Shit or glory...

I have paint on my fingers again. And I am reluctant to wash them. I love looking like a Creative Rainbow Mama!

It wasn't easy. To get back into painting. But a friend wanted me to do a picture for a book cover.

I had promised myself (promised her) when my books were done that I would. But it's easier to sit at a computer and feel like I'm doing something "good" to make us money, rather than plug into the old creative mojo and take the risk of nothingness or ecstasy. Shit or glory. Really it is.

And so I took my paints into the sunshine, to recharge the old mojo. And loosened up my body. And hummed James Taylor at the top of my lungs (have you ever  noticed that ALL his songs have the same tune?)

And I played with colour... there is now paint on my face, on my fingers, on my shoes, shirt, and ALL over the grass... but it's OK, because a) it's not my grass and b) it will grow out before the owner returns.

This post was not supposed to be about paint.

It was supposed to be about other things... like the theme for this month...yes I was organised, I had a theme - it seems to be some weird thing I do every May!

But I'm a bit stuck to be honest. Words. Stuck. Not working. Stiff and awkward. No flow.

But my painting was free...ish. And colourful.

And I'm not sure if the friend will like it. And am preparing myself to do another because I'm sure it won't be right...

And I realise that the painting thing, and this blogging thing... they're stuck because I have expectations about what the end result should be. I aint much good at should. I'm good at turning up, diving in, going the flow and seeing where it takes me...

Which is actually rather cunning, bearing in mind her book is called the Go with the Flow Birth Planner.

And the thing about going with the flow is it's almost always pretty fucking messy. You get covered in paint and cum and shit and amniotic fluid and puke - and that's on a good day! It's usually scary at the beginning. Cos we're used to join-the-dots living, with expert guides and careful plans to hold our hands and steer our course.

But fuck it, living the orgasm of creativity is more exciting by far. And more frustrating. And it won't pay the bills every week. But usually the end result just blows you away. And your mind shatters into a million pieces of delight.

Today's post was not going to be about this! But there it is... shit or glory!

What stands between us and the greatness of our potential?

I have just been reminded of these words...

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.  

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. 

It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. 

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? 

Actually, who are you not to be?You are a child of God. 

Your playing small does not serve the world. 

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. 

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. 

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. 

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. 

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love

In the midst of playing it the biggest I ever have in my life, I got a momentary glimpse... of just how small this is... and how vast my potential is.

I have been protecting myself... and the world... from the vastness of my potential.  Because still I am scared. Of other people. Of life. Of no. Of what if things go wrong. Or not knowing where to start. Of having to have the answers. Of what the future holds.

I have been playing small. Small of vision. In order to stay safe. In order to be loved. In order to not make mistakes.

My neck has frozen. Louise L Hay says this is a sign of  inflexibility. No shit, I thought. But also quite profound. I went to the chiropractor looking for a quick fix. It felt like just one vertebra had clicked out of place, and just needed someone else, ie her, to fix it for me and I'd be good to go.

But no. Apparently not an option. It turns out it's muscles. Overstretched. Are we getting the layers of metaphor here? And that when they're overstretched they seize up, to protect themselves. They form armour. Ummmm, yup.

Last week I realised just how much I cut myself off, I disconnect, to feel safe. If I'm in overwhelm I disconnect - from those who love me, from the outside world, from FLOW.

Flow... being ease, connection, love, pleasure, release, god, unity with all things....

I write about flow. I know flow intellectually. I have experienced it so many times creatively. There's a whole flipping sub-chapter about it in my next book (The Rainbow Way), for flips sake. But knowing... knowing is just one thing. Living... living it is a different matter. In living it is not just our brain cells that have to resonate with it, but every cell in our beings. They have to resonate with it in order to bring it forth into our material reality. But often they are so armoured with their programming of lack, of disconnection, that they simple recreate that reality instead.

***

I was at women's group on Sunday bemoaning the fact that I can't paint, as in it just won't flow, and I don't know where to start. It has become blocked up again. And I feel sad and frustrated. I really miss painting.

And then I was put in touch with a soul-sister, by name and art - Lucy Pierce - a painter of labyrinths and women, a writer of soul poems and sculptor of birthing figurines (do check out her beautiful work). And it was like seeing a version of myself if I just let myself go, if I were able to free myself up and flow in  my creativity. Her work is the maturity of my fits and starts. And I don't know the first thing about her (why did none of you introduce her to me?????) but her whole site is just beautiful, poised, self-assured. I do not see all the self-doubt and internal interrogating and angst that go on in my head, in her work. I do not see the constant U turns. I see a woman in flow with herself. And then I had a rather funny epiphany, that I know many people experience that finding me and my work. I know because I get their emails. And so it was nice to be in the reversed position.

