-
Welcome to the end
It’s time to close this chapter. It’s been a few years coming, and each year I tell myself just one more year and I’ll revive the blog, one more year and I’ll write more. But life changes, people change, and the end of the Ginger Feather is part of my change.
Blogging gave me an outlet to process and reflect, created a space to hold me and explore tumultuous life events that seemed to happen one after the other. For that I am thankful, and it has served it’s purpose well. For now, though, I follow the pull offline. I feel a need to step away, in this age of ai and polarisation, of shouting and flash opinions and instability and hyper-consumerism. I crave silence and anonymity and a return to reality, as I’ve been sucked into the relentless social media hole over the years along with countless others. I’m tired. I don’t like being online anymore. I’ve said all I needed to, in this space. The undercurrent of unease present in every online interaction is becoming louder, with a pull to earth, air and sea whispering in my ear. I need to heed that call, for sanity, for growth, to move forward.
So this is goodbye, from me. Thank you to everyone who has ever read this blog or my previous blog, one empty shelf. Go well, friends. Maybe catch you on the other side of this craziness.
Thank you.
-
All things change, all things change
The summer has been hot, and sunny, and my soul has been lifted and stretched and bouyed by the warmth and light.
It’s time to move on, to leave behind a few things that are no longer working, to face new directions and walk new paths. I find it hard to realise, in the moment, that some things aren’t working, that the momentous effort and struggle I pour in is showing me that this isn’t the way. To pivot and breathe and turn around to a new, less thorny road is hard, but that first step away is almost delicious. To ease, to calm, to all the gentler paths.
So much identity is tied up in work, and comparison, and wanting to be the best. But I’m tired of the grind, and the grind is tired of me. What is it, that I want now? How am I different, with all the knowledge and experience of these years? I value freedom, flexibility, curiosity. Trying to push myself into rigid spaces is not where those things lie.
I have a few thorns still holding on from which to extricate myself. Projects, last vestiges of the relentless push, things it is time to set aside. I want to keep hold of some parts of where I am, but weave them into something soft to hold me. The step back, the quiet confidence, slowing and allowing for more, but different. A nice fade into obscurity. Relaxing and flowing wherever that takes me, wherever is easy.
Step by step by step. The change is curiosity, possibility, calm, strength. Purposeful floating. Intentionally exploring, wherever the path takes me, and the acceptance to turn away from those thorny thickets, rather than powering through. Light and warmth in the summer days. Light and warmth in my soul.
-
Tide
I am swept away on a tide that I can’t quite name, but that is full of work and screens and worry and floundering. I look back to the shore where things glint tantalisingly, things like books and days off and trees and the warm solstice breeze and fat raindrops and calm heartbeats. But this swell pulls me and I can’t escape it, until it spits me out, bedraggled, who knows when.
But the tide has energy. It has future. It has determination and as the waves swell, I swell with them, something building and bursting and I ride that hope and put my all into it. Frothing, tired, exhilarated, full of possibility. Full of the anticipation of the drop. The wave break. The gut wrenching fall. Maybe it will come, maybe my wave will make it to shore. I don’t know.
But as I ride the wave, in the background, behind the relentless grey cloud, solstice approaches. The hint of light at 11pm calling come outside, come and dance in the eternal dusk. The 3am grey lightening, that heady earth smell, the stretch of the trees to the midsummer. The thrum of the building energy, calling to me from the shoreline. I watch, from my wave. I wait on tenterhooks.
-
Heatwave and brains
We are basking in glorious heat finally. 30c today and I am warmed through like a happy lizard. The one time of year where a 160-year-old thick stone walled northern cottage comes into its own, ice cold inside still, no heat penetrating these walls. I cool off in the gloom of the kitchen, feet cold on bare tiles, then out of the door back to the thick heat that wraps itself around me like a blanket of sunny joy.
Great tits and blue tits flit through the garden, branch to branch, endless caterpillar search for nest boxes of hungry hatchlings. Newly fledged babies hide in the fir tree, learning about ‘balance’ and ‘shuffling along branch’ in between caterpillar meals brought by busy parents. Under the birch and willow, shade is dappled and life is good.
