The spring I was pregnant, locked down to within a few kilometres of our small, isolated stone home, I had an essay published that changed my life in ways I still am trying to process. It was published by Daunt Books, in a collection called IN THE GARDEN, and an extract is available to read here.
The essay is about light; the seasons; growing; healing. It is the thing I have written in my whole life that feels most true, most freeing, most curative. It is the essay that made me feel most aligned with this world and my place within her most deeply.
As important and moving as that essay was for my life and practice, the more beautiful part of it all was encountering the work of Victoria Adukwei Bulley, whose essay in the collection — WHAT WE KNOW, WHAT WE GROW AT THE END OF THE WORLD—transformed my world and my sense of place within it in equally exceptional ways.
In her essay, she writes about what it means to be a black person tending the earth; about what being a good elder looks like; about the ways we are able to grow alongside our kin; even at times of extreme emergency. Most impactful of all for me are these sentences—
‘It seems to me that gardening is less about growing plants that it is about growing your own understanding of how they best live. In which case the garden is you…There is the embodied understanding of one’s place in the endless ensemble of living and breathing things…each in concert with the next, in infinite one-anotherness.’
And really if I’m honest , it all centres on that final word—
one-anotherness.
I’ve spoken of this essay constantly, have shared it on almost every course I’ve led, and that wee word has changed my work, my world; the way I move through this life.
Recently, I’ve begun to use another word, born from this one in Victoria’s essay alongside the last year of working closely with (m)others—
one-amotherness.
What do we mean when we talk of (m)othering?
What does mothering look like in the midst of so many emergencies?
How might we learn from our kin, both human and more than—as we try to mother our wee ones, ourselves, each other, the earth herself— our original mother?
These are just a handful of the questions I have been sitting with since that spring before I became a mother (in the traditional sense; I had been mothering for decades before that) and even for quite some time before that spring if I’m honest.
These ideas of interconnectedness, ecologies of care and one-amotherness are the ones that are singing to me most beautifully, most siren like, in the darkness of the night.
On both the courses I regularly teach —
BRUISED, BURNING, BEAUTIFUL:
Writing Through Emergency
&
MARK-MAKING CARE-TAKING:
On Ritual, Reconnection and the Recording of Motherhood
— I have tried to come close as I can to these questions; through the material I deliver, the exercises I lead and the feedback I offer.
But the more I lead these two, the more I realise that I am feeling called to combine them; to allow them to bleed into each other— like the menstrual blood I have offered my summer flowers each month of this year.
I’ve also realised, through the gatherings I have held —THREAD, MOSS MOTHER MOON & the meet up of participants of MARK MAKING CARE TAKING— that there is a desire for a much more communal space to be held.
Less material delivered, more one on one sharing; much more room to grow a shared garden, together.
And so I am over the moon to introduce—
ONE-AMOTHERNESS
— a new path through the garden.
Details
This is a four week gathering via ZOOM, meeting for three hours per week, the first cohort starting on Monday 9th September 10am-1 pm BST.
This is a gathering that will focus on (m)othering and writing through emergency.
This is going to be a very different offering from MARK-MAKING, but those who have completed that course will find lots to support their writing through this new offering. It is not necessary to have completely MARK-MAKING. (For those asking, the next MARK-MAKING will start in Autumn.)
All writers, at all stages of their path, with a desire to make work both impacted on, and/ or in response to the idea of (m)othering — in all its complex, tender, beautiful layers— are welcome.
To be clear- all of us can (m)other: you do not need to have birthed or lived with a child to join this offering.
What this gathering will ask of us all is that we have a work in progress; at any stage at all, that explores one-amotherness.
Prompts will be given for those who want to work outwith their WIP but really my desire for this offering is that we will hold the space for each of us to discuss openly where we are at with whatever creative project is singing to us right now.
Whether you are writing a memoir on your journey of matrescence, poetry on the grief of motherhood, a fiction on a gothic, almost alien experience of breastfeeding: I invite you to share this work as it grows with a group of supportive (m)others.
If you have been or are a mentee of mine; this will be a gorgeous way to widen your creative practice. If not, this will be a gorgeous first step towards thinking about publication, dreaming of collective ways of working, and generally supporting you and your work as you tend to your own patch in this garden of (m)otherhood as well as supporting the others in the group.
Facilitation
My role in these sessions will be much less hands on than on a taught course. However I have given much time and care to what will be needed to ensure everyone gets the most they can from this precious time. So I will be sharing everything I know from my years within a mainstream publishing world. Two books and countless commissions in, I have lots I would love to share; things I wasn’t lucky enough to have shared with me due to being such a self-conscious, solitary writer.
We need each other.
I will openly and supportively hold the space, offer feedback and step back to allow participants to build strong, nourishing bonds with each other as they navigate this world of one-amotherness.
Sharing and feedback , as well as very hands on and interactive discussion around the industry and (m)others; opportunities, anxieties, dreaming otherwise etc will comprise the core of these sessions—so it is important that those who join are ready to share their work in a supportive circle.
Investment
The investment for this will work on a sliding scale, which feels like the way it always should be. No questions asked, pay as you are able : £100 - £175.
As usual, a space is available for a single mama.
Outcome
I hope you will come away from this with a core group of (m)other writers who you can turn to over and over as you navigate writing this wild garden at this time of such uncertainty and change.
I trust you will come away with an insiders’ working knowledge of aspects of writing and publishing that are often held in the dark. I trust you will have found many new ways to approach these themes of care; matrescence and one-anotherness in your work.
I hope you come away feeling bright, hopeful, and ready to sow seed after seed after seed.
If this sounds like a path you are ready to take, email inchwhooperswan@gmail.com
Brightly , X
As ever, if you value the work I do, perhaps you would consider a paid subscription 💗
It sounds like an amazing experience. I have too many commitments to join in right now, but if you run it again in the future then I might
Such a gorgeous offering Kerri 🤍🤍🤍