself.

The Great Mother cares, even if everything around you feels like chaos. Out of chaos, the Universe was created with mathematical precision beyond our understanding.

Karma is one lifetime. Live your life well and be content. You are always choosing, so choose what you love the most, don’t give yourself second best.

Where can people find your book, Lusciously Nurtured and how can they connect with you?

People can connect with me via Goodreads, Instagram, Facebook or via my website.

About Dawne Gowrie Zetterstrom

Dawne Gowrie Zetterstrom is a writer, teacher, and blogger with an excellent academic background. Born in Trinidad and Tobago, she has lived in London in the UK and now in a small village in Sweden. She enjoys walking, meditation, travel and unexpected, magical moments. She loves animals and is an avid foodie. Her favourite place is sitting in her garden.

4 Things to Know about me

Earth or Water: Water

Desert island book: Too many/ The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wrobrewski

Want to see 2020: The tulip fields of Holland

Favourite alcoholic drink: Vodka Martini/ Olive twist

Photographs all by/provided by Dawne Gowrie Zetterstrom, and used with permission and thanks.

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“But I’m not retired!” – thoughts on the word ‘retired’ as I create a new life

July 31, 2019

It happened again the other day. I bumped into someone I know in the street and he asked, “How’s retirement going?”

I could feel my blood begin to rise and boil. Not his fault, he doesn’t know the full story of what I am doing. I respond as I usually do with an impassioned, “But I’m not retired! I’m working from home on my new business.”

Or sometimes I say, “I’ve started a new business as a life coach and writer.” The conversation then goes further into what life coaching is and how I work globally with women on finding deeper purpose and creative self-leadership. It’s not always the easiest work to describe in these contexts.

My response to the word ‘retired‘ always surprises me though. It’s a visceral reaction to the word. I am trying to understand why I have such a strong response. Perhaps you understand and feel the same or maybe you embrace the idea of being retired. Here are my thoughts n the word ‘retired’. Love to hear yours.

The word ‘retired’

For me, the word ‘retired’ itself is not inspiring. Tired. Tired over and over again. Reinventing tired. I feel tired just hearing it.

It does not inspire me at all. It’s not a state I’ve ever aspired to.

And in some ways, I am just beginning to stretch my wings. I’m 57 and I don’t feel all that tired. Of course I get tired at times, but I feel alive and energised by this new phase of my life. It means getting back to what I have always wanted to be doing. That is writing, creating, working from home, coaching, connecting with others deeply, researching, working with ideas, having time for community and family.

Working with technology is something I love too. I love creating websites, blogging, ecourses and working with tools that help me be organised and streamlined. I write and coach via technology and it supports me to connect with others and organise my life how I want it, showing up, being productive and learning.

Lifelong learning and reading

I’m a lifelong learner from way back. I have multiple ecourses on the go at any one time. Currently I’m part of: the Teachable Creator Challenge working on creating quality online courses; the Gentle Business Mastermind; Ellie Swift’s Soulful Sequences about funnels and business flows and Susannah Conway’s The Inside Story Summer School. If I’m not learning and connecting with others through this, I feel like I’m not living.

I’ve invested in my skills over time. All these skills go into the rich melting pot of my body of work, the skills I already have to help me create new offerings and ways of working.

I love to read and usually have a fiction and a non-fiction book on the go. Reading in different ways via my Kindle, audiobooks and hard copy, I am completely lost without a book. I hardly ever leave the house without one. When I go swimming is one of the few times, because you can’t read underwater (as far as I know).

I’ve just finished Liane Moriarty’s Nine Perfect Strangers which I loved and Dawne Gowrie Zetterstrom’s Lusciously Nurtured which I’ll share more about here soon in a conversation with Dawne. I’m currently reading The Heroine’s Journey by Maureen Murdock because I know the hero’s journey does not exactly fit for women. I’m thinking and writing about this right now.

I used to be a teacher of reading to adults. Sharing my love of reading, I now help others via my blog to read for more creativity, productivity and pleasure. My two free ebooks in the Wholehearted Library here are all about reading: how books have shaped my story and a reading wisdom guide. I hope they help and inspire others.

