Trusting in a Return

I keep watching the sky for the swallow’s return. ‘Have you see any yet?’, I ask a local villager. No sightings here, but in other parts of the country, one. The slow return. I need to know the cycle is not broken; that the miracle of these tiny remarkable beings making their way across a continent — across mountains and desert, borders and seas — have made it to their other home, this island on the edge of a continent, offering haven.

The swallow’s return is one of those rhythms in the year I’ve come to rely upon as a marker of continuance. Mid-April I search the sky for darts of forked, swooping brilliance. After wintering, its signalling a summering, with the energy of bloom and birth. It reminds me of cycles and the mystery baked into it all. I take such reassurance in the return.

As in nature, so in life: to trust in the return. It’s been a wintering patch in this tiny corner of my creative life, not the wintering of darkness, but wintering of another kind, of composting. Lettings things fall, allowing time to decompose the constituents. To sense into what wants to be reconstituted is a fecund kind of darkness, too easily overlooked or mistaken as absence. Without the detritus of the harvest, the soil from which new growth emerges can not be sustained.

I am being, perhaps, metaphorically abstract. What do I mean by that in practice, the trusting in the return. Basically, it’s been a quiet patch, in work, in words. Most of the time I have tried to share anything, I’ve had a ‘rabbit in the headlights’ moment, set against what the world is facing and moving through, at times so destructively so. As someone who has relied on words to help them navigate complexity and has taken on an identity as someone capable of articulating responses, my words have felt muted, inadequate and radically falling short. They are only words, after all, and I am only one. I’ve shown up at marches, vigils, protests, but I find myself totally wrung out with tears. What use are tears, I tell myself, feeling somewhat ashamed. Social media too has felt like a minefield, and frequently, not a safe space to share, not just a response to the horrors, but creative output too. I know I am not alone in this.

I see the ‘rabbit in the headlights’ mode in every classroom and teaching space I’ve been in or hosted in the last year. ‘I am only one, and what use are tears/ words/ sadness/ shock’. For some, I see the sense of outrage combusting in anger which has no direction, or snap judgements; students operating on high voltage energy, not knowing how to direct it, or themselves. For others, like myself, there is a desire to retreat. As a response, in learning spaces, I bring in more reflective time, and breathing practices, and I try to create space for meaning making, then afterwards, I need to withdraw too.

I saw this coming in me months ago, and gosh, do I resist. Who am I without the platform/ identity/ role- small as they are, but clearly I am not immune to hitching my identity to the sways of productivity culture and staying relevant.  And yet, continual output just hasn’t been an option for me and I realised my activism needs to show up in different ways right now. The introvert in me did some cartwheels when I took my foot off the pedal a bit. The detritus can fall, it was saying, and part of you can too. Time to compost. I just did not expect there to be so much.

And so, over the last year, I’ve intentionally tired to embrace the space, and the silence, which as freelancer who never quite knows when the next ‘gig’ is coming from, is excruciating. My newsletter became more sporadic, my social sharing too. I haven’t wanted to make the full move over to substack yet. I definitely have not wanted to be on X, and defiantly not tiktok. Then, in the midst of all this, one of my dearest soul friends and creative mentors died. Her death so premature filled me with a grief so strong it was as if an equally powerful wave of love moved through me. It is amazing what happens when we allow ourselves to be composted by love. Words started returning, ideas, energy.   

Jennifer was someone to whom the creative life was one of the greatest mysteries and miracles, to which she dutifully served. She’d literally put on a pair of working overalls, and headed to her studio each to mine the creative wells for source material. A filmmaker and creative visionary (although she’d hate for me to have called her that — but to me she was), she taught me, among many things, the power of creative cycles and needing to listen to the dream, then follow it. The dream — the creative idea which won’t go away, the calling, the stirring, the story which keeps tugging, the imagination’s tide. Her own film ideas had seeded themselves in literal dreams, then he showed up to her creative practice with devotee levels of steadfastness. The first in her ‘cycle’ of three film, She Sings to the Stars, is completed, and the script for the second film which she had been working on for the precious few years I knew her, was in its final stages of completion. Now that she is not here to complete it, I am not sure that film will ever be made, but in one way it also is —because she listened, brought the story to the page, gave life to the dream. That was Jennifer Corcoran.

