The Colour of Magic (Just Add Water) 

A thunderstorm arrived yesterday in my magic kingdom. Inky clouds and hailstorms reigned, as the gigantic beech tree that towers over my cabin swayed and lightning flashed. Was this the end of my sweet retreat? The moment everything in my life was about to come crashing, literally, through the roof? And how heavy were those old branches above me, anyway? They looked the size of telegraph poles.

I waited — contemplating global warming, hailstones in July, and what it might feel like to be crushed — and then it stopped. The sun came out, and my heart lit up. I saw not one, but two rainbows sitting one on top of the other, arcs straddling the sky. It was beautiful. 

As I gazed in wonder, catching a few flies since it was a long gaze and ponder, it struck me how interesting it was that rainbows only arrived when water was present. A bit like those magic painting books we had as kids - add water and colour appears. 

In a sense, water seemed to be the conduit for Colour Magic.   What a lovely thought. 

After The Storm

I never quite understood what a rainbow was until yesterday.  As a child, I was given various explanations: a promise from some god on high he wouldn’t drown me; an arrow pointing to where leprechauns buried abandoned gold; a place where dreams reside and Dorothy’s home somewhere over it. But one thing nobody ever told me is that rainbows are round.

Yes, you read it right. Rainbows are actually full circles. We only see part of them because we’re on the ground and the other half is chopped off by the horizon. Up in an aeroplane, however, you can sometimes see a whole one. 
The double ones, I found out, are light reflected twice inside the raindrop. The visible colours -  red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet - are only part of the rainbow. There’s also infrared beyond the red light, ultraviolet beyond violet, radio waves beyond infrared, x-rays beyond ultraviolet and gamma radiation beyond x-rays.  And these light waves can all be detected with an instrument called a spectrometer.
So, once again, energetic waves come into play, this time not sound but electro-magnetic. This is surely magic?
And if all this is true, then it strikes me the sun is radiating the colour of magic every day. We just can't see it. My mind is blown. 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Following my rainbow to pots of gold, and dreams generally, one of the biggest things I healed on the road in America was my belief in love. 
I am a dyed in the wool romantic.  A born dreamer, astrologically tossed about by my Sun, Mercury and Neptune all conjunct in Scorpio. I won’t explain that one, just take it from me, it’s a nebulous and deep sea I sometimes navigate, and perfect if you’re a musician. But the bubble being popped on my dream love - which I’d lived in quite happily for twelve years - was a bit like the lights coming on at the end of a disco. Or when priests lose their faith and have to leave their church.  I’d lived my entire life believing in magic, meaning, love and all these intangibles. I’d taken a path that honoured them, mysteriously pulling songs out of the ether, gone to higher places with and without people (without drugs, I’d like to add) so it was all very real to me. Then one day it went pop. Suddenly it felt like the phone line to my higher place had been severed. Everything suddenly seemed a bit pointless. 
The result — stumbling painfully through life for a while, trying to re-find my mojo, having my big wake-up call, buying a little guitar and going to America. And as most of you know, in Heathrow departure lounge, rediscovering magic. That’s when ‘Chicago’ landed, the first track on 'Sweet Decline’.

Bob Dylan's Orchard

Bob Dylan once said he picked his songs out of the air like apples. This is how it felt for me, once I let go of expectations and fears, and set off on my journey. I found I was in an abundant invisible orchard with apples ripe and ready to be picked. I started seeing them out of the corner of my eye, and the further I travelled, and the more in flow and intentionally connected to everyone with love — the more songs came, and more miracles. It was very like seeing rainbows, only I had to add something other than water to the mix. I had to add belief.  

Don’t Stop Believing

I’ll never stop believing in magic. A beautiful energy exists in the ether surrounding us - I know this - with all its synchronicities and all those connecting dots waiting to become something.  Thoughts become things, as I wrote a few months back.  Yes, there is an alchemy to it, and a kind of law which I’m still discovering and attempting to put into my book. For now, at least, I can tell you it begins with belief in Life and Love. One and the same, I've found — just a slightly different spelling. With these in the mix, rainbows appear. 

On that note, here’s a line from ‘Girl In The High Castle’, the last track on my album. I realised only yesterday, it’s my ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ song:

One day soon I’ll pen a song

Make a mint, then buy a little house

A shepherd hut for two  
And we can laugh about how our dream came through.  
We won’t be living in a castle alone.

Try this today - take a walk in the sunshine and imagine you’re wading through a sea of colour. Because you are, daily - you just need some rainglasses to see it.

Love & technicolour raindrops to you,

Holly x

p.s If you enjoyed this read, please share it with someone and light up their day.

How Long, How Long - Will These Heartstrings Stretch to the Moon? 

This week it's a walk on the beach and trip to the stars


Time Travel for Newborns

Sometimes it’s good to remind ourselves how far we’ve come.

This Saturday I walked many miles on a beach down in Suffolk. I was blissfully happy. I’ve visited that particular beach regularly these last few years as it always reminds me of Carmel by the Sea, back in my beloved California. White sand with washed up eroded tree trunks — it's my secret escape.

Later that evening, I began looking for an old Facebook video I'd made for my 2021 Kickstarter campaign, when I was trying to raise funds to release the Lockdown version of ‘Carmel'. I'd been in a very vulnerable place at the time, brutally open about the day I decided to go on my American odyssey. I'd wanted people to fully understand what had pushed me to do it, and why I was asking for help with the project: the value I hoped it would give to others. But I’d never shared such a personal story before on the internet.  I wasn't sure if now, feeling in a better place these days, I'd made a mistake.

Long story short, I found the video, watched it to the end and left it. I look younger, thinner and, quite honestly, like a newborn. I still had so much further to travel before ‘Sweet Decline’ could be manifested. But it reminded me why I carried on, how grateful I am now the record’s out. I left it just in case someone stumbles upon it one day, just when they need it.

You can re-watch the video here if you’d like to.



Time moves on and we change. That’s what’s supposed to happen, right? My ex — now a friend, I'm happy to say — thinks I haven’t changed.  Other friends tell me they don't recognise me. I look back on who I was in that video and agree. It’s hard to recognise myself because I’ve experienced too much not to have changed. I’ve shed so much.  Going back to who I was in 2019 would probably be like trying to fit into a pair of shoes I was wearing in infant school. The point is, we’re not supposed to fit into them. That’s the nature of living. It’s an exponential movement outwards, just like the universe continually expanding.

I used to think healing all my s*** was the act of peeling off layers, like an onion or gobstopper. Each time I’d think I’d got to the centre, another layer would appear. But these days I think of it as quite the opposite, more like ripples spreading outwards. Eventually, if we do the work, we might fill the whole universe and contain more than a million stars.

Totes On Tour


With the universe and travel in mind, I’m excited about sharing this bit of news with you. Yvonne, one of my Tall Trees, recently started taking pictures of her ‘Sweet Decline’ tote bags in various locations. She’d bought a few totes for friends and got them to take pictures. Another person took his to the Albert Hall. I loved the idea so much I’ve created a special Google map for them here -  my Sweet Decline tote-bombing Totes on Tour map.

There are still a few totes left for sale at my online shop - link here if you fancy joining in. Like my Sleepless in Nashville post way back in February, I hope one day the Totes on Tour map might end up like little light bulbs of hope illuminating the world. Maybe they’ll travel as far as the South Pole? Or better still, the moon…