My days are busy

So my days are busy and full in line with my passions. The word ‘retired‘ conjures up a different paradigm and one that doesn’t align. Like ‘redundancy‘ and my job being ‘deleted‘ as happened to me last year, the language feels negative implying no longer feeling of value, or having a place.

I know it can just mean no longer working outside the home, no longer being in that job of 30 plus years that I was in. When people use the word ‘retired’ in conversation, I know that’s often what they mean. But I am far from retired or retiring in the work that I do.

My days are busy with writing. Right now, I am 40% through the second self-edit of my book ‘Wholehearted: Self-leadership for Women in Transition’. I write blog posts here at Quiet Writing, guest posts for other websites and feature articles for other publications like the Beautiful You Inspired Coach Magazine and a piece in the anthology I Wrote It Anyway.

I wrote 50,000 words in one month for NaNoWriMo in 2017. I’m loving finally getting writing into the heart of my days. My heart feels full as I sit here with my Tide Pomodoro App and the sound of rain and thunder in my ears as my fingers play the keyboard like a piano. How long have I longed for this?

I’ve learnt new skills as a life coach and personality type practitioner. Training with the Beautiful You Coaching Academy and becoming a certified coach was a big step in my life transition journey. Becoming a Personality Type Practitioner was also one of my three key pillars for my transition. I have loved deepening this knowledge and sharing it with others to support transition and self-understanding.

Never too old

In my response to the word ‘retired’, there is definitely something in there about age and being old. That paradigm or life story of going to work for one employer for a long time, investing so much time in exchange for money. Then ceasing that in a delayed gratification of life and being able to do all the things you couldn’t do before. I lived in that paradigm for a long time, always waiting for the weekend or the holiday. I’m so glad to be out of it.

But I never saw the end of the journey of paid work via a job as a full stop.

I see it as a new beginning. A time to get back to the creativity I long desired, expressing myself through my writing and my work. But meaningfully, in line with my sense of purpose and desires. I want to write the novel that is in my heart, that I have cultivated in my mind, thought so much about.

I struggle with my age sometimes in creating this new life it’s true. It comes as a fleeting sense of “I wish I’d started earlier” or “How am I going to be able to get all this creative work done?” But you really are never too old to find courage and skill to empower your dreams and start working on the deeper intentions and creative work of the heart. Starting and moving step by step on whatever you desire to do or create is the best antidote for tackling these kind of thoughts.

Being less tied down

Being location independent, being able to work and write from anywhere is helpful. Not having to commute three plus hours a day as I used to, I am less tied and tired. Working from home is the greatest joy and I can be flexible about how I work each day.

I have the time to enjoy where I live instead of leaving early and coming home late as I used to. I can choose to swim three mornings a week and afterwards, connect with others over coffee. Then start working on my business, writing and coaching later in the day when I feel refreshed and grounded.

Working from home and via technology means being free in many ways. I love working from home but I aspire to be a digital nomad more. Being able to work from anywhere, combining travel, writing and self-employment is a huge plus in the new life I have created.

Aspiring and time to evolve

Part of my reaction to the word ‘retired’ is about aspirations. There’s so much I want to do in my life. I aspire to so much. It feels like the beginning of a new time when I can bring all my skills and experience to bear to write, coach, make a difference, communicate and share my learning to help others.

Retiring to me feels like a shutting down of aspiration. ‘Shy and retiring‘ is another phrase that often goes together, so a sense of blurring into the background, having less to say and do. Perhaps it involves enjoying life by relaxing, travelling and having more free time. But can we not have these generous aspects of life alongside working productively with deeper meaning and purpose, getting to the work of the heart we’ve always aspired to?

Sometimes too, especially for introverts, it takes a long time to find our voice and not be shy and retiring. The word ‘retire’ clashes for me with this time of life when I have something to say and contribute. When all my learning can be brought together into ways of providing insights for others. When I have found my voice and feel more creatively confident. Crone Confidence as my friend Diana Frajman calls it in her wisdom work in the world.

Later bloomers

I love stories of people who finally get to what they always wanted to do or who learn new skills later in life. Debra Eve has a fabulous website, Later Bloomer which reminds us that age and timelines are not definitive measures of what is possible. Sometimes it takes time, like a vintage wine or the lessons of a love that deepens over the years, to really weave together the stories and skills we have developed in our lives. It takes time to work out our purpose and meaning, what we are here for.

