Flowerings and flourishings

Monthly newsletter, July 2023

Dear friends,

This is the most complicated and paradoxical time of the year for me. As those of you who’ve been following my work for a while now will know, I’m really not a summer person at all. I’m told this is strange because I was born in June, at the height of summer. But I justify it by remembering that I was born at the end of June, a few days past the Summer Solstice, and so on the downward slope of the year. I’ve always struggled to find a sense of enchantment in summer, in spite of the fact that I love the roses and the trees and the nesting birds and the sense of the world alive and fully flourishing.

Strangely, this summer has been less trying than usual, in spite of the weeks of sunshine and heat, and I’m trying to figure out why. Perhaps it’s because I’m finally in an old stone house which does exactly what we’re told they’re supposed to: it stays cool in summer and warm in winter. Perhaps because my bedroom window is shaded from the fierceness of the sun by lush trees. Perhaps because the river, even when water levels are low, is always there to soothe, and because the tree-lined banks provide both shelter and shade. Perhaps because owls and ducklings and kingfishers. Perhaps because I finally feel at home. And yet ... there’s still no place to hide from summer’s shouting, from the influx of visitors to this northernmost part of the Yorkshire Dales National Park, from everyone determined to be on holiday. I like to work, and I like to write at dawn when the world is quiet and not shouting. I like to write in the winter dawn, with cosy lamps and snoring dogs, when the world seems entirely mine and all the lights in the valley are still out.

Nevertheless, when you move to a new house which needs a lot of work – and this one needs a lot of work! – summer is the perfect time for it. Windows open to remove the smell of drying paint and wallpaper, new roof completed in record time and record sunshine, garden weeded, public footpath stoned, fields fenced, crumbling gates replaced. After three months of trying, we finally have an infestation of plumbers; a handful of crumbling windows and doors will be replaced in early autumn, and the water supply will hopefully be sorted by the end of the year. Next year, after the house and boundaries are fully functional, we’ll focus on food and the garden: on a hen house (this is the first time I’ve been without hens for so long for a full twenty years) and some raised beds for vegetables.

Meanwhile, my birthday always insists upon space for reflection – and above all, on space for gratitude. Because the truth is, I am living the life I never quite dared to dream of, and that is mostly because I’m doing the work I’ve always dreamed of. At a time when so many people are culturally conditioned to think about ‘retiring’, I’m full of ideas and energy. I have book and other writing projects queued up for the next three years at least, and it’s so lovely to have both publishers and readers wanting more. The trick, as always, is to balance that with time outside, and – for me especially – with time out just to muse, and to be. That’s always harder at this vital and vigorous time of year; I need the shadows to feel fully alive, and to feel as if I can fully inhabit my body. I need the solitude of winter, not the camaraderie of summer, as the backdrop for my best creative output. But that long, slow slide into the dark half is underway, and winter is coming. I’ll have the fire lit and the candles glowing, ready to welcome it in.

Wishing you all the joy and abundance of whatever season you find yourself in,

Sharon

---

Hagitude paperback now available for pre-order

The UK paperback version of Hagitude, which will be published on September 7, is now available for pre-order, priced £10.99. Find it at Amazon UK here, and at Waterstones here. Or support independent booksellers, and pre-order at your local bookshop.

I’ll be doing a small bookshop tour to support the book; please find events below.

12 September at 6pm, Blackwell’s, Oxford
13 September at 7pm, Winstone’s, Frome
14 September at 7.30pm, Topping & Company, Bath
12 October at 6.30pm, Waterstone’s, Kendal
23 October at 7pm, Toppings, Edinburgh

---

NEW: self-study version of ‘Finding Ourselves in Fairy Tales’

My recent online course, ‘Finding Ourselves in Fairy Tales’, is now available in a self-study format so that you can work with the material at your own pace. You’ll receive recordings of the three main sessions (each around 1 hr 40 mins) as well as a comprehensive list of written, audio and web resources.