And it let me see, for a moment who or what I might be if I could let the veil of self-doubt drop and stay in flow, and follow the flow. And I'm not belittling myself - I know I am really getting that with my books. But with my art and other short writings there is a constant self-questioning. Which uses up precious creative energy. Which swallows up bright potential in the darkness of doubt. It limits and narrows me, because I believe, still, that there are vast areas which are "not me" that I have no access to, or permission to enter.

I armour myself to protect myself from life. Because its vastness scares me. And I believe that if I don't know where to start, then it's safer not to start at all...

And I know that I am not alone. In fact, I know that in reality I am a lot further along this path than a lot of people, in that I am doing my ideal work, I am my own boss, I have a wide range of creative expression, I have a family life set up the way that works for me, and a partnership which I have visioned and adapted to support me best.

I shan't tell you what I started dreaming of regarding potential new work yesterday, in the midst of neck-agony. Let's just say it was the fruition of an old dream, combined with current dreams. A possibility I hadn't conceived of only days before. And which you WON'T be expecting... I am going to sit with it for a while...

So, dearest reader, what are you protecting yourself from? How are you clinging to the branches of familiarity rather than diving into the flow and abandoning yourself to the possibility of your own greatness? What parts of life, or yourself are off limits? How might you begin to strip the armour away.

Do you have an inkling of just what potential you have, and how small you choose to keep yourself? My guess is no!

Lost in Living - The reality of the artist mother.

“This is not how it was supposed to be.”

There are two conspiracies in this world that you only become aware of too late as a woman. 

The first, traditionalist argument, says that motherhood is the ultimate act of femininity. That it’s natural. That nothing else is more important. That you cannot curtail it without serious consequences. And if you can't do it easily and naturally then there must be something wrong with you.

The second, feminist stance, says that motherhood should not be a woman’s central function. That she is equal to men. And that includes in her right (some say obligation) to do paid work. And to hopefully have a fulfilling career.

Only after I found myself in the midst of the battle field, did I realise that I had one foot in both camps. I valued hands-on motherhood (parts of it came naturally, parts did not), and I valued my paid work. Equally. 

But the sort of work I did, the sort of work I valued, was not the sort that society values… unless you hit the big time. To be a creative you’re on your own in terms of child care, mentoring and all that jazz.

But creativity is so much more than just a “job”. It is a calling, an urge, a fight for freedom, a path to sanity. And it can be a very lonely, dispiriting business as a mother when you are driven by this compulsion, and those around you don’t understand it. Or think you should be doing something that pays better. Or is more reliable. Or that you should just give yourself fully to your children.

This is the life of the artist-mother. Pulled in two directions by two equal passions. Floundering to form her own identity. This is what my book, The Rainbow Way: cultivating creativity in the midst ofmotherhood  focuses on – every aspect of this conundrum, and how to solve it in your own life (the book is out November 2013 - to get a taster, sign up to my mailing list for an abridged ebook version).

This is what a very special film, which has just been released, also focuses on. Lost in Living is a documentary film by Mary Trunk, filmed over 8 years, which follows the lives of four creative mothers: an author, visual artist, painter and film maker, as they navigate and reflect on the challenges of making art as they mother.

As one of the mothers featured shares: 

“It’s easier to work my ass off than be a mum. When you have little children it’s hard to find time to concentrate. My work saved me.”

It is heart rending. It is enlightening. And it will make you cry. Big, snotty, body wrenching sobs of identification with the four protagonists. It works so well because it tells the truth and breaks down a taboo – the taboo that we are not enough, that we are not good enough, and that we are alone. It is painful watching at times as relationships are tested to breaking by these twin urges of motherhood and creativity. And as finances force decisions that might not otherwise be taken. It also shines a light on the unspoken – the elements of depression that all four creative mothers grapple with, which both fuels, and retards their creativity.

“There are less and less people to see you as you really are [when you’re a mother] and so I feel compelled to witness myself.”

“Making art fixes [my life] it puts a sheen back on everything,”

Lost in Living lifts the lid on the reality of creative motherhood, and every creative mother who watches it will see her soul writ large on the screen. I thoroughly recommend you check out the trailer and the various clips from the film on the Lost in Living website.

“Motherhood and art… they’re both about hope.”

Joy Pockets: two dreams in one week

Last week was one enormous joy pocket, two dreams come true, and so I am departing from the normal Joy Pockets format to share them with you.

