coffee off the clock is a weekly column full of musings on life since i left my 9-5, and building a life around writing. join me for a coffee every week and follow my journey!

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the rain patters against the periwinkle blue of my neighbours’ hydrangeas that sneak into view from our living room window. they wave in the wind, hues of violet flutter between leaves. a striking and brilliant contrast against the cool, grey sky. they have faaar more energy than i do today.

i’m wrapped in a knitted cardigan, cross-legged on the couch listening to buckingham nicks. tall silver curtains are drawn as far as i can without closing the entire day out. i’m wishing i had the same lust for life as i did just a week ago. ebbs and flows, ailsa, i remind myself.

every time i stretch my arms up to the sky, i feel this warm sort of fuzziness release into my bloodstream, like i’m storing melatonin in there; a deep, deep relaxation that almost urges me toward the comfort of my duvet. but i know it’s not the remedy. i’m far too conscious. my brain still dances even when my body can’t.

no brunches this week, reader. although i’m sure you’re not shocked. the world has seen too much of me recently. it’s only right to recharge. for that reason, i’ve kept life small & simple. honey nut cornflakes with banana slices. huge thanks to majd’s brother for leaving us the cereal when he looked after bee while we were on holiday. i’ve also paired it with a vanilla iced latte that i made at home, but coffees just have not been hitting the spot lately.

i’ve been having really vivid and intense dreams since coming back from holiday: one a bus trip to pakistan and another being in labour with a child after months of dreaming about pregnancy. jung would’ve had a field day with me. and speaking of him, i felt incredibly called to practice his active imagination technique recently in my dream journal, and began drawing a shadowy, veiled king on a throne.

i wrote down some key words that kept coming to me during the session & found links between what i’d unconsciously written and an old british folktale of the fisher king that i hadn’t known about until i did a bit of research. i love those magical little moments of synchronicity.

active imagination has been incredibly therapeutic and healing for me, unravelling tangled knots that i’ve acquired over the years. but anyway, if i could sum it up, it’s like all that life energy that i had for the holiday has re-routed back inside of me, luring me further into my inner world again to ask the necessary questions that i’d rather avoid lmao.

i think reading jungian psychoanalyst clarissa pinkola estes’ (that was a mouthful) women who run with the wolves has definitely added to this too. i’m only 34 pages in & have cried with overwhelming resonance: “don’t be a fool…crawl through the window of a dream. sift the desert and see what you find. it is the work we have to do. go gather bones.”

and why did i cry? because all week i’ve been telling myself “ailsa, you only have to write the bones, just find the bones of this book.” i’ll never stop believing that the right book finds us at the right time… with the right words.

amongst all this tiredness though, reader, you’ll be proud of me. i found the courage to truly begin my book. and i think beginning my book is exactly what has brought up all of this drudgery to the forefront, including ‘the veiled king’ who sits inside me as a symbolic guard to my gold.

i’m now 9,000 words in, moving through it scene by scene and stitching together the strange events of a life i used to live. and when you’re 9,000 words in, it’s no longer just a dream, it’s a process of becoming. its existence feels inevitable now. how scary?!

song of the week is cannock chase by labi siffre. it seemed like my soul was dead and gone. but it’s alright. i’m back in the fight. i thought my day would never come. maybe it won’t but i’ll have fun. and i’ll hold tight. cause that way it might.

so, yes, writing, writing and more writing. such is the life of a writer. writing my morning pages. writing my weekly column. writing content for my writing workshops. writing my first novel. this is the life i prayed for 2 years ago. this is the life i fought for, standing in the rain, in oversized welly boots (don’t ask), pleading with my mum through tears to understand why i had to leave my soulless job.

not a day goes by that i’m not grateful for how life has seemed to meet me kindly, but not always pleasantly, every step of the way, even in my darkest moments. this is something i’ll stick by: i knew that after leaving my job i was never going to have it easy, but god, i’ve had it good.

even on my most difficult days, it’s good. on my tired days, it’s good. on my doubting days, it’s good. with empty pockets, it’s good. with cynics and critics, it’s good. even with those months of soul-destroying trips to the job centre, it was…good (she says through gritted teeth). that one’s still a little raw lol.

after reading the power of myth by joseph campbell, i realised what i’ve been doing all along. his famous philosophy of follow your bliss – that’s it. that’s as simple & as accurate as it gets to what i feel like i’ve been doing. whatever lights me up; whatever says ‘this’, i follow it. it’s a deep, intrinsic knowing. not an impulse, but an inevitability. just like the book.

and in these two years, it has never led me astray. but listening to other people has, and often. there’s a quote i read somewhere: “don’t ask for directions from somebody who hasn’t been where you want to go.”

i’m keeping this week’s musings short and sweet, just like me 😋. or at least shorter than usual. the main milestone in my journey is that i’ve taken a leap of faith with this book and i’m ready to meet myself on the other side of it.

until next week reader, may all your coffees hit the spot! ☕️🤍

– ailsa x