Being a later bloomer reflects the time it takes to mature those deep skills and passions that only we can bring together. It recognises too that we can reinvent ourselves in new ways over time.

What if a mindset of being retired means you don’t get to do that work that is so important to you? Or that someone else needs to hear?

Many ways to create

There are so many ways to work and create these days. It does not have to be a magnum opus, though it could be. Turning up on social media and sharing thoughts can be powerful work. Just the right quote or perspective honed from deep experience can turn someone else’s thinking around.

Voluntary work, pro bono work, can be a way of giving and receiving, realising in a new way what we have learned and how to apply it. Blogging can reach so many people in a powerful way as we craft our own digital space and voice in the world.

Writing that book you’ve always wanted to write and share is now easier to do with independent and self-publishing options. It’s not a vanity story any more. You can work with others in a hybrid or partnership model to get your work out into the world too. There are so many options and ways to create.

Exploring ‘retired’ and life options

So whilst for some retirement might be a worthy goal to aim for, I don’t think I’ll ever be truly retired and nor do I want to be. I want to be busy reading, writing, learning, sharing my learning, coaching, creating online courses, publishing, understanding personality type deeply, swimming, walking, connecting, travelling, enjoying life.

The life options are endless and people choose to focus in different ways. It might be spending time with the grandchildren and taking a more active role there. Sometimes there are situations that arise such as supporting aging parents which can be important work but incredibly challenging.

Through it all we search for deeper meaning and purpose and learn lessons about life as we go.

I know that creating and sustaining a new way of living has been hard work. To get to this stage in my life has taken hard inner and outer work over many years. This is another reason why I am not so keen to label my new self-created life as ‘retired’. It is all very active and intentional and about choice and self-leadership more than luck. My friend Kerstin Pilz writes of this eloquently in one of my all-time favourite blog posts: Why luck has nothing to do with a self-directed life.

**What are your thoughts on the word ‘retired’?**

I know not everyone will feel the same way I do about the word ‘retired’. Perhaps the concept of ‘retired’ carries a different meaning for you. Are you happily retired? Or is it a word you run a mile from? Is there another word you use for this time post paid employment elsewhere? I’d be interested in what that means for you. We are all different.

It might be something you long for but find it hard to reach for different reasons. Life circumstances can make it tough for us to reach our desires whatever we call them.

But let’s explore this. What does ‘retired‘ mean to you? I would so love to hear!

Are you retired and happily so?
What does the word conjure up for you?
Is it something you aspire to?
Are you someone who does not feel the word ‘retired’ fits with your view of life?
Do we need another word?
What are you aspiring to do at this time of your life?
Are you a later bloomer in some areas of your life and what does that feel like?
Do you ever feel ‘too old’ and how do you counter that thinking?

If you are interested in exploring deeper meaning and purpose in creative ways with self-leadership and a community of other women, the Sacred Creative Collective might be for you! The next round starts soon but places are limited and it’s filling up fast, so don’t delay and book a free Discovery Call here to discuss.

Writing my first blog post – my recollections

June 20, 2019

Do you remember the feeling you had writing your first blog post? I do. It’s such a strong memory still even though it is now just over nine years since I first pushed ‘publish’ on WordPress. If you are thinking of starting a blog, you might wonder how it feels to put out that first post.

When I went to Kerstin Pilz’s writing and yoga retreat in Hoi An, Vietnam last September, we worked on a writing prompt on ‘firsts’. We wrote a list of firsts and then chose one to write about. I chose ‘My first blog post’. As often happens with writing of this type, I stepped straight back into that time as if I was there. All the feelings and memories flooded back as if I was in the moment.

So here is my piece from that session. I’d love to hear what it brings up for you! And if you’d like help with your blog or other writing, see below too for ways I can help you.

My first blog post

It had been a long time coming, setting the framework for placing my voice into the world. Danielle LaPorte calls it her “digital temple“. That captures the sacred creative feeling that the word “blog” misses. It’s a space, digital and precious, all at once. I adorn it, I shape it, I frame it. I create the scaffold, the name, the brand.