After her death, I had a ‘now or never’ moment. A story which had been following me, was tapping, loudly. A bonkers, beauty, wildly erratic story. Now or never, I told myself. And in I  went. In the imaginational realm, I’ve found worlds and characters so real to me they feel like companions. In there, is a dangerously beautiful place, which expands my sense of what is real, and possible, of this world too. I know what I’m working on is my own ‘cycle’ of stories. Book one is in a semi-decent draft phase, and daily I am trying to coax it into shape. Book two and three are emerging, slowly. It was this story that took me recently to Mexico, and this story which is leading into places I never thought I’d venture. It’s terrifying. It’s beautiful. I’m listening. Perhaps the silence is only ever an invitation into what really wants to happen.

I am about to go for a walk with Milly. The sky is open, clear. I’ll look up and ask I’ll myself ‘Today?’ Perhaps I’ll see a swallow. But it not today, then soon. Soon. I am trusting in a return.

Writing Prompts:

Perhaps the silence is only ever an invitation into what really wants to happen.
What is your relationship to silence? What is silence inviting you into?

Your now or never.
Write about a ‘now or never’ project you have brewing. Is there a book in you? Or a creative dream? What does it look like? What is holding you back?

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Hello. I'm Clare

I'm a writer, educator and facilitator, living in beautiful West Cork, Ireland. I love to share resources and learning to help harness the regenerative power of words, place and story. I hope my work offers nourishment for mind and soul. Thank you for being here. Clare x

Nightowl, COP and Constellating

You can listen to this post here. 9 mins. I hope enjoy.

The light has been pared back now, almost brittle in the sky. I watch it linger for moments on the crest of waves, then dance into the long night. In its absence, I seek to create my own. 

November affords the creative hours with a strange sense of abundance. As a natural night owl, much of my imagination comes alive at around 6pm and peaks at around 10. This week, on a few occasions, I found myself wide awake at 3am, still writing, painting; ideas and plans swirling. My mornings, I let my body linger in sleep. My mother tells me I’ve been like this since I was a child. Getting to school on time was a perpetual challenge (Why does school have to start so early anyway?). The evening hours. Time stretches. Email beeps, door knocks, daily obligations, these seem like distant relatives to the rising stillness. It’s taken me a long time to allow myself to trust my own circadian tides, at times feeling like I    am trying to swim against the dominant current. I am still learning to trust it; my nocturnal ways, and the light I find there. But what if I flip that narrative too. What if swimming against is also, in a sense, swimming towards. And what if that’s exactly what is needed. 

Finding, and trusting our own rhythms is anathema to the race, of course. The race to produce faster, more, then more. It is part of what has got us into such a mess, careful of how I use ‘us’. It is a small ‘us’ that has caused the larger body of ‘us’ to find ourselves where we are; in a different kind of race now, literally to turn the tides. 

I watched the images and narrative coming from Cop27 this week. Here we have the regular cast of decision makers. Mostly male. Mostly the dominant political elite. Like others, I found myself asking; ‘Where are all the women?’,’Where are the indigenous voices? Where are those who will advocate for voices of the future, human and more-than-human, not just the profits of the future? Then quickly, my own internal critic chimed in, ‘And where are you Clare. What are do actually doing’? It is a voice that frequently rattles me. And rattles me loud. Am I making the right choices? Am I doing enough?’ 

I was asked to run for local political office once. My ego toyed with the idea for a while, but it was a brief while, because a part in me knew myself well enough- that active political office would be running against my own tide too. It is easy to mistake public profile with importance, with success. The lure is real, but at what cost? To our own callings be true.

