Intentions for 2023

New Year's resolutions aren't for everyone, I know. Back in January, when talking about our goals for the year ahead was perhaps more relevant than it is now, Moss of Spiral Path wrote an interesting post about the toxic standards and unrealistic pressures that pile onto us year on year.

Yet, during that curious, dark and still time between Yule and Imbolc, I wrote in my journal this list of intentions:

- I want to be fully myself; to discover, express and live my truth. This will mean setting boundaries, speaking my truth, spending less time online so that I can understand and develop my own clear-headed thoughts, opinions, feelings and ideas, being honest with myself, listening to my body and my intuition, honouring my own thoughts and feelings.

- Quitting Amazon. Over the coming year I will use the vouchers I earn from surveys to buy those things on my wishlist that are only available from Amazon; the remainder of my wishlist I will move to Bookshop.org. I will also stop adding books to my wishlist in 2023 - I will discover books through personal recommendations, physical bookshops and the library.

- I will continue my practices of yoga, meditation, grounding and centring. 

- I will spend as much time outside as possible - I will put my bare feet and belly on the earth, I will swim in the sea.

- As well as the OBOD Bardic Grade and the Sisters of Rock and Root course which I am studying this year, I will continue to focus on my exploration of Druidry and the enchanted life through reading and practice.

- I will start re-reading books that I already own.

- I will slow down and invite simplicity, joy, connection with nature, contentment, peace, healing and grace. 

- I will continue to honour nature, the passing of the seasons, and our cyclical nature. I hope to move deeper into these practices and grow my connections with deity, the ancestors and the world of spirit.

- I will complete at least one of my stockpile of crafts and models.

- Insofar as it is financially feasible, I will continue working towards a low impact, zero waste lifestyle.

- I will not cut or dye my hair.

It's March now, so I can share a little insight into how I'm doing with these things:

- a work in progress, but I am learning to set boundaries, stop carrying what does not belong to me, and to be honest even when it's uncomfortable. I was recently on a therapeutic retreat where I met some individuals on twelve-step programmes, and I was deeply impressed by their hard-earned ability to express their feelings honestly, unashamedly and with clarity. I've been online more than I wanted to be (mostly to promote my book) but I'm currently working on taking a bit more of a break.

- This is going well. I have added no new books to my wishlist this year so far, and because I am reading books I already own and using the library, I don't have such a towering TBR. 

- I have practiced yoga and meditated every day so far this year and it feels SO GOOD. I've practiced yoga sporadically for years but it's only since developing this daily practice that I've been able to see noticeable changes in my strength and flexibility.

- This has been a struggle - it's been mostly cold and wet. I want to double down on this intention as I think it will make a huge difference to my experience this year if I can carry it out.

- Really enjoying the Bardic Grade so far, and currently reading Zen for Druids by Joanna van der Hoeven

- Re-reading some of my older books has been something I've planned to do for ages, it feels great to finally get on with it

- It's been an unusually busy year for me so far so slowing down has been harder than I anticipated over the winter when I was basically a hermit, so I need to take some time for rest when I can

- Haven't taken as much altar time as I would like this year, but I'm finding a disciplined meditation practice to be very beneficial

- I am currently knitting a hat from a kit Marc bought me in 2019 😂

- This is going well. We're having veg boxes delivered, eating locally and seasonally, buying from a nearby smallholding, using a local milkman, and have switched completely to natural non-toxic cleaning products. We also make use of a local food waste prevention discount store and community fridge, which pass on food from supermarkets and online stores that would otherwise go to landfill and use the profits for charitable causes, but this sometimes means we end up with a lot of plastic packaging. Luckily, our local zero waste refill store have a partnership with Terracycle, so they pick up all our hard-to-recycle plastics. It's not an ideal system, and sometimes I am tempted to slip a note in with the plastic recycling to explain where it has come from ("I'm not just a bad zero waster, I'm preventing food waste!"), but it feels like moving in the right direction.

- This is a random personal thing; since childhood I've wanted to know what would happen if I didn't cut my hair for a long period (say, a decade) but with my butterfly brain have never carried out the experiment. Thought I'd start small, with a year!

2023 is turning into a really interesting year for me. The confidence I have been building since I started working on myself in my first shopping ban is growing exponentially. My comfort zone is expanding, I'm calmer, I'm addressing some traumas from my past with help from therapy, and I'm really excited to see where things go!

As for shopping - well, I started a new shopping ban at Samhain, and I haven't broken it yet, which brings me to a personal best of 122 days without an unnecessary purchase. This time around, I'm definitely not finding it as difficult as I have in the past. I think I needed so many attempts to break the conditioning and habits that I had formed. This time, I think I will not only be able to achieve my 365-day goal (with some allowed purchases that I defined for myself at the beginning of the challenge), but also be under my annual budgets for the first time. Easy to say when it's only March 😂 but it just feels a lot more possible than it ever has before.

Rewilding in 2022: Final Progress Report

This year, it's fair to say, didn't quite go as I expected. Between February and August, Dai, the Spud and I seemed to constantly shuttle between different illnesses and viral infections. The chronic migraines that blighted my childhood came roaring back and made my life a misery until I was able to start on several medications and a course of acupuncture. In November I was diagnosed with a gastro-oesophagal condition that was intensely painful but which is now managed with medication, and I was also diagnosed with depression and anxiety, which I think I had been masking with my excessive shopping behaviours instead of actually dealing with. I have since begun therapy and will be on a short residential programme next year.

Our little family spent an awful lot of time indoors, either taking care of each other or simply sheltering from the record-breaking sweltering heat during the summer. For a while, it felt as though my one remaining nod to something approaching wildness was the organic veg box I was getting with a half-price discount code, which at least encouraged me to cook from scratch more - a habit I'd neglected - and try out new vegetarian and plant-based recipes. The feral housewife rearing her head perhaps.

One thing I didn't expect this year was that I became much more committed to my self-care. I'm not sure what caused this, I think maybe I was tired of feeling like my own last priority, or perhaps my new collection of medical diagnoses, but I started gradually adding habits like dry body brushing, taking more time choosing my outfits, eating more plants, getting routines in place to keep my house clean and tidy, and daily yoga and then I felt like it kind of snowballed. I started getting out of bed earlier and feeling excited and motivated each day. I found I had more energy, so I started trying new forms of movement like Buti yoga, kayaking, paddleboarding and running. I became amazed and proud of what my body could do, and excited by all the things I could feel it wanted to do as I got stronger. My confidence increased dramatically and I found I was better able to deal with life admin tasks - and life in general. 

As time wore on I found myself developing in different ways. When I stopped dressing daily in Goth style some years ago, someone I used to work with posted an image on my Facebook page that read, "You used to be a wild thing - don't let them tame you," which at the time unsettled me, but in hindsight makes me laugh. I am much wilder now, in my 'basic' dress, than I have been since childhood. As a younger person I was too devoted to my image to do half the things I do now. I used to go to the beach in full make-up, fishnet tights, boots, a faux fur coat and hair extensions - you wouldn't have got me on a paddleboard for all the tea in China. This year I've been more willing to try things, more physically active, and even a bit braver than I have known myself to be before.