I call my first blog ‘Transcending’ because that’s what brought me here. The turiyamani moments from my yoga teacher coming forward to crystallise in real life. The name he gave me meaning “transcendental jewel“. I’m learning to sparkle like a jewel, transcending from the deepest grief. I’ve cried miles through the national park as I’ve driven alone time after time. I’ve found all the drafts of every poem I’ve ever written over more than thirty years and put them into draft order, alphabetical order. Structuring my creativity as a way of finding some sort of order to make a new life in the wake of tragedy.

I’ve learnt how to make a website, a blog, create a cathedral for my feelings and thoughts, a sacred container I can hold and use as a way to share emotions and writing. I’m not a person who is used to this. I write behind closed doors. I still find the idea of a writer something that I can’t entirely understand. Rarefied.

So I listen to others, follow their path, learn how to be vulnerable like them online in the wide open world. I see that them going first helps me to see what is possible. Ink on My Fingers is one blog title. Attracted to it, I learn how to also be more daring with my ink reaching the outside world.

I’m ready. That day feels like a threshold, stepping into something so wide open My voice, suddenly reaching out beyond the room, beyond the page, beyond paper and pen to I don’t know where.

I announce myself like a bride, carrying myself through the door of my creativity with some kind of virginal white all around me. It’s all about what I intend to do, what I stand for, how I am writing to transcend, living transcending and I feel like I’m howling into the wind.

All those words crafted slowly and with such care hurled into space, published with the press of a moment. And I’m howling like a wolf, loud and quiet all at the same time, wondering what I’ve done. It’s all intent. All vulnerable. But I know it’s the right thing to do.

I sit and wait for a response as if someone reading might save me. Hands folded as if in prayer, intent on arriving into the next phase of my life, transcending through writing this first blog post, this first initiation into the sacred temple of my creative life.

There’s a morning-after feeling, all that pent up thought out there. I could take it back but I don’t want to. It’s somehow delicious, like a coming together, and I follow the tracks of arriving there into the distance looking out.

Thought pieces

You might like to read my first blog post and another early one where I write about feeling like I’m howling into the wind!

My first blog post – published 2 May 2010

The value of howling like the wind – published 23 May 2010

They are from my first blog Transcending which I have kept intact inside Quiet Writing for now. I love seeing the progress over time. That’s what my early blogging felt like to me – you might relate!

Love to hear what blogging felt like to you when you started or what it feels like to you now. Or what you’d like to achieve by starting a blog.

Support for blogging, writing and creativity

And if you’d like some creative support with blogging and writing, I’m here to help. Pop over to my Work With Me page. A free 30-minute Discovery Call is often a great place to start. You can book a call here. I have worked with many clients around blogging, writing and other creative endeavours and I’d love to help you with your vision and the practical steps to achieve it.

Creativity and writing can be lonely so you could also join in the Sacred Creative Collective focused on creativity, writing, blogging and community support.

So sign up to Quiet Writing to keep in touch and you will also receive your free Reading Wisdom Guide for inspiration. Keep in touch via social media too. More on this below.

Keep in touch + free Reading Wisdom Guide

You might also enjoy my free ‘Reading Wisdom Guide for Creatives, Coaches and Writers‘ with a summary of 45 wholehearted books to inspire your own journey. Just pop your email address in the box below.

You will receive access to the Wholehearted Library which includes the Reading Wisdom Guide and so much more! Plus you’ll receive monthly Beach Notes with updates and inspiring resources from Quiet Writing. This includes writing, personality type, coaching, creativity, tarot, productivity and ways to express your unique voice in the world.

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Learning to live on the slow path and love the little things that light me up

June 10, 2019

This guest post from Kamsin Kaneko looks at learning to live on the slow path and shifting focus to creativity and the little things in shaping a wholehearted life.

This is the 19th guest post in our Wholehearted Stories series on Quiet Writing! I invited readers to consider submitting a guest post on their wholehearted story. You can read more here – and I’m still keen for more contributors!

I’m delighted to have Kamsin Kaneko as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. Kamsin and I met via Instagram and shared interests in creativity, writing and gentle business. In this story, Kamsin shares how her focus has shifted to living in a slower, more focused, creative and wholehearted way in a different cultural environment. Read on!

