Beginnings are hard

For starting over, starting again... or just getting started. Hello Substack!

The best time to start a Substack was five years ago.

The second best time is now.

— Found carved on a standing stone near County Clare, Ireland

I made that up.

But it still feels true.

Getting started is the hardest part of anything.

I oscillate between overwhelmed and ‘let’s do it now!’ excitement — and then realise that I have to put my washing out and also make a cup of chai, the slow immersion way on the stove.

As Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donohue wrote, ‘A beginning can be a long time in preparation.’

This is very true for me.

I’m at the threshold of a few new beginnings.

1. Starting The Magic of What Happens: It seems I “started” this Substack on 9 March 2022 with a Coming Soon post that I have no recollection of making. I use Substack to follow writers that I love like Elizabeth Gilbert (I always have time for Liz). But the knowing feeling that I ought to write my own never went away, and I wasn’t ready to (lived in Ireland, travelling, writing my first book) until now. So here we are and you are very welcome here!
   

2. Writing the second draft of my first book: Let me tell you, this has been PAINFUL. I was trying to summon all my Rick Rubin-inspired creative juju and flow, but it’s been a very daunting task and I’m only at the beginning.
   

3. Dating again: There’s a lifetime of content just in this.
   

4. Strength training: I’ve avoided the gym for the longest time, but unfortunately rolling around on the floor in yin is not getting my bone density up (osteoporosis runs in my family), and my triceps are starting to look alarmingly jangly. I’ve always wanted Hilary Swank-level sculpted shoulders and arms, maybe the next three months will be my moment.
   

5. Birds: Guys, I think I’m becoming a birder, or ‘twitcher’ as they say. Watch this space. I’ll be staring up at all the tree branches.
   

6. Unblocking money narratives: I started this work several years ago and gave up a month in as IT WAS SO HARD. I’ve picked it up again and will happily share when the revelations have come to fruition.

When people ask: How’s your book writing going? Plus all the unseen notes in my head.

I’m currently staying at my magical friend Kate’s cottage in a forest by the sea in Eagle Bay, Western Australia to write the aforementioned second draft and look after the most adorable dog ever, a blue heeler called Smokey. I started ‘living’ this book ten years ago, and finally gave it structure and 80,000 words over a winter in Ireland last year.

A lot has happened since then. I’ve got about 111 articles in the backlog (called: My Mind) and I’m currently working on a piece about witches, another on sex dreams (because THEY HAVE TO BE REAL, RIGHT!?) and one on all the different types of Irish rain.

I have a lot to write.

But I am a reader at heart which is the main impetus for all my adventures.

Book writing is long and slow and uncertain and often quite boring. Your reward is the tending.

— Katherine May, Enchantment

The tending is a beautiful term to help with beginnings.

I’ve been tending to a nightly fire here in the cottage and it’s a process — gathering dry leaves, twigs, sticks and logs to make a structure (I go for the ‘cabin’ method) and then lighting it. It takes time. You’ve got to keep watch, blow life into the fire, and wait for everything to catch.

The slowest fires burn the longest.

As Ram Dass speaks in Sit Around the Fire (music by Jon Hopkins and East Forest) which I listen to repeatedly:

As if in each of us
There once was a fire
And for some of us
There seem as if there are only ashes now
But when we dig in the ashes
We find one ember

And very gently we fan that ember
Blow on it, it gets brighter
And from that ember we rebuild the fire
Only thing that's important is that ember

This line “You don't need doubt, because you already know” and the last one gets me teary every time.

I relish beginnings in other people (“How did you two meet?”) and the pure thrill of arriving in a new country for the first time. As well as that first spark of friendship when you instantly click with someone, starting a book and getting that giddy feeling that: this is going to be good.

So it’s interesting for me that at this moment, beginnings feel hard.

We are coming into spring in the Southern Hemisphere (it is Djilba - the season of conception - in local Noongar culture where I live), so I am using the energy of nature to propel me forward, but gently. I’ve been sick — the usual end-of-winter cold, and so going slowly has been my only option.

I am finding solace in books (other people’s), the wild of the ocean (whale spotting!) and silence as well as, you’ve heard about the birds.

As for my book: It’s already written. I just have to write it down. 

The book is about how we’re all just waiting to get brave. It’s about pilgrimaging, a homecoming, longings, lost loves, and my perennial dream of escaping into the colour green.

