solstice edition! being a mammal in winter, the privilege of experiencing place, collaborative work, goodbyes, and Wuthering Heights
💫Happy December💫
Welcome back everyone! As I write this, Christmas as it is celebrated by many in Europe, has not yet quite begun, and I have, in very slow, steady way been thinking about what I’d like to write about for this months edition, as I have been practising doing things very much at my own pace. The seeds for the next year are deep underground, sleeping, waiting for their moment to spring into the world anew. And that feels very much like the main theme that will thread through this edition.
The days have been so dark, that even at what is apparently “midday” according to the clock, feels like the kind of light that comes through a tiny window in a vast cellar room. And yet every morning I still open the curtains after I wake up, and light the small candle that makes breakfast so much less blue, in hue and in mood. I have been listening to my usual favourite podcasts that often discuss and reflect upon the current season, and engaging with information that reflects my environment, and have been practising what I can only describe best as soft hibernation.
As human beings, and as mammals specifically, in the northern hemisphere during winter, we are sensitive to the slowly fading light and falling temperatures. Most other mammals in the wild at this time are spending most of their time doing one thing; sleeping. And eating. And moving around very little. And for many thousands of years, we did almost the same. The last harvest would be brought in, and people would spend their time inside, together, making warm clothes, eating, and investing in conserving energy and keeping each other alive. As someone in the very privileged position of not having to work for the majority of December, I have submitted to what feels like a very slow rhythm. I listen to every impulse to stay inside when it’s -5 outside, I resist squeezing my to do list into a limited time window, and I let myself fry everything in way too much butter, and eat full fat yoghurt from the pot. I don’t set alarms and wake up very very late. I still take walks outside, and enjoy the sound of my frosty footsteps and the smudges of grey clouds against the lilac sunset. I feel great about sleeping for longer; not at all like that heavy, overslept feeling that weighs you down at other times of the year. I feel like my body is in conversation with the outside world, sleeping, resting, waiting. I work quietly away at my projects, and feel grateful to live like I do.
https://open.spotify.com/track/1DfBgQB0sYiVA818nXTDol?si=jF_suyzXREaSWv9Yukinzg
I can’t help but feel that the modern world of capitalism and the pressure of pre Christmas busy-ness with shopping and travelling does not come naturally to us at this time of year, and we would do well to stop punishing ourselves for feeling tired, quiet and insular at this time. Nobody is cross with the rabbits snoozing in their burrows together. Let yourself rest while you can, there will be plenty of time ahead to be busy once again.
I have managed to read a lot of really incredible books this year, including several by the fantasy novelist legend that is Ursula K. Le Guin , whose works have been a major source of inspiration for me, and have seriously enriched my experiences when world building and writing in my own work.
A lot of my journeys within Berlin take at least 30 minutes, and to ease the monotony of these trips I picked up a book gifted to me as a teenager (during my initial Kate Bush phase) that I had never read, despite seeing so many references to the book and the characters everywhere. The writing style of the book was at first, admittedly, excruciating. Reading it aloud reminds me of reading Shakespeare aloud in class at school, and feeling embarrassed that these kinds of sentences had ever even been written. It’s so elaborative, flowery and rambling, so completely apart from the modern way of using words in every aspect. Yet I was quickly engrossed. One of the main characters, Cathy, is very provocative. Her emotions flash from fiery to icy, she’s unpredictable and tormented by what is expected of her, and what she truly wants. In fact I had not reflected until now the accurate way in which the female characters in particular are written, especially for the time, and of course the reason for this is that the author herself is a woman. She was clearly someone who understood women as multifaceted, especially at a time when they were not (and let’s be honest they still aren’t now) understood as whole, entire people with desires and wills of their own.
I’ve found that reading Wuthering Heights with the background of the winter darkness to be a very immersive experience! The characters are all detestable, barely anyone likes, let alone loves one another truly, an esteemed gentleman calls a lady of the house a “slut” (GASP) and the houses are haunted. What better story to wrap oneself in at this dark, spooky time of year?! It hasn’t been an easy read, but it’s successfully distracted me with images of moody Yorkshire moors, horrifying ghosts smashing through windows, racism, classism, and the most toxic relationship between two people who truly match each other in their understanding of drama and chaos. I recommend it if you love over the top drama, ghosts, and hating on fictional characters. It’s a truly emo book all round.