This week has been one of those weeks of pushing myself through scary things and attempting to detach myself from my catastrophising, rejection-sensitive brain thoughts . ‘Scary things’ being things that probably aren’t scary for many other people, like making a survey live (I have definitely messed it up, it will ruin all the data, people will hate me, they’ll all fill the survey in with how awful it is), and getting second revisions on a paper (the reviewers think I am awful, I am not good enough to be an academic, why did I ever feel I could do this, everyone else is better than me, I’ll fail my phd and just live under a rock).
It’s interesting looking at the random awfulness my brain comes up with once I’ve disentangled the RSD thoughts from actual thoughts, but it’s not so fun in the before stages where all of it is real and painful. But I get through it, mostly, and this week is one of those.
In between the general academic anxiety, I’ve been marvelling at the sky and really feeling like wow, we’re on a planet! A whole planet, in space! And this is what the sky looks like on that planet! I fully recommend, if you want to feel intrepid and very small and lucky and overwhelmed by awe. Way better than watching the news.
In ‘news’ news, actually, I’ve been getting all of my news updates from BBC Newsround. Instead of war and death and awfulness, there is a baby aardvark, some footballers winning a thing and being happy, and lots and lots about space. Fantastic.
I also read 1984 for the first time ever, and then immediately read Julia afterwards (the retelling from Julia’s point of view). I’m not sure which was the more miserable, I definitely didn’t enjoy either, but in that good kind of way where you hate everything and everyone in the book but still know it’s really great.
This week’s project is trying to make myself like espresso tonics. The important things in life.
-
Almost
It’s almost, almost high spring. The warmth of May taking a dip to freezing for the last week, giving one last battle to stretch our hope of summer just that little longer. We will get there. Next Friday is 24C…. It’s coming…
The land is glorious, psychedelic green, my human eyes just melting in joy with the endless shades. The trees are alive with that spring bustle, birds and breeze and the hum of big fat bumbles. It’s ‘not quite dark’ at 10pm, the run up to solstice, constant expansion, riding the wave crest in a rush to summer. This is the beginning of my favourite time of year. My season. It’s a long time coming here in the UK, and fleeting when it stays, but that building energy, the drum underfoot of life, the sweep of vibrancy across the land – delicious. I want to relish every second of it.
The smells on the wind are of summer, of dark earth saturated by heavy spring rains, of the sweetness of full leaves and hotter days to come. Night falls softly, heavily, air thick and dark, stars bright and the scent of flowers waiting in the dusk. The wave is building, the tumble and rush of spring is at that tipping point. Let’s fall into it joyously. Bare feet, sun-warmed skin, days that never quite set. Time for exploration, adventures, movement, expansion. Soul season. Sumer is icumen in!
-
Stars and thoughts
My favourite time of the day is just after dusk. As the sky deepens to blue then ink then black, and one by one, the stars come out.
When the breeze dies down and the background roar of valley life finally quietens. People shut curtains and lights go out and the world settles down to peace. Finally, I breathe out.
I stand outside the house and look up into infinity. Stars, planets, picking out their different colours the longer I look. The air is easier at night. Scents on the breeze tell me of coming warmth, of gathering clouds, of flowers ready to bloom. I relax my eyes and stare upwards, face wrapped in darkness, soul soothed by those tiny diamonds in the sky.
How long have we stood here and looked up? This village, this house, this fleeting life. I feel small but held by these stars. Who looked at this same patch of sky when that light first started its journey? How many lives blinked in and out as each star burns brightly into the darkness. Constancy. Vastness. Something else away from the surface busyness and bustle and fighting and anger in the world. Something calm, and ancient, and beyond us.
In recent years, the sky is streaked with satellites, more and more each year, more than I count on my fingers in the few short minutes I stand. That incessant reminder of human technology in a place that is so much more. Look up, and dissolve into time, but no longer entirely. Now there are constant reminders of that busyness, circling constantly above our heads. I don’t know how I feel about them. Unease, I think. A little novelty, a little resignation.