This Substack is an ode to all things Irish and Ireland.

And whatever is going on in my life right now.

I live for happenstance.

My goal is to write something profound without agonizing over it for years. It usually takes me months to write something, I digest and ruminate and finesse pieces for a really long time. In the meantime, a lot of things are happening and I am discovering all the time.

A relationship beginning or not…

A revelation about health and longevity…

A new drink — vermouth and soda in a chic can.

Perhaps the art of harvesting the secret riches of our lives is best achieved when we place profound trust in the act of beginning. Risk might be our greatest ally. To live a truly creative life, we always need to cast a critical look at where we presently are, attempting always to discern where we have become stagnant and where new beginning might be ripening. There can be no growth if we do not remain open and vulnerable to what is new and different.

I have never seen anyone take a risk for growth that was not rewarded a thousand times over.

— John O’Donohue

A voice said to me or I read somewhere, “Trust the book.”

That’s the creative way.

You try everything until something happens. And then you are rewarded a thousand times — don’t stop until you are proud.

Ernest Hemingway once famously said, “All first drafts are shit.”

Then there’s the gravestone I read in Scotland, “Do not delay.”

I have a sprig of rosemary on my laptop that I smell now and again — I learnt in Ireland that rosemary in herbalism signifies new beginnings, perhaps because it is associated with memory and is uplifting.

My first draft is potentially very shit.

And I am dragging my feet with the second.

But it doesn't really matter.

I keep writing.

I have begun.

Whenever I have any doubts or need courage for a new beginning, I’ve started a ritual of diving into a (freezing) cold body of water to denote I am doing this.

Witness yourself.

Being brave and jumping in are not always the same thing. But sometimes they are.

Everything is hard.

It depends on what hard thing you want to pursue and call it your life.

Only you know.

Only you can hear the whispers of your soul.

May you be called to begin.

There are a hundred paths through the world that are easier than loving.
But who wants easier?

— Mary Oliver

Pictures of Smokey boy — because you asked for it.

I’ve been away for three weeks and fairly solitary — but decided to go on a day trip around the South West region (Woodjitup and Witchcliffe). I’d heard from Jo at The Tiny Store about the folklore that is the Lion’s Shed in Margaret River, which only opens twice a month and apparently is OP SHOP HEAVEN. It’s a big shed that is packed full of everything you can imagine, I immediately got overwhelmed with too many choices. Then I spied a sign above a door to a little room that said ‘Antique Corner’. H-E-L-L-O. I found the most amazing things i.e a book on Wicca for $1, a silver handheld mirror made in England in the 1920s for $4 (a woman spotted it in my basket and said, “I wouldn’t let that out of your sight if I were you”) and six crystal sherry glasses for $10 for my upcoming Outlander party (yes, you read that correctly). I am also the proud owner of a pair of Japanese binoculars ($15) and I have no idea how to use them — any pointers appreciated.

I also visited two artists’ studios that were right next door — painter Chloe Wilder who I’m now obsessed with and also makes baskets and dips candles (instant friends!) and Alexandra from Bless This Mess who makes the most beautiful ceramics modelled on the curves of the female body. I bought a stunning ‘Boobs’ mug right out of the kiln that was literally hot to the touch for a very special soul friend.

I also got the download that I need to grow calendula, so I bought some local seeds from my friend Michelle at The Shed Witchcliffe and am going to plant them when I get home! Michelle is a herbalist and her emporium is my favourite shop down south, she also runs Herb Club on Substack which I love.

Incredible oil on canvas by Chloe Wilder - can we please have a moment for the axe and casual breast? OBSESSED.

WRITING

I’ve just published my experience of arriving back to Australia earlier this year from Ireland and into full-blown soul depression. If you’d asked how I was doing at this time of my life, my honest answer would have been: Barely exisitng, how about yourself? I didn’t know if I would ever recover. 

Read my piece: The Reality of Return Shock and ‘Soul Lag’

It was a grief and disembodiment unlike anything I’d experienced before. It felt like I was floating and drowning at the same time, untethered and yet sinking. Have you experienced return shock before? 

Also my About page on Substack is ready for you, featuring my current and always-on obsessions.

