The love and learnings of a writing year.

reflecting on a year of words and dreaming deep into the world of Story & Thread.

Apr 18, 2024

“Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”
―Mary Oliver, Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver.

Hello everyone

I hope you are all doing well and leaning into the spring sunshine when it finds you and lingers, even for a short while…

This week marks one year of Story & Thread., my publication on Substack and an evolving commitment to writing to you (mostly) weekly. I wanted to thank you all for being here, it means a lot that you continue to open my emails and read posts when you find the time. It has been a year of writing that I didn’t expect and didn’t know I needed — returning to my desk to send a letter each week has felt expansive, fulfilling and deeply nourishing.

I will elaborate more on the love and the learnings of my writing year but I also wanted to mention that when I wrote down my hopes for my publication just over a year ago, I also noted down the intention of creating seasonal gatherings to tend to ourselves and our creativity…

For something that felt like a distant dream, it feels incredibly exciting that the first Holding Stories creative gathering is happening in London this weekend — on Saturday 20th April.

It is an entwined offering from myself and

Lauren Barber

where we will lead you through a spring-flower inspired Yoga Nidra, seasonal rituals and contemplations to uncover our intentions big and small. We hope it will be a time to both nurture and inspire your creative unfolding in the seasons ahead. If you are in the UK and able to join us on Saturday, we would love to gather with you — read more here.

Book your space

The first page.

I am writing to you from the coffee shop I sat down in just over a year ago on an afternoon when I found myself with the first pocket of extended alone-time since the birth of my son a year before. During that precious pause, overriding the need to sleep (!) was a strong pull to reach out and hold all of the ideas and thoughts that had been dancing across the swathes of sky in my mind for the past three years since the arrival of my daughter in 2020.

They tumbled out, sprawling wild and unkempt but dotted with buds of potential. Within the tangle, I deciphered a need to create something that represented me now — a new sort of homecoming in the ongoing process of returning to myself again and again. Home was now not just a place to return to after a busy day out in the world, but also the foundation of where everything began from…

I started to map the ramble of thoughts based on the concept of ikigai, the Japanese word referring to our life purpose, but in a more beautifully, nuanced way that our words fail to capture. The exquisite midpoint in the map is the place where your needs, desires, hopes and dreams meet. It is a place of balance and convergence tracing our passions, gifts and ultimately how we can be of service to ourselves and the world. For me, at the point of intersection lay deep in the words creative | mother | nature, perhaps not groundbreaking but at the same time felt entirely central to my existence (and perhaps everyone else’s?).

I noted down that I wanted to write again — about the evolving role of my home; my fledgling experiences in the garden and the ancient wisdom of flowers and the elements, the unfolding layers of mothering and the simultaneous draw to creativity; underpinned by the seasons and under cover of the stars; of earth and sky. I realise now that this was the beginning of a process of bringing all of me together, albeit rearranged.

At this point, the thought of migrating all of my writing to Substack was a tiny seedling, an intangible intention that seemed to float in the ether. It was something that felt too big in many ways, as I saw many writers I admire finding their place here and I certainly didn’t see myself as ‘a writer’. And yet, a part of me remembered that writing had always been a part of me — from the imaginative tales I loved to write at school, to the essays that made up my History degree, to the words and stories crafted about design and home during 15 years in Interiors PR. I decided to not overthink it and just to start, trusting that I would figure it out as I went along. Now when I look back it is hard to remember a time that I wasn’t bringing my words here…

Love and learnings from words.

Inspiration, illumination and connection have been at the heart of finding a regular writing practice and I have gained so much — a commitment to myself, reclaiming space for my thoughts and need for creativity, a place to connect inwardly but outwards to others too — slowly making sense of myself and my place in the world. I have found a treasured community of beautiful, supportive readers, many of whom have become valued friends, collaborators and confidantes, witnessing some of my innermost thoughts.

Most of all, taking the time to write here encourages me to notice, appreciate and tell the everyday stories of our life in this moment.

My biggest learning is that although growth (in the wider abstract sense — I can’t deny the warmth and burst of joy when I am notified that someone has decided to subscribe to my ponderings) is wonderful, it is really all about showing up for myself and the real people that are already here allowing my meandering words into their precious space, as I share corners of mine.

I like to think of it as our stories carved into a well-worn kitchen table where everyone’s voice is welcomed, thoughts and experiences are shared and ideas find form, spiralling into new shapes, sparking new conversations.

There is a sense of deep comfort to have found a place for my words - where I can write and feel my thoughts received with openness, cushioning warmth and curiosity.

Making space for dreaming.

The darkness of the winter months allowed me to sink deeper into seeing the shimmers of a vision of how I want my space here to unfold including the intentions of,

conjuring much-needed cosiness, calm and comfort in an (online) world that can feel the opposite
exploring what it means to live creatively (alongside caring responsibilities)
honouring the need for beauty in our lives, not as a frivolity but as a necessity
gradually putting words to my deeply layered experiences of mothering
sharing stories to take up space and reclaim our place in the world
anchoring to the wisdom of the seasons and cyclical, slow living
discovering myself in the ever-changing landscape of a garden
collaborating with others to share their experiences of home and creativity
crafting home as a place and a feeling — somewhere to return to but also a place to start from…

All of these intentions led me to imagine Story & Thread. as a gathering within the walls of a lived-in, storied home…

A place filled with meaningful artwork from large-scale paintings, to woven hanging tapestries, photographs, botanical drawings and handcrafted ceramics, to diminutive frames of pressed flowers, telling the stories of everyone who spends time there.

Original sash windows allow light to flood in and dance on the walls in rooms adorned with colour, pattern and texture in a tonal palette, with organic form and line inspired by the natural world. Textiles provide a cocoon and tapestry of comfort and a sense of enveloping softness, whilst anchoring us to the places and people who made them.

There is space to gather, write, make, create and talk together around the fabled kitchen table where also simple, seasonal soul food is shared and savoured. Vases are filled with fresh flowers grown and cut in the walled cottage garden, a space that spills out of the back doors as an extension of the house’s living space.

A bench provides stillness under an arch of climbing roses that tumble and grow toward the sun, as you are delighted by the scent of sweet peas weaving their way up trellises and pink wisteria trailing abundantly over an intricate ironwork balcony. Unfurling ferns, sprawling ivy and wildflowers of the woodland inhabit shady spots — an enchanted place that is home to the fairy folk.

A glasshouse at the bottom of the garden is designed to house seedlings and tender flora requiring warmth. The potting table provides an apothecary space for crafting seasonal flower essences, natural candles and medicinal potions, honouring the ancient knowledge that surrounds us.

Wildflowers of the woodland in a walled garden.

Life here is simple but not minimal — we honour the beauty and wisdom of the earth’s rhythms, unearthing the stories that live around us and within.

I hope you will join me…?

I hope my words transported you into another world for a while and you were able to get a sense of the essence of Story & Thread. as my thoughts and ideas evolve…

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.