But beyond the endless man-made pinpoints of light, the planets still shine. Constellations glimmer and move slowly across the sky. The moon rises and sets, no human bases on it yet, although I’m sure it’s not long. I don’t know how I feel about that, either. Disturbed, but unsure why. A kind of grief, lightly, hinting. But for now moon stays calm, rising and setting, waxing and waning. And of course, it will continue.
All these thoughts, I send up to the sky. To the constant stars, to the passage of time. Time deeper than humanity. And so it continues.
-
Being human
This week, like everyone else, I watched the astronauts. And there was something weird, something I couldn’t put my finger on for a while. I felt an absence, with every news item I saw about these 4 incredible people in a little rocket box far, far away from earth. Then I realised what it was. It was the absence of dread.
And not only that, it was joy. This weird light feeling, it was joy from the news! Just an absolute antidote to god knows how many years of doom and stress and the constant idiocy of dullards battering our ears and brains. Just lightness! And celebration! Intelligence and achievement and a cute fluffy moon floating around in the background along with a jar of Nutella. I forgot that news could be good. Along with millions, it opened my eyes to hope again.
And wow, being a human. Awe! Joy! Adventures! All these things we can feel and create and make for others. Imagination and problem solving, peace and collaboration and things in common. All things that are dampened by constant negativity of news cycles. We end up feeling that everything is bad, all the time. Because everything we hear is bad, all the time. Imagine if the news was based on hope? Imagine going to the moon all the time! Imagine the joy of the NASA/Hail Mary crossover. Amaze amaze amaze!
Watching these amazing people, not just in the little space rocket box thing but at the controls, in NASA, people loving what they do and working hard at it, for the love of it. I felt this weird lightness, an inspiration and a realisation. I work hard at what I do and guess what, I’m not bad at it. This week I sat and actually believed I was pretty cool, actually. Research, finding stuff out no-one has found out before? Being endlessly curious, just like humans are supposed to be. Expanding into that curiosity and letting it fill every little cell in your body. We can do so much. We collaborate and cooperate and build together. And we feel joy and sadness and regret and grief and awe and something inexplicable about being conscious and not even knowing what that really is. All on this little planet, all together.
What if this was the news. Well I think it will be my news. What have we found out this week? How were we amazed? What took our breath away? What made us cry, what made us draw a breath in wonder, what made us stop and pause and be in absolute wonder of the joy of being human?
Let’s make this the normal. It’s time.
-
Rambling Sunday thoughts
Its easter sunday and everything is calming down after a raging storm last night. Shops are shut, mostly, and there is that kind of freedom where you don’t have to go anywhere or do anything and life is just nice. Having had a living room easter egg hunt, eaten an epic hot cross bun, and saved a bumblebee from Storm Dave, we’re now just having one of those days with no plans, listening to the remnants of the gale and sharing memes. Occasionally, hail will appear from nowhere, then disappear just as quickly. The wind is still gusty but no longer howling down the chimney or rattling the window panes. There’s another day of the long weekend left and everything is good. We even found a toad yesterday in the garden.
It’s nice, just existing. Uni is having one of those frustrating times, trying to finish things, start things, plan things. There’s a lot of waiting, which isn’t my strong point. It’s nice just to let it go for the 4 days of the long weekend, and immerse myself in little bits of life: breakfast out, coffees, finishing my pile of half-read books, getting through a few saved substacks. Duct-taping the greenhouse in advance of the storm. Moving plant pots and garden chairs out of the wind. Feeling smug at the lack of chaos the next day.
I get very caught up in uni at the moment. I am a very all or nothing person and forget to make time to just exist, sometimes. I have great enthusiasm for immersing myself entirely in things that are so urgent and need to be done immediately, apart from they aren’t and don’t. I’m trying to relax more and calm down. Find time for things that are fun. But I love academia at the moment. I love the relentless grind and freedom to choose what and when and why, and I know I have huge capacity for massive amounts of work when it’s fun and interesting to me. I’m sure that changes when you actually get employed. But I’m happy working at a super intense level. I forget that not everyone is the same as me. I fall into a focus hole and it’s hard to see outside of it. I’m trying to chill out a little, but embrace the love of it. Not balance, but maybe a little more recognition of what’s needed to maintain the capacity. Stopping, sometimes at least. Walks. Trying to remember to do some hobbies. Pulling myself out the focus-hole!