READING

Hooly dooly, YES! This is what we’re here for. So I’ve been in the cottage alone and have been reading up a storm:

• The Creative Act: A Way of Being — If you’re my friend, I will no doubt be talking your ear off about this book for the next thirty years. Rick Rubin is a brilliant channel for translating what creativity is and how it comes to be in human form. I want to gift this book to everyone I know at the coalface of trying to create something in this world, also the last line has stayed with me: “The Universe never explains why.” BOOM.

• Intermezzo — Sally Rooney’s new novel (of Normal People fame) came into my hot little hands and this is a perfect example of the magic of what happens. I wrote in a post a month ago that my current life mission was to find an advanced copy of Intermezzo and a complete stranger, mysteriously with no Instagram picture or followers, messaged to say that they had a copy and were happy to pass it on to me. WHATTT THE ACTUAL?!? was my answer. And it was all true. It comes out on 24 September 2024 and while I’ve finished it (a solid 4.5 stars), I’ll honour the release date and say no more.

• Weyward — I was telling my beautiful anam cara¹, Louise about my current obsession with witches and that the word ‘wyrd’ used to mean mysterious or supernatural², and she said: YOU HAVE TO READ WEYWARD. So I did. I could have devoured this in one night, I delayed the pleasure of this book and I edged it over four days. It was sublime.

• All Fours — OH MY GOSH Miranda July is a genius. This book is pure gold, I can’t even fathom how it was written, with such exquisite and excruciating detail of what it means to be a desiring animal human type.

• Woolgathering — This is Patti Smith’s tiny memoir and the title caught my eye as I’ve always had a fantasy about being a shepherdess. It’s very immersive prose and also a lot of it doesn’t make sense.

• Instructions for Traveling West — Oh Joy. An amazing collection of poems by Joy Sullivan who just nails what it means to be a soul in search of it all. I read her poem of the same name at an Irish storytelling night in Mayo and the first line gets you right in the clavicle, “First, you must realize you're homesick for all the lives you're not living.” Audible WOW.

• Milk Fed — This book is so clever and insane in its commitment to being this book. Melissa Broder is such a distinctive writer and I know when something is hers right away. Slightly disturbing but I was very captive.

• How We Live Is How We Die — I found this Pema Chodron book in mint condition for $6 out the front of a vintage store and the title is a poem in itself. She distils The Tibetan Book of the Dead with lots of personal stories and awareness practices (I’ve been doing her Pause one³) and also the revelation that in order to breathe in properly, you need to exhale first.

Always gobsmacked by the kindness of strangers — also a round of applause for Chapter 11.

LISTENING

• Birds singing to each other and themselves

• Angie McMahon — I refer to Angie as ‘my girl’ even though we’ve never met. I got scammed for tickets to her concert in Perth (story for another day; I know karma will come for a one ‘Kenneth’) so I listen to her album that is brilliantly called ‘Light, Dark, Light Again’ and love her muchly.

• Drive in West Cork — The playlist that I made for my soul while driving around West Cork if you want to feel like you are too.

• Black Brunswicker — My tea friend Matt sent me this beautiful new artist who is self-described as “ambient folk melancholia” which happens to be my three favourite words. It’s been a mainstay in my tea room.

• Zach Bush on On Purpose — While I could write tomes (and will) on the soul goodness of Dr Zach Bush, this conversation with Jay Shetty delivers the usual ‘Zach Bush just broke my brain’ moments and I always end up crying from the pure beauty of a Zach Bush monologue in the last minute.

• Rick Rubin on On Being — I sent this podcast episode on ‘Magic, Everyday Mystery, and Getting Creative’ to about seven friends the minute I finished it. Rick knows his stuff on a creative life, has an effervescence to wake you up from your stagnancy slumber, and is a pleasure to listen to.

• It’s Only the Beginning — The soundtrack to this piece, golden line: “This could be the love of a lifetime, even if it lasts a week.”

WATCHING

I’m on a self-imposed ‘no shows’ time so I can have my evenings for writing or reading or both, even though the pull of starting Season 2 of Downtown Abbey is VERY STRONG.

Casting my mind back, the best movies I’ve seen recently include:

• French Kiss — I have been wanting to watch this forever, featuring two of my favourite actors Kevin Kline⁴ and the first lady of rom-coms, Meg Ryan. I giggled, LOLed and spat out laughing so much that I woke my housemate up several times. This is the gold standard.

