Hi, I’m Rowan.

I live on the Mixedwood Plains on the St. Lawrence Lowlands, in Montreal, QC. I ride horses, write, and follow my fascinations with the more-than-human world. The common goal of all my activity is to slow down, pay attention, and connect.

Thank-you for taking the time to linger here.

A smile of recognition, a hug, or the resonance of a human voice is always more nourishing to me than anything digital.

And yet, so many of us do keep the tendrils of connection alive in that space. I post on Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok sometimes (with long hiatuses), about horses, personal revelations, or just to share a nice photo. Join me there, if you want to.

This is my blog.

To answer the question: “Do you still sing?”

I have learned that there is a difference between my physical voice, and my voice in the broader sense. I have mastered my physical voice – all the nuances, the breaking points; learned the ways my voice likes to move and blossom. There is freedom and joy in the practise of using my voice in that way on stage. But I needed something more.

Vulnerability Magic: One Year Sober

Inspired by a little silver plastic chip in my pocket that said “Women in Recovery” on one side and the serenity prayer on the other (and my phone full of new numbers), I found a desire within me that I hadn’t even known I wanted until I stepped into that meeting. I wanted myself back.

Using Your Voice Again: A Plan of Action

Let yourself rage against all the reasons you stopped using your voice. Rage against money, capitalism, the lie of meritocracy, the optimism of youth, the institutions that lulled you into passivity, the warnings you did not heed, misogyny. Shame, emotional abuse, trauma, microagressions. Sore throats, lies. Shed your tears for all those moments of connection you lost because you did not sing. 

No More Silence

I know I am not the first person to speak, and that the reason I am able to find the courage to do so is because I am adding my voice to the chorus of many who have come before me. I honour those who said the first word, then the second and third.