Yet I realised that, for three and a half years now, I've written, thought, moodboarded, researched and analysed almost constantly about clothes, shopping and style. This thing that I have been trying to escape from is consuming me. The least interesting thing about me has come to dominate my creative life. 

Speaking of which, what about my style challenges? My 'Mrs Baggins' Style Challenge, and my mission to wear every single piece of clothing in my wardrobe, co-existed very well and after a time became the same thing, interwoven with my no-buy challenge like a triple-strand braid.

When things really started to get interesting was when I took a look back at my childhood for some of the posts I was working on. I started to remember how I had most enjoyed dressing, what sorts of combinations made me feel good. I began layering waistcoats over dresses over jeans, mismatching my earrings, tying scarves around my waist over long skirts. I thought about the adage, said by (I believe) Iris Apfel, 'when you don't dress like everyone else, you don't have to think like everyone else'. I started to receive compliments on my outfits, but the best thing about it was that I felt good, I was having fun, I felt like myself.

It was weird how continuing to wear my own clothes felt like a slightly radical and subversive act at times. I found myself somewhat flabbergasted at the existence of the word 'rewearing'. When I was young, we didn't need a word to express the concept of using the clothes we had bought and owned. How our perceptions and culture around clothing have changed.

I also found that, although the cool style of a friend could still occasionally send me off on a couple of hours' browsing through Vinted and Depop, the distinctions between different clothing styles and labels - such as 'alternative' - came to seem less important to me. At some point mid-browse I would find myself getting bored, as defining myself (or anyone else) by clothing came to seem less and less relevant. Having learned to focus more on my other interests, I naturally found myself returning, over and over, to books, music, cooking, art and nature, and finding less importance in what I did or didn't have in my wardrobe.

Could I still see myself wanting to buy more things in the future? Yeeees, but not in the same manner that I have previously. I have been amazed by how much I can do with what I already have. Interestingly, fast fashion, even second-hand fast fashion, holds less appeal than it ever has. I no longer want to continue accumulating. 'My wardrobe' no longer feels like a semi-abstract concept encompassing all the things that I have yet to buy. Instead, I see a future of creating endless combinations with my existing clothes, visible mending, making and customising my own pieces, and the occasional vintage or charity shop find, spiced up from time to time with commissions from slow fashion artisans or purchases from small businesses on my travels. A simple shift, a change of mindset, and yet I feel so much more grounded and happier in myself.

That said, by early December, I found I did have to make a few purchases - I had almost run out of socks, my everyday bras were no longer fit for purpose, my slippers had split at the seams, and several of my wardrobe staples (favourite T-shirts and jeans) were falling apart. It was a pain to have everything disintegrate at once, but I also felt triumphant - it was probably the first time I had needed new clothing since being post-partum. Replacing my worn-out socks at Christmas was a staple of my nineties childhood and I felt oddly proud to return to it - even if it had taken three and a half years to wear through my existing collection!

I was told that firewalking would change my life, and by the end of August, a month after putting my bare feet on hot coals, I had come to believe that. There was an energy that I could feel rising in me, a new sense of my own power. I was starting to get a feel for the enchanted life I had been yearning for - I didn't, and don't, know exactly how to get there, but I knew how to start, and the seeds are beginning to unfurl. I began by spending less and less time online (it's possible that you'll be seeing less of me on this blog in the new year, but we'll see how that shakes out). I took up my knitting needles and painstaking hand-sewing projects, accompanied by an innate understanding that every stitch, every purchase not made, every mass-produced object not consumed, took me another tiny step in the right direction.

I began clutching at creativity, as if every thought and urge I had suppressed in the all-consuming maelstrom of new-motherhood suddenly came surging to the forefront. Reading poetry. Brewing my own tea from herbs. Making natural dyes. Weaving. Sketching. Playing pennywhistle by firelight. Devouring folktales and stories of women losing and finding themselves in the natural world. Travel plans and festival tickets. Something is beginning to take shape around me, and it's a little bit wonderful and exhilarating and electrifying-frightening all at once. 

This is the rewilding I was looking for. It is slow-coming, creeping up little by little through art and story and the play of starlight on frost, but I can see at last a time approaching - inexorably - when it is me and I am it. I can't imagine ever going back to a life of Primark hauls and spending every waking moment on Instagram. I don't need those crutches any more. 

Inspirational reads this season:

Make, Thrift, Mend by Katrina Rodabaugh

Confessions of a Recovering Environmentalist by Paul Kingsnorth

Wintering by Katherine May

Wild by Jay Griffiths

Sustainable Badass by Gittemarie Johansen

You Are Not A Before Picture by Alex Light

Tatterdemalion by Sylvia V. Linsteadt and Rima Staines

A Still Life by Josie George

Other inspiration:

The Hagitude podcast

Workshops and newsletters from Walk the Spiral Path

 I devoured the entire archives of The Hermitage with joy and wonder

I'm going to be taking some time off over Christmas and New Year, and next year I'm considering not sticking to such a regular schedule of posts, but we'll see how that goes. For now, blessings of the season to all of you, and best wishes for 2023.

Into the Cauldron

During November, I scheduled myself a week of Cauldron Time, after taking the workshop Into the Cauldron with Moss of Spiral Path. Moss's concept of Cauldron Time is about taking time to rest and look deeply inwards during the dark half of the year. For me this involved taking space away from social media and screens, reading, journaling, meditating, yoga, divination, foraging, spending time in nature, cooking nourishing meals, and taking naps.

I'm a carer and parent, so I couldn't take a week off as would have been ideal, but I did try to maintain an atmosphere of calm and restfulness, and I also thought hard before agreeing to any social plans and only accepted invitations if I really wanted to. I found all this much harder than it probably sounds! Turns out, I am not brilliant at resting.

However, once I made the effort, I found it very effective. Taking time away from screens and spending lots of time outside under the grey November skies almost made it feel as though I had slipped slightly sideways out of ordinary time and into a liminal space. Suddenly I had loads of extra time which I had previously apparently been wasting fiddling about on my tablet and achieving very little. I also hadn't realised how rushed I normally feel, hurtling at ninety miles an hour from one responsibility to the next - again, apparently pointlessly, since during Cauldron Time the housework still got done, the Spud arrived at nursery on time, and everything was accomplished which needed to be, without me turning up everywhere sweaty, out of breath and slightly miserable. It was such a relief to stop trying to push the river.

I also spent time in darkness - the Spud and I sat out one night to watch the sunset, and were delighted to discover that our garden is apparently a bat hotspot. We also went walking under the full moon one night. I realised that I habitually do everything indoors, but I will try to make the effort to wrap up warm and head outside for reading, writing and playing (drinking coffee, doing surveys and checking emails could all be done outside too).

