This month I've been recording a new series of Tiny Adventure podcasts in which I've been visiting a hundred and fifty year old oak tree.
You can listen to the series so far in the podcast section of Go Gently (beginning here) or over on my Patreon page (where you'll also find some extra videos and podcasts that I make exclusively for my patrons).
As I start week two of Pyjama Fortnight (Month/Year!) I'm feeling rather like a dormouse.
This piece of good sense is from The Almanac - A Seasonal Guide to 2020 by Lia Leendertz. A recommended good read all year round. My copy lives in the smallest room in the house where it is sure to be dipped into regularly (this photo wasn't taken in said room however 😉).
Maybe this is good week for you to imitate a dormouse too.
Pyjama Week continues... :)
I am having a very slow and restful time, the prelude to what I'm increasingly thinking is going to be a fallow year for me. A year when I'll do my best to live quietly in the moment, make little in the ways of plans and as much of possible make use of what I already have around me.
This John O'Donohue quote has become a companion and comfort to me every since a friend shared it with me. It feels like it could have been written especially for the current situation.
This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.
Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.
If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.
Another friend found that is is actually part of a longer blessing called, For the Break Up Of a Relationship. In many ways, we are all mourning the loss of our relationship with the wider world at the moment and looking for ways to build a new relationship with a new partner, the world as it now is.
That is bound to take time and we need to treat ourselves gently whilst we do it.
With the cooler weather this week, it feels like the perfect time to declare a Pyjama Week.
I’ve got out a blanket and a favourite pair of crocheted socks and am spending this week in my pyjamas.
My hibernation continues. Just as I was starting to wonder if spring had arrived and that energy could be on the rise, I found my mood lowing and my need for silence and time alone increasing.
At first I panicked at this development. I felt cheated. I had already been quiet and slow moving for many weeks. Surely, as the light was returning, it was time for my energy to do likewise. Surely it was time to reap the benefits of all this slow time.
But, if I allowed myself to sit quietly I could hear my quiet, inner self telling me not to panic and not to rush back to the wider world and dangers of being caught up in other people’s rhythms and urgencies before I was ready. Now was the time to show patience and the resolve to stick to the course I had set for myself back in the late autumn. Now was the time to double down on my hibernation and fully let myself enter what John O’Donohue so beautifully calls empty time.
If you don’t know John O’Donohue’s blessing, For One Who is Exhausted, then I would highly recommend seeking out a copy. I’m reading it in the vlog post that I link to below, but it can also be found in his book, Benedictus: A Book Of Blessings and online here.
The blessing was sent to my by a friend when I was feeling exhausted by grief and was an almost instant comfort. Just having someone showing a deep understanding of what exhaustion feels like made me feel less alone. But this blessing also feels like a roadmap to getting back to a better place and over the last couple of winters has become a companion and a reminder that it is okay (even necessary) to sit with and embrace empty time.
So, after what now felts like a false start, a false spring, I am letting myself embrace empty time.
The discomfort of doing that has largely passed and I am more comfortable again with the silence. I am letting any increase in energy nourish me, rather than use it to fuel “doing” in the conventional sense. I have found I am cooking more, reading more and walking more close to home. But I continue to rest and sleep when I need to (and avoid the wider world).
Sending love and wishing you a peaceful February.
Michael <3
In this episode of The Hibernation Podcast you find me in bed, feeling a little low and taking comfort in John O’Donohue's blessing, For One Who is Exhausted.
Listen to episode #15 of The Hibernation Podcast
This podcast episode is part of my three-month patron-only series of hibernation podcasts available over on my Patreon page. Become a Podcast Supporter to listen to the whole series.
Join me for this vlog post, recorded over the period of a slow week, as I sit in John O'Donohue's empty time and wait for energy and enthusiasm to return.
Whilst I did spend most of my week in bed crocheting and reading, I did find myself walking amongst the sheep one evening and also had the occasional foray to my kitchen to do some cooking.
I suspect this week of empty time won't be my last...
Watch: Vlog #133: Empty Time
This video is one of a regular series of vlog posts that I publish for patrons over on my Patreon page. Become a Vlog Subscriber to watch all these videos.
You can follow my hibernation, or even hibernate alongside me, over on my Patreon page.
There, I’m currently posting a three-month series of audio podcasts called The Hibernation Podcast, along with gentle twenty-minute video pondering and creativity sessions and regular vlog posts.
Listen to the first episode of The Hibernation Podcast.
To receive the Go Gently Letter directly in your inbox whenever I send it out, subscribe for free here.