Real too is our need to express our ideas, our own marks to make, to honour our own particular gifts in our own particular ways. For some, importantly so, that means running for office, for some it is setting up schools or teaching in them, for others it is holding a child’s hand and helping them to grow into their particular gifts. Notice I am deliberately using the plural here- callings, gifts, longings. We are plural beings, layered with complexity, multiplicities, shadows, and equally with gifts, talents, capacities. We are constellations, and when we allow ourselves, we too can be bright lights in dark times, for dark times indeed need their north stars. 

I’m looking into the future now, the not too distant future, seeing the ways humanity needs to adapt and respond to the times we are in. This is monumental change on scales we have never experienced before. The need for us to bring our gifts, our unique contribution, is real too. And as vital as breath is. We need the engineers, scientists, political negotiators, mediators, meditators. We need accountants and financial planners, city planners, marine stewards, stewards in general. We need the nurturers, the storytellers, the media makers, the healers. Space-makers, movers and shakers. We need every gift and talent there is, yours, mine. The table is large, and we can create even more space for everyone. I want to pull up more chairs. 

The dominant narrative, of course, is counter to this. It is of fear, apocalypse, permacrisis. But that’s part of the problem- the dominance of this narrative, the singularity of it, when, in reality, in parallel to the dominance, there is always plurality, there are other possibilities taking shape, already taking shape. I look around as see these new stories growing in momentum. Some are organisations doing such interesting and important work. I am inspired by The Presencing Institute, initiating and co-creating transformative educational models across the globe. Or The Bio-Leadership Project, offering alternative business models and networks. Some are movements, a rising up of a new narrative, as the women in Iran have, cutting their hair in acts of symbolic resistance to the hegemonic norms of expectations and control. I turn to writers like Robin Wall Kimmerer, or Robert McFarlane, who are sharing their exquisite craft of language to write new landscapes of awareness and possibility into being. I am enthralled with artists such as Jackie Morris, and musician Cosmo Sheldrake, who, through visual and auditory expression bring the voices of the natural world into the hearts and minds of thousands. From that one woman on a protest march in Iran, to the millions and millions of others around the world who are working on regenerative energy projects, new architectural designs, sustainable policy work, circular economy business operations, and on and on. Yes, there is so so much work to do, which also means there is so much possibility, for all of us. I think of all these people, each expressing their gifts, each part of an evolving narrative, each offering their own light in these dark and troubled times. Suddenly November is constellated. 

I’m up late again, drawing. A little Wren has arrived, a tiny tiny creature, so small and so seemingly insignificant. But only a few hours ago, that drawing didn’t exist, and now the world has expanded in the tiniest of ways. Yes, tiny, but even that is expansion, part of the unfolding, and it makes the light in my own heart shine that little bit brighter. I’m turning inwards for the season now, into my own creative cave, seeking what stories I can find there, and offering them to the wider narrative, hoping to join other lights there, yours, theirs. I too am constellating. The dark may not be that dark after all. 

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Samhain: Prompts for Entering the Dark Cycle

Samhain: A time of threshold, of engaging in the mystery. A time of trickster, liminal time, the gossamer, the numinous, the veiled light, the 'all that's seen may not be all'. This passing over into the new Celtic Year signals the entering into the dark unknown, into the falling of leaf then the fallow of leaf, into the time of invitation to the underworld, the subterranean, the submerged.

Tonight, as masked figures and caped beings knock on the doors, as flames rise from the bonfires, as ghouls and shadow seep, we are called into 'thin time', where ancientness and ancestors bring questions of how to connect with and reclaim the old ways, to renew and revitalise how we move through the longer cycles of time. It is a time too to reflect on this turning towards the stillness and dark of the winter months, to prepare for our own return to the deep unknown.

