Tag: unicorn

Somewhere only we know

In the soft light of the evening sun, we wander around the secret garden underneath the pine trees. We marvel at all the wildflowers and the bees humming around us. It is the sweetest gift to discover the world together with our tiny unicorn. Her joy is infectious, her playfulness and wonder are enthralling. It took me a while to get to a place where things are easy, but it feels like we’ve really settled into the life that we share. People talk about the terrible twos, but I welcome her independence. Sure, holding boundaries is hard sometimes, but isn’t that true of all relationships? As Shefali Tsabary writes in her book The Awakened Family, we’d like our children to be autonomous thinkers and trailblazers, but not while they live with us. Our goal isn’t to raise an obedient child, but one who is firmly rooted in who they are, certain of their inherent worth, able to express themselves with authenticity and grounded in their relationships. Lest we forget, they are the author of their own lives.

Unicorn space

Most days there´s still a harsh wind, but then there are days like these, when the sunshine is warming my face and I forget about the winter past. With our little one all happy at pre-school now, I´m enjoying these quiet moments at the oak tree. As the blossoms of the sweet jasmine are swaying gently back and forth, I listen to the birds singing all around me. It makes me want to get into the swing of things here at the factory. To help me guard these pockets of time from the other demands in my life, I’m reading Find your Unicorn Space: Reclaim your Creative life in a Too-Busy World by Eve Rodsky. Unicorn space isn’t about getting a hobby or finding your passion, but about the active and open pursuit of creative self-expression in any form that makes you uniquely you. So many of my dreams have come true since I started this quest for authenticity, from writing my first short story to learning to draw. So don’t be afraid to dream big and then start with the smallest of steps. The time is now!

Catching rainbows

I will never forget the day my mum died. Arriving at her hillside home after a tear-filled journey, I passed underneath her beautiful roses and walked into her silent house. As I went up the stairs, the first thing I noticed was all of my silly drawings hanging next to each other on the wall. It struck me in that moment how much my mum adored them. So that day I made her a solemn promise in my heart: to take my art seriously. That promise has been in the back of my mind these past three years. Instead of creating art, I’ve been busy with creating life. After her funeral followed the arrival of a tiny unicorn, our midsummer wedding, and making a new home. How blessed we have been with all of these rainbows! But beside these life events, I have also felt really lost without my mum. She was my ideal reader and without her… whom am I writing for? The answer remained hidden until our little one fell in love with reading books and drawing together, and all of a sudden I´m back in business.

The forest calls

One of the books that has been sitting on my nightstand for a while is There is No Such Thing as Bad Weather. I finally got around to reading it, and had an epiphany almost as soon as I started: no more playgrounds for us! In an attempt to visit places where the little unicorn can meet others, we have traipsed all over town looking for playgrounds these past winter months. Beside the fact that more often they were completely deserted, I seemed to always be counting down the number of times I was going to carry her to the top of the slide or hold her hand as she walked over towers that are always slightly too high. I realised that most playgrounds are inanimate and uninspiring places made out of dead wood that are in fact not very child (or parent) friendly. So let’s go into the woods together to play hide and seek, climb over fallen branches, marvel at the fields of Indian Lillies, learn about ants and other small critters, enjoy our little picnic and visit the place where the fairies live.

Traces of you

It’s two years since my mum died on midsummer’s night. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her. I try to find her sometimes in familiar places, but she is never where I expect her to be. But then on a random Wednesday morning as I make myself a cup of coffee, I suddenly remember how we’d always enjoy a fika together – sitting out on the veranda or cosying up on the sofa. She’s there when I look down at my hands and it feels I’m looking at hers. When the tiny unicorn and I can’t stop laughing together, just like my mum and I used to. She’s there when a moth lands on top of my glasses or when I spot a bright green spider on a blossoming buddleia. She’s there when I come across a field of poppies. It’s moments like these that I lose my breath for a second and tears roll down my cheeks. Whenever grief pierces my heart like that, I think of the poem by Ellen Brenneman: “Think of me as living in the hearts of those I touched, for nothing loved is ever lost and I know I was loved so much.”