Sing Your Light into the Darkness

Hi everyone, and a happy solstice. I didn’t want to let this year end without writing to send good wishes out to you ALL.

A combination of home things and world events had left me feeling unsure what to say here, lost for words generally. Words around celebration and merriment feel clumsy at the moment, ‘selling’ anything feels awkward too, and sharing vulnerability before one is done experiencing a vulnerable moment also feels off to me. Sometimes, there is only silence.

I’ve found myself engaging instead in the tiny rituals of vigil-keeping lately; lighting candles, mending things, the quiet of waiting. Not one single other iteration of this newsletter would allow itself to fully-form; no end of year round-ups, no lists, no grand resolutions or claims about growth over the last year. Only fragility, but a fragility that is ensconced in the soft tissue of knowing that this is simply what it means to be human. A sympathetic cry wrapped in feathery gauze-like hope.

I live in a part of the UK that is most affected by challenges when winter hits. Fuel poverty, the choices between heating and eating, a general sense of economic exclusion from what is often a very expensive holiday. There is so much beauty here too; it’s in the ways people work together to make sure folks are not left out, the open doors, the food parcels delivered, and I still love the way the low winter sun warms the reddish bricks on the terraced houses.

It makes me wonder what transformations have to occur inside us all so that we can begin to see others as full human beings in their life experiences. It makes me wonder what needs to shift for us to grow in compassion and lose the need to show others what we have and how it is more that what they have, or somehow better. As ever, I can only affect my own choices ultimately, so these are really questions I’m asking of myself going into 2024.

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Finally, here’s a real way we are making the light that we need for ourselves here. For those who do not know, I am a co-director of an organisation called Hidden Story CIC, along with my friend and fellow artist Hope Caitlin, a truly inspirational and visionary human being. For a few years now, we’ve been quietly supporting creative and cultural projects, with a particular focus on disabled and marginalised folks, just anyone struggling to make connections elsewhere. We ran a story studio and micro-museum and have been helping a range of folks bring things like community-made books together. We’re currently running a storytelling and literacy residency with schools, soon running a fashion-themed offering with disabled young adults and will also be meeting mixed generational groups in our neighbourhood to gather oral history, bringing an increasing number of gifted fellow creative practitioners into our teams.

That’s a very wee summary, but the main passion for us is just supporting folks however we can to have more opportunities for creative self-realisation and all the good things that flow from there, the hidden stories inside each person.

Last week, we held a mini festival of sorts, where we organised a lantern parade and made a lovely book-themed wishing tree where people could leave handwritten wishes on book spines. If you have instagram access, here’s a video…

light.on.the.sea

A post shared by @light.on.the.sea

We have gotten to know people in deeper ways over the years and our team has grown, so next year my role will involve helping structure Hidden Story into a vehicle for supporting others that hopefully makes a difference, while still spending most of my time creating my own books.

Signing off until new year, but not before wishing you all light, the comfort of friends and loved ones, the safety of home and warmth and a hopefulness that surpasses all fears.

Sing you light into the darkness.

Many good wishes of the season, one and all ✨