Sometimes silence,
Let yourself be carried away
On the barely a ripple,
Wave of silence

A golden

All cosied up
On a chair
Fluffy socks

Not willing to incur
Heating costs
Yet still warm

Silence says
Nothing more
That who
You are

There’s something special
To a solitary silence
Something nurturing
And restorative

A real present tense sense
Sense of who, what, how,
And where
You are

Favourite Kind of Feedback

This is a short apprecition post for my favourite kind of feedback when it comes to poetry, my favourite kind to give and my favourite kind to recieve.

I adore when the feedback I recieeve about my poetry is about how a soecific line resonated with a person. What certain parts of the poem meant to them, and what it felt like listening to it.

This tends to be the same feedback I’ll givw. I like listeneing to sooken word, more so because of the emotional resonance can be felt (depending on a poets delivery and style). I like to pay attention to the words and the feelings, what it feels like to take in the poem, what I feel from the powt as they’re speaking their poem.

It’s a bit redundant to say I really like poetry, but I do. I really like it, I love how creative people can be with words, the play that can be found there. I like metaphorical poetry, and poetry that is seemingly metaphor-less. I enjoy the cadence and rhythm. There’s so much joy in poetry for me.

Thanks for your time. What are your thoughts on poetry?

With warmth

Fine Words weave


So for part of my dissertation, I had to interview people. One of the things I asked about was people’s experience of being counsellors. And from that something that came up again and again. Something I actually really resonate with as a counsellor myself, it was the privelege of being with people as they courageously face their experiences. How phenomenal that is experientially, and how important and precious that can feel.

When I worked in time limited sessions with clients, sometimes the goal would be just coming to a place of awareness. And by awareness I mean coming to know and be cognizant of things that were not very obvious to yourself before. Awareness of what was at play, or about things that had gone unackowledged. I guess this post is me just reflecting on how two probged awareness can be (or maybe multi probged, but I’ll focus on two in this post).

I think with awareness can come a relieved understanding on one prong, and a (sometimes(?) pained) acceptance on the other.

Thinking about some of my own experiences, awareness can come as a huge relief. Maybe because my brain has always run this programme of “trying to understand myself . Awareness feels like a key or a chart, or something that adds more to the puzzle and helps me makes better sense of what’s happening for me. It’s like a light, that makes patterns more easy to identify. It can be an explanation for slcertain behaviours, and a contextualisation.

There’s the other side, the acceptance yet pain part. Sometimes I feel like certain levels of ignorance can be bliss. Take for instance the personal awareness of how important it is for me to feel my feelings, (as opposed to surpressing them/ dissociating from them). This can be uncomfortable because it aaks something of you, in the way you show up for yoyrself. Understanding and being aware of something is different from doing it. But awareness can be a challenging, though pivotal first step towards change.

Okay thus concludes a mini thought unravelling. Thanks for reading. What are your thoughts on awareness? What have been your experiences? ) I’m always curious, so share below if you like.

With warmth,

Fine Words Weave

How Cosy Can That Bed Really Be ?

How cosy can that bed really be? This is the question my internal monologue poses, as I’m bent over 50 minutes past midnight, changing the ties on a swinging hammock chair to lift the chair a couple inches further off the ground. Why am I straining the muscles of my lower back, neck, and shoulders at this time you may well wonder. It’s so that I can recline in it with my feet that little bit higher off the gound. Even now I’m wondering why I left my warm and cozy bed to stoop over adjusting knots and ties.

When I’m finally seated, the creak of the swing a constant companion, slightly lopsided because the ties have been redone in the haphazardness of just waking, by the light of my phone, the faint light of fairy lights that’s batteries need replacing and not much else, my head occasionally bumping into the bar at the top of the a-frame that supports the hammock chair, it strikes me that this could be a metaphor for life.

Something about how, at some point it’s less about how cosy the bed is and more about how loud the internal dialogue is that’s roused you from slumber. More about the burst of hyperactive energy coursing through your body, time becoming a non-factor, that propells you from your bed, with the persistent feeling that downstairs is where you need to be.

This metaphor as I look at it speaks to the comfort zone, and that initial spark that preludes the process of working free from it, much in the same way you might struggle free from a duvet and weighted blanket. The burst of hyperactive energy that sends oxygen to your limbs could be the paradigm shift that convinces you that you want to stretch your comfort zone. Or even, step into the discomfort of something new, like the nip in the air of the temperature dipping at night.

There’s nowhere else to really take this midnight musing as I’ve now lost my train of thought, glad I started capturing it here whilst it was fresh. I might come back to this in the morning, read it over, and think ‘what on earth?? 🤔’. However the part of me that recognises how much closer I am to intuitive connection making when I’m in particular states between wakefulness and slumber, suspects I’ll likely enjoy this impromptu metaphor.

What do you make of it? Does it read as the ramblings of a sleep talker? Is there something to it? I’m curious about your thoughts, you can share them below.

Signing off now, as I consider whether to make my way back to bed or to spend the next couple hours following the white rabbit of my curiosity down the black hole of the internet.

With warmth,

Fine Words Weave