if you've been following me on Instagram recently you will have no doubt spied my recent infatuation with lichen. I must admit, many years passed me by before I even noticed these rough, bumpy masses of technicolour splendour caressing many a dead, discarded branch or twig but once you know, you know. A love affair born. The first time it winked at me was when the tutor on my art therapy foundation course had tasked us with looking for items within nature that resonated with us. Like the intrepid explorer I know myself to be, I set off to our nearby woods. I collected a few familiar oddments... a hefty broken pine cone... a few drying leaves, a browning fern branch, a sad looking flower or two but then a few rather marvellous twigs stopped me in my tracks. Twigs of bright emerald green. Lichen covered and glistening for my attention. These twigs felt precious when held up close for inspection, their spores like little mouths whispering a secret. Covered in the tiniest of familiar interconnecting shapes... ovals and hearts. Really quite splendid. On googling what lichen actually is, it is described as a 'complex life form'. When discussing items that resonate with ourselves, this sounded about spot on! (I told that little ditty to my group but it didn't translate as well on zoom!) Google goes onto reference the 'symbiotic partnership of two separate organisms, a fungus and an alga'... I don't really know what any of that means but it's all hugely exciting because, unlike a dusty old pinecone, it's alive! Where there's growth, there is potential! Trumpets horn... lets lower the drawbridge to all the interconnecting metaphors!
On presenting our chosen natural objects to our group we explained the significance of the relationship. Our tutor then encouraged us to write! Write about what it looked like, how it smelt, the energy it held, if it could speak what would it say? And at the end of this, we had to write a poem using 'I am' statements with an accompanying piece of art! So these are some of the things I wrote:
"I am an ochre magic wand of rippling gold clustered seaweed I am hopeful and joyful, lively and blazing I am curious and persistent, courageously holding on I am young and zesty I am light and bold sprawling I am persistent patches of tiny fungus, bumpy & curious I am unfulfilled promises & unheard voices I am fruitful rhythms & delicious harmonies" Needless to say, this blew my mind! Because on looking at this object from nature, we were actually describing qualities that we saw or wanted to see in ourselves...overlooking the seaweed and fungus references for just a second, of course!
You can see my words spoke of courage and voicing and confidence. Not something you'd associate with a stick of damp moss! In talking about something born of the land, it gave the space and distance and permission to talk about oneself in a favourable and confident way.
In honour of this experience, I later made a lichen wand...or talisman, complete with a jingly bell, ribbons, over-exaggerated spores made from clay which I covered with gold leaf, and trumpet like beech tree shells. It sits in my studio and I still look to it now when I'm lacking in confidence or inspiration or to re-ignite my weird!
Interestingly, on finding a whole load of lichen covered branches on a dreary wet walk last week, (post covid but pre-wellness,) I realised the qualities I saw in the lichen this time had changed. I no longer saw the spores talking to me effortlessly or confidently. Instead, they spoke of islands forming together to create a layer of protection for a shield, a hardening from the outside world. It talked to me of going within, to the deep under layer, beyond the sparkle. I felt like this wasn't just a chance meeting. I brought my awareness to the branches, gathering them up in my studio and studying them one by one. I carefully chose the most impressive looking ones. Those that had seen the most lichen growth, the ones that had an expanse of colours from deep lush green, to grey, to bright ochre-sun yellows. They were the favourites and these little sticks were especially chosen to help me pass through the depths of lowness.
Although I enjoy writing and painting, craft is usually my weakness. My fingers don't seem to be designed for too much dexterity and detail. So the task amounted to this... rummaging through a clear box of relatively untouched embroidery strands in rainbow colours... cutting an arm length strand and carefully wrapping the length tightly around the belly of the twig. In some cases I'd want to purposely avoid covering the lichen, giving it space to breathe. With others, I caressed the spongey exterior with the thread, as if bandaging and protecting it from the elements. I then arranged these little sticks in the forge in my studio, bright against the black and darkness of it all. A tribal nod to the experience which felt like something I was being instructed from elsewhere to do. The meditative quality of the process absorbed and soothed me back to calm.
An up close study followed later in watercolour, with a generous touch of my favoured glistening gold gamei tamei paints. It felt important to honour the preciousness and the divine beauty of the shapes. This time around I saw so many hearts... rising up in their little waved formations. A symbol of tenderness when I was feeling at my worst. The illustration felt like a defiant need to grasp some control and precision... the shapes appear like tiny islands... tightly clasped to one another, holding on. Yesterday however, something lifted in me. I looked to some lichen on bark (a blessed find) and drew these shapes again. They were larger and had more spaciousness and freedom to them. I placed a magazine cutting of a woman in a red swimsuit swimming on her back... looking content and free and I felt a strong sense of permission to let go and allow myself to be happy, imagining brighter days.
So you see, nature can help inspire our creativity through encouraging a sense of self and agency when moving towards feeling better. By dedicating even a slice of your day to notice changes of the natural world in your garden or on your walk to work or school, can really help harness a hope in what is still to come. It can also help create a progressive journey through the stories we tell ourselves and the narrative of how we would like things to be. Through observing growth in nature, we too can mirror this growth in our lives. As the shoots poke through the earth and we begin to see the fresh greens and colour emerge, there is a sense of knowing that the next stage can only be to flourish. As women especially, our internal mood and dynamics mirror that of the seasons which explains why pushing too much now can all feel too much. Winter for rest, spring to slowly and mindfully unfurl.