The murder of Sarah Everard has unleashed a vast outcry from women about how unsafe they feel being out alone. The posts contain long list of steps intended as self-defence or at the very least to enable them to be tracked should they be abducted. They detail how restrictive and limiting those steps are in daily life. Many of the lists I have seen use the words such as ‘all women feel this way’, ‘this is all of us ’, ‘every single woman every day’. …

Photo by Benny Jackson on Unsplash

I met a man called Simon* this week. He lives in London and is supporting a community to build a school in Duwehn Town, Liberia. My first reaction: How? HOW? How do you even start such a bold project in such a distant place? His answer turned out to be very simple. He met a Liberian man called Emmanuel, and asked him what his big idea was. Emanuel told him, “I want to build a school” Simon replied. I will help you. In other words he set an intention. It all flowed from there.

There is a difference between a…

Yesterday I had an embarassing accident. Despite the fact I thought I was being very smart and acting with foresight. But I’m glad I did.

Image by photoeverywhere on Showing part of Anthony Gormley’s Another Place sculpture, Crosby Beach, Merseyside, UK

I went for a walk on Crosby beach. Having walked twenty minutes out from my car along the promenade path I decided I’d rather walk back closer to the waves. So I navigated the steps down to the sand and took a careful look ahead of me. This beach tends, at low tide to have long puddle areas, so it’s wise to look ahead and make sure you have a route back to the promendade. …

Image by Helen Conway

On my last night in Paris, I cremated myself. Under cover of darkness, I stole down to the Seine armed with a sleeve of matches and a sturdy metal mixing bowl borrowed from our vacation apartment kitchen. Perched on the damp stone wall of the Quai with the towers of Notre Dame lit in the distance, I placed two sheets of paper in the bowl and set them aflame.

On those sheets was written an obituary for the Former Me. The me that took over from my Old Self when I was in the clutches of stress- related depression and…

When stress threatened to crash my career and pull me down into darkness, I fled to Paris. There, I set up temporary home in an apartment set in a silent cobbled passageway leading off the Rue de Foubourg-St Antoinne. The long casement windows looked out over a roof garden, it’s greenery flowing untamed. A set of heavy wooden doors sealed the passage way from the traffic flowing from the frenetic Bastille roundabout. There, perched on a high stool at an Ikea kitchen island, I took a phone call that taught me how to redesign my life to contain space to…

Three reasons creatives need to know where they belong.

So often being told to ‘know your place’ is a put down . A suggestion that you are getting uppity and need to back down. In fact , there are three reasons why knowing your place as a creative can empower you.

  1. We all need a ritual recharging place

There is a neighbourhood cafe near me called BocBoc. It’s devoid of art, has a plain menu that never changes, looks out onto a car park and a road junction. Yet, whenever I go there, within minutes I am greeted by a flood of creative ideas. In fact I am writing this in BocBoc right now on my iPhone.

So what’s special about it? Nothing. (Except maybe the lack of criticism when you ask for chocolate ice cream for breakfast). It’s the ritual. I…

Helen Conway

I am an artist, writer and coach. My passion is helping other people to transform though my creativity.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store