We are storytelling animals, hard-wired for story. We begin to perceive, explain and make sense of the world through the stories we find in childhood – or the stories which find us. They are the stars we navigate by. Stories teach us everything we know, and their lessons are deep and rich. In fairy tales, for example, the tasks which must be undertaken are the stuff out of which souls, not just shirts, are forged. These stories help us to reimagine ourselves, because at the heart of them is transformation: they help us to believe in the possibility of change. We come to see that there are other ways of imagining the world and our place in it – and of living more intensely, and more richly, in a world that is often filled with challenge, and sorrow. I’ve worked in this way – as a psychologist, academic, writer and teacher – with fairy tales now for more than two decades. Join me to explore the ways in which, even as adults, we can find ourselves in fairy tales. The course covers the following topics:

·      What are fairy tales, and how and why do they change over time?
·      How do they help us?
·      Where does their magic come from, and why are they so memorable?
·      Working with images and narrative elements in fairy tales
·      How to reimagine fairy tales for our lives and the times
·      Archetypal patterns in fairy tales – what are archetypes and why are they so important?
·      The fairy-tale heroine’s journey – how does it differ from other models?
·      Writing our lives as a fairy tale
·      Other ways to work with stories: dreamwork and active imagination work
·      Creating your own inner imaginarium

Fee: £50. Purchase here.

---

Online lecture series at Pacifica Graduate Institute

Last call for my online lecture series at Pacifica Graduate Institute: 'Hagitude: A Woman's Journey from Menopause Through Elderhood'. 6 weekly sessions, Thursdays at 5–6.30pm UK time, July 20 – August 24.

Menopause is a time between stories, when the old story fades and a new story is waiting to emerge. It’s a liminal time, when we hover on the brink of the profound transformation which ultimately leads to elderhood and contemplate the work of gaining new perspectives on our life, of challenging and evolving our belief systems, of exploring our calling, of uncovering meaning, and ultimately finding healing for a lifetime’s accumulation of wounds. Nevertheless, the second half of women’s lives is often portrayed as a time of decline. How can we challenge this narrative, map the new territory, prepare ourselves for yet another searing transformation, and move into the second half of life with a sense of vitality, creativity and vision? Grounded in myth, narrative techniques and archetypal psychology, this course will focus on the following questions:

– How can we navigate the stormy waters of menopause and find continued growth, meaning and authenticity in the second half of life?
– How might we work with the stories of the little-known but powerful elder women in myth and folklore – both to inspire us to create new stories of our own, and to reimagine our journey to and through elderhood?
– How can we each uncover, and embrace, our own unique, archetypal Inner Hag?
– How, by working with and understanding our own stories, and our own mythopoetic journey through life, can we fully and finally embody the unique gift which each of us brings to this world, at this time?

Full details at this link: https://retreat.pacifica.edu/hagitude/

---

Bone Cave gatherings for autumn/ winter 2023

I plan – in the context of my ongoing occasional ‘Bone Cave’ sessions – to offer in-depth dives into two potent mythic stories, later this year. The sessions will consist of readings, teachings, breakout sessions, creative prompts, discussion, sharing, and whatever else seems appropriate at the time. They will be available for advance registration on my website next weekend (bookmark the ‘Courses and Events’ page).

Saturday October 21, 4pm – 7pm UK time: ‘Psyche and Eros: the Soul’s Journey Home’. (This session will be priced at £45.)

Saturday November 25, 3pm – 7pm UK time: ‘Descent: Resilience and Revelation in Catastrophic Times.’ This session will be anchored around a new visioning of Persephone’s descent to the Underworld. (This session will be priced at £60.)

Sessions in The Bone Cave will continue as occasional deep dives into myth and story, through 2024.

---

New monthly Hagitude membership, and the future of The Mythic Imagination Network

My Mythic Imagination Network, on Mighty Networks, has been in existence for over two years now. I set it up originally when I was about to undergo months-long chemotherapy for lymphoma, wanting to offer a place where discussions around my work on the mythic imagination, and around my books, could continue both with and without me. In that context, I wanted also to offer it as a space for a small number of women who were working with me to hone their skills and their own offerings. Audrey di Mola, Carla Howell and Monika Brotherson have done a brilliant and wholehearted job with their rich contributions, as well as the guest teachers and tellers who blessed us with their sessions.