I found myself getting creative in the kitchen - mixing Penicillin cocktails on a whim to use up the last of the 'good' whisky, collecting rosehips and making syrup. 

I blitzed through my reading pile, and delved into poetry for the first time in a long time (The Girl and the Goddess by Nikita Gill was my starting point). Another notable book I read was The Stopping Places by Damien Le Bas. I found it really interesting to have a glimpse of different cultures and different ways of seeing the world, as well as different ways of experiencing this island where I live. I've been seeing Britain very differently since I started looking more into Druidry, folklore and history and learning about what's beneath and beyond the malls, car parks and council estates, and I find it fascinating to have these small peeks into a multiplicity of ways of living and of being here. We may share the same small bit of ground but we relate to it, see it and understand it in completely different ways. 

The lack of social media was a blessing during Cauldron Time. I often feel torn, as I've made some great connections on Instagram lately and found out about some wonderful events, but I can't deny I am more content without the mental chatter and feeling of being surveilled. No amount of giveaways are worth my peace of mind, surely?

The days felt strange - my life revolves mainly around caring for others and managing the household, so it was hard to find time alone or to deeply meditate as I might have liked, but the week was full of little coincidences and synchronicities, and that feeling that I was just outside normal life, in a secret and special space. The slower pace was wonderful - I did about as much as I normally would, but without feeling frazzled or habitually tense. And I prioritised time with my son over time with other people, which felt right - an important boundary that at times I had been lax about upholding.

I found taking Cauldron Time to be valuable, profound and powerful. There were many lessons that I plan to take forward, such as not letting all my time drain into my screens, being present, slowing down, and recognising that time with the Spud or time alone is also special and important, and that it's okay to prioritise it even when that means saying no to other things. 

Afterwards I felt more nourished, more settled, less scattered. I didn't really want to come back to normal reality, and I hope to try to keep my focus on rest throughout winter. I definitely plan to take Cauldron Time again next year, and at least once more this winter, to help me continue to live with more mindfulness and intention. 

I also had a guest spot this month talking to Hazel and Jenny on The Wheel podcast for their Sustainable Yule episode - listen here.

Fifty-Three Ways to Rewild Your Mind

1. Read poetry, even if - especially if - you haven't read any for years

2. Ditch Amazon - go to your local library

3. Begin a meditation practice

4. Make a meal from local, seasonal goods

5. Cut down your social media time (I signed up for email newsletters from my favourite creatives so I don't miss the relevant stuff)

6. Have your first or last hot beverage of the day outside in the garden

7. Challenge your habitual consumption behaviours - for example, take a break from online shopping and visit local retailers instead, or try buying only second-hand for a while. Disrupt the consumption engine in your head

8. Make or mend something with your hands

9. Swim or paddle in wild water (obviously take all relevant safety precautions)

10. Spend an evening by candlelight

11. Make offerings to your ancestors

12. Consider celebrating, marking or acknowledging the solstices, equinoxes and fire festivals to create awareness of the cyclical nature of time

13. Rest

14. Tend a plant or garden

15. Forage for wild foods (this doesn't need to be more complicated than blackberries or apples)

16. Compost

17. Become aware of the phases of the moon

18. Spend time in starlight

19. Speak your truth

20. Make space in your life to appreciate art. Obviously this is very subjective, but some artists I love who to me express wild mind include Rima Staines, Iris Compiet, Jackie Morris, Hannah Willow, Brian Froud, Julia Jeffrey, Nadia Turner and Brett Manning.

21. Read widely and voraciously on anything that speaks to you

22. Again this is subjective, but some books that specifically evoke the feeling I wanted to achieve include Wild by Jay Griffiths, The Enchanted Life by Sharon Blackie, Rooted by Lyanda Lynn Haupt and The Way Home by Mark Boyle

23. Listen to live music

24. Dance

25. Consider your relationship to movement. What would you do if changing the appearance of your body wasn't a factor? I have a particular hatred of the sterile box that is the gym, so I admit to being biased, but I love to exercise in a way that makes me feel good, which for me includes yoga, walking, dance, the occasional run, swimming and paddleboarding when I am near the sea, and the odd game of badminton.

26. Check out the ingredients in your cosmetics. Consider a switch to cruelty free products. Better yet, natural, organic and cruelty free. Or even consider making your own - books like Wild Beauty by Jana Blankenship and Freedom Face by Lucy AitkenRead have an abundance of recipes

27. Buy only what you need

28. Learn the names of the animals, plants and birds in your immediate environment

29. Wander

30. If you have the opportunity, listen to stories being told out loud - this can be magical

31. Look at the world around you with fresh eyes. Slightly cheesily, I think of being a tourist everywhere I go, and look for historical buildings, unusual details, things that tell a story about the place. I have a particular fondness for old pubs, which are often the longest-lived buildings in an area and packed to the beams with ghost stories, and if this also includes sampling a local ale or cider, well, so be it. Often we go about with half our brain in 'the great digital nowhere', and this can be a way to bring ourselves back to physical reality

32. See what's on near you. Whilst I find that minimising my social media use as much as possible is the best thing for me, I can't deny it's really useful for finding out about workshops, markets, mending cafes, live music, Pagan gatherings, community gardens and all kinds of other interesting events that help me feel more rooted in and connected to my local area

33. One concept of Stoic philosophy that intrigues me is of not being addicted to anything. I can easily fall into habitual ruts (this whole blog started because of my shopping addiction), so I find it useful to regularly challenge those habits and make sure I am in control of them and not the other way round. Phone addiction is probably one of the most obvious, particularly for those of us who are rewilding, but this year I have gone without caffeine just to make sure that I could! Maybe consider having a look at your dependencies and shaking things up a little

34. I was surprised this year to discover how much I am held back by negative body image. I have found books like Beyond Beautiful, The Beauty Myth, Just Eat It and You Are Not A Before Picture really helpful in challenging this

35. Watch a sunrise or sunset

36. Let your bare feet touch the earth

37. Feel the sun, rain or wind on your bare skin

38. Let yourself change with the seasons. Be aware of yourself and your needs. In winter, when nature is sleeping and dormant, you may find that you, too, need to rest, and go within. Don't fight this urge. Capitalism and ideas about productivity and linear progress have made this very difficult, but do what you can. (This is a work in progress for me. I recently encountered ideas about living more cyclically through the work of Moss at Walk the Spiral Path, and I was surprised by how much of an emotional reaction I had to the concept)

39. Consider learning some of the skills your ancestors would have had - weaving, spinning, knitting, pottery, playing an instrument, for example. Ancestral crafts connect us to our history and our bodies as well as being beneficial to our mental health

40. Sketching, writing/journaling or painting are all ways to unwind without resorting to the endless scroll

41. Plant lore and herbalism teach us more ways to connect to the world around us. Although there is a vast amount of knowledge available here, don't be intimidated - you don't need to know everything about everything to brew a simple herbal tea (my simplest is this: I chuck a handful of lemon balm leaves into a mug, pour on hot water, and drink) or make an incense blend. 

