We played that CD on a loop for most of the trip. They skipped Meredith Brooks for obvious reasons; it was the 90s after all, and I was a child. I remember listening to ‘Free’ by Ultra Naté, ‘Lovefool’ by The Cardigans, ‘Don’t Leave Me’ by Blackstreet and the classic ‘I Know Where It’s At’ by All Saints. To this day, I still know it lyrically, off by heart.

This album is now my soundtrack for that trip. It reminds me of the first time I fell asleep on the shoulder of a boy who would, many years later, become the man I would marry. It’s an album that smells of fresh pastries and the best pizza. Listening to these songs takes my mind back to memories of paper cranes, Eiffel Tower keyrings, and many deeper highlights of Parisian culture.

I thought about this album as I travelled by train at the weekend. In between writing and listening, I happened to talk to a man I had overheard speaking about ‘consciously creating music in the moment’ for it to never be heard again, for in that moment is where it is meant to be. You know, at this point, I almost leapt across the train to talk to him.

We talked about music, of course, and then pop culture, at which point he asked me why I was interested in what Trump was doing. I explained that I like to keep a finger on the pulse of the world — not so much that it depresses me into a dark hole, but enough to feel what needs to be felt as a human being. He then left, and I went back to my journal and my headphones, wondering why anyone would choose to ignore such a monumental time for humanity.

I’ve been a music lover for as long as I can remember, and we were all reminded of the power of music this week. On Sunday evening, I went to see the incredibly humble and powerful force that is Florence and the Machine. It took me back in many ways. As the concert ended, with twinkly phone torches shining in the darkness, 13 thousand people sang an a cappella outro of “Peace Is Coming”. A moment I didn’t catch on video to share, but it will forever remain etched in my heart.

Peace is coming. But what we cannot do is ignore the outside world in its entirety and hope that peace will simply appear. All that is good is co-created from the location we are currently in; it has never been created by pretending or avoiding the world we live in.

With an energetic hangover, I woke up on Monday and immediately grabbed my phone to watch the Super Bowl halftime show. I tried to stay awake, but the concert adrenaline drop wouldn’t allow it. I am not into sports, but like I told the man on the train, music and pop culture, in all their formats, I will always tune into the rhythm of. Before my cup of tea, this was the first thing I wanted to fuel me through my journal back down south.

Why? Because pop culture shows us the vibration of Humanity. It shows us the direction we are heading in, how we are feeling as a majority, and what we are looking for. Popular music, for me, has always been the compass. We can see in trends patterns that transcend any media hogwash or controlled narrative.

Art creates the pathways of our lives. It is the returning point I tune into. For me, not having my finger on the pulse of popular culture is spiritual bypassing.

I sat in the hotel and watched thirteen minutes of joy, cultural recognition and storytelling at its best; I admired the production, I noted the monumental symbolism and the power in such a small amount of time. I watched it again on the train. I saw the reels and ripples across the web of social media and of consciousness. I read about there being more than 197 production cues. And about how Benito studied Audiovisuals at college. He did not sell himself to the first person who came knocking at his door, but chose to build things in a way that, when you look at it on paper, would only work for him and his community. This has been building long before so many of us knew who Bad Bunny was.

This is what we need to do. All of us. We need to keep our finger on the pulse, whilst holding a vision for the future we want to see. Awareness of the world does not have to be a distraction. In fact, choosing to see the bigger picture rather than ignoring it is often where our power lies.

We probably won’t all need to wear physical bulletproof vests in the process. But what we will need to do is stand up for what we believe in and give it a voice in various creative ways. And a warning: this means there may not be all of the structures ready to hold what we have to share, but we still need to move forward and trust the spaces that appear.

Thank you, Florence Welch and thank you Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio for reminding me that where we direct our attention, why we create and how we take these things to the stage matters. It matters now, and it matters for our future.

I’m passing this on this week in hopes it lights a spark within you to listen to some inspiring music and create from that place of now, not from fear but from love, because peace is coming.