• The Idea of You — Okay Anne Hathaway can do no wrong, and this film was fire emoji ablaze. I ADORED IT. The babin’ babe who plays the babe (her love interest) is a beautiful man and I actually learnt a lot about love.

• Which Brings Me To You — This was the first day of my cycle and I needed light and love-filled and a good laugh, that’s what I got.

• The Quiet Girl — An Irish language film and the first to be nominated for an Oscar, An Cailín Ciúin is what cinema was invented for. Poignant and subtle, a coming-of-age story from the perspective of a nine-year-old girl in rural Ireland. I was holding my heart to the very end.

• The Bridges of Madison County — This is going to get its own write-up from me because THIS FILM HAS HAPPENED TO ME. Sort of. Meryl Streep is flawless and I never got the Clint Eastwood thing but I do now, he is a very handsome older gentleman and of course, I have to go visit these bridges one day.

EATING

We’ll see if this section sticks but it was a special request from my Irish anam cara Geraldine in Dublin.

• I’m having a real moment with hashbrowns — I found some in the freezer here at the cottage, and I’ve been popping a few in the oven. I keep a running ‘Top 5 Potato⁵’ list and I think hashbrowns have just crept into the mix. It’s like lots of fries stuck together, in a crispy flat pack. Yum.

• Childhood cereal — When I was buying a few staples for going away, I spied a box of corn puffs but organic and gluten-free which reminded me of honey cornflakes I loved as a kid (and can’t eat anymore because of said gluten) so I bought this fancy packet. Crunchy, sweet, and with zero nutritional value — IT TASTES LIKE 1996.

• I made a tahini banana bread with dark chocolate — It’s vegan and gluten-free, and frikkin delicious. I got the recipe from Jess at Sunny Peach Kitchen who made this at the deep rest retreat I co-hosted recently with dearest Tiff. Sprinkle black sesame seeds on top, and all of a sudden - I don’t mind baking so much.

PONDERING

• Is there a dream, idea or stirring that I’m putting off, waiting for ‘the right time’? — a beautiful question from David Whyte

• “Stay with the tea” — a beautiful invitation from my Cha Dao lineage that I’ve been using in my daily practice, especially when I get too distracted or forget that the point of sitting with tea is sitting with tea

• How does a book ever get written? I am in awe of every single one

• What do dogs think about when they are staring off into nature?

• “You can’t force a feather” — my current quest is to find a red-tailed black cockatoo feather. Or rather, to find me. It’s been three years. Not one (yet)

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I’ll be writing to you semi-regularly meaning once a fortnight or thereabouts. I can’t promise a particular day — but I do like Tuesdays. This has to be doable or I will drown in overwhelm.

I’m hoping to capture a true sense of the magic that is Ireland — full of wonder, beauty and melancholy — and uplift you with tales of my current pursuits, obsessions, book stack, failures, and fancies.

As always, I love a good question — so ask me anything.

This is an evolution. Thanks for being here.

Pass this on to a pal, add your name to get future letters, and say hey in the comments.

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If you enjoy my writing, you may wish to make a one-off contribution and buy me a chai with honey or consider becoming a magic supporter. Zero pressure!

1. Anam cara means ‘soul friend’ in Irish and is my favourite term in the whole wide world, read my piece on it.

2. A day after finishing this book, a fly was buzzing around the room for hours while I was writing, at one point I lifted my hand up and the fly landed on it. I walked with the fly on my hand for about seven paces, opened two doors and let it out. It flew away. I am not making this up!! If you read Weyward, you will get this MAGIC.

3. The Pause Practice from Pema Chodron: “You just stop whatever you’re doing and look out. You could do this almost any time. You’re walking around or washing dishes, and then you pause and look out. The pause interrupts the momentum of being completely caught up in thoughts. Instead you enjoy a glimpse of freshness, of what Trungpa Rinpoche called “nowness.” It may not be a full experience of nowness, but this glimpse teaches you about the contrast between being caught up and being open. You’re getting a glimpse of your true nature. You’re starting to have a sense of what it is.”

4. Kevin Kline also stars in Life as a House — the most underrated film of the 2000s in my opinion and one of my all-time favourites!

5. Thanks for asking. My Top 5 Potato list is shoestring fries, curry chips from Maggie May’s in Belfast, mashed potato (made by my brother), smashed roast potatoes, and hashbrowns — kicking out the potato pancake I had at Zurich airport once and think about almost weekly.