If you’re new to The Gathering (and, if so, welcome!), each month I flick through my creative notebooks to collate some of the pieces I’ve been working on, and the themes that have captured my imagination.
This month has been an intense one, and one in which I lost my creative rhythm a little. But spring has made a long overdue, and still rather hesitant, approach to the UK this week, and I’m feeling myself unfurl in the sunshine.
The blank pages
There’s a bit of a gap in my writing journal at the start of this month - I didn’t write much of anything for a couple of weeks, except for lists of things I should be writing. And I’m not sure that helped.
There’s a huge amount of debate about whether creative block or writer’s block really exists, and my two-penny-worth on this is that it does, but I don’t think it’s a block to inspiration or ability; I think it’s an energy block. When you’re tired, drained, defeated, out of alignment or lacking a sense of purpose and direction, it can be hard to find your creative flow. So that’s where I was at the start of April - exhausted, overwhelmed, and a little lost.
One of the sparse journal pages from the beginning of the month talks about that feeling:
Depression makes it hard to write, but I also feel that these are the times I should write, to capture it all. This feeling of weight, but also emptiness. The racing thoughts that leave you unable to walk across a room without being exhausted. This state of being that feels so huge, but that people tell you can be cured by bubble baths and a positive outlook.
Depression makes it all seem pointless. Who will read it? Who will care? Other people are doing it better than you, and more people read their work. More people share it with a “Yes, this is so true, so beautiful, this spoke to me.” Who do you speak to?
I feel so tired. My bones feel heavy. All of me feels heavy and awkward and useless. I want to do so much but I can barely lift my body to do anything. I am frustrated with my lack of action but simultaneously desperate for rest. I can see, so clearly, the person I want to be, like she is standing in front of me holding out a hand that I am unable to take - if I try to reach out, my hand bashes against glass.
So clearly I wasn’t having the most cheerful of days. But the next page is brighter:
I didn’t create much in the way of art today, or do much of impact. But I made a soup of mushrooms, foraged greens, and blue cheese, and it tasted good. And the children brought me flowers, and we saw sparrows eating from the bird feeder. So perhaps it was a good day.
Unfurling
I’m writing this on the eve of Beltane - in the Celtic wheel of the year, this is the start of summer. This feels absurd when, in the UK, we’re yet to experience anything you could realistically call spring. It’s rained every day since January, or, at least, it feels that way. On several nights this month - that’s April - I’ve gone to bed with two blankets on top of my duvet.
But today, this mysterious yellow orb appeared in the sky. It was bright, and warm. I went out without a jumper, wearing only a light jacket. It felt like perhaps we might be moving towards a new season after all.
It won’t last. It’s going to rain tomorrow, according to my weather app. Yet the warmth and the brightness that is tentatively nudging its way towards us, like it’s too shy to ask if it can hang out with us, has given me renewed energy. I am starting to feel like I might be ready to unfurl, like a summer bud. Like I might be ready to turn to face the light.
Maybe that’s why I seem to have become a little obsessed with flowers. I’ve been playing with flowers a lot in my painting:
I also took many photos of bluebells:
Just before the weather turned, I attended a beautiful retreat hosted by
and . We explored the magic of bluebells - about how they grow in ground that has lain undisturbed, and how it can take years for a single plant to flower. How they won’t flower again if they are trampled, you have to leave the ground alone so they can rejuvenate in the darkness. We talked about how all seeds need different conditions to grow and thrive, and I spent some time thinking about the conditions I need.I also pulled two oracle cards, both of which spoke of the need for embodiment and connection to the inner self. One urged me to protect my energy and reclaim aspects of myself. Both told me to take the actions I know are needed, to be a witness, to express my truth and the truth of others.
Perhaps that helped me to shift some of the stuck energy, because I have felt moved into action more over the last couple of weeks. Even though life has been hard, with my mother in hospital and a seemingly never-ending series of bumps in the road.
At Lauren and Lyndsay’s retreat, I wrote a manifesto for The Gathering. I’ll share it more fully in another post, but one key part was this:
When the walls of the life you had built come down and the vastness around you is daunting and overwhelming, you can follow the path through the trees to the fire by the beach. We’ll welcome you and nourish you while you find your strength and direction. And you can always come back when you feel in need of that support, connection and nourishment as you make your way on your new path. The fire will always be where you need it.
That’s my vision for this little corner of the internet - a space to welcome all those who are feeling lost, feeling like outsiders, or who are forging brave and sometimes scary new paths. A space where you can feel seen, valued, that you belong. A space of calm and nourishment, of escape and inspiration. A space to try something new.
And, to that end, I decided to stop waiting for permission to write the book that I’ve been preparing to pitch all year. We Have Gathered Here Before is coming to life as a multimedia project, right here on Substack, exploring the history and resurgence of women’s gatherings, the power of female connection, and what it is to be a woman.
That mean I also spent, a quite frankly ridiculous, amount of time trying to get AI to generate a decent cover image for We Have Gathered Here Before:
I settled on this one:
So happy Beltane to you all, and here’s to a bright and creative May!
I don’t know how it’s already 10th May but here I am welcoming the month in. Maybe it’s because it finally feels like spring (for now)! I absolutely love that you are sharing the reality of the creative flow… it truly does ebb and flow but it was such an honour to share space with you and hear your visions and to see some of them already coming to life makes my heart so happy. Looking forward to where it all journeys to. Xxx
I loved reading this Allegra! Yes to the permission not to write when it doesn’t feel possible and yes to the permission to write your book outside of the traditional route, I am so excited about it! Thank you for mentioning our creative gathering, it was wonderful to sit with you there and I am so glad your manifesto took shape when you were with us, the idea of the fire on the beach for everyone to gather is so beautiful and so needed xx