From the Compost Heap header. A pencil style illustration of a compost heap with flowers and plants growing around it. A bee buzzes by and a white rabbit hops by.

  • Trenches, I am in them.

    While the neurotypical world is chanting “new year, new you” many autistic and otherwise neurodivergent folks are just struggling to get the train back on the tracks in January.

    Our family finds the holiday season quite difficult. Even with our best intentions to slow down and do Christmas in our own ways the change of routine and excitement always seems to tip us into dysregulation. Add to that distressing news, weather related pain flares, and chronic illness* and I have been having a particularly hard time.

    Yesterday I spent most of the day in acute pain laying on a heating pad and wondering why my body had suddenly turned against me. I’m hurting today, but less intensely and trying to type this up while I can manage to do so.

    I think it’s important to show the struggle and not just the highlights reel we’re all encouraged to curate nowadays.

    If you’re not fine I made this for you a few months back.

    Another regulating tool I can recommend Marina Gross-Hoy’s gentle workshop The Art of Beginnings. (Coming this weekend!) I love Marina’s work and although I can’t attend live I’m planning to brew a nice cup of tea before I watch the recording.

    The art of beginnings title over an oil painting of tree branches

    I’m am looking forward to Marina’s gentle presence as we begin piecing together our daily rhythm this January.

    When I have the capacity I’ve been working on prototypes for a series of collagraph prints to represent my creative process (based on the data from my 2025 creative ecosystem pie charts.) †

    I’m playing around with the form of a meandering river bed, and used the data to create four different paths for visual art, self publishing, blogging, and zines. Here are some mock ups in Procreate.

    Then I’ve been testing different printmaking techniques. I’ve decided on collagraph (a process where you collage a plate to print from) with an unraveling cord.

    The final print will be four different meanders overlapping each other printed on the same page. These will go out to my print subscribers at the end of January and will also be reproduced on the cover of January’s zine.

    Collograph prints of deep blue meanders of a river as printed from an unraveling cord

    I’m keen to get this project done, but my body has been forcing me to pace myself and I am trying to listen.

    Here’s a clip of me pulling a test print.

    The inspiration behind the shape of overlapping meanders is from last year’s mood board and the meander maps of Harold Fisk. I’ve learned that my process ebbs and flows and will be writing more about this for January’s zine.

    I also wanted to share a tip for anyone who’s interested in tracking your time.

    After last week’s newsletter one of you kindly sent me the EARLY time tracker app which does almost the same thing with much less friction. I’ve been playing with it for January and honestly it will save a ton of time that I spent tinkering with spreadsheets. (Thanks Katie!)

    Vintage illustration of ourboros dragon biting it's own tail

    Over the past few months I’ve also been working on the Alchemy (Trade & Barter) portal on my website. It’s framed as an immserive choose your adventure story and you can read it here.

    It’s a whimsical invitation to exchange energy and art outside of the framework of money. Art for art. Book for book. Zines for zines.

    Time Travel banner. Hand drawn illustrtation of TARDIS in space surrounded by swirling lines and stars.

    Last January I opened a 26 year old time capsule and made a zine about it.

    Time Capsule Zine Cover with Crayola Stickers and Rubber Stamps

    Two years ago I wrote Hello from a Human Jungle Gym – a reflection on time and energetic capacity.

    Nested rainbow hearts drawn with crayons. Rainbow sorted colored pencils and art supplies to the left.

    That’s all for now.

    According to my timer app it’s been over an hour of typing (HOW does this take so long??) and my back is warning me to wrap things up. I’m going to queue this up without proofreading again. Thanks for your generosity and understanding.

    I’ll be back next week to announce a new project.

    Take care.

    Sarah signed with a swoopy S

    P.S. Yes, the title is a quote from Daniel Howell. If you know you know. 😉

    FOOTNOTES

    * I’ve recently been diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses, but have not had the spoons to sit down and write about the experience. Soon. Maybe next month.

    † This is for the ILSSA open call to diagram your creative process.

    Read more: Trenches, I am in them.

  • I’ve had a tab open for kening zhu’s post about rituals vs. sprints for nearly a month. It reminds me about something Katherine May once said on a podcast* about the cycle of neurodivergent hyperfocus and recovery. Versus a neurotypical ideal of consistency. It’s something I am still figuring out. Having experienced burn out I find I need to be careful of flying too close to the sun. But trying to force a structure that doesn’t align with my capacity is also not right. I’d love to hear other thoughts on this.

    * I can’t seem to find the podcast episode I’m talking about. 🤦

    Read more: untitled post 156078307

  • Intentional Inconsistency

    Holding 3 years of motherhood journals.

    The very idea that inconsistency is something to practice may fly in the face of everything you’ve ever heard.

    It’s certainly the antithesis of what Julia Cameron prescribes in her book The Artist’s Way.*

    *I actually love this book, but her specific creative process hasn’t been a good fit for me since my kid was born.

    UK edition of The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron surrounded by blue art supplies: paints, pencils, pastels, thread and and brushes.

    During my autism evaluation the psychologist noted that I was an “all in” person. I was drowning in commitments and my evaluator suggested I try practicing inconsistency. I was completely blind to having that choice.

    My brain only sees “do” or “do not.” (I would be an excellent Jedi Master.)

    Yoda jedi master

    Its been a very long and slow process to begin shifting this.

    That’s why I call it a practice. I mean that in the same way someone has a yoga practice or a gratitude practice. Inconsistency is something I’m actively working to cultivate in my daily life.

    Photograph of dictionary definition of practice: actual performance or application of knowledge, repeated or customary action, usage, habit

    Because of this tendency I avoid “don’t break the chain” mindset like the plague. I’ve fallen under its spell many times and its pretty ugly. I could chain 300 days and if I miss a day its all over for me.

    That broken chain feels worse than starting from zero.

    My best defense is to embrace inconsistency. To invite it in.

    When I was journaling as a new mum I was often faced with the option to sleep or to write. And, in my maternal wisdom, I knew that Julia was wrong.

    Art is important, but sleep is number one.

    Here I am three years later.

    I’m celebrating 916 journal pages during the first three years of motherhood. (189 of those were using a simple daily check in you can download here.)

    I broke the chain many times.

    I chose sleep, and baths, and yes sometimes even Stranger Things.

    And I don’t regret it.

    Because I was intentionally inconsistent this isn’t a failure. It’s a win. It’s me taking care of myself and my creative ecosystem.

    Those 673 pages would not exist without taking this approach. (The same goes for writing my books by the way. That process was also wildly inconsistent.)

    So here I am with a fist full of journal inserts (it is pretty satisfying they all match, isn’t it?)

    Holding a handful of journal inserts over a seafoam bedspread. The top one is wrinkled and slightly chewed.

    …one of which was nibbled by my child when they were in the human goat phase. 😂

    Black and white photo of an infant chewing on my journal entry. I think this was a month or two before they started walking so almost a toddler, but not quite.

    This taste for paper is part of why I found journaling time hard to come by. I’m writing more these days, but I still want to hold this practice with a loose grip.

    How do you feel about consistency? Love it or hate it?

    Ok, it sounds like my child has waken up grumpy from their nap so my quiet time is all used up.

    Until next time,

    Sarah signed with a swoopy S

    P.S. If you resonated this blog post you may enjoy the ramble podcast I recorded on the same topic.

    Originally published to Substack on Jun 17, 2022.

    Read more: Intentional Inconsistency