Clare Mulvany 18/10/2024 Clare Mulvany 18/10/2024

A Writing Spell

A little story on the nurturing space of the blank page.

Dublin got me in a frazzle this week. I tend to pack in a lot when I am here. This week I’ve been teaching in Trinity College, running a facilitation workshop, having some private client calls, preparing for a facilitation gig, seeing friends, visiting family, working on some writing projects and not tending to the thing that helps to keep it all together: the blank page.

By yesterday afternoon, I was tired and feeling out of sorts but couldn’t quite place why. Then I realised, just how many days had passed. It was nearly a week since I journaled properly. Time to active the ritual!

I took myself to one of my old haunts, Fallon & Byrne, a fancy food hall with a wonderful window bench, where the buzz of the city can whirl around, and where you read for long spells, sipping on tea. The bench was full when I got there, so instead, I reluctantly positioned myself in the centre communal bench, feeling a little more exposed, and took put my journal. My writing was a ball of scribbles, erratic waffle, notes to self, and general spillage of brain buzz onto the page. I hadn’t really paid much attention to the couple opposite me, until packing to leave.

‘You’re writing’, the man said, rather obviously, but with a kind curiosity in his voice.

‘Oh, just a bit of waffle’, I replied.

‘You don’t see many people writing by hand these days’

‘It helps me think’.

‘Good for the brain’, he said, ‘connects things’.

I could sense he was speaking from experience. ‘So, you write too’, I stated, knowing the answer already.

That little sentence unlocked a brief but beautiful conversation. We spoke about the power of poetry, what one gains from it, and our favourite poets. We talked about the rich Irish literary tradition and how lucky we are to be proximate to it. We spoke about ‘flow state’, and how writing can bring us to a place in ourselves which otherwise remains unseen, un-nurtured.

As we spoke, it was like we had shared access to an ancient secret, right at our fingertips, amplified through poems and the magic of laying sentences. I took my final sip of tea, shared a knowing smile, then left, two strangers off to meet the blank page in their own intimate directions

Leaving the cafe, notes scribbled, a tender buzz had replaced the frazzle. Instead was the page, and a shared connection to what can happen there. I raced back to where I am currently staying, and spent the night deep in a writing project until it was way past midnight and the page had swallowed all the hours like a spell.

…

Your Writing Spell

If you are feeling a little frazzled too, here is a ten minute writing spell for you.

I recommend writing by hand for this one. If you have a favourite journal and a pen you enjoy writing with, all the better.

Set a 10 minute timer, and go…

Imagine that writing on a blank page is a form of magic spell.

Write about the power writing can hold for you.

Describe the alchemy of words by transforming thoughts into stories and ideas.

Write about how do you think this might change you?

Coming up this Month

Sanctuary: Next Session October 20th

**Sanctuary**

This is a monthly guided writing gathering online. One hour of supportive journaling practice, in community . Find out more and book tickets here.

Samhain Salon: October 30th

**Samhain Salon- Oct 30th**

An evening of poetry, writing and ritual to make the Samhain season. Tickets here.

**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

Clare Mulvany 20/12/2023 Clare Mulvany 20/12/2023

Winter Solstice Prompts

But what does it mean to cultivate hope?

One of the origins of hope is pause. To sit still in the fullness of our lives and give ourselves back to the magic of joy, generosity and to the dream of better days to come- for to be hopeful is to have belief in the possibilities of the future, as individuals and as a collective.

The word solstice comes from the Latin, meaning, Sol (sun) + Sistere (to stand still). And so, I invite you to take a few moments of pause, to sit with the questions of the turning of the season, still honouring the dark while calling in the light, a way to cultivate your own sense of hope in these turning times.