When I was a little girl, aged 7 and 8,  I used to play by myself in the playground every day. I had a game which captivated me: presenting a TV cookery show. Showing the imaginary audience how to bake chocolate cakes and vegetable soups with bits of old leaf and lots of imagination - narrating the steps to culinary heaven. Even then I wanted to teach, to share, to inspire.

I started out writing wanting to be the next big cookery writer – I had visions of myself as Nigella Lawson or Delia Smith! I wrote to them and asked their advice on how to be a food writer when I was in my late teens. 

Then in my late twenties I wrote articles which I submitted to food magazines, got a food column in a parenting magazine, and started a baking blog. I loved cooking, loved reading food writing, loved writing, so being a food writer seemed a natural step. 

Except that’s not where my creative passion ended up being. And in the end, when I wrote my first book, both the content and the style made me dizzy with delight, but were completely unexpected. My first book, despite seven earlier attempts at everything from poetry to a spice cookery book, was on the menstrual cycle!

In truth there is a rather large part of me that thinks that whilst cake is heaven, there is more to life, and that being a food writer was a little inconsequential, and a bit of a cop out.

I have a strange sense of obligation. And as a member of a race that is living unconsciously, I feel I can play my part better by helping to wake us all up to co-creating a brighter culture in more constructive ways than by encouraging people to bake cakes.

But the dream has always lingered.

And so I have kept my littlest blog going, my baking blog, The Queen of Puddings. And I'm so glad I did, as it means I have kept one foot in that dream, in that world. 

So last year when I was invited to teach food blogging at Ballymaloe Cookery School by our family friend, and  Ireland's most famous food writer I was honoured. I have now been teaching the for a year, (you can join me for our next 1/2 day course there next Saturday 18th May, it doesn't matter if food blogging is not your thing, the majority of the course is a practical "how to" which applies to any sort of blogging). She then invited me to help set up her blog, and I act as her blogging consultant now, which is SUCH an exciting job!

So when I was invited to speak at the Ballymaloe Lit Fest, alongside so many of my culinary heroes I was honoured, and, if truth be told, bloody terrified. There was lots of imposter syndrome floating round inside my skull. I tried to chicken out a couple of times. But they were having none of it!

(See me, seated at the end, on the right - that's me with the big hippy skirt!)

The festival was last weekend, and though I started off shaky and nervous, I was interested to note that all the other speakers did too. None of them was at ease at the opening ceremony, having to make small talk with strangers. Note to self: all heroes are human too!

The weekend was a blast, a great way to unwind after the stresses of the previous months, with good food, drink, music, culinary inspiration, a little sunshine and friendships - old and new. I made lots of new connections which I look forward to nurturing. It felt so good to be part of such a vibrant, positive community atmosphere. These things really matter.

And I felt, by the end of the weekend, like "I can do this!" I may not be a big name to match the likes of Madhur Jaffrey or David Thompson. But I have a lot to offer, and people came away from interacting with me full: full of answers, ways forward, possibilities and confidence - and that is my intention always, always - through my books, my blogs, my teaching... You might learn some interesting recipes from me - but my driving motivation is to empower you to get out there and do your thing, share your talents, add your voice, so that YOU are there on stage helping shape this world. And I don't have to be well-known to do that at all. But it's great to have a platform like last weekend to reach more, and different, people.

And so this last week has been a literal bursting forth of two dreams in one week: being a cookery writer, and submitting my manuscript to my REAL publisher. Two dreams. One week. And the biggest dream of all is that those dreams are going to give fuel to so many other dreams, just by being out there. 

So I'm grateful, very grateful that I did it. Because Lord knows it's taken all of my courage and VAST amounts of energy.

And I'm so grateful to my hubby, Mr DA, who manned the family fort so I could do it. And to my kiddies for letting me go. And to all my friends who have barely seen or heard from me these past few months.

What a joy pocket it's been!

Never believe me when I say...

This post was inspired by two things which happened moments apart. The first, my seven year old peeping over the top of my lap top, and saying in an incredulous voice: "Are you writing another book? I thought you weren't doing any more!" ( It was the girl's version of Moon Time, I'm submitting for the proof copy today!) And then I walked outside and saw the lovely vegetable garden my husband has just dug for us, and recalled vividly telling a soul sister last week that I was done with growing my own veg! (The seedlings are ready to go in!)

So we're friends now and I guess I need to just clarify a few things I may write here. Or say out loud to you. So here, just for you, are the things you should never believe me when I say...

Just one more minute. (It'll always be more like ten. Especially if I'm "finishing a page" or "just writing one more sentence" or on Pinterest.)

