Swans, Swimming, and Seasonal Change
And why I haven't been able to stop writing
Because the universe is the universe and strange things happen when you make intentions, I’m landing here with a little explanation. For reasons unknown to me, I’ve been finding inspiration all over the place for this lovely place I write, as well as the other, slightly different-yet-still-me place,
.Almost as soon as I sent out my vision, it shifted. The world expanded and I got downloads from the Universe.
I’m not even kidding.
My dreams have been technicolour like I’ve been taking magic mushrooms. (I’ve never actually taken them myself so I can only go by the depiction in movies of taking them.) I have notes folders on my phone full of snippets of sentences and ideas. And then I peeked into my draft folder here on Substack and noticed 25 drafts. I’ve had times like this before it seems.
Where I’m in creative flow.
I haven’t been able to stop writing. Or…I’ve been writing and writing because it’s fun, beautiful and delicious.
Despite saying you’d receive a monthly message from me via Northern Notes, I’ve managed several more little pieces in between. And this will continue. By taking the pressure off
I joined in a lovely initiative on Substack, a SeedPod, and wrote about my local library.
I started a collection of poetry right here within Northern Notes, called Poesi (the Swedish word for poetry). Read the latest here.
This is a strange kind of explanation of why you’ll be hearing more from me rather than less, but I’m just going with the flow (whilst listening to a Flow track on my favourite all, Balance). It is what it is. Hopefully, you’ll just flow with it!
I hear the cranes as I take a few deep breaths and calm my slightly frazzled nervous system (because the flow state can be intense). They’re getting ready to leave, practising their flight in large groups, with up to 100 at a time so the noise is intense.
They love the fields around the spot in the countryside where we spend so much time—dancing with each other like the brolgas at home. They’re elegant and graceful (except their call which is a bit honkish). They’re preparing their babies, now as big as they are, for a flight to who knows where (south, but I haven’t checked exactly where).
Crunchy leaves carpet the esplanade we live on; they’ve been steadily collecting for a few weeks now but it’s only recently I’ve been able to acknowledge them as autumn arriving. Perhaps the creative flow has distracted me from noticing the changes (although it’s more likely to be me not wanting to think about the long, dark winter this year.)
I went for a dip today. Eased myself into the cool water and paddled about. Breaststroke is good for my frozen shoulder. Small white-tipped waves smacked me in the face, a strong northerly pushing the often mirror-like surface of Slemmern into nothing like the surf I’m used to from my other home. I like the white-tipped waves. Like small brumbies running through a field.
The swans are out, paddling around, babies as big as their parents but still brown. I guess they’re adolescents now. They’ll moult and get their white feathers at some point—I’m not sure when. It feels lovely to be swimming so close to them. They’re not bothered by me and I’m rather glad because as beautiful as they are I’m sure they’d be scary in attack mode.
Birds are on my mind as the jackdaws start meeting at sundown, getting ready to fly south (but always leaving a few behind to keep an eye on things). The sound is incredible as they discuss their route—or whatever it is they’re discussing. I like to think there’s a spot of planning going on.
It’s not just the falling leaves signalling a change in seasons. The birds are good at it too.
Despite the not-so-deeply buried anxiety about winter coming, I love autumn. I can breathe into the change in season and embrace this glorious time of year whilst acknowledging the kernal of anxiety (and remembering I have studs for my winter shoes so I don’t slip on the ice).
I’ll enjoy all that autumn brings, and all it sees released—red-gold-yellow leaves falling, birds disappearing and nature getting quiet, days getting shorter as we light candles and create ‘mysigt’ or cosy spaces.
The equinox will be upon us this weekend—when northern and southern hemispheres share (almost) the same length of day and night before switching. It’s a good time to think about the months ahead, whatever hemisphere you’re in.
I’m including some journaling prompts for you to mark this occasion.
Autumn Equinox Journal Prompts | Balance, Reflection, Letting Go
What are you most grateful for as the year transitions into autumn?
Where in your life do you feel out of balance, and how can you restore harmony?
What has come to fruition this year that you’re ready to celebrate or release?
What can you let go of to make space for more peace and clarity in your life?
As you move into the quieter season, how can you cultivate stillness and self-reflection?
Spring Equinox Journal Prompts | Renewal, Growth, Fresh Starts
What are you ready to bring into your life this spring?
In what areas of your life do you feel the most growth or expansion?
What new habits can you embrace that will nourish you?
What seeds—whether ideas, goals, or dreams—do you want to plant this season?
How can you nurture yourself as you grow and evolve this spring?
Happy writing!
Stay Well,
Lisa x
Lovely prompts. I swam today too.
Love these prompts, Lisa! Your post is beautiful, just the escapism I needed after a busy work day 🥰