I remember the first time I said out loud that I wanted to be a writer.
I was probably around 7 years old, standing between the living and dining room in our family home in East Vancouver with my toes curling over the edge of the red, wool carpet that had been my great grandfathers, and that’s now rolled up in the garage of my family’s home, floorless but I’m unable to let go.
It was my grandmother I said it to and her delight filled me with joy, an early nod that I could pursue what I loved and be approved of by someone whose disapproval was palpable when it arose. The intertwining of the desires of free creative pursuit and approval are complicated and painful and writing is one medium to work that out, to unravel what’s seen and unseen.
Some of the creative grief I feel comes from the privilege of being creatively successful. I have made a career of my craft. Writing, speaking, relating, coaching, leading. It’s all art to me and it’s truly a love. And…writing for my professional work, writing for you, it makes its way to the top. At it’s best it’s inspired, generative and expansive. And, when it creeps into a production line and in the pressurized moments, it doesn’t even touch the sacred well of my depths. Nevermind the stories and poetry that live in me that don’t want your eyes, they don’t get light at all.
I still haven’t written my birth story. We just passed the second solar return to that day. I write very little about my children, other than that I have them, little anecdotes here and there. My eldest is fiercely private and I want to defend that right and keep his stories sacred. My youngest is wild joy and we don’t yet know what he’ll want shared with the world. I used to write letters to my eldest for him to read when he’s older, but who has time for that anymore?
I’ve been aching for a place to play with words, a place to meet my children through my writing. But haven’t been making the time. And then, Writing to the Heart of Motherhood, showed up. It’s being run by two women who are dear friends, part of a sacred practice circle, incredible writers and mothers and I’m so looking forward to being held by them, to coming home to my children and my childhood dream.
I thought I’d share this with you, and please share with others, who may be interested. I’m not an affiliate of this program, simply inspired and sharing the love.
From the website:
WRITE TO THE HEART OF MOTHERHOOD is a space for mamas to unleash and harness your holiest and messiest feelings, exercise and nourish your voice, and bond deeply with other amazing women on the ride of motherhood.
The nights are getting darker, earlier, and for me it feels like the time put away everything but a cup of tea and a blank page. Join me if you’re called.