The Joy of Working with Children

Some days it's easy to forget about the joy it is to work with children. The weight of learning to still be done; the weight of paperwork and preparation can overwhelm sometimes the sheer joy of being with fresh, insightful, creative, intelligent, energetic young people who inspire and amaze if you have the time to notice. One of the things I love best about teaching is bragging about what 'my kids' have done or said during the day. I tell other teachers, the office ladies, friends and family (always being respectful of confidentiality of course - a professional must). I just can't help but be excited about the great thoughts and works these kids are capable of. My joy as a teacher is to give kids space to exercise their greatness. It means we have lots of talking in my classes. There are lots of discussions. If someone has a new idea; a new game, a new activity, a new approach, I do my best to allow that to be explored. Plans are made for the day but most often we travel a windy path in and out of the set plan. Flexibility allows us to follow and work with what the children are interested in now!

The hard thing to have to deal with is time. There are constant deadlines and bells and interruptions of one kind or another. I imagine as a child that it would be fantastic to be allowed to learn at one's own pace and as one's interest flowed. I imagine how wonderful it would be to come to school in the morning and know that I could work all day on one thing if I wanted to. I imagine that it would be so fantastic to have a teaching system where my teacher could have all the resources in the classroom for it to be my learning workshop. I imagine what it would be like to have teachers who would be a support in my learning journey; who would show an interest in the learning I wanted to do and support me in that. I imagine that I could discuss with my teacher what project I'd like to work on and that my teacher would help me to find the things I needed to do that. As a teacher I think about how much kids would learn if we could teach that way. I think about how much more excited kids would be about learning if they had more control over it. I think this is happening more as kids have access to technology and researching is at their fingertips. I want to be able to say 'yes' to kids about their ideas about learning projects so that they don't end up retreating into technologies for all their learning. I want to be free to say 'yes' to hands on experiential learning so that they can build their knowledge and deep understanding of concepts. 

On Monday mornings we do cooking at school. It is wonderful to see the enthusiasm as we weigh and measure and stir and heat. And eat! The children love to test the results. This week we made scrambled eggs on toast and fresh squeezed orange juice. We got to talk about where the food comes from, what is good about bread with oats and barley added, how fresh squeezed juice is different from bottled juice. We laid the table and talked about how many. How many knives, forks, plates. They are six and seven years old so these are the kinds of discussions we have. They cooked toast and buttered it and cut it in half. They piled it up on plates to share. They cut oranges in half (with help) and looked at how much juice they could get out of each piece. Their enthusiasm for this process translated into two large jugs of juice. I was impressed! They just kept going. They didn't give up even though it was hard work. They chopped fresh parsley to add to the scrambled eggs.  

I was able to share the story of my old green glass juicer. It is one of my treasures. I bought it from the old church next to the school when it used to be an 'op shop' back in the 1980s. It has travelled with me on my adventures sailing and living interstate. It was fun to share a bit of local history with the kids as part of the day.

When everything was ready we all sat down together and shared a wonderful breakfast. I couldn't manage it on my own, but with a wonderful teacher aide and a mum who comes in to help, it's a breeze. Whilst chatting over the meal, one little girl piped up, "It's just like the whole class has come to my house to visit,". I knew in that moment how important these experiences are for children. She felt like the host. Because they all did their part they probably all felt like hosts on the day. After the meal we all chipped in to wash, dry and put away dishes, wipe down tables and the plastic table cloths, sweep up crumbs from under the tables and chairs. 

At the end of the morning we had nothing to show for our work. The children had full tummies and happy smiles. The kitchen was clean as a whistle, like no one had been in there. If someone had come in to see what we'd been doing all morning there was nothing to show for it. Teaching is like that sometimes. We can have stacks of worksheets all over the place...kids sitting at desks all day wishing they were somewhere else...kids being quiet and listening to the teacher all day...or we can have busy, hands-on, fun filled real life learning experiences that don't necessarily end up with something to show for it but where lots of learning goes on. 