December is deep upon us and here in the Northern Hemisphere the days are short and the nights are long. However, celebrated around the eve of the 20th December, the Winter Solstice is a turning point in the year, where a reversal in the light happens and the days begin to lengthen. It is not surprising then that many ancient and religious festivals take place around this time of year, for the solstice represented a renewal of hope and a reminder that the light would return and with it the warmth required for the seeds of new life to germinate. As the light arrived our ancestors knew the tide of the year would turn too.

In ancient times in Ireland, this magical turning was reflected in the architecture of the day. Newgrange in Co. Meath is perhaps the best known example of this, when, at dawn, the soft winter light is tunnelled down a long passageway to light up a burial chamber. It’s a remarkable feat of science and engineering, and hints to the mysticism and magic embedded in their honouring of the natural cycles of the year.

Christmas has long been associated with magic. Santa, flying reindeer, presents left under trees are modern day embodiments of these ancient practices of honouring this time of year- a time of giving thanks, of joy, of hope and yes, magic. And yet, for many Christmas is a hard time, the financial pressures of an overly commercialised festival, the missing of loved ones and absent friends, or even the deeper struggles to find a home in the wider place in the world, can all be amplified at this time of year.

Switching on the global news headlines does not seem to help either- one would not be alone in giving oneself over to cynicism. Hope then, in these days of uncertainty and fear becomes even more powerful and more urgent.

But what does it mean to cultivate hope?

Prompts for honouring the dark:

This is a time of year when the light is beginning to lengthen again. Before welcoming the light, take a moment to honour the dark time of the year.

Consider spending the evening without the use of electric light. As the dusk settles, take a few moments to sit in the darkness.

What does the dark represent to you?

What does the dark have to teach you?

For the ancient celts, there was a deep recognition that life begins in the darkness. The earth’s new life comes only after a period of hibernation and rest.

Are there areas of your life that are still craving rest?

What aspects of your life want to hibernate?

What can you do to honour this need in yourself- is there something you can release?

Prompts for welcoming the light

Suggestion: write/ contemplate your responses by candlelight.

What aspects of your life are coming into light right now?

What do you need to shine a light on?

And prompts for cultivating hope

What does hope mean to you?

How can you cultivate hope in your life right now?

How can you help to share a sense of hope or light with those around you?

Happy Winter Solstice, and perhaps I will see you at the Special Winter Solstice Salon, on Dec 21st.

Blessings for the Season.

Clare x

Coming on December 21st…

A Solstice evening of Seasonal Poetry, Journaling and Seasonal Ritual.

Online, December 21st. 7-9pm GMT

Book your tickets below, offered on a sliding scale.

Salon Tickets

Available Now

**An Intentional Year**

Focus on what matters most, and create an intentional 2023. Guidebook and an Intentional Year course now available

Clare Mulvany 16/05/2023 Clare Mulvany 16/05/2023

No Now May

In honour of No Mow May, long grass, scattering seeds, biodiversity, rewilding and wrens, a little poem for the occasion. Find out more about the All Ireland Pollinator Plan.

In honour of No Mow May, long grass, scattering seeds, biodiversity, rewilding and wrens, a little poem for the occasion.

No Mow May

I don’t want a lawn,

something tamed and severed

from its own potential.

I want daisies.

I want cuckoo flowers that sing

a capella with the wind.

I want to fall down on my knees

in the hunt for rare bee orchids.

I want bees.

I want the way my legs

disappear among

the long, wet grasses.

I want the rush of it all,

the swoosh of it, seeds scattered

to the sky on each passing footfall

of my breath.

I want to explain the sun, moon and stars

of every exploding dandelion.

I want what the wren wants:

the possibility to shelter,

then to soar.

Find out more about the All Ireland Pollinator Plan and No Mo May

@allirelandpollinatorplan #NoMowMay #biodiversity#rewilding #nature #poetry #poem #pollinators

New Writing Workshops

One Day workshops in West Cork.

Live a New Story (May 27th) and Writing Wild (June 24th) are coming to Schull! Bookings via Arran Street East.

