DOGEARS002 - Changing seasons & creative nooks
A manifesto for the upwards facing season of Spring
Easter Sunday. April fools. The clocks go forward and you have never been so glad to lose an hours sleep.
Just like that, the season changes. Warmer mornings, longer nights. The anticipation of summer stretched out in front of us. A lazy buzz to the city.
The seasons move too quickly or maybe not fast enough. You try to keep up. To evolve with them. A shedding of skin to reveal the same thing underneath. Heads like the weather, trending better but always volatile. Just keeping on - make the coffee, step the steps, put the work in - until you feel the sun on your skin as vitamins.
Catch the last sunrise. Pull out shorts for the first time. Feel the wind on your toes. Let the baby sit on the grass, try to stop her eating it. Watch a microscopic video of a cell turning into a salamander and have no idea how to feel. Watch hovering birds make silhouettes of themselves until one of them drops in two sudden stages, its eyes on some small morsel come above ground to taste the last light. Smile as a dog, wet from the canal, bounds through long grasses in a picture of happiness. See the sun eventually fade, slowly but just fast enough to ruin its air of invincibility. The dog retreating to its home and the birds to their nests. Notice that the planes keep flying.
Go to the beach.
Remind yourself that just a few years ago this was all forbidden. That when the freedom came we were grabbing it with both hands and stuffing it into every pocket we could find like greedy tomb raiders.
Lean into how habits change. No more long cosy evenings devouring a book. Too much going on. Take them in small portions instead - a chapter catching the last light on the balcony with a cold wine or a few pages on a soft spot of grass. Standing up on busy trains towards the pub. Choose titles that won’t peek out of your jacket pocket because one crowd will take the piss and another will ask about it and you’re not sure what you think yet. Gravitate to a favourite bench and thank the name on the plaque as you fold the page.
The books change to suit. Less epics. Less thoughtfulness required. More fun. Books drenched in sun. Effortlessly inside someone else’s skin - not having to consider what it means, enough to just be there. Books with bright colours on their covers even though people tell you that’s no way to judge them.
Write something new and let it feel good, hopeful. Carve out different nooks for creativity. That one spot in the house where the sun illuminates gentle tornadoes of dust. The afternoon lull before the evening calls. Dust off an old sketch-book.
Keep evolving. Take risks. Relax. Try to take time off. Slow down sometimes. Push hard other times. Picture the future. Let go of things. Commit to other things. Cuddle your dog, wife, child. Be present. Listen. Really listen. Forget about talking for a minute. Pretend you can’t if that’s what it takes. Bury into the detail. Watch less TV. Eat outdoors. Read more. Write for writing’s sake. Relish the sun. Climb some mountains. Swim in all the water. Run further. Camp. Take the baby.
Enjoy it.
“That is one good thing about this world…there are always sure to be more springs.”
L M Montgomery
A few years ago, I developed a habit of writing these short manifestos for each season. Alongside more focused goal setting, I enjoy this easier, more free flowing approach to defining what’s important in life. I’m sharing this recent entry, for Spring, in the hope someone will find inspiration or energy from it.
I wrote to you in ANT001 that autumn is a time for new beginnings. So is spring. The two split the year into its distinct halves. They are transitory times, one moving down towards earthy calm and the other up to sunny vistas. This is a wonderful time of year, my favourite. Particularly in the UK where life seems so tied to the weather and the first real sun brings this anticipatory joy that suddenly changes everything.
More on that in two weeks. In the meantime, enjoy the outdoors.
With gratitude as ever,
MQ.