Oceans of love Cx

As I gathered candles and charged up torches last week, I wondered what the land was trying to tell us. Only thirty minutes previously, I was bundled on the sofa in a blanket when my phone gave me a government warning. I felt that familiar feeling of 2020 - Dread as I looked at my phone screen.

‘Red Weather warning - 100mph winds with a warning of danger to life’

With my husband away, I suggested an early tea and showers, hot water bottles, etc. I planned to get everything done before she hit us. A couple of hours later, with no power, no street light and a howling wind, I sat in bed by candlelight with my journal and listened.

For me, listening isn’t a new thing; I listen to the birds, I’ve been known to talk to a tree and follow a hare across the forest if it requests it. As much as I have things to say, listening to nature and the land is something I have considered a part of my everyday life.

Over the years, I’ve stood on friends’ farms and named trees, only for them to look up the meaning of the chosen name later and realise it is somehow symbolic or connected to the tree or the land in which it is rooted. I had no clue, I simply heard the name and gave it voice. I’ve declared snow due to the stillness in the air and the rhythm at the front of my head, and many times I have shared the words of a plant to be looked at as if I am a crazy woman who lives in la la land. “Poor Charlie, they must think, she has always been searching for a connection so desperately?” You don’t always need to hear the words; sometimes their face says it all.

The truth is, I never went looking for anything. This connection never left me since childhood. I didn’t seek out this lost connection. But you can. And I believe this isn’t only what the land wants, but she also needs to be heard.

People call it whimsy or see it as fanciful to believe everything has a feeling. But it is so much more than embracing your inner Alice in Wonderland.

Anthropomorphism (noun) - The attribution of human characteristics or behaviour to a god, animal, or object.

Ceryn taught me that this isn’t a new or childish thing. In ancient cultures, people have continued to view all of nature as a thinking, living, feeling being, rather than a game a child plays; it’s a sacred skill. And I often see it as a connection through the heart that I am so glad I have never lost.

Back to last week and the storm - I wondered why we only pause to listen when nature is raging at our door or when her expression prevents us from going about our day? Has the modern world retrained our brains to believe we no longer need this connection? Has social media played an attempt to feed this craving? Are we simply swept into the rush of a modern timetable and now believe we don’t have the time?

Various storms are happening at the moment, here in Cornwall, they were in weather form, but there are political storms, storms of patriarchal control and a thousand storms in between the ones we know or hear of.

Winter is, in fact, a stormy time; the dark clouds and the grey mornings remind us so, and yet this thread of thought keeps bringing me back to the question - Why do we only listen when the storms are loud?

This is where voice work begins - In listening. When we avoid listening, we often find the things we are avoiding come to us in a storm rather than an icy winter breeze. This week’s reminder is to listen to the quiet storms calling. Acknowledge the whispers from inside yourself and recognise the itches of the last flakes of skin needing to be shed.

…..

Whispers from the future - Hear the call and come with…

The first circle this year will be held in March. We will have limited space for the one-off group voice activation. This is via Zoom. The website is shedding her layers from last year, so all further info will be sent out nearer the time. It is still winter after all.

Secondly, there are now very few places left for our final Glastonbury workshop. This is a weekend of land connection and activation. Following on from this, PEW will be taking our workshops on tour. I am sworn to secrecy on this, but if anticolonialism is your thing. (It should be everyone’s thing, but you know what I mean). Then keep your eyes peeled for early info because we are on a mission! If you feel the pull for this year’s Glastonbury, there is a payment plan and all that jazz here.

Finally, the winter playlist has been the most popular yet. I really should put it on another platform. However, this is year one, and we will have to work in between the deconstruction of the existing structures. It’s on Spotify for those of you who want some music for your musings.

Before we know it, Spring will be here, but for now, sending you oceans of love. Keep your bodieswarm and your hearts open.

Oceans Of love

Cx