Why a wet day in January is perfect for a walk in the woods – by Melissa Noble

A wet walk in the woods banishes the January blues and gets creative sparks flying…

It’s 09:49 and the sky’s blanketed in grey. The 40ft conifer that half-blocks my view of the moor is lifting and swaying. One solitary sparrow braves the day.

I’m sat pyjama’d, looking between my list and the mizzle, feeling too weary to do much of anything. I slept well enough, woke early, busy-brained but lacklustre. There is much to be done and I really can’t be bothered.

There’s nothing else for it. I decide to get my waterproofs on and head for the woods (yes, over my pyjamas – really, it’s fine, no-one has ever caught me out and I’m sure they wouldn’t care if they did).

Two minutes out the door and I realise it’s been two days since I last left the house. I leave my hood down. Cold rain lands hard and fast; my face starts to tingle. I feel myself stand up taller and my stride lengthens. Dog walkers, caps down, offer me a sideways hello, looking at my lead-less hand as though to say ‘you sure you haven’t forgotten something’.

Five minutes on, something starts to shift. The entrance to the woods is a mud-bath. I slip through. This land is still not familiar to me and I head down a couple of dead-end alleys before finding a usable lesser-worn path. One of the brilliant things about this time of year is how much more spacious the woodland feels. Brambles and nettles have not yet got their teeth into the place. And the leafless trees make it easy to keep an eye on the shifting sky – shapes between branches offering a latticed look at the now-parting clouds.

Rain slows. Branches wear drops like Christmas baubles. The birds come back out to sing. I’m sat, reindeer moss cushioned on a fallen tree. The first of the season’s ferns shine clean green, leaves upturned so their burnt-orange spores are more easily caught by the wind.

With a casual glance, the woodland floor seems nowt but mud and mulch, but on closer inspection, tiny green clover-shaped leaves are beginning to carpet the space. Once I notice them, I see they’re coming through everywhere, and I marvel at how easy it is not to see – and how great it feels when we actually give ourselves the time to tune in.

Through the tangle of deadwood, I spy a thicket of yellow-flowered gorse and feel how it must have felt to have been walking these paths with hungry belly – the jolt of joy that would have come in anticipating such a bountiful pea-sweet harvest.

Whatever was out of place with me has gone. I feel energised; settled; connected. Ready to do some work. And thinking, “that’s one thing off the list”, because this blog pretty much wrote itself along the way. I head for home. Just as I’m turning into my road, thunder breaks overhead. The rumble echoes on and on. I turn my face up and drink it all in. There’s only so wet you can get. And then it’s time for tea.

Come join me for a brilliant morning of fire, nature-connection, mindfulness and creativity. We’ll do a series of activities to help you get tuned into the magic all around. There will be no pressure, no putting-on-spot – just easy ways to help you connect with your natural creativity and get playful using nature’s inspiration. You’ll leave feeling uplifted and energised, ready to look at yourself and the world around with fresh eyes.

Contact me, Melissa Noble, from The Academy of Wide-Hearted Living for more details: [email protected]
Or you can book direct via Eventbrite: https://tinyurl.com/4v9359mb

The Daylight Saving Club – by Melissa Noble

Helping you thrive through winter

Once the clocks go back, it can feel like we’re in for a bit of a slog. That’s why I’ve created the Daylight Saving Club.

It’s a series of online sessions to help keep the winter blues at bay. They’re carefully crafted to keep in tune with the seasons, embracing the cosiness without slipping into a slump.

Join us and, when Spring arrives, you’ll be ready to hit the ground running.

Sessions run on Zoom, from October 29th through to the end of March. There’s a whole host of brilliant stuff lined up, carefully crafted to help us embrace the cosiness without sinking into a slump. If you know you’re prone to disappearing down a rabbit hole throughout the winter months, this is your year to do things differently.

There are three types of session. We meet on a Tuesday evening at 7 (with a repeat on Saturday at 3)

Creative Zing is designed to connect with our creativity so we can use it to make life better. Sessions will be fun and fully interactive. No previous experience or talent required! Here, it’s all about getting stuck in, enjoying that feeling of flow. Perfect for writers who are feeling a bit stuck!

Winter Zen is an hour of pure relaxation. Think storytime, guided meditation, visualisation and deep relaxation. Get your comfies on. Make a cosy nest. No cameras on. No need to do anything except show up.

Hygge Huddle is a virtual fireside sharing space. We’ll tackle some of the challenges of the season and come up with practical solutions to help us all thrive. It’ll be a supportive and uplifting place, rich with lots of wellbeing-boosting tips!

Curious? More details and booking here

Melissa x

Where do writers get their ideas from? – by Ffion Mackenzie

Here’s why:

1. The science bit: Walking releases the feel good hormones to help you feel more confident and open to your creativity.

2. Simply walking away from your computer and desk with all the detritus of your online life, frees up all that brain space.

3. Step into a graveyard and like me, you’ll hopefully, be engulfed by the calm stillness. The air changes as you breath in the reverence that forms a sanctuary for those who’ve moved on to a different plane.

4. Start strolling around to search for both the familiar and the new in a different light. Notice how your all the senses you need for writing, appear:

Sight:
Look at how low branches of the oat tree seems to form wings around a particular headstone

Smell:
The sticky sweet scent of amber from the tree trunk

Touch:
The dry, rough bark and maybe wonder how it might feel on the skin of a young man’s back
as he makes love to another against the imperious oak.

Sound:
The terrible scream of a Screech Owl,
the wind whipping around the graveyard, knocking over vases of wilted flowers and kicking up the path’s gravel.

What might the dead tell you? Find a tombstone whose inscription moves you, leading to more questions.

Here’s an example loosely based on one I saw:

You might ask yourself, how did Paul die? Did he suffer a disease, an accident – or something more sinister?
What happened to his mother?

In her blog, The Creative Penn, Joanna Penn talks about writing in graveyards. Do check it out. She’s a great baton holder for new and established writers.

Now think again of seventeen-year-old Paul. Was it he who felt the bark of the Yew, raw and sharp as it etched into the naked skin of his back?

A story is blooming as surely as the primrose amongst the weathered headstones.

Put what you can into your phone or notebook.

Your story is almost written.

And for the next one, take a walk along a riverbank or anywhere that lets you hear the whisper of your writer’s voice in nature.