Light dark light again

So we’re coming to the end of the year and I’m feeling nostalgic, aren’t we all? Tired and nostalgic, it’s a heady mix. A few weeks ago fred released 2 new songs (bear with me here, he could be my soulmate after all)

One is a remix of sweet little mystery and whilst I don’t mind it for what it is, somethings don’t need to be techno and maybe John Martyn is one of those things? The other though is called light dark light and the moment it hit my ears I was like this. THIS. This is my year. Light dark light again, life death life again, sky ground sky, rise fall rise, day night day again, light gets in again. It is perfect to me, right now.

The start of the year, to quote Jess, was a bit of a bin fire. I felt blinded by life and my emotions and somehow in that time, eating only tomato soup and hot cross buns my business took flight. It took off guys. One whole year on my own, doing it my way, saying yes, saying no. Working all the time, having no work at all, and somehow some way me, and it, dug our heels in, gritted our teeth, believed in the magical mystical nature of it all, and made it here, taxes filed, acceptance speech written. And we don’t often say this as a people, but I am proud. I’m not gloating, I’m just saying I am proud.

It’s taken a tenacity I didn’t know I had to get through this year, and it’s really truly been weighted on the scale of good and fun and bright and singing and screaming and reading into a microphone.

When I started writing, all cudos to Annie here for her magic, I had zero expectations. None. I just needed a way out of my hole and she felt like a safe space to poke just my eyes out, blink abit and look around. Then week in week out for a whole year I peaked a little bit, then a little bit more out until it now feels like I am kicking the dirt over that hole, scuffing up my shoes with the soil filling it in and standing on top of it.

When wfyl live happened, and I wrote about grief and love and men and women and my very best friends and my mum and spoke it out loud into a microphone in-front of a room full of the best people I couldn’t believe it really. Without getting too existential about it all, it kind of goes like this: years and years and YEARS in stage school, throwing up before getting on stage, but then performing my little heart out- to years and years and more years shying away from any type of spotlight, not speaking my mind, being quiet lest you be known as the loud one- and we end up with a year of writing and speaking it out loud and standing up infront of a microphone. Voila! Being on stage is coded in many things for me, I grew up watching my dad play guitar and sing on stages and now I look at the photos of him doing that and think how brave. How brave we both are. How linked we both are even now. Life death life again.

Light dark light again, and the light this year has come from my steadfast friends, at girlmass this year I couldn’t make a toast properly because I’d lost my voice and it’s a week in and it’s still not back, it went from sexy husky interesting to a whisper to a weird fog horn situation and now we’ve landed back at sexy dulcet husky tones once again, I like to think anyway. I’ve sort of forgotten what my normal voice sounds like now, but we won’t dwell here. Anyway back to my toast, all I could croak out with a tear in my eye was ‘to women!’.

In a year of dropping things, not gripping so tightly onto things that were not working, or where I was pouring my effort and attention in and not getting it back, I made space. And into that space two people came flooding in, landed firmly in my orbit and have spent a year everyday in every way imaginable making it better. Firmer, funnier, calmer, filled with advice and true rounds of applause and compliments & congratulations that feel real and true. Advice and outtakes that I think we all pause a sec and think oh my god YES. It’s totally that. And it’s no coincidence our group is called the council of light. LIGHT.

Earlier in the year when I wrote something, it stirred up my sweet mum to read it twice and send me one of the best messages I’ve received all year. And actually there’s been a few. The writing, has given permission for people to pop in and say hey, I hope you know xxx and I’m really here for it. Anyway what she said was you are my precious girl. And I cried, because who wouldn’t. And this year more than a few people have called me that, in and out and just circling my orbit. And I used to think it was a bit negative, like a bit uptight but I don’t anymore, I dropped that. And now I think yes. Somethings you have are treasure and you wouldn’t give your treasure for just any old soemone would you. Whilst we’re on the metaphors I used to think that some treasures were to remain buried forever, but this year I’ve been opening the box a bit, letting some light shine onto it, picking it up and holding it and then letting it go, actually not being precious about somethings at all. Spoiler, it has really really worked in my favour.

So here we are then, light dark light again. One whole year. Your precious girl.