Some questions as guides:

What areas of your life are craving silence and stillness?
What masks have you been wearing? What masks are you ready to shed?
What does the darkness have to teach you?
How can you honour all that is yet to be discovered within you?

Samhain blessings to you all.

Clare. xx

Wild Swimming and Wild Words

  You can listen to this blog post here:    I never saw myself as one of ‘those people’.‘Those people’ were a different, alien, species. They were the ones with an extra gene to bolster against the Atlantic cold, and, at birth, were born with added doses of bravery and physical stamina. No, I have never been one of ‘those people’There is a chill in the November air now- not biting cold, but nippier. The wind has a bit of a whip in it too. I look at the sea though and still I hear an invitation: dive in.Really?The thought of the cold plunge sends butterflies to my nether regions, followed by nervous energy which could be labelled as ‘fear’ under certain lights and ‘madness’ under others.I’m not one of the turbo clad wet suit slick swimming elite. I like headstands and handstands and strange yoga twists, sure, but ask me to swim out to sea, in November? That’s for ‘those people’.I have to make my decision to swim before I leave the house, otherwise the excuses start to accompany me to the shore and prevent my passage. I put on my togs underneath my clothes. On good days I even remember to pack my knickers in my swimming bag, and my courage too.I check the tides. The tide clock is not even a clock I had really been aware of before, but here I find myself, checking for the swell. High tide in Schull is the best. The water seems richest then, enriched with seaweed minerals and curiously dark, definitely at its most inviting.Yesterday was calmer, sunny even. I’d seen some of ‘those people’ dive in earlier in the day braving the depths as if their life depended on it. No excuses. The kickers got packed. The togs were already on. Walking to the shore the decision was made. No backing out. No backing out.And then: the sea. There is something about the water; all glitter and roam, a touch of sparkle and a hint of mischief. The fronds of seaweed were waving, the light dancing as it if was at the best party in town. No excuses.I strip down to my togs. I nearly slip on the wet stones. I remember the trick: no dawdling, just straight in. Before I have time to think about it, 1-2-3. In the space of a breath I am actually one of ‘those people’ now, swimming wild and into the Atlantic, in November.The sea will do that to you: break you and remake you all in a breath.The fear tends to leave as the the water welcomes. The cold embraces every pour but has a touch of unconditional love in it. I have a random thought: If I can do this, become one of ‘those’, well, what else can I do?Swim by swim, I tell myself. The first step is to become a December swimmer, then a January one. It’s not brave after all, it’s just a becoming, entering into a reinvention of what I thought was possible.I return home. I make a coffee. I open the blank pages of my journal. I pick up my pen. I dive.Then I wonder: where will this tide take me? Break me and remake me all in the breath of a page? I have been learning: it’s time to take on these wild words too. Finally.

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What is your equivalent of wild swimming? Is it time to take a plunge?

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A day in the light...

A trip to an island, meandering the shoreline, noticing how the internal questions shift from large to small and back to large again, but carry on with deeper meaning and more perspective. There were the swims, of course, and a boat trip circumnavigating the island, and friendships kindled, and a love of the wild which swelled to new heights and set the heart a flame.A photo essay meditation, from Inishlacken, Connemara- to pause, to take in the light, to carry that light onwards.with love.(This post is dedicated to my aunt, Annie Meehan, nee Mulvany, who passed away, aged 86, earlier this week. She was a bright spark, a woman of the flame, and I always remember her as being the last person on the dance floor. As I was taking these photos, she was being laid to rest; with the light beaming and the birds soaring. Our memories carry)

