[This is a guest post from the very inspiring Jo Hanlon-Moores]
After a challenging year I chose the word ‘release’ to take into 2011. Let go, surrender, get out of my own way… all that good stuff.
I believe in ‘flow’, in being in your element and finding that The Right Path is smoother underfoot. Again and again I’ve found a path only to stumble. Land on your face enough times and you begin to doubt your own inner voice. I was in that place many times in 2010.
Last autumn, thanks to a gifted body worker, I had a sublime moment of clarity while she pressed her thumb into the sole of my right foot. I realised that I know nothing. Nothing. The ramifications of that are profound and sometimes too overwhelming to look in the eye but I’m trying.
When Susannah asked me what creativity means to me, sure enough, I didn’t know. Heh. Right now, I am being creative with my life, learning the basics again with teachers that are human, canine, feline and yes, some of them are chickens. Nature is my mentor. I am releasing a need to label what it is that I do, who it is that I am.
So I wrote a story.
In the cool shade of a tree, the baby slept. Down flew the jackdaw and chattered to her as he carefully wove a piece of paper into the shawl she dreamt on.
A child grown, she discovered the paper and wondered at the scritchy-scratchy patterns that covered it. It became art on her dolls’ house walls…the map that led to riches beyond imagining…a flag she planted on a distant planet.
Years passed and the paper survived. Layered lightly into collage…wrapped around flowers…folded to support her wobbly desk. Finally, almost unnoticed, it slipped between the pages of her journal.
Decades now. Deep in a daydream of yearnings and sorrow over lost time, the woman blew dust from a journal and opened it. The paper fell into her hand and this time the scritchy-scratchy was language. Words she could not read but words all the same.
That night, beneath a full moon, she took it on her journeying and showed it to her travelling companions, Wolf and Rook.
“Ah,” said Rook, “This is written in Corvid. Allow me to translate.”
And he read:
The Bearer is entitled to:
Stories of her own weaving
A home of her own building
Freedom of her own defining
Beauty of her own finding
Dreams of her own realising
Journeys of her own taking
Mistakes of her own making
A life of her own creating.
Flipping it with his beak, he continued:
Wishes, hopes, art, love, dance, plans, gardens, music, science,
words, tribe, magic, paint, beauty.
This Creative Licence is granted from the vast heart of the Universe.
The woman took back the paper and carefully wove it into her shawl where is still sits, next to her heart.
This might be a true story.
* * * * *
Jo lives with her partner and their daughter, two dogs, an ancient cat and three chickens, in a cottage in the grounds of a Wiltshire manor. Home is the backdrop for inspiration in the shape of love, family, dogs, nature and creativity. She’s been a blogger since 2003, an energy healer since 1998 & an animal lover since birth. She’s putting Shapeshifter on her next passport.
[First photo by Sus, second photo by Jo]