Clare Mulvany 18/04/2023 Clare Mulvany 18/04/2023

The Secret Worlds of Writing

Writing happens in the confluence of secret worlds. The first is the world of our head, where memory, language, images and experience, together with the internal cadences and rhythms of our inner voice, collide. There is a solitude to this world which, when we allow ourselves the time and space to explore, we find is as vast and rich as any landscape. We speak differently to how we write- how we tell our story on paper, as opposed to telling our story with voice, is a layered, textured encounter. Before utterance, there is the invitation to explore the spaces and places which comprise our inner landscape, and in doing so, expand it. This expansion alone warrants the writing, whether or not we choose to share or even develop what gets written.

You can listen to this piece below- 5 minutes.

The Secret Worlds of Writing.

From this inner world, ink is a conduit. On paper, as words make our way to our hands, the speed of the written forms, the pace in which the letters land on the page, seem to provide pause enough for new articulations and ideas to form. I’ll forever be an advocate of handwriting for this very reason. The hand-brain connection seems to reach into that private world of the imagination and access ideas from an embodied, often more emotionally nuanced or charged place. A blank page is where the first discharge of this electrical connection of body and mind is made manifest, and those initial drafts often capture the energy of a first encounter. The first kiss of ink to page holds an erotic tension, which can birth worlds. But first, we must we willing to come closer, to make the first move, to offer part of ourselves to the page.

Once we encounter the page, craft also enters. We learn how to be playful with how we place images, and then to re-arrange them. We realise it is all a wild experiment; here we get to conjure elements out of our secret world of the mind, combine with words, and figure out what ones to amplify and what to discard. Through these twin currents of assembly and disassembly, what we choose to keep and what we select to jettison, we are emboldened with a sense of agency. We are both the breakers and the makers, and, as we create these worlds, we too are made. Here is another expansion, which again, whether we choose to share the writing or not, the very act of writing is warranted.

Writing as opposed to speaking has always given me access to ways of thinking, seeing and perhaps most importantly, connecting, which the oral tradition does not. Here, on the page, my world is formed with detail and colour; where past and present converge in an emergent conversation. On the page, even the imaginal world evidences as a tangible, seen world. The pages start to fill. The ink runs low. There is something to hold. Letters as bricks. Sentences as bridges. Words as organic matter.

Then, beyond the first secret world, there is the second secret world: the world of the reader. From page to eye to mind and heart, words are transported in a sacred covenant between writer and reader; an invisible thread that can extend beyond boundaries, time, borders, eras, ideologies, definitions, selfhood. As a writer, what a privilege it is to have ones words carried into the body of another. As a reader, what a magic it is to have access to another's inner landscape. Not all stories have to be shared, or deserve to be shared, for that matter, but the ones that are, become alive again in the reader. Some of those words even get to live on, as mirrors to the reader’s own lives, or maps or counter-maps saying ‘go this way’, or ‘definitely not that way’. Our stories, when offered to another, take up a new residence beyond which we have any control. To share our story is also to birth the potential for new ways of being, for ourselves, for the reader, and perhaps, just perhaps for the places and spaces between. Which is also to say: to write our story, and then to share our story is to birth new secret worlds.

New Writing Workshops

Clare Mulvany 23/02/2023 Clare Mulvany 23/02/2023

Grief and Gift

Spring is attendant to spring itself. After a long sojourn in winter’s dark, first the budding, now the bloom. The daffodils seem early this year, but I have been saying that for some seasons now, as time and arrivals are being re-ordered, rearranged. Weeks seem to shuffle and certain openings jump the queue.

I haven’t know how to begin this post, for how does one learn to begin again? With every new beginning there are fumblings and fallings. But as ever, we start by taking the first step, or writing the first words, however imperfect. Where it leads, it doesn’t matter, for momentum leads us to follow with the next.

I thought I had started, of course, back into a busy university teaching schedule and my facilitation world; the noise and joy of that. But then, BOOM. Life offered perhaps the greatest rearrangement of all, death, and grief has entered into my bones to shake and remould the very shape of me.