Living life in the ordinary everyday moments

“Let’s eat out on the balcony,” my husband suggests. We are in the wine section of our local supermarket. It is a warm Sunday afternoon, and we’ve come to buy ingredients to cook dinner as a family.

“Sure. Sounds like a good idea,” I reply. One reason we bought our apartment was the spacious balcony. But we rarely sit out there to eat or use it for anything other than hanging washing out to dry.

This small act of cooking together and eating at home is one of the many small lifestyle changes we’ve been making. We’ve always wanted to do things like this, especially since we have a little boy who just turned five. But we haven’t always made the space in our lives.

We had got into the habit of going to the local sushi place on Sunday evening, which isn’t nearly as glamorous as it sounds in the context of urban Japan. You can wait 45+ minutes to be seated, it’s a popular family choice at the weekend. It’s cheap and easy, even if the quality of the food isn’t the best.

Nothing is better than a home cooked meal

We are home from the supermarket. There’s homemade pizza cooking in the oven, and the wine has been poured. We decide to move the dining table outside. As we’re doing so, our neighbour is taking in her washing. She laughs when she sees us.

The sun is starting to set over the trees and mountains behind our balcony and beyond; the light is perfect, and it is pleasantly warm. The inflatable paddling pool my boy was playing in earlier is still full of water. Alfresco dining by the pool, I quip.

A short while later and the food is on the table. My little boy closes his eyes, puts his hands together, and declares “Itadakimasu” (I gratefully receive this food), with energy and enthusiasm. My husband lifts his wine glass and smiles.

“I’m so happy,” he says.

Shifting focus

If I focus my attention on the thick, ugly pillars that support the balconies, I remember this is still in urban Japan. Power cables criss-cross the sky everywhere you look, and people crowd around us on every side. I grew up in the countryside, at times I miss the wide-open spaces which are so hard to come by in Japan.

So, I focus instead on the food, the table, my family. With my attention focused on the things I love, we are nowhere but right here and right now. Exactly where we want to be. We have created space in our day, and in our lives, to enjoy the little things which had felt so distant in our busy urban lives just a year or so earlier.

Until recently, I felt like I was always making compromises. I didn’t want sushi or a “family restaurant” every week. It meant being stuck in traffic, having to wait to be seated, and a noisy eating environment and unexciting food choices. It wasn’t lighting me up inside.

Our eating choices weren’t the only area we were making compromises. But food is so fundamental to a well-lived life as a family. So why had we been living like that? And how did we get from there to here?

Looking for the answers right here not over there

I grew up attending church and evangelical Christian groups. I no longer believe the fundamental doctrines that they taught me. But I experienced something of the divine, and I wanted more.

I can remember singing songs about loving God with all my heart, all my soul and all my mind. But I felt that there were parts of my heart that were locked away and I didn’t have the key. How could I love God with my whole heart if I didn’t know how to access what was inside?

Over the years, my understanding of faith crumbled and evolved. I am less concerned with trying to name or understand what those early spiritual experiences were. At the current stage of my life, I am more interested in learning to trust and believe in the divine within myself.

Gratitude and moving on

I remain grateful for the community and the guidance and the love of people in those groups. But I no longer believe that God can only be encountered through a specific understanding of Christianity.

Perhaps I thought that I would find God somewhere “over there” in the setting of religious groups and Sunday services. But God was never there. S/he was always here in the space between our intertwined lives. We had to learn to slow down before I could even see that.

I stayed a part of the church even though it had long since stopped meeting my spiritual or emotional needs. We stopped going about a year ago because my heart was longing for more space and more slow simple Sundays. And my husband wasn’t feeling the same connection to the church anymore.

Learning to listen to the longings of my own heart

In the last four years, I have been learning to listen more carefully to the whispers of my heart and act on what I hear. I’d got out of practice in doing that somehow. Through writing, journaling and mindfulness meditation, I started to find an answer to the question of how to access the locked places in my heart.

I was no longer going to give my time to anything which didn’t help my heart to keep expanding. I had wanted to spend more time with my husband and young son. I wanted the rhythm of Sunday as a day of rest.

The irony that by attending church, I wasn’t getting this wasn’t lost on me. But I thought because we lived in Japan, I would never have the slow Sundays I remembered from my childhood in England. Besides, times have changed, maybe no one lives like that anymore.

