Along with my daughter, we have been selling our individual writing projects to raise money for animal sanctuaries.
It's been a great learning experience, particularly for my daughter and so far we have raised more than £100! This has been split into two donations to Hillside Animal Sanctuary and Dean Farm Trust.
You can still support us right here:
Poems for Animals
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My poems have been featured on the Viva! podcast and also in Vegan Life Magazine and ponder some of the questions and thoughts I have had myself during my 12 year journey from meat eater to vegetarian, and finally vegan. Here are some reviews:
"Wow! Your poems are so powerful, deeply touching and moving and hearing them on audio takes them to another level. If I wasn't vegan already, I would certainly be thinking long and hard about eating the flesh of animals after hearing your words." ~ Jules, @thehippieboat
“I am glad to be able to offer a little support to a good cause while also getting to enjoy some inspired and thoughtful poetry. I loved meeting the adorable duck community in Monsieur Robert and It Started With An Art reminded me strongly of an event in my own childhood. Griffin's work has a strong message encouraging readers to think about their attitudes to all animals. She doesn't hector, however, but uses her poems to present familiar scenarios that resonated with me, twisting the viewpoint to elicit an emotional response and then to illustrate the more humane resolution. If I weren't already vegan, I would certainly have been giving a lot of thought to becoming so as a result of this work.” Stephanie Jane, litflits.blogspot.com
"Those poems. So so powerful. Amazing. Eye opening. I wish everyone would see the truth." ~ Eva
“These poems emanate passion, reality and rawness. The words are brilliantly set out for all to read and digest with references that many turn a blind eye to. The talented way in which the words are put across to the reader are poignant and definitely leave you thinking. Alice is the voice, and has the words that need to be remembered.” Debbie
“Beautiful powerful words by a woman passionate about animal welfare.” Lee-Anne
Fictional Wolf Newspaper (Issue One)
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Isabella (my daughter) & Milly are 13-year-old friends who created AWOOOO News because they are mad about wolves and thought it would be fun to create lots of stories and 'Wolf Reporters'. This 13-Page Easter Issue is full of stories, interviews, puzzles and fun and is a downloadable PDF Copy.
"Especially at this virus time, animal sanctuaries need help because their open days have been cancelled and these days raise lots of donations. We thought it would be fun to make our newspaper available to other children as well as raise money to help!"
We look up to see the morning mist settled atop the valley as steep-sided pine, eucalyptus and oak-covered hills draw us downwards ~ we feel cocooned, underneath the world ~ we pass the shepherd and his goats, his dog Karillio gambols around with our two ~ we laugh and exchange pleasantries ~ turning a corner in the track, down and down we go until all we can hear is the rushing river ~ the ground is damp, the smell green ~ in the distance we begin to hear children laughing outside the white house with a turquoise-painted balcony ~ our daughter waves goodbye, joining the group for a day of learning together and as we make our way back upwards the sun begins to poke through and the sleepy morning valley opens up to blue skies and endless possibilities.
There is laughter and conversation between people from near, from far, both in physical and also in years. For a while I am silently absorbed in the moment, soaking up every smile, every line of face, every sentence, my face contentedly gleaming in the iridescent late evening light that is of the Highlands at this time of year.
I look around this wooden house with golden windows on every octagonal side and remember other tables we have sat at; other people we have nurtured a connection with, and feel a deep sense of comfort to know that there are pockets of people and place all over who still yearn for the traditional ways of communication; of spending time in a solid kind of honesty, together.
This table of larch – thick and sturdy – has ensured our acceptance into the fold and I run my hand over its smooth surface with gratitude. During the past two months we have shared meals and long conversations about both the trivialities as well as the deeper issues of life. Last night we sat mesmerised as we were introduced to the true meaning of a Ceilidh… not the group dances that take place in halls throughout Scotland, but the smaller, intimate gatherings lit up by song and story.
As we listened intently to the soft tones of Highland voice, my daughter rested on my knee, eyes glistening, bodies stationary – all of us in that deep state of rest that comes with the complete absorption of something magical – I thought: could we stay?
The connections we are making here, the joy we feel from community – of working through the difficulties and learning to accept difference – and the sense of achievement felt from splitting wood or turning compost; I find myself, in many ways, afraid to leave.
I walk through the landscape on a bright morning and soak up the tumbling bird song, babbling brook, brightest gorse, that silent shift of a deer in the undergrowth and trees that have cascaded into spring above the bluebells without my even being able to keep up. I marvel at the four seasons felt in one day and for a moment I think, ‘Alice, please stay’.
But then, as I turn the well-thumbed pages of an old copy of ‘A Croft in the Hills’, Katharine Stewart’s words about an impromptu camping trip to the West coast, to cook on a driftwood fire and sleep in their van, ring out in my heart:
“We loved our small house, every stick and stone of it … yet here we were, completely happy as nomads! We had unearthed an even deeper level of existence.”
and I know that soon we will move on again… to both return to those other people and landscapes we have fallen in love with, as well as to discover more. For we have gypsy blood and for every table we sit around, for every person who captures a piece of our heart, there is still a deep hunger for movement, to be free of all shackles and yet be tied to every . single . place . we come to land with an intensity that can only be achieved by passing through because these moments are held tighter, the experiences kept closer: never taken for granted.
But this Highland place, this glen, these people: I know they have weaved their way into our very beings and I know that this has become another stopping place on our wandering path: a root to our route, and somehow that thought brings me great comfort.
Sometimes there are no photos; only words. Yet in a world that demands to see perfection created through endlessly compelling composition are words, anymore, enough?
Yet, can a photo really show you how the wind felt on my face ~ soft, airy and filled with fine grains of sand ~ as I sat against the grassy cliffs?
Can a photo tell you what I was thinking ~ freedom is to fly; to lose all sense of anything else around you and let this world we have constructed of noise, shopping trollies, bricks and wheels, fall away ~ as I tipped my head back to watch a white seagull soaring against a silent blue sky?
Can a photo really convey the look ~ sincere, compassionate, kind ~ as heartfelt words were shared, or how a hand felt ~ strong, safe, secure ~ within mine?
Can a beautiful photo of a beach, somewhere on the North Yorkshire Coastline, convey how it truly made me feel ~ humbled, centred, calmed, thankful?
There is no photo, there is no trace
for I left everything behind today
to simply lay
in the sand
and let my dreams take shape.
Words on Life
Here I simply share musings on my life of wandering, writing, home-educating & dreaming with my little family. Welcome and do please say hello!