Learning to do Business and Life as Unusual

As you know, starting your own project or business is not easy. It brings up a whole host of questions and challenges. It brings up internal fears, vulnerabilities and doubts. There are logistic challenges, timing issues, design issues. There are lots of ‘what’s, how’s and why’s’.It has been 7 months since I launched Thrive School and in that time it has been evolving, and I have been evolving too. One of my benchmarks for learning is when new questions show up. If I’ve no new questions then I’m not entering new territories of growth and development. At the moment, I have a ton of new questions!Thrive School emerged from a vision to create networks of dreamers and do’ers; people who have a passion and drive to make a difference through their lives and work, and naturally have lots of questions too. I know that the questions can be overwhelming when we don’t have support, community and a framework for asking them. So in many ways Thrive School is evolving into that- a place to ask questions, learn through them and in doing so expand what is possible for each of us. It’s a place to evolve our dreams, ideas and ultimately ourselves too.And so Thrive School a much about how we learn as what we learn. The how is so important as is will impact on our future how- how we bring the learning from the programme into our projects and lives. Here’s a few principles behind the Thrive School ‘how’, and why we think they matter…. Values based developmentThink of your values like the keel of a ship. Our values help to keep us upright, especially in choppy waters. They give us weight, and support, and around them we can build our ship and sail it. Gaining a understanding of your personal values and how they impact and influence the business or project you are designing is critical to your own personal sanity and the project’s sustainability. Our values help to keep us grounded and on track. They help us to value our time, ourselves, our products and our pricing. They are the foundation stone and so we start there.Life and Learning happens in cyclesTransformational learning is not a linear process. We learn in cycles and spirals. Sometimes we need to make the same mistake a few times before we really learn how to navigate the challenge in a fundamentally different way. Learning is accelerated when we take a cyclical approach: conscious action, then review, then adaption before we take action again. This way our learning is taken out of a linear process and into a spiral. This is the learning not just of growth but of adaptability and flexibility- two key skills necessary for any business or venture to thrive.Structures Create Flow and FreedomSo many of us strive for freedom- freedom from 9-5, freedom from debt, freedom from certain external demands. Think of a bird- for it to fly a bird needs to instinctively know and respect the structure which the dynamics of wind currents, gravity and physics impose. It’s by embracing these that flight is championed. Our ultimate freedom comes when we understand and embrace the structures which work best for us. What boundaries do we need to have around our time, for instance; or what perameters do we need have around our spending and savings to give rise to financial flow. It’s the boundaries that give rise to the freedoms that we choose.Energy management, not time managementLife happens in seasons and cycles. There are weeks when we have more energy and weeks when we have less. There is a season to launch something, and a season for letting go. Gaining a deeper appreciation of our own energy cycles helps us to move our days in relationship with what we are creating.Peer to Peer and non ‘expert’ driven discussion and feedback loopsWe are our own experts. The age of the guru is dead. At Thrive School we celebrate and honour expertise, know we each have something to offer. No one person has the ‘right’ answer for you- only you do, but we can listen to each other, learn from each other, and each strive for our own version of excellence.Prototype, iteration, experimentation and playWe grow our ventures through cycles of experimentation, iteration and prototyping- each one building upon the next, which gives rise to the next. We encourage early prototyping, trying something small out, then making adjustments. We dream big but understand that it will take iterations to get there.Time is preciousOur time is one of the most precious things we have. Time for ourselves, our families, our friends, our communities, our hobbies. There is a lot to pack in. At Thrive School we look at how we can best  value our time by developing business services, products and offering which respect our expertise and reflect back to us the value which we bring to the world.Elegant next stepsOur big vision is powerful but we get there one step at a time. What is your elegant next step?… we ask this over and over of each other. And yes, we believe the process can be beautiful and elegant too. These are just some of the core principles. As the school evolves, so too will they. This is learning in action, one elegant next step at a time.

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  The next 5 month Thrive School programme is about to happen in  DUBLIN.Applications are open until noon on Tuesday 1st November. Apply online here now. 

