I run alone

I run alone. I run alone not because I am so fast that no-one can keep up. Nor because I run so far that others would give up and go home while I purposefully forged on.  Nor to be alone with my brooding thoughts. No, I run alone because if I run with anyone else the nasty voices in my head get so loud that it’s me who gives up! Now, you should understand that the voices begin before I[Read more]

10 ways to make sure you never write again

1)     Let your life get so busy with both the meaningful and meaningless that there is just no time for writing, even if you love it. In fact, don’t bother making time for any work – however creative and life-giving – apart from the work you get paid for or are obliged to do because of responsibilities to family and friends. 2)    Only ever write when you are struck by the sort of undeniable and irresistible inspiration that means you[Read more]

Morning Musings: On compulsion and freedom

Ten is a wonderful age. So was nine. And eight. And seven. Age three to about six? Not so much! Anyway, one of the things I love about watching my newly double-digited daughter develop is her growing self-awareness at this age, especially about how she wants to appear to others, or fears she will appear. Every time she tells me about one of these things my heart leaps with joy. Firstly because of the great privilege of being made privy[Read more]

An inclination

  This week I seat myself on a high stool behind the coffee bar, facing the wall of windows that bring in winter’s fragile light, a steaming mug of rooibos chai between my cold palms. We begin with silence, and as I open the pages that I open every Sunday, I remember the old Hasidic tale that gives me reason and hope to repeat the familiar words once again: The pupil comes to the rabbi and asks, “Why does Torah[Read more]

The Story of Zoe-Tree

  One day a woman lost a baby. The baby had not yet grown past the size of a large pea but already the woman loved it. The woman wasn’t even sure she wanted a baby, now, so many years after her first and only child, but still she loved it and, yes, of course she wanted it. So it was that tears began to fall when the blood began to flow. The woman carried body-memory, three times over, of[Read more]

Why my daughter’s dance recital made me cry (And it’s not what you think)

I suppose there are a few reasons that one might cry at a children’s dance recital. I have been to a couple of recitals, for example, where I could have cried from how impersonal, mechanical, prematurely sexualized, commercialized – and therefore boring and joyless – much of the show felt. Of course, it would be more common to cry at a dance recital from parental pride at watching one’s own child perform. And I can’t deny I was proud this[Read more]

Rachael Felicity Grace: Old name, new blog, ongoing journey

  I love my name. (Now) But I didn’t always.   And that, in a nutshell, is why I’ve chosen to start a new blog space with a new-to-the-blogosphere but 39-years-old- today-to-me name!  My lifetime journey of shifting feelings about my name – a story for another day? – largely mirrors my feelings about myself. For most of my life I would say I haven’t liked myself all that much, and definitely not LOVED myself very well. But over the[Read more]