Filling the Well
January 2024
As is often January’s want it has managed to feel as though it’s been going on forever and, at the same time, over far too quickly. How it can possibly be February tomorrow is quite beyond me.
But it is, and I am now looking back at a month spent finding a new rhythm for myself that gives complete priority to caring and house moving and also allows me to have the quiet time, outdoor time, and creative time that I both crave and actually need in order to be a fully functioning human.
Having decided that December me was right about the fact that planning my free time in 2024 as rigorously as I had in previous years was a sure fire way to madness, I then came to the realisation that the planning obsession had roots in an issue I couldn’t leave unsolved.
That issue is choice.
Specifically that if I have what I perceive to be “too much” of it I freeze up and do absolutely nothing at all. I cannot function without some sort of framework, guided by an overarching focus, so I don’t find myself overwhelmed and miserable.
‘A theme,’ I said to myself, ‘what I need is a theme for my year.’
And low, the very next day one of the many publications I subscribed to dropped an email into my inbox. An email that included the phase “filling the well”.
And thus my theme to help me limit my choices was chosen.
At which point my brain - which has a part of it that, at all times, is wandering around a random period of history - reminded me that during the Tudor period having a motto was a thing. When Anne Boleyn became Queen she chose “the most happy1” as hers, which only goes to show you can be dead wrong about what you pick. Despite that rather inauspicious remembrance I decided I needed one anyway and promptly chose “comparison is the thief of joy”.
Mainly because I have actually been paying attention to my therapist and fully acknowledge that while I may have stopped comparing myself to others I still use my own past achievements as a stick to beat myself over the head with. Meaning I know that as the year progresses my brain will start shouting about what I’ve done so far compared deeply unfavourably to what I’d managed by this point in previous years, and I will need something to shout back in order to drown it out.
What do I mean by “filling the well”?
Many of you may have heard the phrase used in writing (and other creative) courses, often tied to discussions about writer’s block. It’s the idea that you can’t create if your well of creativity is dry. Much like “you can’t pour from an empty jug” and “you have to put on your own oxygen mask before helping others put on theirs” it’s a reminder that you cannot keep giving stuff away if you don’t replenish your stock of stuff. As it were.
So this year I’m spending my free time pouring the water of ideas into my creative cauldron. I’ve already talked about the writing side of this in my most recent Herding the Words blog update, and discussed how this thinking has shifted both the what and how of my reading habits in my monthly book review post. Crochet will involve finishing my current WIPS and then simply seeing what I can do with the yarns I have available.
As for everything else, well I’m focusing on doing little things that only require a short time each day/week but add up to a far bigger benefit to my wellbeing than the sum of their parts would suggest.
Things like spending my morning coffee break peering out of whatever window I happen to be next to and recording the birds and wildlife I see in this rather lovely diary I was gifted for Christmas:
I also really enjoy changing my nail colour each week but a lot of my varnish had gone gloopy and unusable. Rather than spend money I don’t have on a few new ones I bought a bottle of the stuff that rejuvenates elderly nail polish if you put a few drops in the bottle and voila, I have years worth of polish purchases literally at my fingertips again.
Sometimes it really is the small things that make the biggest difference!
Something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time is learn some poetry by heart. It wasn’t2 something encouraged at the schools I attended and I’ve always envied those who could stand up and perform a poem without a second thought.
It’s not that I’m wholly without poems committed to memory; I can sing The Owl and the Pussycat by Edward Lear straight through without a problem and Spike Milligan’s On the Ning Nang Nong is a permanent resident in my brain. But other than that I have mere snippets of verse rather than whole cloth and it makes me feel lacking in a very visceral way. That obviously means now is the time to remedy that situation3 so over the course of the year I will be committing twelve new poems to memory, learning one each month.
I chose Colonel Fazackerley Butterworth-Toast by Charles Causley to start with because a) I already had the first two verses down and b) I know it’ll make the niblings laugh, especially if I get Colonel Fazack’s voice right.
I’m rather pleased to be able to report that I have completely learnt it by heart4 and now I’m just practicing performing it. This practice sometimes takes place on my early morning walks which I suspect has caused confusion in a very small section of the local population, to whom I should probably offer apologies but have no sensible way of doing so5.
What I haven’t yet done is pick the other eleven poems and I’m rather hoping for your help with that.
Do you have a poem you’ve learned by heart that you love and think I will too? Is there a poem you absolutely adore hearing recited? Is there simply a poem that you think I should know about because it’s wonderful? If you can answer yes to any or all of these questions please tell me. I’d really like to expand my poetic range if at all possible!
Adventures in Word Herding:
Apart from creating another five teeny tiny micro-flashes (all of which can be found here, newest first) I have been spending my writing time - when not blogging or working on writing courses (currently What to Look for in Winter by Wendy Pratt and Jeannine Ouellette’s The Twelve Week Story Challenge) - playing with language, especially descriptive language and sense of place. I’m enjoying having more space to just noodle around and see what happens when I try things without worrying whether I can use it or not. It’s very freeing and definitely what I need right now.
I also decided on what I was going to do to celebrate my blogging accomplishments by buying myself some very small, yet meaningful, gifts. Specifically some magpie themed delights to commemorate the finishing of my Flashes of Feathers magpie counting rhyme based set of short stories.
The card travels with me and gets propped up wherever I am writing, the brooches get pinned to collars/pinafore straps whenever I need a little boost of positivity.
These are all the blog posts I shared in January, including the ones I’ve mentioned above:
Mother of Mountains, Queen of Winter (the last in the Flashes of Feathers short story series)
Oh yes, and I have decided to continue this monthly newsletter because I felt that I needed to be committed to creating at least one thing each month and I really enjoy doing it!
The One Card Tarot Draw
I have absolutely no idea whether any of you find my monthly tarot draw at all helpful but since I enjoy doing them I’m going to carry on regardless. However I am going use a different deck for the readings in 2024:
This is my Prisma Visions deck (first edition), created by James R. Eads and per his website:
… this Tarot deck includes minor arcana cards that come together to tell a story. The panoramic imagery of these suits aids in the memorization of each card's significance by associating the individual meaning of the card to the broader meaning of the suit.
As you can see in this photo of the artwork for the entire Suit of Swords, it depicts a journey from Ace to King. As such using this deck during the year in which I hope to complete a journey of my own feels only right and proper.
So, what does my Prisma Visions deck think we might want to remember during the month of February?
The Ten of Chalices: It is sunset, a tree growing next to a river holds a boy and girl deep in conversation. The tree is decorated with leaves and ten chalices strung upside down from the branches. The sky is reflected in the river.
To me, this card is saying that it’s more than okay to take time out of the relentless flow of life to sit amongst pretty things that cheer us up and to spend time with those who bring us joy. In fact it’s a necessity.
Until next month, my lovelies, take care of yourself and may your February be everything you need it to be.
Well, as it happens what they wrote down at the time was “The Moost Happi” (from the french “La Plus Heureuse”) but I don’t think we need that level of verisimilitude in a monthly newsletter.
Apart from one wonderful teacher I had when I was seven. Mr Barham, I’ve never forgotten you!
Never mind that it might be incredibly beneficial for my memory and cognitive functions in general.
Proved to myself by performing it, completely unprompted, to my poor unsuspecting parents when I served them dinner this evening.
Other than joining Nextdoor and honestly, I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.