How Writing Observations can be a Tool for Joy

Photo Credit: Natasha Rivett-Carnac

“Joy doesn't betray but sustains activism.”

― Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark

This December, our family moved to Devon, onto a bit of land where the house sits on a hill that gives way to fields. At the bottom, as if in a bowl, there’s a stream.

In our short time here, I’ve learned that the two handsome trees that greet me outside the kitchen window every morning — that don’t seem moved by texts or shouts from children or dirty dishes — are an Ash and a Spanish Chestnut. I’ve learned that Indian Runner duck females cannot be left alone with a male. They need a sisterhood of ducks. I’ve learned that a certain kind of blackbird likes to flock together in winter, and that’s who we see weave through the sky like so many black ribbons twisting and turning. I’ve savoured a fire on the full moon. I’ve used a stick to break the ice on the ducks’ water during a week of frosty mornings. That week, it felt the land could rest. It felt good to feel the bite of winter air in the morning.

A Writer’s Exercise

I am aiming to keep a record of the year in my traveller’s notebook. Just a line or two of observations. Recently, I’ve felt called to use my writing as a tool for observation, to trust that words can hone in on joy and beauty as much as pain and hardship. In a time of so much suffering, I hope this work is not to distract or to paper over, but instead to have faith that we humans are skilled at finding hope in the dark.

What intentions do you have for your writing this year?

Photo Credit: Natasha Rivett-Carnac