But we were living on autopilot rather than making conscious choices about how to spend our time. Now we often spend Sundays in our neighbourhood playing outside without any particular plans. We cook a homemade meal together and our little family has never been closer or happier.

Our slow and simple Sundays are one example of the ways that listening to what I want and need has led me into a more wholehearted life. Slowing down and believing that the longings of my heart can be achieved if I approach them with an open mind wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

Learning to believe in the possibility of a wholehearted life

The first step was learning to notice the places in my life where my behaviour did not align with the things I said I wanted. I had to learn to do that with self-compassion and let go of any judgment.

I was tied up in a long list of “shoulds” and “ought to’s” all of which caused my heart to be locked up tighter than ever before. But I started to believe that I had choices about how I spent my time. I could say no to what I didn’t want and yes to what I did.

I had to find processes to gently allow me to listen and believe I could act on what I heard. Journaling and meditation and carefully chosen books, podcasts, and safe spaces online are showing me how to do that.

I had spent too long allowing other voices to drown out the voice of my own heart. It takes time to learn to tune in and act on what you hear.

How writing and early motherhood changed everything

When I was in my early twenties, there were three things I wanted to achieve in my life. One was to travel and live abroad. I’ve lived in China, Japan, Bosnia, and then Japan again. When I married a Japanese man, Japan became my home.

The second was to become a mother. I’d given up on this idea for a long time, but it happened five years ago when I was thirty-eight. It wasn’t an easy process through miscarriage, medical error, and 2.5 years of trying to get pregnant. But my son is the most delightful little person on the planet.

The third was to be a writer. And it was that final goal which has proved to be the hardest. I took my first writing class as an undergraduate back in the mid-’90s and others on and off over the following twenty years. But it was only after my son was born that I began to unpick the places in my heart which had been standing in my way.

Motherhood in Japan was the key to unlocking my heart

As a new mother in Japan, I was stressed out and struggling so far from home. I felt like I was drowning in cultural norms and expectations, which I was never going to live up to. But I wasn’t about to settle for a slow descent into bitterness and resentment, which seemed to be where I was heading. I wanted to enjoy my little boy and life as a mother. But I needed help.

I began to meditate through the Headspace App. And when someone gave away their copy of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way I began to keep a journal. Something I hadn’t done consistently for years.

Through these two activities, I found the key to access the locked up places in my heart. I’d felt that wholehearted wasn’t something I would ever achieve all those years ago singing about loving God with all my heart. But over time, all the things which had been leaving me feeling overwhelmed, including unhealed trauma from childhood started to feel more manageable.

Writing is leading to radical transformation: that’s why it’s so hard

The more I wrote, the more I understood that I’d neglected the craft of being a writer and I had a lot to learn. Through online writing classes and working with tutors and writing coaches, I started to understand how to create a scene and a character.

I had a background in academic writing. But to tap into my neglected creativity, I had to bring my writing into the world of sensory detail. I had to connect the emotions and the details that ground a story and bring it alive to a reader.

And that is that process of getting out of my head and into the sensory details of everyday life that is allowing me to unlock my heart. In powerful writing, it is often the little details which bring the most magic to the page. The same is true in our everyday lives.

Writing through the dark to find the light

But I didn’t want to feel the painful things. I tried to go straight to being grateful and finding positive affirmations to help me overcome writers’ block and self-sabotaging habits. I didn’t want to feel the painful things that had been locked up inside of me. But the only way out was to go through.

Thank God the Universe provided me with gifted teachers in the process. This time last year I took an online writing course by Martha Beck; there were guest lectures from Elizabeth Gilbert, one of my favourite writers, and it was completely transformative. Hard work and painful but amazing.

The course comprised the most incredible set of lectures which blew everything I thought I knew out of the water. The writing exercises were designed to take you into the hell of your worst moments and keep writing until you brought everything out into the light.

As I wrote, I kept finding feelings of being unworthy, and crippling fears of never being good enough. A numbing fear that if I spoke my truth, I would be judged, criticised, and rejected. I was so good at avoiding those feelings I’d been unaware of how much they were driving self-sabotaging behaviours like procrastination and perfectionism.