42. Spend time with your friends and family (whatever family means to you). Sharing food by firelight is often wonderful

43. Stop mowing your lawn

44. Don't be afraid of the weather - just get a good coat

45. Go off-grid for a little while

46. Turn off phone notifications for email

47. If you can, spend a night outdoors

48. When you're outside, check in with all your senses (maybe not taste? But also maybe yes?)

49. Focus more on what makes you feel grounded, content, joyful, free or simply grateful. Living by your true priorities and values, not those of the dominant culture, is not easy, but it is importantvalues

50. Spend time alone

51. Challenge your comfort zone. So much of our money, time and energy is poured into our comfort and convenience. We are, in a sense, domesticated. How will we cope with the societal changes ahead in this era of climate change? (Many more of us in the UK will be experiencing cold and darkness this winter. Having these changes foisted upon us as the result of inept governing is, of course, terrible.) Finding ways to increase our strength and resilience could turn out to be beneficial in the long run. Common suggestions include cold water exposure, spending time in wild places or without electric light, breathwork practices such as the Wim Hof method, building relationships and communities, and learning how to grow, preserve and forage for food

52. Find a sit-spot that you can visit at least once a week

53. Care for and nourish your body, whatever that looks like for you

Valhalla: A Walk Through Fire

At the very tail end of July, I went with Dai and the Spud to Valhalla Viking Festival, just for a day. Whilst booking the tickets, I'd done something slightly out of character and signed myself up to take part in a firewalking ceremony, which I then proceeded to be incredibly nervous about for the next few months. It felt like the next chapter in a series of occurrences which had started with my energy healing at Goddess House, as well as being something I could never have done even as recently as a year ago. I am very afraid of fire, but I am also devoted to a Goddess of the Forge, and I decided to place myself on her anvil and let her shape me as she would.

The festival itself was tremendous. The day was sunny and warm, and the location was fantastic. It was too hot for me to wear the slightly more historically-accurate outfit I'd originally planned, so I simply wore my favourite dungarees and kicked off my shoes to walk barefoot on the dusty grass. Our first priority was lunch; I enjoyed delicious fresh pizza in the shade of the woodland temple while the boys shared a burger. This was idyllic in itself - there were lights strung between the branches in the shade of the trees, which we could just see from where we sat on the outside, and when we finished our meal and ventured into the hushed interior, we discovered that the cardinal directions were marked by carved wooden statues of Norse gods and goddesses. 

Dai and the Spud quickly went off to play with axes while I had a peruse of the stalls. Some necklaces of amber beads caught my eye, but I tore myself away and we met up in the mead hall for some live folk music. The Spud wanted to get as close to the stage as possible to look at the instruments.

The day passed in a similarly laid-back manner. The people-watching was on point, the atmosphere was friendly. We spent a magical hour listening to a storyteller in the lantern-strung woodlands, and even the lively Spud was captivated by his tales of gods, giants, shapeshifters and trolls. I didn't break my no-buy; despite the abundance of stalls, there was so much to see and do that consumption didn't feel like a necessary entertainment.

Then at last the time came to proceed to the firewalking arena. There were about a hundred people taking part that day, and I felt a tremor of anxiety as I left Dai and the Spud outside the circle, watching. 

A sacred space was defined; as an Earth sign, I was told to find myself a space in the North quadrant. I had been seated a few moments, when a blue-haired elfin person in a linen tunic, Viking leg wraps and hand-forged spoon earrings sat down beside me with a friendly smile. We soon got to talking, and I forgot to be nervous. This was Jenna, who had come all the way from Sydney for the festival. Soon I also met Amelie, a striking presence in a long green dress and impressive armour, who bounced over to us exclaiming, "I love both your clothes!", and in between helping to build the fire, we chatted about cosplay, our favourite fantasy authors, and all kinds of other things.

I had intended to keep myself to myself, anticipating a meditative and solitary experience. But I figured that when the universe hands you kindred spirits during something you've built up in your head as a pivotal moment in your story, you should probably take the hint. 

Once the fire was lit, a circle was cast, and the ceremony began. During the calling of the quarters I could already feel the heat of the flames on my back. As the fire roared, we began by walking around the circle and acknowledging every person there, with a nod, a hello, a handshake, even a hug. I hadn't anticipated hugging strangers as part of my experience that day, but found myself surprisingly open to it. 

The next step was something that I had been particularly worried about for a while after seeing it mentioned online - an arrow-breaking ceremony. As the arrows were handed out we were encouraged to try to bend them between our palms - well, all that happened was that I got sore palms. We had the option to sit out, and honestly I did give it a thought, as I was pretty convinced I would be the one person who couldn't break my arrow, but in the end I stood in the queue with Jenna and Amelie.

At first, with the point of the arrow against the hollow at the base of my throat, I pushed as hard as I could, and it wouldn't bend, never mind break. I resigned myself, took one more deep breath, anticipated serious injury or at least great embarrassment, and walked into the damn arrow as hard as I could. I heard the snap like a gunshot before I registered what had happened.

The lead instructor recovered a piece of my splintered arrow from near the fire, and as he handed it to me, he said quietly, "That was powerful."

The firewalk.

After the arrow, I wasn't afraid. In fact I surprised myself by stepping forwards when they called for someone to go first, and in the end I was the second to set out across 600-degree coals. 

I'm not going to tell you too much about the sensation, in case you ever have the chance to experience it for yourself. The coolness of the dampened grass on the other side was almost startling. I felt like I could take on anything, anything at all.

They laid down more coals, made the pathway longer and wider. Jenna, Amelia and I queued together again and walked across on each other's heels, casting handfuls of oats into the still-burning fire as an offering.

On the third walk, we were invited to make our offerings to a lost loved one. My father's death still felt very recent. I made my offering to the fire, then had to step back and get my tears in check. We had been asked to be silent at this point, so I couldn't explain to my new friends why I was crying. They each offered me a hand, and we strode out on the longest walk yet, together. On the other side of the smouldering coals they both gave me a hug. Two kind, beautiful souls whom I was so grateful to meet. 

After the circle was closed, I went to find the Spud and Dai, and get a much-needed drink of water. The soles of my feet were peppered with black marks, but undamaged.

As someone whose thoughts recently have been very much concerned with concepts like personal style, I also had some unique takeaways from this experience and the day as a whole that may or may not resonate for anyone else.

Firstly, the variety of styles and goods for sale I saw throughout the day reminded me that I like and appreciate a lot of different things, which is why I have so much difficulty minimising my wardrobe or editing it down to a 'core style'. For the first time in a long time I was able to see this as something to be grateful for. I might not have a signature look, but I am able to gain a lot of pleasure from aesthetics and material things without limiting myself to one set of criteria.

