On January 2nd there was a brief gap in the wet and windy wintry weather. The sun shone and it was almost warm. My good friend Sally and I took a trip to the coast to celebrate the new year and to loosen our limbs a little. We had intended to go to Winterton but ended up at Horsey from where we walked along the dunes passing the cordoned off beach where the seals are in pup, over the heath, to the far end of Winterton beach for a closer look at the seashore. 

These two beaches are rich in wildlife and I can remember coming to see the seal pups a few years ago when the ground was frozen solid. And also a summer or so back to see the little terns nesting. 

Some places hold stories. Those two visits were made with a loved but difficult, and now ex and incommunicado, boyfriend. Returning, I suppose, woke up old feelings which made me a little sad, but also gave me a chance to lay some of those old feelings to rest. Past is past, just another layer of life history. Living in the now I was able to enjoy the sunlight and sea, and to allow my nostalgia to drift into the past where it belongs. I don't need to hold fast to those memories, they were a part of my life but not the whole. Time passes I am part of an ongoing saga. And, as cloth fades so too do memories good and bad.  

This writing challenge http://www.writingourwayhome.com/small-stones/mindful-writing-challenge-jan-14/ came up on facebook and I figured it would be a lovely way to start 2014. The idea is quite simple, everyday for the month of January, and beyond if you like, pay attention to one thing and write it down, this is a small stone. I have set up a blog http://smallstones-beccajiclifford.tumblr.com/ to note mine down and written a couple of practice lines. I think the self imposed, but supported, discipline of writing once a day, everyday, could be quite cathartic.

As christmas celebrations are drawing to a close I am beginning to think about my hopes and aspirations for the coming year but I am unsure which way to face. 
Today I have been mulling over the possibilities. My application for Cley 14 failed, which, oddly, felt right. Funny that rejection can be a relief sometimes. I am still interested in making a body of work that relates to that stretch of coast but I am glad to be able to do it in my own time without the constraints of a brief. I think that after five years in intensive education it will be quite heavenly to soften and release into making. To offer my creativity space and freedom to grow, where and how it will, for a little while, unhindered by external moderation. 
Taking time to pause, take breath, be quiet is not really a very great part of everyday english culture. We are taught from quite young to be competitive and ambitious, or else be worthless, well least ways it seems that way. It makes me uncomfortable. I don't know why it is important to be the best, to have more, be more commended, it doesn't seem to foster contentment, rather the opposite in fact.
I find myself longing for a hideaway where I can watch the small things happening, where I can gather berries and leaves for dyeing, and stitch and fiddle, and read and write. Perhaps this is my next great dream upon which I need to embark. Perhaps my next step is to let go, to relinquish the "I should"s and start out the new year with the gentle aim of following my true course, using starlight and joy, my heart and spirit, to guide me. 
I will admit to being frightened by this pathway. Where will it take me ? It feels like drifting, sometimes, and I am seized by a desire to take hold, to take control, to create a more obvious point of focus than peace, a more easily achievable, quantifiable outcome. 
I haven't posted much in my blog of late because I have been contemplating these ideas and not really sure what to say, but today I felt that if I put my thoughts into words on "paper" it might help me to envision my future with more courage and faith.

And another one. "Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light ...". Very nice.

Christmas is coming. Time for a tune. An old classic, sweet and sad. A song from my youth, and one that calls up all sorts of christmas memories.