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Tess Guinery Poetry & Kids

Social networks are truly amazing! They bring us wonderful surprises. You can suddenly connect with people on the other side of the planet who have similar concerns. You might never have met them if it weren’t for social networks! So, to celebrate the little things that make us happy, we talked to Tess, from Australia. @TessGuinery

 

 

Hello Tess, if you had to define yourself, how would you do it?

 

If I had to define myself, I would say I am a seeker of beauty, navigating life through the lens of creativity. As a multidisciplinary artist, I find deep purpose in marrying words, movement, and emotions to explore and express the depths of the human experience. My heart is moved and prompted daily to create work that resonates on a deeply personal level, capturing both the intricacies of individual stories and the beautiful truths that connect us all.

My journey has been shaped by a natural sense of nomadism and the rich travel experiences that have accompanied it. This innate yearning for new experiences continually invites me to embrace new places and diverse ways of living, thinking, being—fueling my openness to growth and beauty.

My ever-curious nature is dedicated to discovering and sharing artistry in every moment, celebrating the meaning and beauty found in all the places I’ve called home and the details of my every day.

 

If you had to choose one small daily thing that makes you happy with the kids, what would it be?

 

If I had to choose one small daily thing that brings me joy with my kids, it would be our relaxed breakfast routine. We’re not fans of rushing, so we take our time each morning with coffee brewing, music playing, and a weekly rotating carousel of delicious breakfasts; choices like French toast or eggs or pancakes with all the extras. These slow, easy mornings are our thing.

 

How have your daughters helped you in the development of your creativity?

 

John O’Donohue’s words resonate deeply with me: “When you regain a sense of your life as a journey of discovery, you return to rhythm with yourself.” My daughters have been instrumental in helping me embrace this rhythm. They’ve shown me how to find beauty in the ebb and flow of daily life, even as the time I once had for uninterrupted artistic exploration has evolved into something new.

The small, everyday moments with them—their laughter, their tears, the little joys and challenges—have all become a larger part of my creative process. What might seem like constraints have actually become catalysts to fresh ideas and approaches, revealing new paths for my art that I might never have discovered otherwise.

My daughters have taught me that creativity isn’t just about carving out long stretches of time for artistic pursuits. Instead, it’s about weaving creativity into the details of our everyday experiences. They help me see and celebrate the artistry in the here and now, reminding me that the process of living and creating are beautifully connected. Their influence keeps me grounded in the present moment, helping me capture and cherish the beauty in our shared experiences.

 

Here’s a poem that best describes it:

 

“It’s another year

of one hundred seasons.

An undefinable,

hot-hearted thing

pushing its way to the front

is the mother in me.

 

My two hands

upon most days

begging to be many

humbly holding hearts and water masses,

overflowing like surging rivers—

there is almost always

never enough cups and bowls in the house to catch the overflow

in all this wonderful madness…

 

…and even though

the water pours and overflows,

over

and

over,

day

after

day

and my thirsts are only just quenched,

I see,

hands

oh how you have expanded,

heart,

you too.

 

There are not many mountains

that have shown me both

how magnificent

and horrible I can be,

like the mountains

that are the mother

in me.

 

And I’m still trying to figure out

how it is

that the days are so

lush

and

long

but time,

a mile a minute.

 

Their tears,

my greatest lessons.

My own fears,

the eager becomings

of prayers whispered

and howling confessions—

for me,

for them,

for the longer lines of our lineage.

 

Burning up the nights

under thick shades of blue

silence has its way with me—

To stay up too late,

a homage,

to know it will.

 

And I want to write,

when time says I can’t,

And when I can,

I can’t

and the tension in this

mysteriously owns the antidote

to one hundred million

hard to define un-saids…

 

… My daughters

oh how they show me the curly roads to words,

even when I don’t have time

to

write

them

all

down”.