Secondly, the people I saw and met showed me that there is a lot of scope for finding joy in your personal expression that goes above and beyond 'being stylish'. I met cosplayers, LARPers, historical reenactors, and people who either liked to dress up for festivals or just feel comfortable, and it reminded me that there is much more to dressing than trying to make your parameters as small as possible in order to define yourself. I realised that I'd recently been looking at clothes and dressing through quite a narrow lens as I tried yet again to 'find my style', and I went home feeling a sense of happiness and excitement about my fairly random wardrobe that I haven't felt in ages. Dressing is not just about encapsulating yourself at a given moment, it can also be about creating a character, creating a feeling, expressing a moment or connecting to something else (a sense of connection to your ancestors through the fabrics they wore, for example). 

In the weeks following the firewalk, I was aware of subtle changes in my thoughts and attitude. The day after, I came to a decision on something I'd been dithering about for years (more on which at some future point). When I found myself angsting over makeover shows, a calm voice in the back of my head said, this is just a racket to make you feel like what you already have isn't good enough.

I had proven to myself that I could be vulnerable and open, but I had also shown that I could be brave and strong. It changed slightly how I see myself and how I respond to the world, and I look forward to seeing where this new perception leads me. My broken arrow still sits on my altar. I am so thankful for the experience, to the instructors, to Dai for his support and encouragement, to my Goddess, and to Jenna and Amelie. 

Rewilding in 2022: 2nd Progress Report - Touching the Wild

This season, I went vegetarian. I'd been kicking the idea around for a while, and my close friend Alice stopped eating meat after working in packing for an online food shop over Christmas and being slightly freaked out by the vast scale of naked, shrink-wrapped poultry she was faced with night after night. I'd tried to cut down my meat for a while, but found that, in a bid to prove to Dai that I wasn't 'depriving myself', the consequence was that I actually ended up eating more meat.

Then I took the Spud to visit some farm animals. The Spud has this real thing about sheep, and after a morning of watching him cuddle the lambs and brush their soft baby fleeces and feed them a milk bottle... Well, I was ruined for the Sunday roast, that was for sure. It's not been an easy adjustment in a mixed household where we generally all eat together, but I just can't eat meat any more, so we'll have to get to grips with it.

It could be argued that a vegetarian diet doesn't work well alongside a plan to rewild. Our ancestors, and many indigenous peoples around the world, of course eat meat, and any attempt to hark back to a less artificially complex, less industrialised lifestyle would surely involve some sustainable meat or game? I can see the logic in this argument, but even if I wanted to keep eating dead creatures for my own sensory pleasure, which I don't, we are also facing a looming climate crisis, and as an environmentalist I really can't justify personally eating meat either. So. There we go. I guess it's a modern, millennial kind of rewilding that I am doing here. But I'll take it!

Leena Norms has an absolutely fab, entirely non-judgemental, non-pushy video which sums up a lot of my reasoning around choosing this diet - here it is. 

One conflict I had this season was fairly laughable. In general we're not a daytime TV household, but I found that when I wanted to roll out my yoga mat in the morning, the best way to avoid being maimed by a toddler trying to "help" me into my poses was to flick Bluey on for half an hour. Except, when I then wanted to turn Bluey off again so we could get on with our day, all hell broke loose. Navigating the storms of tantrums and tears each morning made the yoga practice much less relaxing than it should have been (and the sound of Bluey and Bingo chirping away in the background was surprisingly hard to tune out during savasana), but I had noticed a difference in my strength and flexibility after only a few weeks of fairly disciplined home practice, and really wanted to keep going with it. Attempts to encourage the Spud into the garden or sandpit instead were met with dismissal on all but the sunniest of days. I'll let you know if I ever find a solution to this one!

On the topic of the garden, my feral approach to gardening was providing some interesting results. In the spring we discovered that our garden was full of bluebells, and I thanked my lucky stars that I hadn't just gone blundering in and weeded away everything in sight. It was also full of stinging nettles, but I was quite reluctant to pull those out, much to the confusion of visitors, as I had read that they're an important habitat for caterpillars and butterflies.

Our bird feeder had finally caught on amongst the local bird community, and we were welcoming blue tits, robins, blackbirds, and a variety of little brown guys that I'm not quick enough to tell apart. Unfortunately, the birds also ate our peas and beans, and the feeder also attracted a sleek, golden-brown rat, who at time of writing has taken up residence under our shed and can often be seen sitting beside our humane rat trap with what I'm certain is amusement. I know rats in the garden aren't ideal, but I'm reluctant to introduce poison into the environment, especially with my child around. It's also not the rat's fault we don't want it there, so we're persevering with humane traps and deterrents for now. We also have a resident hedgehog, which really surprised me as we live quite centrally in town and border a busy road. And a squirrel who races through the trees every morning as if commuting to work. 

Unfortunately we also have a large number of field mice, who set up camp in the house (and ate my husband's Easter eggs, much to his disappointment) - we tried catching them and releasing them far away, but they bred faster than we could trap them. Eventually we found ourselves adopting two lovely cats from someone who couldn't keep them any more. Dai mainly wanted a rodent deterrent, as sweeping up mouse poo is no one's idea of a good time. The Spud and I were excited to have family pets to stroke and fuss over. So everyone wins.

Social media has been my biggest bugbear lately. I've now got two different apps on my phone to try to help me manage my usage, and I find that I'm either turning them off, uninstalling them when they prove inconvenient, or simply opening social media in my tablet browser. This is such a big step backwards and I'm really not enjoying it. I don't want to be the kind of person who chooses their destinations by what will make the best photo. I don't like courting followers, and in all honesty I'm slightly alarmed by my propensity for oversharing. A lot of my close friends have recently stopped using Facebook and Instagram, just as I'm probably the most active I've ever been, and I'm steeling myself to follow their example. I might lose followers. I might lose book sales. But if I carry on on this trajectory, I feel I'm losing a lot more than that.

It's not all bad news though. The defining event of this season for me was my long-anticipated wedding. It was a glorious day, made even more special by the people who came together to share the celebration with us, and on a very personal note it was really the first time I was able to see how far I've come since starting this blog. I never realised that reducing my consumption was going to be a personal development project more than a financial one, and yet over the last couple of years my confidence has skyrocketed. I've learned that no one is watching and judging me because everyone is busy judging and monitoring themselves. I've learned that perfection is overrated and boring. And I'm lucky enough to be surrounded and loved by people who are supportive, open, free-spirited and kind. 

When I realised I couldn't dance in my wedding gown I changed into a vest top and harem pants. My bra had carved red divots around my ribcage, so I decided 'sod it' and took it off. I then spent the evening dancing with my friends, or by myself, without fear or self-consciousness. At one point, on my way to the toilets, I heard the throb of music from up a flight of stairs and followed it to find a live band in the building next door, where I danced with strangers on a floor strewn with golden stars.

On the weekend of our wedding, I walked barefoot on new territory. I worked a lock on the canal. I stood atop a long barrow and felt the wind stream through my hair. I saw my friends' faces bathed in firelight; I felt the prick of bird claws on my hands and legs; I drank mead with Druids; did yoga in a yurt; danced the Macarena with a flock of Goths.

I have tasted the wild. I have found the bigger life that waited on the other side of my inhibitions. 

