Hello, my name is Natalie, and I love to help people in any and every way that I can.
Hello, my name is Natalie, and I also find it very difficult to ask for help.
But here I am, hand on heart.
Beautiful community of mine, I need your help.
That was the start of the studio missive I sent to my beautiful community the day before yesterday. It was one of the hardest things I have done - which may sound silly, given some of the physically extreme hikes I have done. One of the other “hardest things I have done” happened the hour before, when I set up a Go Fund Me page.
I realised that I have at my core an “I can do it all on my own” mindset. Turns out, that isn’t actually true. I can’t do it all on my own. And it is humbling to finally come to that realisation at nearly 49.
Drowning.
That is how I described it to a friend, how I have felt, this whole year in fact. And I know because I had an actual drowning experience when I was younger - except in that case I reached a peaceful certitude that it was the end, and the beauty of the sun glinting off the ocean surface far above was just sooo beautiful and serene that I was ok with it, ready even. These last few months have been more like what led up to that point of ethereal beauty - being thrown around by a powerful wave like a doll, breath taken out forcefully, world upside down, sand where there shouldn’t be any (actually no, the sand thing hasn’t happened in this instance). Feeling helpless and hopeless. Fear, panic, racing heart and mind. Fighting, fleeing, fawning, freezing ALL OF IT AT ONCE.
Serene it has not been.
I have some powerfully wonderful friends that I have made in the last couple of years who are also artists, and in an unexpected (I thought), impromptu zoom meeting, they held an intervention of sorts. They wanted to let me know, emphatically and with so much love, that I am not alone. I do not have to do this all on my own. The way that I love and need to help people? Apparently, people want to help me, too.
(Spoiler alert - that applies to you too. People want to help you, because you are divine, you mean so much to many, and you are not alone.)
I had spent the last couple of days trying to process the ever increasing pile of dross that felt like it was being heaped on my sagging shoulders and bent-to-the-ground back. My brother sent me this snippet of an interview with Stephen Fry. So much of what has been happening is out of my control. It is real. It will pass. So I tried to think that instead of a spiral to doom, perhaps this experience could be a cracking open. A release. Insert a phoenix simile (or metaphor?) here.
That has been what asking for help has become - a turning point, a breaking wide open. And exquisite realisation that there is light and love all around, and available to me here and now. I feel a renewed sense of community, and a reinvigoration of my own drive to be an advocate and change maker. I don’t feel alone. I feel less burdened. The gifts that have already come from this simple act of asking have felt profound.
In “The Art of Asking”, Amanda Palmer writes that in the sharing of our vulnerabilities, there is also a healing of self-judgement. She says:
“From what I've seen, it isn't so much the act of asking that paralyzes us--it's what lies beneath: the fear of being vulnerable, the fear of rejection, the fear of looking needy or weak. The fear of being seen as a burdensome member of the community instead of a productive one. It points, fundamentally, to our separation from one another.” (Amanda Palmer, The Art of Asking; or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let People Help).
So much of this comes back to connection, to community. My work is all about connection, to the wild world, to our non-human kin to the place in which we are rooted. But, like the way a lone tree in a paddock can grow big and strong, it will not thrive in the same way as those that share an enmeshed mycelial network with a forest of kindred souls. Connection and sharing is a big part of being a creative, an artist - but I forgot that deep connection, with you, with my community, comes from sharing the hard parts as well as the joys and the wonder. Perhaps a lot of that comes from being raised in an entrenched British colonial system - but we have outgrown that nonsense, right? We can be here for each other in celebration and in tumult with open hearted acceptance.
I have been wondering how best to use this Substack platform. And I think the best way is to utilise the community aspect - the ability to share comments on what I write, and to interact with those as a circle of kind hearted, complicated, divine humans. If you use the Substack app on your phone, there is a chat function. On occasion I will ask a question there, and we can be a community together, lending support and inspiration and navigating this wild world together. I would love to build a space where we can all feel safe asking. Asking for ideas, asking for help, asking for feedback, asking for inspiration, asking for some empathy, asking to share in celebration and joy. We are inherently creative beings, and we get to create our world to a large extent, or we at least get to create how we experience it together. And that is a powerful thing.
Sometimes our world feels both constricted and small and overwhelmingly large all at once. There is so much we don’t have control over. We do have control over how we show up, how we react to what we are experiencing, and how present we can remain in the face of it all, good and bad.
Yesterday I decided to start trying to force feed Sage. It sounds dreadful (forceful), but it is being done with love and gentle kindness. She is so sick of me forcing her mouth open to give the myriad of tablets she needs for pain, antibiotics, and to keep her less stressed in her cage. But I decided doing it a few more times a day to scrape a small amount of minced meat into her mouth and catch the bits as she reluctantly chews it, is worth the added stress if it means she gets some sort of nutrition. She hates it, but it is working - I got close to a teaspoon full into her over a few hours last night, and I have started doing the same this morning. I have to be completely present to do this, I am with her wholly in that moment, and that is a gift. Sitting on the floor, arms and legs wrapped around this ochre and charcoal hued mini-wild-beast, I am a vegetarian feeding minced meat with my fingers to an obligate carnivore, and we are both covered in it in the end. The side-eye and disappointed grumbles I get from her after our little feeding sessions shows me that sassy-pants is still there, and that is a gift too.
We are back to the vet for further assessment in the morning, but for today, a grey and cooler Sunday (come on autumn already!), I am going to split my time between finishing the hooded crow painting in my sketchbook, writing up the pdfs and lesson content that will go with my upcoming classes (The Wild Studio is coming!), and sitting on the floor loving on Sage.
From one wild hearted being to another, thank you for being here.
xo Natalie
If you would like to help Sage and I navigate this world of huge vet bills:
I have set up a Go Fund Me for her vet bills. Every little bit helps!
I have beautiful original art works and fine art limited edition prints for sale - each purchase will get a little mini print as a thank you.
You also have access to the Secret Shop - lots of little secret delights there!
If you would like to learn to create realistic wildlife art in coloured pencil, I have some detailed, real time tutorials that show you exactly how. Plus you get to hear me ramble and get to listen to wild birds in the background while we work together.
Register your interest for a “Paint the Wild Party” - a live painting class where we will work on a small painting together (and you will have access to a recording if you can’t make it live, as well as to watch later!). This is a special Sage inspired event, and spots to this will be limited.
Share my work: If you can't help financially at this time, know that I see you, I understand, and I appreciate you, and if you could share the Go Fund Me campaign, this studio letter, or my Instagram page with your friends and community I would be so very thankful.
I’m very sorry that you and Sage are going through such a difficult time right now 😔 Sending you lots of healing energy! ✨✨