I'm not a good mother. (Sometimes I convince myself that my impatience means I'm not. And I like to say it out loud to reassure others. But I am.)

I'm not going to write another book this year. (Even my kids now know this is not true!)

I don't know. (I can figure it out. I probably just don't want to answer. Or think. Or would prefer you to do it yourself!)

I'm not doing it! (I will, just give me five minutes, or a day, to get my head around it!)

I'm never.../ I hate...  (See above, I am guaranteed to change my mind! Guaranteed!)

I'm full (I will ALWAYS eat more. Unless I don't like what you've just given me!)

I don't have time. (No actually, if I say that it's usually true!)

What are yours?

Time poverty and the modern mum.

I learnt a new term this weekend at the Save Childhood Movement's Flourish Summit in London this weekend: time poverty.The first speaker of the weekend identified it as one of the major factors shaping the modern landscape of parenting and child development.

There was a groan of recognition from the primarily female audience. Yes, we know that all too well, was the unspoken response.

Time poverty: both the lack of time, and, I would add, the perceived lack of time, is endemic in our not-enough culture.

I was reading Brene Brown's most recent book over Easter, Daring Greatly, and she identifies the pervasiveness of our scarcity culture. When we wake, our first thought is usually that we did not have enough sleep, followed by we don't have enough energy to start the day. Soon followed by not having enough time to be at school or work on time. And so it continues all day: I don't have enough time to do this, enough money to do that. I challenge you to observe yourself tomorrow morning, and then chuckle ruefully at how unconsciously we continually perpetuate this paradigm in our own lives.

Lack of time is my greatest excuse and limitation. When in truth it is more like a lack of willingness to focus, a lack of patience, empathy or an unwillingness to make a decision and stand by it. As well as an abundance of choices. The uncomfortable fact is that our scarcity culture exists in an era of plenty. It is the myth that stands between us and gratitude for all we have. In truth it is a response of overwhelm.

I feel a little in overwhelm after the conference, such a deluge of speakers and messages that I am still digesting. We were encouraged to leave reflections on PostIt notes outside the conference room, and one woman observed how she did not know how today's mothers could be time poor, with all our labour saving devices, and went on to recall her mother doing laundry and baking bread, minding her five children and holding down two jobs, and still she had time to read to them, play and cuddle.

And I felt judged. And frustrated. Because I have time to do that too. And so do you. And we do it. All of us. It's just we do a hell of a lot else as well. And we're not sure how much "enough" play time, or enough physical demonstration of our love, or time in nature is. And everyone, everywhere is telling us we need to do more of everything... literacy skills, and outdoor play, and reading and singing and extended breastfeeding and and and....

And I'm aware that women of a different generation didn't have an ever growing mass of experts of every colour, and government, and school, giving them more and more (often contractictory) directions. Nor were they faced with the constant looming threat of social services if they were less than perfect. And kids could head off by themselves to wander at large in the fields and roads around their homes.

And I feel this tidal scream of not enough, and more, and all I know is that I'm tired, and it's not easy, and whatever I do it never seems enough. And I'm not the only one. While the elder generation spoke of whistful hopes for a childhood immersed in love, and away from screens,  two of the only three questions (there was not enough time for more!!) of the weekend were from mothers of young children. Mothers of intelligence and deep caring who asked with desperate insistence: "As mothers, what can we do, to save childhood?" They spoke for my heart too.

And there were no real answers. And this is the crux. We hand our research, our damning views of the future, our blame for laziness and lack of supervision, our anxieties, or incomplete research, and our questions onto the mothers at the coal face. To the world's biggest worriers, the ones with the most invested in these little people of the future. Mothers who are deluged with more information that any mother in history has ever had. And then we baulk when she favours Facebook over choosing from the plethora of contradictory messages that demand she take her kids more firmly in hand, whilst simultaneously giving them more freedom, whilst ensuring they always have adult supervision, whilst they practice proper risk taking behaviour.

No wonder we're tired and overwhelmed. We may not be scrubbing laundry with our bare hands but no mothers in history have been so cerebrally overwhelmed, so vulnerable to constant scrutiny and so alone in their daily task, with such high expectations on their shoulders. And nor have any children in history.

Most of the time it feels like there is not enough of us to be all we are supposed to, and we just need to escape from it all for a moment. Thank flip for Pinterest and Peppa Pig!

Negotiating with the Muse: Sometimes I Say to a Poem

In an ideal world I would get up at 10, after a leisurely read in bed, scribbling notes in my journal as I read. Then after a lingering bath, I would paint naked with my hands and eat chocolate. A steamy shower would be required afterwards, which may or may not require the attendance of a dexterous lover. Before sleeping the afternoon away, a walk barefoot on the grass, a divine dinner, and then writing fuelled by the midnight oil from ten until 2, or 3am.