We do our share of writing and paper based work, but I try to keep the kids moving around and having fun for as much of the time as I can. I don't mind the chaos. I don't mind the noise. I don't mind the 'not being in control'. In fact, it's a joy. I love my job and I love 'my kids'. I hope they learn the things they need to learn while they are with me. I hope they learn to be cooperative, valuable members of communities. I hope they learn that they have something worthwhile to contribute. Most of all I hope they learn not to need me any more. That's what I'm there for.

PS The joy of being asked to watch a boy tie his own shoelaces...I am so blessed.

Banish guilt and create healthy boundaries!

This blog is in part a challenge to myself to write as often as I can...daily if possible. It's 9:52 pm and there are good reasons for me to hit the hay and not to bother but I will try to honour this challenge before I succumb to the gentle beckoning of my sleeping place.

Go me for commitment! I had to let it slide for a few days last week, but without going into details, it was just one of those weeks and I'm getting pretty good at forgiving myself these days for being human and sometimes needing to cut myself a bit of slack. I've always been good at cutting the slack, but not so good at forgiving myself for it...so I'd just feel guilty. Oh, what an unholy waste of time is guilt unless you intend to change your ways! So I don't feel guilty about the idea of not writing today, but I actually really want to do it, and I would miss the opportunity and maybe, just maybe, I can write something tonight that might not come together at some other time. And maybe what I can write tonight will mean something to someone and help them in some way. There's the motivation. I don't imagine myself to be some kind of guru or great teacher, but I've made a helluva lot of mistakes in life and I've learned a helluva lot from making them...so just maybe sharing some stories or ideas can either help someone else to feel better about being human and stuffing things up now and then, or stop them from making the same mistakes I have. And maybe save them some pain. Therein lies the supposition that all pain is bad, and I'm not sure that is true. 

We talk about pain a lot really don't we. He's a pain, she's a pain, it's a pain. The speech was painful. Maybe just because you had to sit in one place too long and listen. Would it be less painful if you could have moved about a bit and listened as you paced? Most speeches must be taken sitting down. So when we talk about pain in these ways, aren't we really meaning an inconvenience, an annoyance, an interruption to our flow perhaps? Does this kind of pain lead us to do things differently or change our ways? If someone is a pain, do we think to ourselves, "I really should take the time to get to know that person more. They could have good reason for being difficult (or painful), " or do we start to avoid the person because they are an inconvenience to us? I challenge myself here too...do I give people the benefit of the doubt every time? No. Sometimes I'm impatient or too busy or too self absorbed to give my time to others. 

I read a great book some years ago called Change Your Questions Change Your Life: 10 powerful tools for life and work by Marilee Adams. So let's think about the questions we ask ourselves when someone is being a pain. These are just suggestions so please feel welcome to substitute you own.
Why is he/she being so annoying?
Why is he/she being such a pain?
Why doesn't he/she just leave me alone?
Why does he/she always ring me?
Why does he/she always go on about him/herself?
How much longer do I have to stand here and listen?
Does he/she have to ring every day?
When we ask these questions we give away our power. We give the other person all the power because we are blaming them for making us feel a certain way; probably trapped!

So what questions could we ask instead that might change the dynamic, buy us back some power and change how we deal with people? You might have some suggestions too but here are a couple to get the ball rolling.
How does this situation look through his/her eyes?
What might it feel like to be him/her?
How can I show that I'm really hearing him/her (paraphrasing, summarising, clarifying...rather than just mmm-hmmm-ing)? 
How much time can I afford to give him/her and still feel relaxed?
Can I really listen for five minutes without trying to escape?
Sometimes to have someone really listen and really hear what is being said is all that he/she really needs. Of course at the same time you have to know what your own needs are. 