You see, just under two weeks ago (as it only been that long?), one of my dearest, most beloved, most cherished soul friends, passed away. She was my mentor, my guide, my anam cara, my soul companion, who I thought I would be walking along the creative path with for many years to come. But life and death did their own shuffling, and now our path has shifted. Her, in my heart now, pounding it to life, to love, in an ever deepening spiral of opening and gratitude. I want to write about her one day, and sing of her vast and glorious depths, but that will come. For now her passing has blown me right open, and into that chasm I dance and cry and paint and move and laugh and surrender. Grief is teaching me to step into it like a precious gift, unwrapping the layers, finding gems, even finding the parts of myself I had jettisoned to the abandoned corners of my heart. Even in her dying, she is giving.

And through all of that, spring is still attendant to spring. I pick daffodils from my back garden, and bring them to her grave. The birds chatter, busy building nests. My tears move to mist, move to rain, move to ocean. Through the mist, an emergent rainbow. Everything becomes something else. I take a step closer. It is a movement towards. Towards what, I do not know, but towards. She always pointed me there. I am here to follow.

New Writing Workshops

Clare Mulvany 21/12/2022 Clare Mulvany 21/12/2022

Wreath of Foraged Ritual

The ground had turned crisp and the hedgerow glittering with its own deep wintering. Into the early morning cold, our breaths made whispering shapes. Siobhan and I had made a foraging date to collect greenery to make some wreaths. It is something she does every year, and this year, she invited me along.

Siobhan is a very busy director of an Irish non-profit. Lots of our conversations circle the topics of strategy, fundraising, leadership, values and the constant challenge of trying to run social organisations. I learn lots and am constantly inspired by her drive and dedication. But on this morning there was going to be a different form of circling, and already it felt like those topics, somehow softening in this steady, wintery ground, could wait.

‘First you must find the right Sally’, explained Siobhan. Sally, or willow, is the perfect malleable branch for twisting and shaping into the wreath frame. Among these West Cork hedgerows it is abundant, and each of us carefully snipped a few rods to make some rings- enough, but not enough to impact the overall growth of the tree. Getting the balance right is the currency of the forage. I say ‘thank you’ aloud to the willow as I take my share.

Next, a few metres up the road, we find the long stands of evergreen ivy, which we will use later to wrap around the sally rings. Like verdant strings, the ivy will bring a reminder of the eternal cycle of life, and of the nearing Spring green, soon to bud. The ivy is in berry too, in brilliant bursts of inky black. A few pods of them will bring texture and seasonal colour to the wreath. ‘Thank you’, I say to the ivy.

And so our wintery forage morning goes, noticing the glistening in the trees, hearing the crunch of frost under foot, noticing the rising and falling of our misty breaths, aware of the robins and the wrens. Thank you to the moss. Thank you to the holly.

Soon our bags are overflowing, our hands near frosted themselves. So we sit in the car, sipping hot coffee from my flask, and tucking in to some cinnamon rolls Siobhan had made the previous evening. ‘Peak life’, I joke. It is a phase I use when I’m having one of those moments- those simple moments which no money can by, the kind of the wealth which hold both the ethereal and eternal in a joyous dance, ‘It doesn’t really get better than this, does it’, I turn to Siobhan laughing. It really is the simple things.

I think it might be a function of getting older, but the older I get, the less I care about things and the more I care about time; the less I care about presents, the more I care about presence. Here in the crisp and clear, was the gift of both time and presence; which felt like the very essence of the nature of a gift itself. ‘Yes, peak life’, says Siobhan, and we laugh.

…

Back home that afternoon it was time to make the wreaths. As I laid all the greenery and berries on the back patio, a little robin joins me. I throw him some seed, and a few of the red berries, and he sticks around, his companionship both comfort and delight. He is watching my every move, waiting, I imagine, for a wandering berry. But I wonder if he is somehow in on the ritual, sensing the gift of it too.