But now I am a mama, my creative territory looks a lot different, and my creativity must flow in more constrained circumstances.

I must negotiate with the muse.

One of the quotes that jumped out to me when compiling, The Rainbow Way (which I have just sent off to the publishers!) was Erin Darcy of Starving Artist Ink who referred to her creative muse as a hard mistress, who she had to renegotiate terms with as a mother and insist on no more late night ravaging! Something most of us creative parents can TOTALLY relate to.

I have recently fallen head over heels in love with the work of Hafiz, a thirteenth century Persian Sufi poet. I was reading his book, The Gift, this morning when I came across this poem all about negotiating with the muse, which made me belly laugh (and feel just like a laughing buddha!)

Laughing Buddha. Image from www.heidicries.com

Sometimes I Say to a Poem

Sometimes I say to a poem,

"Not now, 

Can't you see I am bathing!"

But the poem usually doesn't care

And quips,

"Too bad, Hafiz,

No getting lazy - 

You promised God you would help out

And He just came up with this 

New tune."

Sometimes I say to a poem

"I don't have the strength to wring another drop

Of the Sun."

And the poem will often 

Respond

By climbing onto a bar-room table: 

Then lifts its skirt, winks, 

Causing the whole sky to 

Fall.

Sound familiar?!

How has your creative practice, and relationship with the muse had to change as kids, or work has come along? And how do you like to work, given an ideal world? Do share!

Joy Pockets

This week's pockets of joy in the midst of mundanity finds me sitting at the airport. No kids. A proper grown up, heading off to a professional conference in London, trips to galleries and museums, dinners with long-time friends and full nights sleep await me. Not to mention an iPad loaded with ebooks to keep me company. This weekend is one enormous joy pocket ( thank you Mr DA for holding the fort and letting me go xxxx).

Escape!

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More super endorsements for The Rainbow Way. And a VERY big one promised!

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Looking forward to being "Lucy from Juno" rather than MUUUUUUUM

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An impromptu West Cork holiday last weekend on a sleep over Under Rainbows.

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My girls loving exploring the fort at Kinsale, I nearly didn't take them in cos I thought it was a "boys" thing

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Merrily's phrase:"I'm true"

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A hefty Amazon delivery of new books to devour

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Seeds sprouting in the kitchen window sill

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Warm sun

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Getting excited about Lit Fest 

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Submitting my book on Tues to the publishers

What if my life were a prayer?

What if my life were a prayer?

Those words floated into my mind this morning. The sun was streaming in the kitchen window over the greening trees and courting birds, and I felt my spirit rise to meet it.

What if my life is a prayer?

What would it be saying? What is it communicating?

Sometimes it is desperate, begging and pleading. Often it is bargaining. Quite often it is not giving thanks. Often it is spewing darkness and displeasure, angst and anger. What prayers to be emitting into the Universe.  Law of attraction-ists say that every thought, every word and deed brings call back in like-minded energy to us. Have I been praying darkness?

What if my life were a prayer?

I have spent so many years wondering to whom, whom am I praying any way? Who is the CEO of this god business or is there one at all? But despite my god or goddess being nameless, faceless and churchless, I have never, ever, ever doubted prayer. Ever. Prayer has continued, in grief and gratitude, in hope and blessing.

Prayer is. Prayer works. Whatever god you do or don't believe in. Whatever spirits or guides or angels or higher selves you choose to petition. We get so caught up in the what, which will never be able to prove any way. Or in form and formality.

Imagine if with every breath, every movement it was a prayer - of joy, of gratitude, of petition for guidance, of begging for forgiveness, of blessing, of petition for others. Every breath. Every movement. Every thought.

Imagine.

What if your life were a prayer?

Here I am.

Inhaling. A quiet house, the wind whistling round the gables. I breathe. Deep into my belly. And apart from the whir of the fan on my laptop there is silence.

And me.

Here I am!

These weeks and months have been full of sickness and books and no-space-to-breathe-let-alone-think-or-write. Everything was obligation. My days filled end to end. Marinating in children and noise. My brain packed full of "what ifs" and "mustn't forgets" for the book.

There were dear women I hadn't seen for months, some for almost a year. Friends I don't have the time to call. Whilst I'm helping women unknown and unseen. It felt wrong. But it was also a passing phase. The Rainbow Way has been a big baby to birth. A true journey of the soul. It has, and will be, the making of me. But I feel, as I approach the date when I hand it over to the publisher, I am coming out from its spell. And life is opening up again before me.