Personal boundaries are our own responsibility. We can't expect others to respect our boundaries if we don't know what or where they are for ourselves. Do you know what you will tolerate from others and what you will not? Do you set aside time for yourself that is sacred and for which you sometimes have to say "No." to others? Sit down sometime and think about your life. If you have someone that phones you and wants to talk at length when you have other priorities, it's perfectly fair to tell the person that you can give them five minutes or ten minutes and at the end of that time to say that's all the time you have to give them for now and you have to go and goodbye. And hang up. If someone calls in for coffee every other day and you would rather they only came on Thursday afternoons between 2 and 3 then let them know. Let them know that you won't be stopping to chat any other time. Then stick to it. Obviously there are times when rules can be bent, but if you have someone in your life who takes advantage of your kind heart then it's OK to make some rules to keep your sanity. Most of us have very busy lives and have a lot to fit in one way or another. 

Be kind to others but please also  be kind to yourself. Know that you need space and time to rest, to think, to reflect, to sleep, to exercise, to be with your significant others, to nurture yourself and your close relationships. Sometimes leaving others to work out their own stuff gives them the opportunity to grow. If you keep on helping and organising and supporting and propping then you can effectively be stifling them. Scary isn't it. The very thing you wish they would do...such as stand on their own two feet or take responsibility for their own behaviour...you stop them from doing that by being there for them all the time. Just a thought.

If you don't take care of yourself then your might find you start to get some of the other pain. Physical pain. Dis-ease. Cancer. Heart problems. Anxiety. Stress. These pains are bad but also good. How can they be good? They are like our dashboard letting us know that something is not right. The lights are flashing to try and get our attention. Usually it's a sign that we need to change the way we're living. It might be eating habits or exercise or relaxation or education or just finding time to make some goals or dream a little. There is so much information out there once you start looking. All the help in the world to guide you to a better life. Better to be kind to yourself. Be gentle with others but firm too. Protect your boundaries. Don't be a 'yes' man or woman...unless you are saying 'yes' to time out as well. 

PS Those bad pains...if you choose to do nothing about them...they just go on getting worse. Eventually they kill you. I've included a link to the Australian Bureau of Statistics Leading Causes of Death. I believe that if you really looked into it, most of them are stress-related. 10:52 Sleep tight. 


http://www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/abs@.nsf/Lookup/3303.0Chapter42011

When Storm Clouds Gather

It's been a difficult week but we all have them. I just haven't felt much like writing. Here I am now making myself do just that because I know it's the only way to get going again. Life is a mess of ups and downs; sometimes they flow gently as a languid swell at sea, and other times they hit in sharp jagged peaks and deep holes from where you cannot see the shore, even if it is not so very far away. How we choose to ride those crests and low spots, how we prepare ourselves when things are jogging along nicely...they are the indicators in a sense for how well we can enjoy life, whatever it brings.

I feel fortunate in many ways; I don't take good times or good things for granted. I nurture awareness of those things and those times as they keep me strong and anchored in the not so easy times. I've learned to trust myself so that I don't feel so thrown about when things aren't going well. In a sense I can even feel excited because those times of roughness and turmoil bring change and excitement and challenge into life in a way that smooth seas don't. Using the ocean as a metaphor comes easily as I've been a sailor, so I know the joy of sailing on a smooth turquoise sea, zephyrs gently filling the sails just enough to be drifting along towards a known and reachable destination. I know when it feels so good and so easy that nothing can go wrong. Mostly that feeling is right and everything goes according to plan. Good times! I've also seen the sea change from that benign and gentle being to a raging giant tormenting and flinging foam and water about creating a maelstrom...almost in a matter of minutes. 