The first circle is the trickiest. I find a pliable rod, shaping it into a loop, then a ring. It pops out a few times, until I get the tension and the torc just right, and secure that first circle with twine. As I do, I wonder how long this tradition of wreath-making has hold. The circle of the wreath represents the cyclical nature of time. With no beginning and no end, one season falls into the next, and the next. Here in the midst of winter is also summer and spring, just a spin away in the great arc of time. And so we are offered metaphorical forage too; as chance befalls us, so too will change. In the depth of our own dark, is the seeds of the light. The circle can always spin.

After the first ring, everything else is weave. The ivy wraps, the moss is tucked in the gaps, the ivy berries give structure and depth. I decide to make three wreaths, two with berries as their headlines, one with heather and some garden herbs. Colour themes start to emerge and I notice more detail: the silvered backs of the rosemary and sage. I prick my finger on some holly. The smell of dried fennel seeds stirs something culinary inside me. My senses are alive. Yes, this is presence. When I am finished, I throw a few extra berries to robin, then find some lengths of ribbon in my Christmas decoration box, make a final bow for each. I hang one of my front door, one on my back door, and the other wreath is for a neighbour. Across the threshold, the foraged wreath- symbolic of cyclical time, makes an announcement each time I now open the door: the real gifts is in the ritual, in the making, in the presence. As I close the door behind me, my senses come alive.

Siobhan and I already know we have a date next year. She’ll bring the buns, I’ll bring the coffee, nature will bring the magic. Hopefully robin will stick around too. It may seem far away now, but spin the circle in the great arc of time, and we’ll be there in just the snip of a few seasons, which, of course, the circle always knew.

Available Now

Clare Mulvany 20/12/2022 Clare Mulvany 20/12/2022

Winter Solstice Prompts

But what does it mean to cultivate hope?

December is deep upon us and here in the Northern Hemisphere the days are short and the nights are long. However, celebrated around the 21st December, the Winter Solstice is a turning point in the year, where a reversal in the light happens and the days begin to lengthen. It is not surprising then that many ancient and religious festivals take place around this time of year, for the solstice represented a renewal of hope and a reminder that the light would return and with it the warmth required for the seeds of new life to germinate. As the light arrived our ancestors knew the tide of the year would turn too.

But what does it mean to cultivate hope?

Prompts for honouring the dark:

This is a time of year when the light is beginning to lengthen again. Before welcoming the light, take a moment to honour the dark time of the year.

Consider spending the evening without the use of electric light. As the dusk settles, take a few moments to sit in the darkness.

What does the dark represent to you?

What does the dark have to teach you?

For the ancient celts, there was a deep recognition that life begins in the darkness. The earth’s new life comes only after a period of hibernation and rest.

Are there areas of your life that are still craving rest?

What aspects of your life want to hibernate?

What can you do to honour this need in yourself- is there something you can release?

Prompts for welcoming the light

Suggestion: write/ contemplate your responses by candlelight.

What aspects of your life are coming into light right now?

What do you need to shine a light on?

And prompts for cultivating hope

What does hope mean to you?

How can you cultivate hope in your life right now?

How can you help to share a sense of hope or light with those around you?

Happy Winter Solstice

Blessings for the Season.

Clare x

Available Now

Clare Mulvany 12/12/2022 Clare Mulvany 12/12/2022

Intentional Year 2023

Let your Intentions Guide your Action.

The Intentional Year 2023 guidebook, and new course, is here

Here we are, approaching the end of another calendar year, with all its learnings, delights, challenges and change. What a year! I for one am looking forward to a bit of a pause and wind-down, resting in gratitude for all that was, even the hard parts. So, as the temperature has dropped and West Cork glitters, as we scurry for layers and warmth, it feels like a perfect pause point for reflection and renewal too.