Space. For me. To try things, to experiment, to play, to do some exciting commissions. To breathe.

The concept of wanting to turn up to the page here or in my journal, or for creative assignments in the courses I am signed up to, was foreign. What would I say? What would I draw? I had not a drop of juice left, let alone a word, to fall onto the page like a teardrop.

Full.

And it was good full. Great-ful. I am grateful. I cannot tell you the journey it has been this past few months. what transformations and shifts have been happening. But I found that my life was so public in my books and blogs, that all this shifting needed to go on quietly in the dark, unseen. Shifting. Good shifting. Great shifting.

I feel like Dorothy. I look down at my feet in my little ruby slippers, the storm winds dissipating, and I think, "I'm not in Kansas any more... (And look what lovely shoes I have!)"

The words, the words, they are my constant friends, my constant challengers, always there, wherever I am. And now I am here. Here I am!

Joy Pockets

My gratitudes for the week...

Sunshine and blue skies

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Discovering lots of great new authors and books 

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A plan for a new book !!!

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Visiting Under Rainbows - always so precious, soul-time with a fellow traveller

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Strawberry milkshake cupcakes for our cherry blossom picnic

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Using Mr Dreaming Aloud's camera!
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Two super toe-tingling endorsements for The Rainbow Way... so far!

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Making homemade donuts (recipe here!)
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Opening up my friendship circle on Facebook to include so many dynamic, creative, open-hearted women

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My beautiful children

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Being married to a dear friend 

Extract from The Rainbow Way: Cultivating Creativity in the Midst of Motherhood

I am so sorry things are so quiet round here - I am proofing The Rainbow Way for the final time before I send it off to the publishers to edit and proof all over again! It is currently out with a number of my heroines awaiting possible endorsements, so do keep your fingers crossed for me!

 So whilst I don't have the time or energy to be writing a post right now, I thought I could share some of my words from the book with you, as I know so many of you are dying to get your hands on it!

Summer Dreams - Lucy H Pearce

Catching Creativity 

Often inspiration comes at the most unlikely of times – when you are driving the kids to school or changing a nappy, making dinner or falling asleep. Creative mothers recall with a laugh, writing ideas down on the nearest thing to hand, old envelopes, shopping lists and even toilet paper, so that they did not disappear forever. That was certainly my experience in writing this book. This is because the conscious mind is not in charge of creativity – instead it emerges when the mind is relaxed and the body is engaged in a repetitive, habitual activity, or is deeply relaxed, so that the brain is ticking over, but not fully engaged.

Like falling in love or giving birth, the creative process has been described by thousands of voices over the years. But each of us can only touch on the memory of this elusive experience. We cannot transmit it to others through words alone. This is where the power of metaphor can help.

Catching creativity is like catching butterflies – fast-flying, bright coloured sparks darting here and there, it requires quick wits, good eyes and desire to net them. And once you have them, you need to act fast. An idea, like a butterfly doesn't last long: it is ephemeral. It is here, and now it is gone – so quick, grab your laptop, your pen and paper, your Dictaphone, your sketch pad, whatever your mode of expression or recording, swoop and catch.

Another metaphor – it is like spotting wild horses in the desert, all is quiet and calm on the horizon of the desert mind, a dust storm here, a vulture here, then suddenly over the horizon there thunders a herd of wild horses. Where they came from is not known, nor where they are going. If you spot them you can follow them on foot, running fast to keep up, you might get a sense of their size, their energy, their number and colour, and then they are gone, as quickly as they arrived. You are left with the bones, the bare bones in the desert. Your expression will never be the horses, it can never match them, it will be your impression of the horses. You will always be matching it up to that illusive, fleeting perfection of their vision when you saw and felt them. No one else saw them, so no one else can really know. Only your expression can, in some way, communicate these wild horses to the world. And if you choose not to chase them, because you're too busy, you didn't know how or you weren't ready, the image of these escaped horses may haunt you, lurking in your creative mind forever more – you will see other horses, other landscapes, but those horses, that desert, that day, are gone for good.

Catching creativity is like hearing the music of the carnival in the distance, carrying on the wind. It sounds enticing, though you cannot see it, you can imagine the colours, the smells, the energy of carnival. The wind changes direction and you lose the sound again. All you have is the impression, the memory. Without the sounds there to reawaken your sensory memory it's more challenging to recall it and recreate it, but when you do, the sounds waft closer, the carnival is alive in your mind.

Copyright Lucy H Pearce, this extract is from  The Rainbow Way: Cultivating Creativity in the Midst of Motherhood, out late 2013, published by SoulRocks.