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Not in Ireland and interested in Thrive School? Stay in touch... I'm looking at ways to bring the material to a wider audience- it's in evolution too. And if you'd like to offer me your input or ideas please do share with me via email: clare (at) claremulvany.ie - thank you!Clare. xx

Doing the things that make our hearts beat faster…

It is about connection. It is about creating. It is about following those lines or curiosity until they take you to the next path, then the next.The things that makes your heart beat faster? Well, they are the things that bring a sparkle to your eye, make you want to keep going, make you feel alive at a soul level, that essential level, that place that you know is home.I want more of these moments in my life because it’s the moments that make a life. So I ask myself, what am I willing to let go of in order to allow them to enter. What can I re-shuffle? What edge can I step towards? And where is my deep yes.Making a list of the things, those heart beating moments, brings me closer. The list helps to take us to them because writing them down makes them visible, and where it’s visible we can focus.So here are some of mine… the deep yes, the beat enduring moments: It’s those times when I’m listening to someone share their honest, open, brave, raw, indomitable truth - the kind that not only makes my heart beat faster but rips it open too.It is those moments when I’m painting, about to do the final flick or make brave stroke that will either make it or break it.It’s when I’m writing and I feel that the words are flowing through me, as if gifted from another.It is when I reach out to someone I admire and get a loving response.It is those times on the yoga mat, especially when I have resisted being there, when my body and bones come to a place of surrender and release, clicking itself back into alignmentIt’s in the meeting of a stranger, when in a look, an instant, you know you have a friend - that look offers a safe passage to a knowing which time and distance bear no consequence.It’s with camera in hand, when light is *just perfect* and with a timely click, the elegant and mystical can creep through the lens.It is those racing moments before I launch- a project, a website, a new offering- when ALL the fear and vulnerability is shouting into the inner chambers of my being while simultaneously waving the red button before my fingertips. Click.It is sitting in stillness, in silence, until I can hear the sound of my own beat.It is that second when driving across the Irish landscape an opening occurs-  a parting of clouds or the way the light gathers on the green and heather, setting it aglow.It is just before I’m about to speak in front of a group, especially when I know what I’m about to say is not necessarily the easiest, or most popular, but wants to be said.It is travelling to a new place, knowing no one, but trusting I soon will.It is pressing publish. And yours?  Go ahead, give yourself a few minutes with your journal to remind yourself what your heart is calling for. What will make you feel alive? You are already close to it. The list will help to take closer. And remember: in the writing it become visible, and where it is visible we can focus.

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The Anatomy of Thriving

 What does it mean to really Thrive? How does it feel in the body? And how can we thrive in both business and life?We were huddled around the table at the last Thrive School gathering when the idea of collectively creating an ‘Anatomy of Thriving’ came to us. It was a way of opening up the conversation about what it means to really thrive as we create our own ventures.So often on the entrepreneurial journey personal wellbeing is sacrificed in the face of financial or social goals. We can drive projects onwards to the point that we may have a thriving business but we are left depleted. Or we may be so cautious about expending our own energy or stepping out of our comfort zone that we don’t manage to build the momentum needed to carry our creative energy and momentum forward. So where’s the balance? And what are the ingredients to that sweet spot of thriving?I rolled out a long piece of paper and drew the outline of a body (which we reckoned looked more like a flat Morph than anything human, but none the less…. )Here’s some of the thriving elements we came up with. It’s a collective work in progress, a Thrive School prototype. As it stands, a helpful guide. I’d love to hear what you’d add too….

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Stay earthed: It’s that ground beneath your feet. It’s your community. It’s your sense of place. It’s your values. It’s your gravity and your gravitas. To rise one must first root.Take the first step: You may not know the final form, but your first step will help determine it. The first step can be tiny. Take it. Reach out to another. Send that email. Ask that question.Create boundaries: Boundaries may be conversations you need to have with potential partners, or the way you structure your time. They may be decisions  about who you share your dreams with. It may even be how much sleep you get. Your boundaries, like the banks in a river, help to give you momentum and direction. Build some. Let them guide you.Follow your Gut: More often than not your gut is right. It’s the primary and visceral response. Does it feel right in your gut- then it probably is. Does it feel wrong or wary? Then it probably is too…Be young at heart: Play. Prototype. Experiment. Where’s the fun in it? Fun is a signpost too. It’s there to be followed.Try your hand: Give it a go. If it fails you can give something else a go. There is learning in that, and where there is learning there is growth.Amplify your voice: Your story is your gold. You’re worth the weight of it. Get to know the nuances of your own story and then let your voice carry you onwards. Always.Open your Eyes: There are opportunities everywhere. See patterns. See connections. Join the dots. Make the connections. Observe, then act.Allow trust to infiltrate everywhere: Trust is the weave of connection between it all. Trust your gut, trust your instinct. Trust that there will be people to guide you and support you. Trust will lead you in the right direction. Trust is the currency of action. Believe in goodness.