I could only learn to be wholehearted by looking at those feelings of shaky self-worth in the eye. And writing through them to find the validation I need within myself. Perhaps I will never believe that I am good enough to be a “real writer.”

But I have learnt to trust the voice inside of me that says I need to write. And if all I ever achieve is to heal the fractured places in my own heart, it will be enough. I pray also that I can gift my readers a tiny bit of courage to continue on their own wholehearted journey.

Key book companions along the way

The Artist’s Way – Julia Cameron

Big Magic – Elizabeth Gilbert

Martha Beck – Finding Your Way in a Wild New World

Loving What Is – Byron Katie

And the poetry of Mary Oliver

About Kamsin Kaneko

Kamsin Kaneko is a writer, mum, teacher, and traveller, not necessarily in that order. She writes about living a wholehearted life of depth and meaning. You can find her on Instagram most days capturing small moments of beauty in the urban sprawl of her home in Japan. Get your free gift: I Believe in the Magic of Everyday Moments. Kamsin Kaneko’s website The Slow Path can be found here.

Photographs #1, #2, #3 + bio image by Kamsin Kaneko, used with permission and thanks.

Photograph #4 of pen on page by Debby Hudson on Unsplash used with permission and thanks.

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Dancing all the way – or listening to our little voice as a guide for wholehearted living

February 11, 2019

This guest post from Olivia Sprinkel is a letter in response to Heidi Washburn’s wholehearted story: When the inner voice calls, and calls again.

I am so excited by Olivia’s response and the dance between ideas and readers she invites!

I welcome any other letter style responses to wholehearted stories here on Quiet Writing any time. You can find out more about wholehearted stories guest-posting here. The links for all the stories are at the end of this post. How wonderful that we can share our stories of wholehearted living and what it means. And respond to the experiences of others as we shape our own journey. It truly warms my heart!

Enjoy this beautiful dance of ideas and how Olivia responds to Heidi’s wholehearted story!

Dear Heidi,

I read your article ‘When the inner voice calls, and calls again – my journey to wholehearted living’. I immediately wanted to respond and say ‘thank you for writing’ – and also to share my own reflections in response. I am now that woman in my mid-forties in New York that you were 30 years ago, listening to the call of my inner voice to give up my corporate job and to live life with my whole heart. It was so reassuring to read your story, and know that you had the courage to listen to that voice and to create a wholehearted life for yourself. It provided confirmation that a different way of living than the conventional one that is presented to us is possible, if we choose to follow that path.

The best piece of advice my father gave me

Writing this now, I remember that my father always used to say “Listen to your little voice”. It was probably the best piece of advice he gave me. He used to tell the story of how he had enrolled in Berkeley, as that is where his father and mother had both gone. But when he got there, his little voice told him, ‘You want to go to Stanford’. And he went and knocked on the door of the Stanford admissions officer, and ended up graduating from Stanford.

You write of how your little voice spoke to you so clearly and powerfully. It can only speak clearly if we are tuned into the hearing of it – you were ready to hear it. I’ve had a couple of other occasions when my little voice has spoken to me and my ears and body have been open for the hearing of it. There have been other occasions when undoubtedly it has spoken to me, but I have blocked it out because I didn’t want to hear – and things haven’t turned out too well.

Taking responsibility for listening to the little voice

I didn’t feel as if I had any choice but to listen to the little voice that spoke to me to send me on this particular journey. When this voice spoke it was giving me the gift of a creative idea or a creative mission. It spoke to me and said ‘Write a book “A history of the future of the world in 12 trees”. Or 10.’ (It was giving me a little bit of wiggle room.) And why did I choose to act on this, to give up my job, my New York apartment, to pursue this journey? I think it was a combination of the clarity of the idea, and the clarity of my listening. I felt that I had been gifted this idea and it was my responsibility to act on it. Not to do so would be irresponsible – both to the idea and to myself. And I am in the position to do so, with no responsibilities of family to take care of.

And writing this now, I wonder, ‘who is behind that little voice?’ As writers, we often speak about ‘finding our authentic voice’. Is our little voice that authentic piece of us that we can hear when we are tuned to the right channel, when we have done that preparatory work, that opening? I’ve had my little voice speak to me – and I’ve listened – in yoga and when I am out in nature. That morning when the idea for my tree journey appeared, I was sitting at my desk, but I had spent the weekend immersed in the beautiful woods of the Catskills at Menla.