OOO

The Rainbow Way: Finding Creativity in the Midst of Motherhood.

The Rainbow Way…

• o   Embraces the many different shades of creative mother and provides structure, support and possibility for your own unique journey.
• o   Shares a lost feminine archetype, the Creative Rainbow Mother.
• o   Integrates creative, personal and spiritual development.
• o   Honours a creative mother’s dual soul yearnings in a practical way, offering a “road map” to creative motherhood which speaks to body, mind and soul.

Visioned as the guide and mentor that most creative women yearn for, but never find in their daily lives, The Rainbow Way explores the depths of the creative urge, from psychological, biological, spiritual and cultural perspectives. This positive, nurturing and practical book will help to empower you to unlock your creative potential within the constraints of your demanding life as a mother.

Featuring the words of over fifty creative mothers: artists, writers, film-makers, performers and crafters, including:

• ·         Jennifer Louden (multiple best-selling author)
• ·         Pam England (author , artist and founder Birthing From Within)
• ·         Julie Daley (writer, photographer, dancer and creator of Unabashedly Female)
• ·         Indigo Bacal (founder of WILDE Tribe)
• ·         Foreword by Leonie Dawson, author, artist, entrepreneur and women’s business and creativity mentor).

Joy Pockets

My pockets of joy from the week...

Printing possible covers for The Rainbow Way

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Daffodils and an afternoon snow flurry - the wonder of March.

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Adventures with our kiddies - visiting their grandparents in different countries.

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Anticipating foil wrapped easter eggs nestled in the garden.

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The Rainbow Way out for testimonials with heroines... and some very positive first comments.

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 A blog post that went nuclear - it got nealy 3000 page views in 4 days, and has helped over 30 families that I know of!

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Three generations making art together.

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Receiving my book contribution from Pam England of Birthing from Within.

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The Taste of Cherry Blossom (the title of  a piece of my food writing which has been accepted for the next BlogHer book, Roots, which is all about food and our connections to it.)

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Reading great books - Many Lives, Many Masters and Daring Greatly

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Pork pie with cheese and pickle.

Please do share yours below.

I don't know what's wrong with my child... (and an almost magic bullet)

If you're a parent, I need you to read this post.

And then I need you to share it with every parent you know.

Not because it's particularly well written, or because I'm trying to build my blog readership. And not because I'm being paid - I'm not.

But because the information below changed my life. And those of lots of other parents and children who were suffering, really suffering, and didn't know what was wrong.

And it's something so simple. Not mumbo jumbo or new-fangled. But a simple, age-old child-health issue that is not well-publicised. And it needs to be, because according to medical research it affects 70% of children in the UK.

If you have kids between 2-7 and they are:

• out-of-character
• agitated 
• uncomfortable in their skins
• tantrumming a lot
• nightwaking, agitated at night - twitching, crying out in sleep
• really angry
• tummy aches, constipation
• itching their bum and/ or vulva 
• craving sugar... 

Then I really recommend you read on. And if it doesn't apply to you now, file it in your brain for future reference. (And what I'm writing about isn't exclusive to this age range at all, it can affect the whole family - it just seems to be the most common age and the most severe symptoms.)

Our story...

We couldn't cope. Really couldn't cope.

Our child was tantruming multiple times a day. She was, and I do not use this term lightly, like a child possessed. She was deeply uncomfortable in her skin. She was on sugar benders, endlessly needing more food, never satisfied. Nightwaking. Furious on waking, going straight into a tantrum. Grinding her teeth. Sometimes constipated. Often had a sore vulva. It was leading to school refusal, deep family turmoil and exhaustion. We didn't know what was wrong, or what we could do. Month after month. The doctor couldn't help nor could books, school, friends, family or Dr Google. And then our second daughter started to echo this behaviour. It was our lowest point in family life - we couldn't cope, couldn't cure, didn't know where to start.

I sound like I might be hamming it up. I'm not. I called the Samaritans. It was THAT serious.

And then, one day, when I was melting down on a private Facebook group, another mother made a suggestion that changed our lives.

Have you considered worms? she suggested, tactfully.

No, not earthworms, but tiny worms, threadworms, pin worms, that live in the guts, and come out and lay their eggs at night.

I know, it ain't pleasant, and I'm sorry if I've just put you off your breakfast.

Sure I knew about worms - I had looked out for them, considered them as a possibility. I had checked her poos, and she didn't seem to itch her bum: my girls had none of the well-known signs. So I had discounted them.

