Wednesday, 23 November 2016

LIFE AS IT MAYBE for you my girls

Esme Grace and Sofia Faith, although you are but 8 & 5, as far as living your life my girls, here's a glimpse into what I hope your future holds... Remember at the end of the day, LOVE is the only thing that matters.


1. You find yourselves laughing. A lot. Out loud.

2. That you never take yourselves too seriously.

3. That if you want to, you can lasso the moon. And the stars.

4. That you always try to give everything a really good go and that you don't give up easily. And that if and when you do make a hash of it, you can resort to number one on this list.

5. That you continue to be honest and brave.

6. That you appreciate the beauty that surrounds you, the earth and all life on it.

7. That along with kind and generous you are humble and grateful too.

8. That you are always yourselves - and although you'll care about one another's opinion, you won't worry about other people's.

9. That you are able to express anger as and when you need to, but then can quickly let it go.

10. That you always appreciate one another. My goodness girls, you are so lucky to have eachother.

Sunday, 20 November 2016

47/52 The GraceFaith year long art project

Choosing a favourite piece of art, each week of the year...


Esme shows her true colours when it comes to colouring in a comic football strip
(Foolish girl)

Friday, 18 November 2016

2016 Top Ten Christmas Gifts from Laurence King

Over the course of the year I have worked with Laurence King. It's not the first time, indeed you may recall this Life As It Is post showcasing many of my faves from last year. However 2016 has seen some fabulous new releases. Let me update you with the current top ten LK gifts - just in case you were looking for any Christmas present shopping inspiration:

Tuesday, 15 November 2016

Transformed by freedom

...am no longer precious about them padding around parks, gardens, forests barefoot. I have been reintroduced to the purpose of play for play's sake; as a means to natural movement, to free up that sedentary spine. But the latter would not have been possible without the lifting and clearing of the old debris - the stuff that weighs us all down, and fools us into thinking that we can't, or shouldn't, or mustn't.
Somehow over the course of the next few weeks, I transform. It is slow going, but the dedication you give to the retreat stays with you. There is no other way now that these freer instincts feel so natural. The day after the retreat, flung straight back into work, I wake with the darkest circles under my eyes that I've ever had. Once the working day is done, I sleep and sleep and sleep, and meditate, and place crystals around my home, and read books, and feel as though my eyes are wide open for the first time since childhood. I see my children in a different light. I want to learn and grow and heal. I want to be a better mother and ensure my children live free of my own mistakes and misgivings. I stop blow-drying my hair. I donate half of my clothes. I clear out my cupboards. We collect wood from the forest and make bonfires and sing in the garden. We map the stars. We marvel at the moon. We retreat back to a place where the good things live... and vow never to lose sight of them again.

What an exquisitely inspirational excerpt from the Nov 2016 Psychologies magazine, 
written by Health + Wellness Director, Eminé Rushton 

Friday, 11 November 2016

Lest we forget

Today I've been for my usual Friday walk taking in the National Trust café up top. Except of course it isn't a usual Friday.

Today is Armistice day, and although the café was full, it wasn't so busy that everyone didn't stop and share 11am.

We all managed to find a moment of stillness. Peaceful quiet, give or take a little one's mutterings, which somehow made it feel all the more poignant.

Peaceful quiet? When guns and bombs compose the rhythm of the soundtrack, and blood shed, tears cried, life lost; the score.

My peaceful quiet moved from loss to futility to hope. We all know that even though the war dead are glorious, war itself is certainly not.

Not a usual Friday then. November the 11th caught me unaware. I didn't expect to pause and remember those gone before, those leaving now, and those preparing to fall, when I set off on such a sunny morning. Nor for that matter, did I expect to share the moment with an entire café of strangers.

It was moving.

And more than death, it reminded me of life.



This post also appeared here