Kavita Bedford: On Stillness
A writer of many hats shows us how it's done
Of the many hundreds of writers that entered our Writer's Residency earlier this year, Kavita Bedford's work stood out as that of someone who seemed confident in their unique approach to our brief, unanimously loved by our judges. As it so happens, Bedford is about as unyoked as writers come; having recently published her first novel, she's also a yoga teacher and journalist whose life has taken her deliberately off piste in search of the ultimate yarn.
It's telling that all of Kavita's photos were either taken in gardens or by the sea; this is someone for whom nature is a big part of life. We sat down with her to discuss her piece, Metamorphosis, the benefits of representing underserved voices, how to balance 3 or 4 jobs without going mad and why green spaces are the best remedy for all our ills.
You recently published your first novel, which is no mean feat. What kind of environment do you need to be in to write? Are you a total silence sort of person or can you focus even in a loud coffee shop?
Because I have worked so many different jobs and I have had to write around, within, and on top of these, one thing it has taught me is to not be too precious about my environment! I wrote that book in different houses, countries, on the train, sitting in my car, on flights and in idyllic residencies. Having said that, I do have my ideal creative routine practice, which I try to enact as much as possible. I like to write in the mornings, either in the garden or at a coffee shop. I can deal with ambient sounds around me, but I don’t like to be engaged in any real conversation or demands during that period, and I shut off my internet and hide my phone! Then in the afternoons, I tend to the other work and jobs in my life.
How did you find lockdown impacted your creative process? Was it difficult to draw inspiration when unable to travel or leave home, or did you find new ideas in isolation?
My first novel came out during the pandemic and so the majority of my events were moved into the online space. I was fortunate that we have the mode to do this, and I was able to still take part in writers festivals, panels and interviews for various outlets, but it was difficult to separate between the internal landscape of creating and the more external performing lens, whilst navigating it all online. I missed the real interaction with people and the energy that fills up the well. At first this distressed me. But after some months, I was able to find another routine and silence and started writing in the garden, and I have now found a way into writing my second novel.
Our judges really loved the contrasting emotion & dry humour of your piece. A few of them felt like they had been involved with men like this in their lives. Why do you think some people are drawn to extreme outdoors activity, sometimes at the expense of all others?
Thank you! I also have friends who have similar relationships, and when I was writing this, it was like finding a cult – the girlfriends who are left behind. I think these outdoor activities have such a magnetism – both towards the activity and towards the men, who pursue them. That desire to be so integrated into nature, to morph the body and mind to the elements, and allow oneness with our environment is such a wondrous state. There is a part of me that is deeply envious of that. It is a grace-state. But like any religion, it has a shadow side, and can become addictive, and overtake, and become about something else, where it can be difficult to understand where a relationship fits in.
We are organisms that require a healthy, reciprocal relationship with our environment.
Much of your journalistic work concerns storytelling from diverse communities that often go voiceless. We're lucky our anthology will also feature many viewpoints including immigrant and First Nations stories that Unyoked hasn't delved into previously. What has compelled you to work in these communities and what has it taught you about Australia?
I have been lucky to live in different countries growing up, and also between cultures. and this has cemented in me an outsider perspective that feeds into my writing (or perhaps writing feeds into being an outsider). I have tried to write these perspectives into non-fiction and journalism; and more recently in fiction where I have explored the idea of what it means being an outsider in your own city. A big part of working with communities and trying to create spaces for other voices to be heard comes from my own family background, but also watching how limited the narrative around migrants and other cultures can be.
The imperative placed on immigrants to tell a certain kind of story when they arrive in Australia is so limiting. In order to have their stories heard, they need to fit into the media narrative, and any voices that defy that mainstream narrative and offer complexity and nuance are often overridden, which frustrates and upsets me. This has become an increasingly dangerous issue as violence is so heavily intertwined with ignorance and race and the lack of understanding that comes from overly simplified stories. I find it is in these spaces – somewhere between fact, interpretation and fiction – where truth resides, and writing into these gaps gives us the freedom to explore a little deeper.
Having dealt with said communities in what are often highly urbanised areas, is there something to be said for access to green spaces that we perhaps underestimate as our city expands?
Absolutely. Our urban planning and commitment to green spaces is essential for a healthy mind, body and soul and a harmonious society. This was evident recently with the way the pandemic was handled in our state – and communities in western Sydney that didn’t live with access to green spaces and nature suffered terribly during lockdown and it caused division.
As a yoga teacher, I imagine you've spent quite a lot of your career at retreats or other off-grid locations. Is getting out of the city important to you?
It is vital for me. We are organisms that require a healthy, reciprocal relationship with our environment. I spend a lot of time in the garden and ocean whilst in the city and we are so lucky to have mountains and oceans mere hours away.
You seem to have lived many lives as a writer, educator, journo and yoga teacher to name a few. How do you stay balanced when you've got much going on? What's your strategy?
Spending time in nature is a really big part of how I manage my various jobs, as well as my creative processes, and tending to my own healing. Many of my jobs are more cerebral and analytical, so I find it is very important to ground and earth myself and get into the body. I spend a lot of my time writing in the garden these days and I am a bit of a sun-chaser; I try to move as much as possible with that golden orb! I also try to be aware of my own internal cycles and to live closer with the natural rhythms. I found tapping into this has also benefited my creative practice, and I feel very lucky that I can do so much of my work in different settings and outdoors. Since I took it seriously and implemented simple practices, it has really helped with my own sense of overwhelm I was facing and to feel more balanced
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Kavita is one of our Writer's Residency finalists and will be published in our upcoming Anthology later this month. Read more about the program - and meet all the finalists - here.