But this mama said, and I say too, that all the symptoms that I listed at the top of the post, are the other, real symptoms which are less well publicised, that we parents aren't aware of. But they are on the homeopathic list of symptoms for worms. And on the piece of paper that comes with the medication for them. And what is more, your kiddies might not have all the symptoms, just one, or a couple . And a lot of them are common behaviours for kiddies that age anyway. And if the infestation has been going on for a while, you might just think that your child is just a very challenging child, or going through the terrible twos, or have a food intolerance, or is quite disturbed...

Treatment...

First we tried the homeopathic treatment on the recommendation of a trained homeopath mama on the same Facebook page: Cina. We could only get 6C in our local area and it didn't work. Apparently you need 30C or 200C. (Again I ain't a homeopath, get further advice).

So then we tried the over the counter cure - (in Ireland it is available without prescription, it is my understanding that a prescription is needed in the UK and US). Vermox. It is a one tablet treatment. A pack of 6 tablets costs €3.50, and the whole family needs to be treated at the same time, the same as with nits and other infectious parasites. It is not an expensive or lengthy treatment. And the tablets are chewable or can be swallowed in one. We all found them easy to take.

Within three days we had our girls back again. They were sleeping, not sugar craving, infintely calmer. We went from 2-3 tantrums a day, to 1 in  a whole 3 weeks. We went from school refusing to happily skipping off to school with a smile on her face. The anger was gone. The tooth grinding was much less. The sore yoni, the wriggling, the constipation. Gone, gone, gone.

I don't mean to be evangelical, but that is the truth. For the first time in months, perhaps a year, parenting our children was a pleasure, they were happy, relaxed.

And all because of one tiny tablet.

And they are not without mild side effects. We all had tummy aches for a few days. But even us adults felt better, and again we had had no itchy bum symptoms either.

And then, three weeks later, to the day, the symptoms started to come on again. At exactly the time a second follow up dose is required. Then we knew we were not living in cloud cuckoo land, that it definitely was not a placebo. Another dose, and three days later calm was restored. Our first dose was 2nd of February. That was the day our lives changed. And since then we have had 2 tantrums!

Now I know many of you natural mamas don't like medication. That's fine, find your own paths. There are natural remedies, like garlic on the butt hole, and hideous herbal concoctions. But even the writers of books on herbal remedies admit how hard it is to treat naturally, and how easy it is with one, possibly two hits of Vermox.

 A little more about worms:

The eggs are tiny, pretty much invisible to the naked eye, the females (thin white threads about 5-10 mm long) crawl out of the guts where they live to lay them round the anus at night, their life cycle is about 3 weeks.

You don't catch them from family pets, but from fruit and veggies, and from other people - think about little kiddies itching their bottoms and then, at some point putting their fingers in your mouth or theirs, or on something that goes into your mouth, that's why they're so easy to catch, and spread so quickly amongst little kids. Their eggs can even be transported as dust. See more here...

Along with treatment, you need to make sure bedding is washed regularly, and handwashing is prioritised.

In the past families used to worm their kiddies a couple of times a year, just like they do with their family pets. But now we are not told about it.

On a mission...

So I'm making it my mission to change that. We have told the school. I am going to write something for school. And am going to approach our health authorities. All it would take is an information leaflet given to every parent at the two-year-old check up. Just a mention to parents at well-child check ups. Because it's 70% of kids we're talking about. And it's something which doctors aren't talking about (I took both my girls for check ups with all of these "other" symptoms mentioned and neither doctor picked up on it as a possibility.) It's only a little thing, but it has such an enormous effect on children's, and family's lives.

I am writing this post, because everyone who knows me says I must. Because of how much it has changed our lives. And how it could change yours.

Please note I am NOT since last time you read this suddenly a medical doctor - so do your own research, ask a professional, talk to your doctor, your pharmacist, be a grown up! But I just really wanted you to know.

Joy Pockets

It's Friday, it's Joy Pockets - haven't done them for ages! Apologies for it being so quiet round here on the writing front, I have been up to my eyes editing The Rainbow Way. It's nearly, nearly done, my part of it, any way, before I send it to the publishers at the end of April. I'm hoping to get it out for testimonials before I go away next week - eek! It's going out to a LOT of my heroines. Fingers crossed for me!

Freshly baked ginger cake for breakfast (get my recipe here!)

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 Looking forward to our all-girl adventure on an airplane - Meli's first time - we're off to see Granny!!

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Spring flowers

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Easter holidays

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A warm house on a stormy day

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The Dance of the Dissident Daughter (anyone here read it?)

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That my daughter wants to be an artist when she grows up

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Nearly finished the biggest writing project I've ever done

What are your gratitudes this week?