The Shift
being surprised by new opportunities and a lightening of burdens
At the start of every February, there is a subtle but distinct shift in the season here in the UK. It comes at the mid point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It makes itself most felt in the quality of the sunlight, a small but distinct change that the most observant (or desperate!) will perceive.
I noticed it for the first time this year. As I stepped outside one early February afternoon to walk my dog Buster, catching a rare dry day (February was crazy wet this year), the sky seemed barely but perceptibly lighter. It was as if someone had gently turned up the dimmer switch or opened a few blinds. Was winter – my least favourite season – actually starting to turn, I wondered?
Most years, I eagerly watch for the first signs of spring, but I usually look around now, in early March, when the signs are more obvious. I hadn’t realised that this shift started as early as the first week of February until I read an instagram post by someone on St Bridget’s day, about what the Celts used to call ‘Imbolc’, or ‘first sign of spring’. They would mark it with activities like spring cleaning and lighting of candles to symbolise a time of purification, new beginnings, and preparing for the growing season. The link with the Christian season of Lent is clear.
Around the same time I too was sensing a subtle but very distinct change in my own life in ways that has both surprised and delighted me – like the snowdrops, narcissi and crocuses that were popping up in all the gardens in my street.
A few weeks ago, a friend sent me a link to a creative writing retreat that had a last minute cancellation. Unusually, it was both affordable and not far from where I live meaning I didn’t need to stay overnight. Run by a Christian writer, it was as much a spiritual retreat as a place for inspiration and writing time. My weary soul jumped at the chance.
There are times in life when things align in a way that you can’t force them to happen; this was one of them. I was surrounded by some beautiful, kind writers, many of them younger than me and none of them writing memoir, but it didn’t matter. The sense of community, the love and the words shared confirmed things I was learning and sensing in my life. It felt very much like the Divine had directed me there.
Soon after, some fiction editing work came my way that I had planted the seeds for a whole year ago. I jumped at that chance too. It has brought not only much needed income, but a chance to move into an area of editing that I’ve been wanting to do for some time, but felt held back from by what I saw as relevant qualifications (I had always wanted to do an English degree!). The glowing feedback I got from the author not only affirmed my sense that I have the skills for this (a life time of writing fiction and non-fiction, learning its craft, and more recently, the art of editing) also gave me a real confidence boost to keep going. Her lodger, a Guardian journalist and author of 3 books, apparently took at look at my feedback and said it was better than what he gets from his editor at Random House!
Around the same time, my daughter was also experiencing a shift in her own life. She received news that a pastel drawing she had submitted for the Derwent Art Prize, a big international art prize, had been shortlisted. She is ecstatic, as are we. After a very tough 18 months in which she has faced very real autistic burnout, forcing her to pause her final year of her Illustration degree and return home a year ago, this has brought her a much needed confidence boost that has changed her outlook and hope for the future. Like mother, like daughter it seems.
Her picture, together with the 71 other shortlisted pictures (out of 5,000 submitted) will be shown in the Oxo Gallery in London April 9-19th. One of the prizes is The People’s Prize (£500) for which anyone can vote. I’ve provided the link at the end of this post if you would be happy to vote.
The only criteria for submission was to use the medium of ‘pencil’ (charcoal, pastel, colour, graphite). Using pastel and pencil, her drawing is of her landlady’s sitting room in Cambridge. A retired Dutch female academic, her house is full of unusual pieces of furniture and books, as well as cats! The yellow book on the coffee table was written by a friend of hers who had just paid a visit.
I love my daughter’s use of light. She drew this last autumn, and has captured the warm October light beautifully, brightening what is usually a dark room. I also love the way she has deliberately left parts unfinished or sketchy (the mirror on the left hand wall and the carpet) in contrast to the sofa which her prompted particular praise from her tutors.
It illustrates beautifully what I feel is happening in my own life. Light coming in to dark places, bringing colour, warmth and a sense of joy.
Those of you who have been following me for some time will know what a brutal year last year was. The weight of arranging and managing care for my mother, moving my older brother into independence and out of her house the previous year, my son’s glandular fever and my daughter’s burnout landed hard around this time last year. In the autumn, my sister-in-law had a massive stroke, putting her in intensive care followed by months in hospital then a brain injury clinic. She is making good, though slow, progress and is going home in a few weeks time so things are looking up, but she is still unable to walk, move her left arm or have use of her right eye. And finally, six days before Christmas, a good friend died very suddenly from a rare and aggressive sarcoma.
Let’s just say that 2025 is a year I am very happy to be leaving behind.
I entered this year with a tentative sense of hope for new things, laced with a large and healthy dose of realism. Life doesn’t magically get easier just because we turn the page on a new calendar year. This year, of all years, is testament to that: the level of uncertainty, crisis and calamity in the world seems to keep rising inexorably. But, I have seen some of my caring responsibilities lighten this year.
My brother has settled remarkably well into his new life. He is supported by a lovely Support Worker (a resourceful Zimbabwean man) who visits him 3 times a week, helps him with his emails and bills and makes sure he washes up and cleans his flat. His fee is paid for entirely with the PIP money (a benefit I worked hard to win). My son is enjoying the freedom of his gap year: sleeping for England, playing the bass/electric guitar, learning to drive, Brazilian Jui-Jitsu, and earning some money lumping large pieces of concrete around for a small landscape gardening company. He’s like a different person since coming out from the shadow of constant school pressure. And my daughter is in a stronger place than she was six months ago, supported by her autism coach, a lighter work load and supportive tutors.
My mother is the only one whose dependency on me is increasing as her memory continues to decline along with her physical health. Being the considerate person she is, he hates relying on me for so much despite my reassurances. Growing old is so hard!
Lightening of loads aside, I’ve been learning important habits and attitudes to keep me mentally and physically healthy - for ultimately it is these that will keep me sane when the burdens increase again. Thanks to my therapist, I’ve been grasping some important concepts about the crucial role of creativity, play, curiosity, meditation/prayer and relationships in nurturing good mental health. In particular, I’ve been grasping hold of how these enable our right brains (where we process emotion) to connect with our left (analytical, functional side) and how my brain has become stuck in the left, functional side (the reasons for this are multiple but the trauma I suffered in my teens is a major one). This realisation has been a crucial ‘shift’ for me.
Later this year, I plan to write a post about how this ‘functioning mode’ has interplayed with my caring responsibilities, in the hope that it might help others in a similar place.
In the meantime, I hope the light of Spring will bring you some much needed joy, whatever season of life and part of the world you’re in.
Here’s the link to vote for my daughter’s picture. You have until 19 April (I think!). There’s a lot of great pictures….. https://www.derwentartprize-exhibition.com/vote
What a lovely, positive post, Siobhan. It brightened up my day. Good luck to Ciara (she's amazing!) and to you, too, with your writing and editing (you're equally amazing!). xx
There’s a lot of hope and positivity in this, Siobhan. It was lovely to read. Your daughter’s picture is excellent. She’s clearly very talented. Sending you best wishes on this sunny spring day.