Yet another month has passed and last night I participated in my third magical writing circle. A group of four incredible women who come together with a curious mind, ready to be guided by Victoria who sets the topic and gives us the prompts to warm us up and lead us into our main write.
So, this week, we were asked to bring along a photograph of us as a young girl. The photo that sprung to mind is one I have of me and my sister, possibly taken before my brother was born as we look so young. The guidance was to not worry too much about the detail, just go with what you feel. On opening the zoom link, we were greeted with music, not talking, it brings us beautifully together in this sacred space we share.
Remember her?
To get us into our writing zone Victoria asked us the first question – “What do I imagine she is feeling, thinking, saying, and needing?”, we have three minutes to write in our books what comes to mind, no over thinking, so I quickly capture the words that come up on my page. Then the second question, “From the perspective of someone else in the photo, or who took the photo, what are they feeling, thinking, saying and needing?”, we have another three minutes to write and capture what immediately comes to mind. Then the third question, “What are the parts of her (me) that are still in there that I want to reclaim?”, we have five minutes to write. And then the fourth and final question, “What is the story that wants to be told about this photo?”, we have 25 minutes to write… so, in the interest of sharing, here’s what I wrote, unedited, unfiltered.
Look at me with my fat chubby cheeks, my pudding bowl hair and dimpled hands,
There’s curiosity in my eyes, the ones that look out for my spies,
My button nose can smell a cake, does it have icing, it is homemade?
I’m not going to let anyone rain on my parade.
I’m happy here, all podgy and cute, smiling as I was often mute,
Mute as I listened to others at play, oh how I loved to play,
I love my sister, she’s big and caring, her arm around me, tight, but not overbearing,
We’d sit and do puzzles, she’d always win, quick to see the picture and overall, everything.
There’s beauty in my eyes, so small and shiny, curious with delight and always smiley,
A little Red Indian I was often called, dream catchers, smoke, the beat of the fire calls,
Calls me into the wake of night, to look up into the sky, at the stars with delight,
A face full of wonder, hands wanting to play, creativity beckons, calling louder every day.
Get your paint brushes out, be brave and splatter, there’s no need to listen to negative chatter,
Go big, go bold, express and sing, use every medium and vessel to capture everything,
Shapes, patterns, brush strokes and draw, take your shoes off and use your foot as a paw,
Create with your body, from your heart not your mind, don’t get controlled by people who aren’t kind.
There’s an expression for creating to paint, no one’s going to mind if you fall down and faint,
Faint into the painting, go into a state of flow, for if you don’t you will never know,
Know what’s inside you wanting to pop out, to make you smile, to make you shout,
You’re an artist at heart, you know that much is true, so why are you stuck in a pickle, a stew?
Just go with the flow and see what comes out, it may be crap, but who gives a spout,
It’s not important for what’s really at play, is how I want to spend my seconds, my minutes, my hours, in a day,
Playing with texture, colour and more, anything I can get my hand on when I open the door,
The door is a portal to honesty and truth, a portal of light to tap into my youth.
The youth I’ve been ignoring for years, for most of my life, things need to change to embrace my spice,
My spice,
My wisdom,
My intuition,
My core,
My funside,
My playside,
For creativity, to explore.
There’s an energy inside me, I feel it more every day, it’s seeking an outlet, it’s destiny to play.
What happened to little Emma, she got a little lost, in the expectations of life, but really at what cost?
The cost of freedom to really let rip, the freedom to splat, flick and dip,
Dip into adventures that light up her heart, reminding her that she has a real spark,
A spark is a spark, but it turns into a flame, a flame that creates happiness and gain.
Gaining of momentum,
Gaining of fun,
Gaining of colour,
It’s all just begun!
A photo is a moment, a speck of time, it’s in the past now, no need to recline,
Our imaginations are strong, a narrative they will create, but is our story really our fate?
I’d like to think we’re all creators at core, and to discover there is always more,
A flash, a smile, a grimace on our face, the wind has not blown, it’s not projected into space.
It’s time for me to feel that vibe, the one that leads me to my tribe,
They’ll be dancing and singing, flow and space, to grow into our true selves with gravity and grace,
I saw that exhibition many moons ago, bit it sticks in my mind, therefore was it a good show?
Does it matter what I think, do others even care, to steal a line from a poem “We have no time to stand and stare”.
Life is precious, take every moment by the horns, it’s time to plant and sprout, like an acorn.
Photo of me and my sister, I’m the one on the left.
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