Well hello there. You may have noticed things have been a little quiet around here on the journal front. This week’s post is a double bill, covering the past fortnight, and it comes with a bit of a heavy heart.

In the span of just eight days, I’ve had to say goodbye to both my aunt and my uncle. These losses, coming not long after losing my dad last November, have been sudden and, frankly, quite a shock. I’m still very much in the messy, swirling process of trying to comprehend it all. 

And in all honesty, the absence is profound.

Loss is a peculiar thing. A complete rupture and sudden halt, but the world keeps spinning. It is as if my old record player has just had the needle yanked off mid-song, leaving me in a rather loaded silence. It is jarring and Katherine May’s wonderful book, Wintering, captures it perfectly where she talks about slipping into a period of retreat. There’s no rushing these things, no quick-fix solution. 

And the irony certainly isn’t lost on me that my sudden wintering has unfolded right at the zenith of summer. While the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was revelling in the Summer Solstice, with its long, light-filled evenings and the vibrant blooms. My internal stillness has been striking to experience. 

It’s the main reason I’ve taken a pause, in order to just be.

Outside with a cup of tea, I’ve been watching the bees buzzing to and fro, focused on collecting their pollen without a care for human woes. But I’ve told them anyway, in the old tradition of ‘telling the bees’. Just like the beekeepers who would gently inform their hives of significant family events, especially deaths, believing that the bees, as connected members of the household, needed to know. I, too am whispering my story to my garden visitors and paying attention to the little things. The weather, the cloud patterns as they drift across the sky, feeling the warmth of the sun, dancing in a big puddle with X, watching the endless dance of the flowers in the wind. And the heaviness in my body. I’m still making plans for autumn planting in my head – those tiny seeds of hope for what’s to come – but mostly, I’m just trying to stay as grounded as possible.

My usual focus on art production has taken a backseat, and instead, I’m turning towards my art in a much more therapeutic manner. Art about the process itself. Simple painting exercises or colour studies, undertaken to capture the wash of emotions, helping me get into that much-needed deep, mindful state. 

Until next time, and with much love,

Sx