Why I Changed the Name of My Newsletter (and Everything Else)
A creative reawakening, a wobbly right eye, and a deeper call for all of us to make what matters
If death by screen time were an actual medical condition, I’m pretty sure I’ve flirted dangerously close to it this month. My right eye has gone rogue— she’s no longer on speaking terms with the rest of my body—and if I had to describe the current shape of my backside, “compressed pancake” seems the right kind of visual to offer.
The number of half-drunk mugs of tea on my desk is approaching university exam week levels—specifically, my English Lit era, when I was cramming to a mixed tape and blasting my Walkman like it was a survival strategy.
All that to say: it’s been a ride. I’ve built a brand new website, taken a deeper look at this whole platform called Substack (and what I share of myself here), and just generally wildly underestimated the amount of time required for both things (a particular gift of mine).
And if you’re up for riding shotgun for the next few minutes, I’d love to walk you through the adventure with me.
From To Begin With, the Birds to Creating Wild: A Change of Name
I arrived here as a creative wanderer, carrying a backpack full of words and half-finished drawings I’d lugged around for years but never fully unpacked. At first, I was content just peeking round corners—wandering through other people’s little plots of land they called Substack, marvelling at the possibilities.
That is, until things started to shift.
For a while now, what had been tip toeing after me was a creeping lethargy, a consuming fatigue that was unnameable and as a result, unknowable to the extent that I was unsure what to do.
And in direct, seemingly nonsensical opposition, the inside of my skin shook with a shimmering, shaking energy rattling old fault lines I thought had long been smoothed over.
It took me a little time to realise: I was experiencing creativity unused.
We often speak of art as a healing force—that’s an undisputed truth. But I’ve come to understand something way beyond that:
While creativity can help us process and metabolize life’s challenges and traumas, unexpressed creativity creates them. When creativity is repeatedly restrained, it causes rupture—both within ourselves and with our life force, as well as our sense of who we are in the world.
I was unused creativity in rupture.
To say that Substack led to my repair wouldn’t be quite right—it was my decision to let my creativity run wild that was responsible for that. What Substack did do was provide a landing pad and creative stomping ground; a place not only to write poetry, experiment with form, play with drawings and with words but also that offered the possibility that they might be read or looked at in return. And what better creative joy is there than that?
Why Creating Wild?
What brought me back to my creative practice was a long-held belief that art isn’t a luxury—it’s a necessity. For all of us.
I believe that living a vital, abundant life—one where we show up for what matters and contribute in meaningful ways—includes a responsibility to creativity and making. It’s how we connect more deeply with ourselves, with others, and with the world around us.
And you know what else?
We’re living in an unusual time, with unusual pressures and demands. In a world like this, creating isn’t optional—it is essential. It helps us think beyond the box, to loosen the grip of what’s expected, and to open ourselves up to possibility. Creating - art - let’s us sit inside the part of our brain not clogged with data and streams of information. It’s where we go so new ideas can find us.
We’re also living in a time where we are pulled into ways of living that are completely out of sync with our animal bodies… and it’s causing deep dysfunction. The disconnection is so widespread, it’s being mistaken for normal. We’ve been taught to believe that art, creativity, and making are frivolous. Something extra, something we do on the side. But in truth, they’re necessary acts. Essential gestures. Vital to our well-being, our wholeness, and our humanity.
For the past fifteen years, I’ve been devoted to practices that support us in experiencing true vitality. The heart of my work (outside of what I’ve ever shared on Substack) lies in somatic education, movement therapy, and nervous system health. I’ve had the privilege of working with thousands of people—both individually and in group settings—and have travelled the world as a clinician, coach, and speaker.
My own creative return exists because of, not in spite of, this work. Looking back, I can see how everything I’ve done—nurturing my nervous system, understanding the needs of my body, connecting with the non-human world, and giving myself permission to truly fall in love with a creative life—has all been preparing me for this. Where leading my life with art feels not just possible, but inevitable.
I understand that if I’m to keep showing up in ways where my contribution suits my character (I have Ruth Allen to thank for that particular phrase), and where I’m offering something of myself, I no longer want to keep my body & nervous system knowledge off the table.
Instead, I want to send it forward as part of a bigger conversation with you.
One that discusses and understands creativity as both generative and necessary—as a contribution to mutual flourishing. As an act of witnessing, of reverence, and of paying attention.
Creating, after all, is how we offer something of ourselves to this vast and precious world.
What you can expect moving forward
I’ll still be writing about the things you’re used to hearing about from me—the animal, the arboreal, our deep entwinement with the natural and the non-human.
But I’ll also be sharing thoughts on other things: essays, reflections, and gentle explorations into creativity, the nervous system, and our own animal bodies—rooted in over a decade of experience in somatic education, movement therapy, and nervous system health.
For paid subscribers, there’s also Wild Insights—a space where we dive deeper into the connection between the body and creative expression.
You’ll receive:
✨ Gentle nervous system insights to support your creative flow
📝 Monthly essays + companion videos exploring the relationship between creativity, the body, and the nervous system
🌿 Ongoing inspiration, support, and guidance to help you make the art you love—and follow the call of your wild, intuitive creativity
I’m excited to start creating wild together.
xx Jane
P.S. As a way to celebrate the name change, I’ve put together a three-part series of essays exploring the link between creativity and the nervous system. The first one will arrive in your inbox tomorrow.
We’ll be exploring:
The Body as Creative Ground: The Mind-Only Myth
Sad About the Frogs (and other vital acts of wonder)
Calm Is Not the Goal (and why searching for it might get in the way of your creative practice)
What brings you back?
When you find yourself having drifted from your creative practice, what’s the thing that brings you back?
I needed an "all of the above" choice -- however, writing is maybe my #1 even though I clicked on "I walk and spend time outside." I guess it's a matter of "if I can't do one, I do the other."
Best to you on your new focused direction!
Jane, I love seeing you blossom in the center of your being, in your work, your life, your spirit! I find your creative offerings incredibly rich, something to savour, ponder, enjoy. I learn much by reading your missives or seeing your drawings, hearing your words, but more than anything, I love that your creative offerings seem deeply aligned with your being. That alignment, integrity, is such a vital thing for the spirit!
As a Quaker, I seek, always, to find integrity in what I do, say, act on (not always successfully, I might add, but I try!). Following this core Quaker tenet is a constant seeking, realigning, acting, reflecting, returning to oneself and spirit. It is a process, indeed, a very humbling process. I find deep inspiration in your words and action to seek alignment with your creative soul. In all the work you do, in various spheres, you inspire all of us to seek a higher level of integrity, with ourselves, with other beings, with spirit.
Thank you for the hard work and for the willingness to keep seeking, guiding, listening and, most importantly, creating. ❤️