On the subject of rural places, on a solo lunchtime walk the past week, I thought about how grateful I am to have had this place, a tiny village near the mountains, to visit my grandparents over the years. I have come here since I was small, sometimes by myself, sometimes with my sister and parents, and lately, with a renewed appreciation for the perspective the landscape always offers me.
I was feeling on this walk, the many benefits of having a home away from home; especially one that is so rich in culture and natural beauty. To have somewhere rural to escape to as a person who lives in a city. I grew up in another country, and yet I feel the thread that links me to this land the same way I do to the town I grew up in. And that connection does not speak to nationality, or identity, or even language. That connection is one between myself and the land itself, the views, the smells, the paths, the trees, plants, and creatures. And no matter what is happening, I can come to this village near the mountains and return to the same comforting truths that I see in all those things.
As the year comes to a close, and the sun begins its slow return to our northern skies, I have been reflecting a little on my wishes for the year ahead, particularly in regards to my creative work. This year I’ve had some wonderful opportunities to be a part of some more collaborative projects, which for me, as someone who works a lot on self directed work, has been really fun and validating, especially when you get to see the results of a team effort! Collaborative work, as everyone knows, can get bigger and better results than working alone, for everyone involved. I’ve spent the last few years working hard on figuring out exactly the kind of work I’d like to make as an artist, that it feels like a natural next step to want to learn and grow with others, and share the skills I’ve attained so far. I think this is something I’ll be able to build upon next year. It’s so easy to get caught up in all the things you’ve apparently not yet achieved, and forget all the goals you have already met!
At an incredible solstice FEAST that my pal Caitlin hosted, I suggested to the group that we try a condensed version of a little ritual I’d heard through the Fairfolk Podcast, where you write out 12 wishes for the upcoming year, cut them into pieces, fold them up, and every day over the Christmas season, and burn one up for the gods/goddesses to fulfil. Once you get to the last wish, you unfold the paper, and this one is your responsibility to make come true. We burned all of the wishes but one at the same time, on the balcony, and the one with which I was left was, comparatively to some of the other wishes I’d written down, very much within my reach to achieve. I can’t lie, it made me feel confident about my other wishes. To treat your goals as something already in process and something to expect through a kind of trusting, is a sweet surrender.
At the beginning of this month I said goodbye to the lovely family I have been getting to know for the past 2 years, who are on their next adventure in London. On our last day together I took the boys to the top of the TV tower, and we were so high up in the clouds that we could only see tiny distant smears of lights of the city in the mist far below. It was anticlimactic in kind of a beautiful way. I will miss seeing them everyday, but I’m also excited for the change that their leaving has triggered, for them but also for me! There is always a hello hiding somewhere in a goodbye. Wasn’t I writing about the ouroboros just last month? The theme is ever present.
Most of December has been a series of tying up loose ends, clearing space mentally, emotionally, but also physically (our shared studio space got a good sprucing through some admirable team effort) to make way for whatever might come next. Although I have very specific goals, I’m keeping an open mind. Good opportunities can sometimes come disguise. I have lots of plans already in the works, including a trip away to Athens in January with Aeva, which we’ve been planning for some time! I’ve never been to Athens, and I can’t wait to be somewhere completely new to really fill my jug with fresh inspirations and ideas. Entering into my fourth winter here, I am learning that a well timed temporary escape from Berlin is essential for survival!
I will finish by telling you about Aeva’s mixtape that is coming out 28th December, which I’ve heard already in various forms and really love. It’s fun and bright with little pop moments that build on the usual gently emo and epic ambient themes. Go give it a listen when it’s out, it’ll be on all streaming platforms! I also wanted to share Rūta’s blog, a friend of mine who writes ‘Regenerative Transmissions’, which I highly recommend reading! It is a newsletter about a “deep desire to move away from extractive relating to the living world, into regenerative and mutual interbeing. Transforming perceptions of multispecies design, healing, and remembering.” Give it a read!
I hope everyone reading this has enjoyed whatever sweet moments this month has brought, wether that has been in loving company or in enjoying peace and quiet alone. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Solstice Greetings and Happy Holidays!
Thank you again to everyone who has already got themselves a copy of Antherda, it means so much and is fuelling my motivation to keep chipping away at part 2!
💫 Stay well and see you in 2023! 💫
