My City My Six

Every month, I attend a women’s writing circle at my place of work. It’s a safe space where we get together, write in silence for a few minutes on various prompts that are offered, and then either read or talk about what we wrote as a large group / smaller circles. I look forward to it every month, and can tell others do too by all of the familiar faces. Plus, they serve a fantastic hot lunch.

During last month’s circle, one of the moderators handed out a flyer for My City My Six – “A participatory public art project that will reveal Toronto and its residents, six words at a time. ” She asked us to spend a few minutes writing out as many tiny stories as we could using only six words. I’d never done this before, so I didn’t know what to expect – but when time was up and we were called out of our bubbles to share with the group, I’d found that I’d written over 20 stories. I was marveled. I had no idea that I had so many minimalist stories to tell. I decided to commit to contributing to this cute project with as many stories as I can dream up.

I encourage you to try your hand as well!

My first dreamy stories:
Clouds above, barefoot in the grass.
Keeping grounded amidst the everlasting chaos.

My City My Six: Tell Your Story in Six Words

Creative Resolution

“Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.” ~Maya Angelou

What’s your refuge, respite, how you repair?


I’ve become resolved to expand my creative self. I’ve always had one big toe dipped in the artistic pond, but as adulthood, responsibilities, and the 9-5 took over, I woke up one day and realized that I had transformed solely into a supporter of the arts, rather than a contributor.

Art in all of its glorious forms, is my refuge.

I’ve recently taken up plucking at the ukulele. Such a quaint instrument, capable of such beautiful sound, when treated right. Some of my fondest memories were born while spending time with musically-inclined people.

One particular night stands out for me: not too long ago after a lovely evening out imbibing with friends, the group of us headed back the dwelling of a lovely couple residing in Toronto’s Kensington Market neighbourhood. The first thing I saw upon entry was a beautiful ukulele hung on the wall, an acoustic guitar displayed in a holder in the corner, and a set of hand drums perching nearby. I went over to the ukulele and picked it up. The owner of the abode’s eyes lit up as he watched me, and he grabbed the acoustic guitar. He then said to me “Do you know this one?” and began playing one of my favourite songs ever – so I started to sing. I handed the ukulele to someone else and they joined in, playing the song from memory. Another friend picked up the hand drums, and out of nowhere a musical shaker with metal beads appeared and was included in the melody. This was shaping up to be a beautiful jam session, with everyone playing a part. We completed the song and then looked around the room at each other with huge goofy grins on our faces.

I’ve not often felt the kind of joy ran though me on that beautiful night.


Uke.jpgI’ve since acquired an almost identical ukulele, and I love it.