Dai's interest in history has helped me widen my horizons, connect to the landscape, and begin to see my home country in new ways. Parenthood has changed my sense of self and taught me the breadth and depth of my endurance and strength. Growing older has taught me about seizing the moment and forging memories with those we love. Trying to reduce my consumption has led me to an animistic worldview and re-engaged my creativity.

Now that I have touched the edges of the kind of life I want to be living, I am more determined than ever to get there. I love the person I am becoming, and I am so excited to see what comes next.

Inspirational reads this season:

Strong, Calm and Free by Nicola Jane Hobbs

Dandelion Hunter by Rebecca Lerner

Going Zero by Kate Hughes

Sustainable Minimalism by Stephanie Marie Seferian

The Planet-Friendly Kitchen by Karen Edwards

Beauty Care for Wild Women

A change I made around the beginning of this year was that I started carving out a little more time to take care of myself. Beauty and I have had a fairly chequered history - I've swung from surface glamour - elaborate hair and make-up routines, but at bedtime taking a halfhearted swipe at my eyeliner with a bit of damp loo roll and sleeping with my foundation on - to letting nature take its course in the - apparently mistaken - belief that if I followed the same skincare routine as my other half, my skin might end up as clear as his.

Paradoxically, I am quite self-absorbed yet pretty bad at the basics of looking after myself, which is why I have plantar fasciitis (bad shoes) and sensitive teeth (turns out you shouldn't drink multiple cartons of juice a day for several years if you don't want to tear up every time you eat something with sugar in it). I have been a person who buys new outfits on a daily basis, but once left a bout of tonsilitis untreated for so long that it spread to my stomach glands. I was basically unable to eat from the pain and felt so run down and ill that I fell asleep in public places on my lunch break, but I assumed it was some weird new psychosomatic manifestation of my eating disorder and didn't bother to see a doctor for a rather long time. I honestly didn't know that tonsilitis of the stomach was a thing that could happen.

I was surprised to find that I had a bit of resistance to reinstating any kind of grooming routine beyond soap, water, lip balm and a dab of botanical perfume. I felt as if I were, in some way, betraying my 'natural self'. Is my muslin face cloth a tool of the patriarchy? I still don't really have a clear answer on that one. I suspect it's somewhat akin to 'shopping ethically' under capitalism, and we can all only do our best.

Anyway, much like rebuilding my wardrobe after giving birth, I decided I wanted to feel good in my body again, and as well as doing my yoga and going for walks, for me this meant I had to give it a little TLC. I kind of feel like I shouldn't have to - surely my body will look after itself best if I just leave it alone? - but after a week of dry body brushing in the morning and applying lotion in the evening, my skin was so improbably soft that I had to concede that perhaps I could do with a little bit of looking after, after all.

I remind myself that women throughout history have cared for their skin and hair using nature's bounty - which, yes, has included lead and nightingale poo at various times, but given that many beauty products currently contain the likes of petrol, carcinogens and formaldehyde, perhaps we shouldn't be too quick to judge - and what I am doing is therefore no different. I make my own products where I can, but when the ingredients cost as much as ready-made products, I buy carefully chosen natural products from a small handful of retailers. 

Recently, I had a fitting for my wedding dress, and under the bright lighting I winced to see how unkempt I was next to my (admittedly exceptionally beautiful) bridesmaid, who is always very well-groomed. We got to talking about wedding make-up - when we first planned the wedding, a make-up artist and professional photographer were booked, but having rearranged four times due to COVID, they were no longer available (or affordable). I didn't mind doing my own make-up, but in that moment it dawned on me that my two-years-out-of-date Lush slapstick probably wasn't going to cut it. 

When I started looking into what was available, I learned that since I started my shopping ban, the world of beauty had kind of moved on without me. I didn't actually know that primer was a thing. At first I panicked, and begged my gorgeous bridesmaid Bel to take me make-up shopping, envisaging a sprawling department store where some glossy professional could teach me how the hell one fills in their brows without looking as though they have a couple of weevils crawling across their forehead. (That said, the last department store makeover I had, circa 2016, was appalling - I had to sneak into work to wash off the Batman-villain eyebrows whilst my glamorous co-worker laughed herself hoarse.)

The night after the fitting, I decided I wasn't ready to compromise my 'crunchy' standards (side note: I recently learned the term 'granola girl', and although I'm not really the right age group for TikTok trends, please know that this is me. Granola mumma?). I went online and ordered some samples from zero waste, organic, natural and vegan make-up brands - all through Peace with the Wild, link below - and yes, I found a primer. The foundation, concealer and powder all had four ingredients - all of which I could recognise and pronounce. I felt better knowing I could look my best for my handfasting without compromising on ethics, or putting toxic goop on my face.

I do love to try new products, but I'm extremely cautious and generally don't put anything on my body that I wouldn't eat (the exception is nail varnish - I haven't bought any new since the end of 2020, but I have a few bottles that I have been given by friends). I also don't hoard products and only buy new to replace what has been used up. Dai has more bathroom products than I do.

What I am trying not to do is focus on concealment, improvement or perfection, but instead think about nourishment and care. 

For the curious, I shop from:

Peace With The Wild

Lush (although I'm choosy about which products; some contain talc or parabens which I prefer not to use)

The Really Wild Soap Company

Bain + Savon

I also use flower essences to gently help me stay in balance, my essentials are both from Saskia's Flower Essences - I use Breathe Deep, Seek Peace and My Personal Space.

For further reading, I highly recommend:

Wild Beauty by Jana Blankenship

No More Dirty Looks by Siobhan O'Connor and Alexandra Spunt

Freedom Face: A Beauty Guide Free From Toxic Ingredients, Expensive Gloop and Self-Hating Bullshit by Lucy AitkenRead

(I did not realise until typing this list how many of these names and titles contain the word 'wild'!)

Rewilding in 2022: A Progress Report

So, we're now around a third of the way through the year. This feels like a good time for me to lay my cards on the table and talk about how things are going. Buckle up, this is going to be a long post.

The reason I started this blog in the first place was to stay accountable during my year-long shopping ban. As I'm sure you know by now, despite multiple attempts this was not a challenge I have yet been able to complete - however, one incremental lesson at a time I was able to get a better grip on my finances and reorient myself in the world, rebuilding a life that didn't revolve entirely around shopping.

In the process I somehow ended up writing a book, discovering the practice and philosophy of Druidry, making efforts to live a more sustainable life, and reconnecting both with myself and the natural world. So it wasn't exactly a wasted effort.

This year, I decided not to try to force myself through another twelve months of trying not to shop at all. I'd tried three years in a row, and it just wasn't working, despite the positive changes I had made. Each time I seemed to stick with it long enough to begin to see a difference, and then something would come along that was just so special I had to have it. And after that first purchase, it becomes much harder to stop yourself from the next, and the next.