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Now over to you? What would you add? Dissect away..

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Interested in Thrive School? Applications are now open for new cohorts on Cork and Dublin. Apply online here. We start in Cork on Oct 15th and Dublin on Nov 6th

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Time to Thrive...

It is time to open the doors again.Inside, connection awaits. Learning, support, friendship, challenge and opportunity too.Inside, there is a gathering of rich ideas and eager hearts. There is vulnerability, doubt, bravery, questioning, imperfection, courage and momentum.I’m talking about Thrive School.Thrive School has been running now for 5 months, and I have been learning so much. I am encouraged and inspired by the participants. Each have a spark of an idea, want a better life for themselves, and others. There is so much talent, so much potential.Part of my learning is this:Universally, I see that keeping momentum going is so hard. Universally, the inner critic chimes in and sets the internal sabotaging demons on the loose. To have a dream, to believe in it, and then to get up and do something about it- well that takes guts. No one said it was going to be easy. But necessary, yes…I don’t use ‘necessarily’ lightly here. I am a big dreamer. I am always always thinking of the next thing, the next solution. What I have learned is that those dreams are like fuel for my soul and my sanity. The dream is momentum. The dream is my gold. The dream helps me to stay connected to my essence, divinity, power, energy.And when we are each connected to our dreams and our vision? Well, we have collective rocket fuel. We have a world which is evolving.You see, I think we need it all now- the talent, ideas and creativity. We need people who are awake, on fire, in love, devoted. The world is going through complex change. It’s easy to loose hope, and the alternative of despair will only set us in circles. We need those dreams;  we desperately need new creative solutions.But we don’t have to do it alone. When we share our dreams, we find allies and supporters, collaborators, clients, funders, beneficiaries, customers, partners and people who we be there for us just at that critical moment when we may be running out of fuel…

Evolve your dream and in doing so you’ll serve others. 

In a way you could also call Thrive School a dream factory- a space where people have a chance to share theirs, work on theirs, prototype parts of it, ditch parts of it, discuss and learn tools to build it. Some dreams may take wings, others may pivot into something else… but at a minimum it will have been listened to, given voice and given space to express itself.Want to be a writer? Great- let’s looks at the support you need to make that happen, the ways you can bring in income to fund it and the ways you are going to get your voice out into the world?You’re a yoga teacher but finding it hard to find you niche in a community already flooded with yoga teachers. What a great challenge. Let’s looks at ways you can connect with others, design a new programme, and bring yoga into places where it is needed to most…Your already an artist but find it so so so hard to promote your work and share it online? You are like so many others… let’s take it one step at a time, looking at how to get your work into the right places and the right story to accompany it…Want to eventually leave your current job to develop a new creative business venture? Great - come and prototype your idea, learning what may work, refine your target audience and test your thinking before you make the big transition…Thrive School opens it’s doors again in Dublin and a brand new programme in West Cork. Topics include visioning, marketing, programme development, finance and sustaining momentum. There are 15 places on each programme.

We start on 15th Oct in Cork, and Nov 6th  in Dublin 

Applications now open, and come along to the open days…

Find out more here.