I'm writing to you in the early morning by candlelight. It is very peaceful here. A few days ago my mantle clock stopped and, despite winding it, I’ve been unable to start it ticking again. The absence of the usually comforting tick-tock adds to the feeling of peace by adding a layer of stillness. I am happy here in the near darkness, sitting with a mug of tea until it’s time to let the chickens out and go and stand at my garden gate to greet the day.
Just as my clock has stopped, so have I.
At the winter solstice I announced that I was taking a three-month break from publicly podcasting and would also be withdrawing from social media. I’m not making any plans and won’t be undertaking any new projects until the spring. I’m not planning to venture far from my hillside.
I’m hoping to emerge with a little bit of a spring in my step around the vernal equinox.
It has been quite a long journey to get to the point where I have felt confident enough to stop for this long and to trust that I would be okay financially, emotionally and physically. But this year I do feel ready.
Last winter I had a semi-hibernation, a practice run I suppose. For a number of years I’ve been nudging when I start the new year further into January. Last year I decided to extend it even further, into February. It did feel a little difficult and I was shy about telling people abut my new year plans (or lack of them!). However, for the first time I told people I was hibernating.
Last year did feel like a semi-success. A semi-success from a semi-hibernation. When I did start to get back to my normal routine in February, I noticed I was dragging my feet. Energy was still low (and I felt rather embarrassed about that considering how long my rest had been!).
I ended up limping towards the spring, alternating between taking more time off and working, but not doing either properly. My hibernation up until February had felt lovely and I was missing being immersed in it.
When spring did arrive, I was feeling more rested than I usually did around that time of the year, but not as rested as I hoped and thought I could be.
This year, I’ve resolved to do things differently. I started winding down towards hibernating when the clocks changed here in Wales at the end of October and I have properly withdrawn since the solstice.
I feel a sense of spaciousness around me and am looking forward to see what the coming months bring. I am expecting downs as well as ups (I’ve had both already), but do feel ready to deal with what comes.
I'll let you know how I get on.
Sending best wishes for a gentle start to the year from my hillside in Wales.
Michael <3
You can follow my hibernation, or even hibernate alongside me, over on my Patreon page.
There, I’m currently posting a three-month series of audio podcasts called The Hibernation Podcast, along with gentle twenty-minute video pondering and creativity sessions and regular vlog posts.
Listen to the first episode of The Hibernation Podcast.
To receive the Go Gently Letter directly in your inbox whenever I send it out, subscribe for free here.
It‘s another day for wearing pyjamas and crocheted socks and sitting by the fire.
I’ve been listening to the wonderfully comforting Michael Horden narrating The Wind in the Willows and the following quote feels like a perfect description of a winter hibernation. If necessary, just replace “scribbled poetry” with whatever gently creative project is right for you.
In the winter time the Rat slept a great deal, retiring early and rising late. During his short day he sometimes scribbled poetry or did other small domestic jobs about the house.
—Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows
I’m spending most of my days in bed at the moment, but I do try and get a little fresh air every day.
Today, Ounce followed me out and we picked a few blackberries in the field behind my studio.
It’s a very good year for hedgerow fruit here. Slowly, a small bowlful at a time, I’m gathering quite a harvest.
A very different view from the one we've been used to greeted me and Ounce this morning as we recorded today’s podcast at my gate.
The dark clouds all but shouted, “hunker down!” and that’s exactly what I’m going to be doing for a couple of days.
Yesterday, I emerged from an impromptu 48 hours offline. I go offline quite a lot, but those 48 hours were more of a struggle than usual.
Since my away from home adventures I’ve been reaching for my phone a lot, usually when I notice I’m feeling physically rather rubbish. It’s understandable that I don’t want to notice that I’m not feel good, but I’ve realised how much I’m using my phone (and my iPad and laptop) as a way of avoiding the feelings in my body and that’s not been doing me any favours.
The first thing that happened when I turned my phone off was that I fell asleep! When I woke up, the second thing that happened was that I noticed I felt terribly!
48 hours later, I’d slept a lot, read quite a bit and still felt not great—but maybe, just maybe, a little better.
I heading offline for 48 hours more. I’ll let you know how I get on...
Today I’m greeting the day by my gate. I love the view from here. This morning it’s especially beautiful and I might have waxed rather overly lyrically about it in today’s podcast!
It has been lovely to spend a few days by the sea and the early mornings on the seafront have been stunning. Yesterday, as I had my last cup of tea watching the waves gently lapping around the seagulls on the shoreline, I felt as though I could stay sitting where I was for a month.
Now I’m home and back to the early morning view that I’ve been getting to know for eighteen years, I feel I could stand for the rest of my life.
It’s been good to go away. It’s very good to be home.
I’m having a last cup of tea on the seafront whilst I’m waiting to be picked up and taken home.