And the thing was, as I've said many times, now that I wasn't panic-buying and binge-shopping all over the place (that stereotypical image of Woman In Mall With Fifteen Shopping Bags And A Skinny Latte really did used to be me), I was choosing better. Not perfectly, not every time, there were still things that didn't look right when I got them home, nail varnishes I never wore and gave to friends, the occasional regret - but overall, I did manage to develop a smallish but functional wardrobe of things I love. So, not completing a shopping ban turned out not to be the worst thing in the world.

Rewilding

This year I decided instead to put my focus more on what I wanted my overall life to look like, guided by the single word: rewilding. 

One of my last purchases of 2021 was an almanac, the Way Back Almanac by Melinda Salisbury. I purchased it without seeing a sample or any inside pages, based purely on the blurb. And on New Year's Eve, I sat up in bed and read the January chapter while fireworks blossomed across the sky outside. 

 "You'll notice all the things we're supposed to acquire and become all fit a narrow and artificial, wealthy, white and western bandwidth of what 'good' lives should look like. And they don't factor in the natural world at all. [...] I'm giving you permission not to succumb to media and brand demands to change yourself. These dark days are ideal for nurturing and soothing, for resting and recuperating. However, we're not entering total hibernation. We need to remind ourselves there's life behind walls and computers. We must begin rewilding ourselves."

I think the hair stood up on the back of my neck when I read that. It was just so precisely what I needed to read. I wanted to climb into my almanac, with its recipes for soup and natural cosmetics and gentle, earth-loving, wholesome advice, wrap myself up in its pages and live there. I immediately ordered the first of Salisbury's #WayBackBookClub books.

Very early in the year I felt myself flailing around a lot, bouncing from one social media app to another, neglecting my sit spot, forgetting about watching the sunset. But unusually for me, I wasn't shopping, or even browsing very much. I kept getting the old twinges of comparison if I spent too long online, but as soon as I closed the apps I seemed to come back to myself.

Oddly, I kept having this recurring image floating to the surface of my mind in quiet moments - just myself, meditating. But this image gave me such a strong sense of peacefulness and calm - a rootedness in my being. It felt like an invitation, a starting point. It kept drawing me back, over and over, to the concept of simplicity, of letting go of all the frantic nonsense of the overculture. It grounded me in the conviction that actually, not banning myself from shopping seemed to be the right approach at this time.

When my garden started to come alive again in spring, I approached it differently. Instead of immediately eradicating my weeds, I tried to learn about what was there. Dog's mercury is poisonous, so had to go, but possibly indicated that an established woodland may once have existed where my house now stands. I gathered cleavers - which like me you may know best as 'stickyweed' - and chopped it into my scrambled eggs for breakfast - eating my weeds made me feel like a bit of a badass, not going to lie. I've read (in Rewilding the Urban Soul) that wild foods are more nutrient-dense than cultivated foods, so I possibly gave my health a boost too.

However, this was the bright spot - over the winter I realised I had become almost completely disconnected from nature. Since the Spud started nursery and we moved away from the nature reserve we had less time for our walks, and for a while I had a bunch of mega stressful life stuff going on (at one point a section of my hair turned grey overnight, which I thought was just a TV trope). The weather was cold and horrible, and our new house lost so much heat through its ancient windows that I was loath to go out and get chilly knowing I'd struggle to get warm again. Our daily walks dwindled to a once-a-week adventure, but then after the Spud came down with one bug after another from nursery, these too faded away, and by March I felt less 'wild' than I had to begin with.

Shopping

So what you may now be wondering is, how's my shopping actually doing without those self-imposed limits and restrictions?

Well, it's been a mixed bag. At the beginning of January, I felt so uninterested in shopping that I thought I might fly through the year without buying a thing, that perhaps all these shopping bans had been a case of barking up the wrong tree. In mid-January, however, digging up old photos from my goth years reminded me that I used to have a lot more fun with style, and I felt some regret that in many cases I'd replaced beautiful items with prosaic ones. Acknowledging that I need my clothes to be somewhat practical, I started keeping an eye open for a few more items that were really stunning. However, I knew I had a trip to Glastonbury booked in April, so I didn't throw myself headlong into online shopping. Happily, I've stopped craving a quick fix to any perceived wardrobe dilemma - I'm more able to proceed slowly and build on what I already have rather than purging half my stuff and panic-buying a ton more every time I have a change of heart.

I've observed before that my urges to buy are often synced with certain times of the month; I noticed this time around that the moon also plays a part. At full moon I am more likely to feel dissatisfied with my appearance, and have a sense of restlessness which can lead quite easily to acquisition. Now that I'm not trying to eliminate purchases altogether I'm not demonizing these tendencies, but it's useful to have an understanding of when I might find it hardest to stick within my budget.

In February, one of my dear friends was taken shopping to celebrate a milestone birthday, and I was caught off guard by the nostalgia - and, I'll say it, envy - this provoked in me, remembering teenage trips to the mall, giggling in the changing rooms, the glory that was the sheer variety and affordability of cheap brands. I really wanted a 'proper' shopping trip, and I lamented to Dai that I kind of wished I could go back to a time when I didn't really know about the scale of the damage that fast fashion is doing. When it was just a pleasure. 

After a few days of feeling really deprived, isolated from my friends (I know there's some sexism behind the suggestion that shopping is a women's pastime and that's a whole can of worms I haven't really even peeked into yet, but in my circle there are only one or two others who are cutting down on their consumption for environmental or ethical reasons and it's definitely considered a bit niche and eccentric), and demotivated (I hadn't really considered that it takes energy to keep setting yourself apart from what everyone around you and society-at-large considers 'normal'), I compromised. I took a trip to TK Maxx, which I had previously considered off-limits. 

Since reading Consumed by Aja Barber I learned that discount stores, while not ideal and, in an ideal world, unnecessary, perform a sensible function in that they sell end-of-the-line items that would otherwise be destined for landfill. I tried on anything and everything that caught my eye. I really made a day of it. I exhausted myself and had to stop for a protein bar. And I bought two items - a summer dress (I only owned one other at this point) and a smart top made from recycled polyester. Perfectly anticonsumerist? Definitely not. An improvement over years previous? I think so.

I noticed that Instagram use definitely corresponds with increased shopping, or at least an increased desire to shop, which is a bit unfortunate. Perhaps I'll have to give serious consideration to putting my account back into hibernation, as by April I was kind of hammering through the clothing and cosmetics budgets I'd laid out for myself this year, although it's not critical yet.

Inspirational reads this season:

The Way Back Almanac 2022 by Melinda Salisbury

Rooted: Life at the Crossroads of Science, Nature and Spirit by Lyanda Lynn Haupt

The Wheel: A Witch's Path Back To the Ancient Self by Jennifer Lane

The Outrun by Amy Liptrot

The Way Home: Tales from a Life Without Technology by Mark Boyle

Consumed by Aja Barber

The Guide to Eco-Anxiety by Anouchka Grose

Afloat by Danie Couchman 

First Steps on the Path to Rewilding

Once I allowed that hopeful word 'rewilding' to take up space in my head, I had to start thinking about what, exactly, that was going to entail for me. A quick brainstorm threw up ideas like:

- being aware of the moon's phases

- having a 'sit spot' 

- writing poetry

- making something with my hands

- foraging

- permaculture

- going barefoot

It also meshed well with some of my other positive habits, like celebrating the seasons, decorating my altar with nature finds, going for daily walks, reading and journalling, as well as those habits that are always the first to go when my mental health takes a hit and my phone use goes up, like doing yoga, meditating, practicing my pennywhistle, and cooking from scratch.