Elizabeth Gilbert has written of how ideas are gifted to us, and if we don’t declare an interest in them, they will move on to someone else. She writes in ‘Big Magic’ of how an idea she didn’t pursue then moved on to Ann Patchett, who did act on it, and wrote a book based on the idea. This suggests that there is something larger than us that is seeking to communicate with us – and which knows us well enough to make only appropriate suggestions. I am sure whole philosophy books have been written on the subject, and someone more well informed than me can answer that question. But perhaps that is the authenticity of wholehearted living – that we are open to receiving information from the ‘whole’, rather than from a limited subset of ourselves.

Stepping into the dance

It also reminds me of a dance. That when we open ourselves to the dance of life, then we can dance in step with the universe and be open to being led by her, and be twirled and occasionally flipped head over heels and still land gracefully. I’m reminded of the dancing metaphor as I used to have a blog in the form of letters that a friend and I would write back and forth to one another, pondering life’s questions. The title of the blog was ‘Dancing All the Way’, which we decided on as we doing a multi-day walk and we wanted to dance all the way of the walk. And then Terri’s theme for the year is ‘Dance’ – so perhaps this is just a small example of how the universe wants to dance with us.

Seeing your life story as a Hero’s Journey

It’s not an easy thing to follow your little voice, as you know. You write movingly with the example of your accountant of how we are not always ready to do that. I believe that the call to a wholehearted life really is a Hero’s Journey, as Joseph Campbell has described, and which is the foundation of great myths as well as our ordinary extraordinary lives. There is the call to action, and we can choose to act on it or not. And if we do choose to accept, there will be setbacks, there will be temptations to distract us along the way, we will need to overcome challenges. But if we persevere, we will come back with a gift to offer our community. Thinking about my own story in this way helps to give me perspective. It is also reassuring for me to know that this journey will be repeated many times on different timescales, as well as providing an overarching arc for our lives, if we are fortunate enough to live into an old age and be able to look back over the distance that we have travelled.

I am at the beginning of this next stage of my journey, heading out into the unknown. All I have is an idea, and a rough itinerary. And, hopefully, my little voice to continue to guide me and ears and heart to listen.

I wish you well as your journey continues.

With love

Olivia

About Olivia Sprinkel

Olivia Sprinkel is a sustainability strategy and communications consultant, writer and photographer. She has advised some of the world’s largest companies on sustainability strategy, and been based in both London and New York. She is also a writer of poetry and creative non-fiction, and a keen photographer. She is now embarking on writing a book which brings together her sustainability expertise and creative skills to tell stories of a changing climate and nature connection. You can connect with Oliva via Instagram and her website.

Photographs by Olivia Sprinkel and used with permission and thanks.

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writing

Moving into writing

Reminders of cycles

Being aware of seasons

Writing as a safe place

Healing and inner wisdom

Writing the way through

Trusting in writing practice

Writing into a new season

Key book companions along the way

About Sally Morgan

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About Dawne Gowrie Zetterstrom

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The word ‘retired’

Lifelong learning and reading

My days are busy

Never too old

Being less tied down

Aspiring and time to evolve

Later bloomers

Many ways to create

Exploring ‘retired’ and life options

What are your thoughts on the word ‘retired’?

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My first blog post

Thought pieces

Support for blogging, writing and creativity

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Living life in the ordinary everyday moments

Nothing is better than a home cooked meal

Shifting focus

Looking for the answers right here not over there

Gratitude and moving on

Learning to listen to the longings of my own heart

Learning to believe in the possibility of a wholehearted life

How writing and early motherhood changed everything

Motherhood in Japan was the key to unlocking my heart

Writing is leading to radical transformation: that’s why it’s so hard

Writing through the dark to find the light

Key book companions along the way

About Kamsin Kaneko

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The best piece of advice my father gave me

Taking responsibility for listening to the little voice

Stepping into the dance

Seeing your life story as a Hero’s Journey

About Olivia Sprinkel

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Keep in touch + free ebook ’36 Books that Shaped my Story’

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**What are your thoughts on the word ‘retired’?**