It’s been a peaceful stay in Aberystwyth, helped by the equinoxal (is that a word?!) weather. So still and calm. A perfect Indian Summer, or Haf Bach Mihangel as this extra treat of gentle sun is called in Welsh.
Haf Bach Mihangel translates as Michael’s Little Summer, and that’s exactly how these last few days have felt. I’ve been feeling very blessed.
I’m still very tired and feeling rather unwell at times, but these last few days have helped me get into a very restful rhythm, which I’m taking home with me.
The Big Rest continues :)
As we approach the gentle stillness of the equinox, I’m sending you good wishes from my hillside in Wales. May the coming days be reflective and peaceful ones for you.
It’s been another six months since I wrote you a Go Gently Letter. I’d love to say that this is the first in a more regular series, but I’m not sure if that will be the case or not. Time will tell.
It's September and autumn has arrived here in Wales. Warm, gentle days that are getting darker at both ends. That means I can get up a little later in the mornings to let the chickens out and that they go to bed a little earlier.
When I last wrote to you, I was slowly emerging from a rather difficult place. A not-knowing place and a place that had largely become untenable. I was still trying to sit where I was and trust that things would continue to improve and the way forward continue to reveal itself. I'm happy to say that that does seem to have been the case.
Oddly, my life and work don't look so very different than they did before things became difficult. I've hardly moved at all, although much has shifted. The view from where I've travelled to is clearer, more open. It is certainly a relief to be here.
A year ago I thought that I might have stopped making my audio podcast, One Thing Today. Six months ago I still thought that might be the case. If you don't know, I'm happy to report that I've been back recording episodes since June and recently sent out the 1500th episode.
The podcast has changed a little. Most importantly I don't hold myself to a specific schedule (though interestingly, most weeks I still tend to send out three or four episodes).
It has been lovely to be back talking (and sometimes walking), encouraging listeners (and myself!) to go gently, and to pick one small thing to do each day to move our creative lives on a little. It is good to feel that there is just that tiny momentum in my life again.
Creatively I'm still crocheting rather than drawing. Although I have noticed my eyes wondering to my pens again of late.
Crocheting is very good creative act for me at the moment. Making something one stitch at a time is a very good metaphor for gently moving along one small step at a time, enjoying the process and eventually finding that something has been made. A sock, a blanket or a gently lived month.
Financially things are improving too. Since closing the company that I was trying to run, cutting back on my growing expenses and reducing what I was offering in the world, Patreon has become the place where I work and is providing me with an income. I am VERY grateful.
Over the last few months I've been shifting and adapting what I offering on Patreon a little. The focus is now on supporting my podcasts.
I'm offering patrons early access to One Thing Today and the Go Gently video podcast (which seems to have been on a summer break!), Podcast Extras, weekly twenty-minute work sessions, vlog posts and personal podcasts.
This is quiet work. Gentle work. Work that feels sustainable. If you would like to join me there, it would be lovely to have you.
The Mary Oliver poem that I opened this letter with has been a comfort and good companion to me over the last few months. I've been learning it by heart so that I have with me all the time (it even popped up in a dream a few nights ago!).
I love the image of flying low and not saying a word. Of hardly moving at all, but still travelling a great distance. Of letting go of ambition.
Whilst I'm still flying low, I am happy that I'm starting to say one or two things again. The voodoos of ambition, meanwhile, are still largely sleeping...
Michael <3
For the last few weeks I've been running an offer over on Patreon. It officially closed a few days ago but I'm leaving it up for a few more days (I'd imagined I'd get this letter out before now, but as I'm sure you know by now, I move slower than even I think I do!).
Anyone that becomes a Podcast Supporter ($4.00 a month) will, in addition to the to the benefits offered on that tier, also receive my audio and video Podcast Extras, which are normally available to the next tier up and above.
Podcast Extras are video and audio content that go a little deeper than the regular podcasts and gives you more of the inside story (plus plenty of cats, chickens and the occasional donkey or two!).
To receive the Go Gently Letter directly in your inbox whenever I send it out, subscribe for free here.
One of the lovely things about being at home after my adventures at Gladstone’s Library is that I can cook my own meals again (and at whatever time of the day I like!).
It was a good thing to have meals made for me whilst I was away and needed to focus my energy on Gladfest. But this morning I woke up with the urge to do some experimental cooking and was so pleased to be able to.
So, at 6.00 am this morning I was wide awake and trying out an idea I’ve had in my head for a few days for black bean burgers. I’m talking about them and sharing the recipe in today’s today’s One Thing Today podcast which is available now over on Patreon and will be released here and all the usual channels on Saturday (21st Sept).
In the letter I share a little about my ongoing journey exploring ways to live and create gently. I hope the letter will encourage and inspire you to find ways ways to live and create at the pace that's right for you.
