A place to sit in spring.
solitude and space on a wisteria-woven balcony.
A warm hello to anyone new here, I’m Lyndsay, mother, creative and storyteller with a background in interiors PR. Story & Thread. is a weekly letter exploring the intersection of creativity, mothering and the living world, with a home and a garden at the heart. I am so glad you have found your way here…
“The psyches and souls of women also have their own cycles and seasons of doing and solitude, running and staying, being involved and being removed, questing and resting, creating and incubating, being of the world and returning to the soul-place.”
—Clarissa Pinkola Estés.
Hello my dear
How are you getting on this week?
Today I am sharing a post from the Story & Thread. archive, from spring this time last year, unedited but with (imperfect) audio added (hi!). It feels interesting to revisit something that still feels familiar but with a hint of distance — how a year on, the essence can remain the same but the experience is changed.
I love the words of Clarissa Pinkola Estes above, and a year ago I felt as though I was inhabiting the in-between of all of these things, neither and both — not fully involved but not completely removed, both creating and incubating. Now I can feel myself edging out into the light cast by the late spring full flower moon. I am finding ways to integrate all of the parts of me, sensing into the expansion and wholeness of being both ‘of the world’ and in my ‘soul-place’…
From the archive…
The original post was published on 23rd May 2023.
The in-between.
We moved into our home in October 2021 and a few months later, became a family of four. It all still feels new but now also familiar.
I love the quote above by Clarissa Pinkola Estés from her book ‘Women Who Run with the Wolves’, though it feels as though in this chapter of my life I inhabit the in-between.
Early motherhood has felt like a hibernation at times, as I talk about in this post, but I am also ‘doing’ more than ever — from the practical puzzle pieces of the day, to the subtle fragments of holding and beholding these little beings in their best and hardest moments. I am witness to their growth; from the unmistakable developments that herald a new stage, to the gradual things that happen under the surface and are outwardly unseen.
Even when attempting to remain present, I am in their world, which although often enchanting, requires effort, attention and patience. And this is not to mention, the unending list of tasks around the house, and the longer-term aspirations we have for our home, that will get done, eventually.
A place to ‘be’.
It feels important to have a place that I can go and ‘be’ in the rare moments I am on my own. To me, a wisteria-woven balcony is the stuff of dreams and every time I step out, I can hardly believe it belongs to us.
This spring, I have found myself being led there time and time again; invited by the breathtaking pale pink flowers and delicate soft scent that spills inside the railings and pours beyond. Perhaps it will lose its draw when the flowers fade and scatter confetti-like below, but at the moment, my awareness of its transient beauty magnifies its magic and makes me want to soak it in all the more.
Solitude.
It is a place where I can simply sit with a cup of tea without the temptation of putting a wash on, stacking the dishwasher, tidying the endless emptying of toys, or even pottering in the garden. It seems to quell the whispers of urgency in my mind as I run through the list of the valuable things I could be doing with my precious solitude.
A secret garden.
It feels like a hidden, secret garden, a place I can glimpse out of but where I am shaded by the overflow of frothy blooms and the leafy tendrils weaving their way into my world. It is enveloping, a quiet enclave away from the bustle of family life; flanked by the neighbouring houses but like a floating island of flora between them.
A place to listen inwardly for a moment and feel the wildness of imagination infiltrate the everyday. More and more I’m learning that it is often in the silence, space and silhouettes that the beauty lies.
Enclosed, a sanctuary, yet wild and free. It inspires stillness in its natural movement and from that hush, ideas come.
Are you feeling ‘of the world’ or deep in your ‘soul-place’? How can you integrate both?
I’d love to hear if you have a favourite place to sit and ‘be’ in spring…
Thank you so much for reading — I hope we can chat more in the comments, or of course feel free to send me an email with your thoughts.
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I don’t have a favourite place to sit in my garden because it doesn’t really feel like my own, and it would take a lot of energy to spruce it up, which is hard to muster when you rent. But I do like to stand under the apple blossom tree with its fluffy cloud petals 🌸
Love the wisteria! I feel you on that “emerging” theme coming out from these years of intense mothering in early childhood. My daughter (second childhood) was born in August 2021 and we moved 6.5 hours away from family in October of that year—it was intense. For me, it’s watching the camellia plant bud and bloom in the back corner of our yard, watching the cardinals prepare their nest, lay eggs, and tend to their babies in the tree right outside our front window. All those tiny moments in nature a blissful invitation to pause 🙂