However ... since that time, much has changed. In particular, the Mighty Networks platform has become rather unnavigable, due to a sudden format change around a year ago. Other than ripping the whole thing up and starting again, there doesn’t seem to be a way of making it easier to reorganise without losing old content. After much thought, as a consequence, I’m proposing to close the Network down in September, and to transfer the core work to a new ongoing monthly membership program I’ll be offering from October 7 which will be based around, but also considerably extending, my work on Hagitude. This new Hagitude program will offer new members access to the ‘backlist’ material and recordings from the current yearlong Hagitude course, as well as participation in the ongoing program on a month-to-month basis, just as we do here on the Network. (Since those in the current Hagitude yearlong program, which finishes at the end of September, will already have paid for that material, they’ll be offered membership at a reduced monthly fee of £10 rather than the £15 for new members.)

Importantly, this new membership program will broaden its scope so that we’re not only honing in on the second half of life (though that will very much remain a key focus) but also including content on the ways in which women can embrace their ‘hagitude’ at any stage of adult life. The program will have strong focus on working with women’s archetypes and stories – both myth and fairy tale – and especially on looking for ways to make them relevant for today’s ever-changing and ever-challenging times. It will have monthly story circles with me as well as monthly sharing circles, and guest teachers/contributors, and access to a high-end community forum which enables connections to be made based on interest or geographical location. And who knows what else; it’s still very much in development.

I’ll be posting more about the new Hagitude membership program in due course; please watch this space!

---

Reading recommendations

This has been a month with, I’m embarrassed to say, very little time for reading. And so it was a pleasure to receive a review copy of the lovely Path: a short story about reciprocity, by Louisa Thomsen Brits. And not just because it’s short! – though indeed it is. It’s a gorgeous addition to my enormous and still-growing books that celebrate our relationship with place. Here’s the blurb:

‘Walk with me. Along luminous chalk paths, rugged terrain and ancient tracks. To remember that you are not alone but part of an infinite web of ways. Intricately and completely interdependent.’

Many of us enjoy walking along a familiar path. Our spirits lift as our mind settles and our soul is restored by the beauty of the natural landscape. In Path, a solitary figure walks along ancient pathways, between slender trees, across open hills. As the earth offers up support and reassurance, they walk through uncertainty towards an understanding that they – we – are not alone, but part of the fabric of the world. With evocative photography and illustrations inspired by the pathways across the South Downs, Path is a contemplative journey written in poetic prose that embodies the steady rhythms and joy of walking, and captures our reciprocal relationship with the land. Now in paperback, Path features a brand new preface written by the author, Louisa Thomsen Brits, that reveals the unexpected journey she undertook just days after the book was first published in 2018 – and how her own words helped her to navigate a different kind of path through cancer diagnosis and treatment towards healing.

I’m halfway through a gorgeous memoir by Maggie Smith: You Could Make This Place Beautiful, and have read enough to wholeheartedly recommend it to the memoir-lovers among you. It’s up there in my top handful of memoirs of all time. You might remember Smith for her remarkable poem, Good Bones, which became a viral sensation back in 2016 and which is my poem of the month, below. Here is the publisher’s description:

In her memoir You Could Make This Place Beautiful, poet Maggie Smith explores the disintegration of her marriage and her renewed commitment to herself in lyrical vignettes that shine, hard and clear as jewels. The book begins with one woman’s personal, particular heartbreak, but its circles widen into a reckoning with contemporary womanhood, traditional gender roles, and the power dynamics that persist even in many progressive homes. With the spirit of self-inquiry and empathy she’s known for, Smith interweaves snapshots of a life with meditations on secrets, anger, forgiveness, and narrative itself. The power of these pieces is cumulative: page after page, they build into a larger interrogation of family, work, and patriarchy.

You Could Make This Place Beautiful, like the work of Deborah Levy, Rachel Cusk, and Gina Frangello, is an unflinching look at what it means to live and write our own lives. It is a story about a mother’s fierce and constant love for her children, and a woman’s love and regard for herself. Above all, this memoir is an argument for possibility. With a poet’s attention to language and an innovative approach to the genre, Smith reveals how, in the aftermath of loss, we can discover our power and make something new. Something beautiful.

---

This month’s poem

Good Bones
By Maggie Smith

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.

‘Good Bones’, from Waxwing magazine (Issue IX, Summer 2016). © 2016 by Maggie Smith.