For the last 10 years or so I’ve been creating space at the end of the year for a particular kind of annual reflection, and a particular kind of visioning. It is a process which has evolved into my now annual, 'Intentional Year Guidebook’- a downloadable journal with reflection prompts, audio meditations, creative practices, ritual and action mapping- all designed as a guide to help us review the year that was and refine and articular clear intentions for the year ahead.

Over the years I have been refining the process too and working to improve the guidebook. So, I’m delighted to announce the 2023 guidebook is now available, with additional recordings, new artwork, expanded monthly review sheets and a dedicated webpage to access all the materials in one place.

Find out More

New Companion Course

Plus, many of you have been telling me that you’d also love a way to keep on track with your intentions throughout the year, and would value a tool for accountability and consistency. So, with that in mind, this year I’ve also created a companion course to the guidebook, to accompany you for the full 12 months of the year. It includes:

Guidebook and audio material plus
5 lives calls (January, March, June, September and December)
a weekly intention setting sheet - printable.
monthly check-in videos and resources
dedicated online learning platform.

It’s going to be fun, engaging and I hope very meaningful for you, as you refine and work with your own intentions-in weekly, monthly and seasonal rhythms- all of which I will support you through.

Two Access options

So, this year, you can choose to download the guidebook alone, which I continue to offer with the ‘honesty box’ payment option, as a way to make it as accessible to everyone while also honouring my time and creative effort, or you may choose to sign up for course for the full 12 months of resources and support.

From a previous participant...

As a previous guidebook user has said so graciously and generously:

Clare's Intentional Year Guidebook is the kind of planner I have always longed for, but never found - until now. Like a wise friend or coach, this beautiful guide offers reflective prompts and practical tools to help us navigate, and integrate, the chaos and beauty of our inner and outer worlds. At a time where life feels as if it is shifting beneath our feet, is the perfect gift and companion for anyone seeking to feel more grounded, clear and connected as we move through the uncertainties of a new year and new beginning- Caitriona R, 2022.

Thank you! And an important access note

It is a pleasure to bring the Guidebook and new course to you, and I hope you find it useful, rewarding and nourishing as you travel through 2023. Thank you for your continued support, an sending best wishes,

Onwards,

Clare x

An important note about access:

(Please note: If you choose to use the honestly box system, you will be emailed a link to a private webpage, with a password, which you can access to download the guidebook and audio materials. If you choose to sign up to the course, the guidebook is waiting for you in the dedicated learning platform).

Find out More

Available Now

28/07/2016 28/07/2016

Letting the Future Enter: On the Power of a Journalling Practice.