Another thing on my mind is the hosting renewal for this blog. Every year, I tell myself if I haven’t done much then I’ll let it go. But every year, when it comes around, I just can’t. Right now, I don’t have much brainpower to add to this space, save a few odd thoughts that occur to me sporadically. But the plans I had for it haven’t gone anywhere. I still think small, quiet corners of the internet are needed. I’d like to keep a small space for myself and my brain and for other people to drop in now and then and feel the same. But there is some thinking to do. It’s not cheap, and I’m not making the most of it. But maybe it’s worth it for potential. For algorithm freedom. For pottering.
So with pottering in mind, I’m off for some more sunday rambling. Some soup. And maybe a creme egg 🙂
-
British Summer Time
Having spent the morning raging against the powers that be for liberating an extra hour from me, I am slightly mollified by the fact that it is actually almost lunch time, a pleasant surprise and a slight bonus of the interference with the way time works that sends me into week-long jetlag every single year. Honestly, I hate when the clocks change, especially when an hour is missing and somehow I’m already behind even more than usual. But the lure of an early lunch is potentially making up for it. Slightly.
Of course, this first day of BST is full of torrential rain, gales, and that UK slate-grey sky. I’m inside, with a hat, and a blanket, and a coffee, and the heater angled so that the blanket makes a little warm bubble in which I’m luxuriating. There is relaxing Sunday music on the speaker that I can’t really hear over the hammering raindrops on the roof. A true early spring Sunday.
Bonuses of the season are starting to abound, though. My collection of acorns found in various pockets throughout the winter and planted into a herd of cottage cheese pots have started to grow. A tiny forest of oak trees, filled with potential. Bee seeds found in the bottom of the seed box and optimistically sprinkled into some mud have actually sprouted. Forced hyacinths, of which only one came out at Yule, have decided that spring is definitely a better option and are resplendent on the garden table, flinging heady scent into the air and glowing with colour. Tiny blossoms frill and flit on the cherry tree. Bees bumble and hum in the willow. And with the shifting of the entirety of time itself, it may even stretch to being slightly light on the horizon come 9pm. All good things.
We went to see ‘Ryan Gosling in space’ this week, and I went in entirely blind, not knowing that the film was also a book and having seen zero trailers. Safe to say we had a great time and now can’t stop saying “amaze amaze amaze” and thumbs-downing everything. We got those seats that recline, had a coffee, and felt very boujie. Would recommend.
Last week was one of those weeks where the outlook calendar is full of different coloured blocks and weaving in between them all is like playing Tetris. But I still managed to get outside and do a pokemon go route each day, which I’ve been trying to do for about 3 months straight at this point. Consistency isn’t my strong point. However, it is now done, and the bonus being one more level up, so am feeling a bit happy about that. Almost 10 years in to this game and I think am just playing out of spite at this point, but got to take the wins! Also the relentless university grind continues, but I managed to add a few thousand words to another few thousand words, have many meetings, and interspersed all that with breakfasts and noodles with friends and a look round a refurbished building, so all in all a good week.
This week’s calendar is deliciously and suspiciously empty. I am intending to fill it with spring things in between the relentless word count grinding. For now though, it is hour-early lunch time and some cold leftover noodles await. Happy spring!
-
The rush
Oh my goodness the sun. Actual warmth. Birdsong and flowers and sky stretching relentless blue. Casting off the winter coat with trepidation. And then the absolute joy of realising that feeling, that it is warm enough to continue ambling on with that coat slung over your arm, even sleeves rolled up with pale forearms drinking in the rays. The dizzy lightheadedness as blood fizzes and pops with something weird, something unexplainable, but then you put your finger on it, it’s happiness, and the pure simple joy of being alive in the spring. Breathing deep lungfuls of air that tastes like possibility. Smelling hints of those longer days, light into the night, deliciously close now. The deep buzz of a bumblebee and you realise how you missed the insect cacophony through the winter, that one joyous moment satisfying a yearning you didn’t even realise. Colour bursts from dormant bulbs and your eyes relax and settle into the season, instead of straining for a hint of anything other than grey. You feel light. The best months are coming.