And if you want to discuss more, message me and we can arrange a skype call to see if you are a good fit.Thank you...Clare xx

Creative Islanders: Miceal Murray

The Creative Islanders is a blog series showcasing creative and social entrepreneurs and practitioners in Ireland who are stepping into their dreams, purpose and passions and choosing to do 'business as unusual' while being based in Ireland. The series aims to be a 'behind the scenes' look into their creative practices, process, motivations and mindsets, shining light of what makes people tick, and how, collectively Ireland is alive with creative possibility.Next up in the series is Miceal Murray, a forager and cook who has recently founded ‘Taking A Leaf’, a new business running creative food events with a focus on wild and local foods. Inspired by the celtic cycles, Miceal has created a series of seasonal dining experiences and coupling them with music and art. With over 25 years in the cafe and restaurant business it was time for him to step onto his own path, combining his passion for sustainable enterprise with his love of nature and the wild. Miceal is also a Thrive School participant. And so with great pleasure I hand over to his lovely and kind self…What keeps you in Ireland?What keeps me in Ireland is the sense of home I get from here. It's in my bones. Being from the country the connection is strongest felt from the landscape and the wild. And it is specifically the Irish landscape and whatever magic emanates from it. It seems to hold a mystery and a richness that I can’t find elsewhere. Obviously there is beauty all over the world but I find something else here; something hard to put into words. It is a distillation of many things, history, stories, art, music and memory. And of course my husband, family and friends.What makes you tick? What motivates you?A deep and heartfelt desire to live more in tune with the natural rhythms of nature and self, and to express these in a creative and meaningful way.  It is also the desire to live in a way that is more connected to nature in an urban setting.Why do you do what you do?I think that part of me might shrivel up and die if I didn't. It keeps me vital.What do you do just for the love of it?Discovering new things, be it music, food, books, magazines or places. Plus, jumping over a wall or crawling under a hedge to get to a new patch of land.What does the creative process teach you?Be open to change. I can visualise an idea or concept but to actualise it I must be open to change. Ideas can change or they can grow into something completely new, or they can be shelved and returned to at a more appropriate time.What were some of the key moments along your own journey that helped you to get where you are today?I learned so much from a wonderful lady called Judith Hoad. She is a teacher, healer and author and she introduced me to so many plants and explained their medicinal and edible properties. She inspired me to think differently.Where do you find inspiration? Any hidden gems?Inspiration comes from all sorts of places. I recently watched a film called "Juliette of the Herbs" it stayed with me for days, as did "Embrace of the Serpent". Although the content doesn’t directly inspire me the magic of the characters involved does. But you can’t beat a good walk to get you out and get the juices flowing.How do you get through tough times? What sustains you?It is pretty simple really: get outside and walk the dogs.What key lessons have your learned about doing business or being a creative practitioner along the way?It is strengthening to know that everything changes and nothing is constant. Whatever you are going through, whether good or bad, it will come to an end and change into something else.Do you have a morning routine? Ideally I like to do an early Astanga class. It really sets my day up and I am more determined to get on and get stuff done. I have an on/ off relationship with meditation but this too helps. But most of all walking the dogs first thing through the very wild Liffey Valley park gets me going. What books have inspired you?The Global Forest by Diana Beresford KrogerWhat advice do you wish you had received as you were stepping onto your own creative path?Make lists. And then make more lists.Be kind to yourself if mistakes are made. I am learning all the time and am very new at this game so I have a long way to go and many mistakes to make.And what advice would you give to your future self?Work less, garden more.What is coming up next for you?On the 13th of August I am completing a cycle of dinners inspired by and connecting with the ancient celtic festivals. So this time it will be Lughnasa and the beginning of harvest. Simple local food with foraged elements. After that I will be collaborating with the composer Hilary Mullaney to create an immersive dining experience. Also a series of walks to get people out and introduce them to some plants. 

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All photos by Vivienne O'Brien.

Find out more anout Taking A Leaf over here on the website and also over on Facebook here.