I have lost count of how many I’ve had at this stage. A least 100, maybe more. Some are torn and tattered, some with lines. You see, since I’ve been 11 years old I have been keeping a journal. It is my constant companion, my guide and one of the best friends I’ve had. I bring one with me pretty much every where I go and when I don’t carry it I feel I am missing something.Recently I started looking at journals from a few years back, and I could see the same themes that are visible in my work now, re-emerged. There is a quote from Rumi which I love; The future enters into us, in order to transform itself in us, long before it happens’. Journalling is way for us to see our own future. It is the ground of imaginal space, where we can dream and vision and explore the possibility of the possible. As a personal development tool it has been imperative, and more and more as a business planning tool it has invaluable. Just a few years ago, for instance, I mapped out the idea for Thrive School, but I did not really realise what it was then. I wasn’t ready to see it, but it was ready to seed. Looking through my journal now, I can see it there. Over the few years it had been given room and space, and so when I was ready, much of the conceptual foundation work had been laid, and the seed was ready to germinate.Over the years my journal has offered me space to loose myself and find myself again. It acts as a witness, a mentor and a host to my inner world and realms. It is a private and sacred sanctuary, an incubation space and a punch bag. There are no rules as to what goes in or what stays out.At 11 my journal was all about frilly things and the inklings of boys, my teen diaries have pages ripped out of them and some are full of scribbles and tip-ex. I’ve travel logs going back to my first big journeys, written on trains in Russia, boats in Tonga, and back of pick up trucks in Zambia. Page by page I can track my evolution, the error of my ways and insights along the way. With time, I can see patterns emerging, clusters of ideas and the seeds of projects which later fell or flowered. In particular I can see just how important giving space to ideas is.On the blank page an idea has room just to be. It can be given the opportunity to be thought about, explored and questioned, without judgement or criticism. It is given a life out of the mind and onto the page. There it may need to sit for a while, to incubate, or fade.I have no expectations of need my journal to look at certain way- only that I love blank pages and work with a nice pen. My preference for the last few years has been blank, soft-backed large Moleskins. I love the texture of their covers and the weight of their pages. The soft cream coloured pages also helps so take a glare off a blank pageMy journal is not a day to day account of what I do. Rather it is a place to capture notes, thougths, feelings and suggestions. I write about my dreams. I transcribe quotes or poems which catch my eye. I track learning goals. I jot down things that are bothering me. When a chunk of time goes by that I am not showing up to the pages, I know something is astray. Getting back to the page inevitably brings me back to myself. So, if you are interested in starting, or continuing your own journalling practice, here are a few tips and suggestions:Handwrite your journal. I highly recommend handwriting your journal and not working on a computer or screen to type your journal. Writing is a way of physically expressing your inner process and thoughts. The weight of the pen on the page, the way your letters form, the speed with which you write, the variety and shape and sizes of you own lettering all has information for you about your inner process and ideas. I find it much easier to link and connect thoughts and solutions when on paper than on a screen.Keep your to-do list in a separate journal/ notebook. I’ve always separated out my to-do list. My journal is for reflection and long form ideas, while my to-do list is operational. If I use my journal for task lists, it become more of a ‘work’ place rather than a retreat space. Have a separate task list helps to protect the power of the journalling process.Invest in notebooks that you really really really love, and pens to go with them. Think of your journal as a luxiourious study or private library space. It’s sacred ground.Get in the habit of carrying it with you every where you go. This means you will need a cover and a spine that is durable enough to travel with you.Take yourself on journalling dates. One of my favourite things is to head off to a cafe with my journal and spend some quality time together. Ideally I don’t have other technology on the go at the same time as this is just a distraction.Don’t know where to start? Here are a few starter questions/ prompts which help to get the journalling process going.

Describe your current location.What is the light like?What colours are you noticing?What sounds are you hearing…

And once you get writing you can dive a little deeper…

What’s on my mind?How am I feeling right now?What am I thinking about?How goes life? And love? And flow?What do I need to hear right now?How can it be better than this?I am grateful for?

Every few months look back on your journal and ask yourself what patterns are emerging? What themes are you noticing? Where are you stuck or entrenched? What problems do you continue to encounter? Noticing these patterns is the first stage to solving the problem or issue you may be facing.When you are feeling stuck, ask yourself questions ‘What next questions’ and write an intuitive response. ‘What should my next move be? Who should I ask? Where should I go next? Our bodies and beings often already know what we need and the journalling process is a way of listening, capturing and then responding to this inner knowing. Often this process can reveal a deeper or hidden wisdom within you. I call this a ‘dialogue with my soul’. As you are answering, try not to censor what comes- just write for a few minutes of free flow form. Be open to seeing what happens and what answers emerge.Keep your journals in a safe space. Gather your journals in a box or a shelf in your bedroom. Wherever you choose, be sure it is somewhere you feel is a space place, away from guests, family members or colleagues. Knowing they will be kept in a secure place will help you express yourself more openly and freely when it comes to facing the blank page…Don’t worry about what your journal should look like, whether messy or pretty, whether there are spelling or grammar errors - just write. Scribble, doodle, cross things out, link things together. Your journal is just for you. Remember there are no rules. Happy journalling... may it be the flame to your most exquisite relationship with you and your ideas.