It fit with the positive habits I wanted to create too, like eating locally and seasonally, getting more sleep, and shopping considerably less - and shopping second-hand or small when I do shop. It also kind of answered a conundrum that had arisen for me whilst I was trying to tackle my shopping habit - what do I do with my time, headspace and energy if I'm not constantly spending money on my image? Creativity, magic, activism - a triple-pronged answer that to me felt just the right kind of wild.

In short, the more I thought about it, the more rewilding myself seemed like the logical next step on my mission to re-enchant my life.

The first steps onto this path then became really obvious. I had to make space in my life to begin making these changes, and that meant my technology use had to get under control. Since reinstating my social media accounts to help promote my book, I'd gone from an average of twenty minutes a day phone usage to an average of three hours. It was a bit of a shock to me how little control I seemed to have over it and how quickly the hooks of addiction got under my skin. 

This time around I couldn't take the easy step of deleting my social media apps. Firstly, I didn't think my publisher would be hugely impressed, and secondly, I have a new (to me) phone which has the apps built in. I tried disabling the apps, but once I figured out I could re-enable them in about four seconds, it quickly became a pointless exercise. I started re-reading How To Break Up With Your Phone by Catherine Price, with the aim in mind of learning moderation. I wanted to be able to make a post every few days, respond to a few comments, emails or messages at a time, and then - crucially - put the phone down and get on with my life. It's eternally frustrating to me that I find this so difficult! I'll let you know how progress goes on this.

Next, I wanted to double down on my outdoor time. Whilst reading Rewilding the Urban Soul by Claire Dunn back in late summer, I'd gotten into the habit of taking my first hot drink of the day outside to the garden, and sitting on the patio to watch the wildlife in the trees and the clouds roving across the sky. Kind of a very domesticated version of a sit spot. And I noticed that it seemed to lift the mood of the whole day - not just for me but for the Spud too, who would charge around with his toy trucks in wellies and dressing gown. One morning he spotted a squirrel and was thrilled with his discovery for hours.

So as well as my daily walk, I wanted to take up this practice again. I'd been driven indoors by bad weather, but just as with walking, when I made the effort to wrap up warm and get out there it was always worth it.

In similar vein, my third resolution was to restart my practice of watching the sunset every day. This was something I'd stopped doing after we moved, simply because there was no longer a window conveniently facing in the right direction. But it wasn't exactly a hardship to take the time to sit on the doorstep for a little while. I was surprised by how much I missed those few daily moments of beauty. And surprised that I'd just let the practice slip.

Three things seems like enough to aim for, for now, although I do have some more ideas once I've managed to incorporate these habits successfully. Wish me luck!

The Year of Rewilding

Life has a way of happening whether one likes it or not, and just as I decided to give myself permission to shop, a lot of it happened all at once. 

One night a stone came through our bedroom window (the previous resident of our house is apparently not a popular man locally). As well as being a bit of a shock, this was an unwanted expense as we had to have the glass replaced. Then I had to have my dad's car moved by a recovery firm. Then the deposit came due for the little one to start nursery in the new term. Then the Department of Work and Pensions made an error with Dai's taxes. A car veered too close to Dai's vehicle and scraped the wing mirror off. Again and again we had to dip into our piggy bank and watch the balance go down. 

It felt frustrating and unfair. Our finances had taken a battering several months prior when Dai's former employer decided not to pay him what he'd earned, and they'd never really recovered. Friends and family offered support, but it's hard to take money from loved ones when you don't know when or if you'll be able to return the favour. We'd gone from feeling not exactly well-off but able to afford some luxuries, to doing the food shop with vouchers and barely being able to afford the heating. 

Between being suddenly skint and the loss of my father, it was really hard to stay focused. I found that I could sit in my armchair, fall into Facebook or Instagram and still be there a couple of hours later. I was forgetful and slow - jobs that used to take ten minutes might now take whole days. It was getting more and more difficult to face the wind and rain to get out for our daily walks. Sometimes we didn't leave the house until evening. The to-do list was getting so long it made me nauseous just thinking about it.

The bright spots were few. Lighting candles on my altar and casting a warm cosy glow throughout the kitchen. Curling up with the Spud to listen to a local folklore podcast, as the rain drummed softly against the windows. Reading strange, mournful, viscerally beautiful poetry. 

I hadn't yet settled on a word for 2022. I prefer choosing a word to setting a resolution. It's like setting a heading to steer by, whereas traditional resolutions can be rather like selecting a personal failing to beat yourself up about for a few months. Much like trying to do a year-long shopping ban, I suppose. 

The word arose almost spontaneously, just a whisper at first, slinking out of the shadows around the edges of my mind.

Rewilding.

I tried to dismiss it at first - I have a three year old, a mortgage, and a business account on Instagram, what chance do I have to be wild? Wild is for the carefree, the unencumbered, the privileged, the courageous. Artists, artisans, nomads, small farmers, bush-crafters, van dwellers, communal-living-people, people who don't need at least one member of the household holding down a nine-to-five to keep the roof over. People I admire and follow on the socials, but am too comfortably domesticated to become.

Maybe that was the challenge. Maybe that's what I needed.

I saw a meme one day about feral housewives, and it made me laugh, but it also made me think (and not just me either). The next day I stumbled across a book entitled The Modern Peasant. Then I met a woman at a craft market selling baskets and decorations woven by hand from willow. My IG feed was filling up with foragers, home brewers, people weaving their own clothes from linen and dyeing them with leaves and berries, people who found happiness and empowerment in living simply and close to nature.

[Image text: The term "domestic housewife" implies that there are feral housewives, and now I have a new goal.]

Fair enough, I can't pack up our household into a caravan or narrowboat (yet). But being a feral housewife? That, I could probably manage. Or at least have fun setting out in that direction. Rewilding in baby steps. 

A wilder life was also a different way of looking at living frugally, which can be a fun challenge when your coffers are full but a stressful grind when they're nearing empty. One of my favourite reads in the last few years was Radical Homemakers by Shannon Hayes, which seemed like a pretty good jumping-off point for further disconnecting my life from consumer culture - which right then seemed to be doing its damnedest to reel me back in, because sometimes it's harder than others to resist the endless scroll and the easy fix.

Maybe I could choose foraging over Facebook, take up reading poetry by candlelight, make things with my hands, get dirt under my nails and stars in my eyes, and in so doing become a little stranger and a little wilder over the course of the year. It definitely seemed worth a try.