Have you ever seen that happen in life? Everything is going smoothly and you have a confidence in how things are and how things will be, and suddenly a small grey cloud appears. It is quickly joined by others that appear out of nowhere and they band together to form a great threatening black mass. Water spouts appear off in the distance to distract from the cloud but its oppressive presence just grows closer until the moment the winds hit knocking you off balance and looking desperately for cover. Then comes the rain. And all the while you've been distracted by this and that and hoped it wasn't happening and thought that it surely would dissipate and all would be well again...but instead you are caught with your sails up and your boat is pressed down by the power of the wind and the tossing waves. The screaming demons carried by the darkness threaten everything you held dear just moments earlier. Your ears are filled with the sound of their mocking banshee wails and you cannot even hear the sound reasoning of your own calm centre that sits peacefully beneath the boat of your mortal presence as it is tossed and buffeted. It observes with passive interest what your mind is going through as it tries to make sense of the sudden madness; as it struggles against wind and water to reduce sail, to secure the lines, to reduce the potential for damage whilst reeling in shock; acting woodenly in ways that have been learned through a lifetime of storms and sudden dangers. Holding on, tears hidden in the pouring torrents from the skies and the drenching of waves hurtling and slapped against the hull, sending saline waterfalls powered by horizontal force, knocking you off your feet and flinging you hard against the rails...

There is nothing like the eye of a storm. A brightness, a whiteness approaches...what is it?? It is more terrifying than the dark, the wind stops. The quiet. The muddled sloshing of waves no longer driven but confused. You bob about, your boat lunging this way and that while you try to understand what is happening. It that it? Is it all over now? So tired from all the struggle and just holding on and hoping to get through. Then the wind returns; and the darkness; and the noise. You feel overwhelmed but from somewhere deep within you find the courage to go on. Not because you want to but because you must. There is no choice. You just might make it through because you've made it this far. You fear hidden dangers like submerged containers thrown from ships; slack bindings allowing them to fall and sink and wallow, just below the surface, ready to tear a boat open from stem to stern, like a puny sardine can. You fear that a whale or some other denizen of the deep might throw itself in rapture at the storm and burst free of the briny to soar and land on top of you, taking you with it to a miserable and watery end. We know that all the things we fear have happened to someone at sometime...and they could happen to us too. 

Our calm centre, whether we have met it yet or not, observes all this without fear or worry. All it has is knowing. Knowing that in spite of what happens, what we go through, how we behave, react, respond...however we feel or think or don't...that none of it really matters in the end. Does it hope we might draw something from the experience or grow somehow or change? I don't know. It doesn't change. It is just there with us always. Watching. 

So now that I know about the calm place, I can choose to sit in it and have a sense of watching myself too. It somehow allows things to be as they are without me becoming quite so emotionally entangled in happenings; good or bad. I've known about it for a long time. It is somewhere that people go when they meditate. Now that I've found it I can go there most times. I don't know if it would be approved of in circles where meditation is something ritual or mystical. I guess I've listened to a lot of people and read a lot of theories and ideas and in the midst of all that I've found something that works for me. 

In the midst of the storm that quiet place is there. You can spend a moment there to catch your breath. It helps. The you that has engaged in the struggles and felt the wind and the storm in all its strength and fury...that you will know the peace when the storm has passed. It's a great thing to be able to see yourself as a survivor. You got through the storm. Your boat is still afloat. Sails torn. A little water sloshing about in the bilges, a greasy soup flavoured with assorted flotsam, once treasures now wastage to be thrown overboard. You make a cuppa. Take stock. Start the clean-up. Do some fixing. Take a break. Make another cuppa and look at how far you've come. 

Life is good. The storms will come and go. Get to know your quiet place so that you can take a little rest when you need to. Know that the storm will end. Know that you will be stronger and wiser, if a little worn and scarred. You will know that you are strong and resilient and capable of life. Go live it!

Remembering Bill

It's hard to know how to commemorate a life that ended twelve months ago today, especially the life of a man who had such a great influence on me and my life as he was part of my life for over thirty years. We had so many adventures together over those years, including the completion of a yacht he was building when I met him and then sailing her locally and on one momentous trip to New Caledonia which included experiencing a significant storm so wild that we managed to eat only Sao Crackers and drink only cold water for four days! Sharing adventures like that - there were several close calls over the years - grows a special kind of friendship.

Last year I wrote and submitted an obituary to the local 'Bush Telegraph' as we had lived a number of years here in southern Tasmania. Some of you may have read it before, but I am sharing it here again today in his memory. Tonight, if you remember Bill, have a drink to his memory, even if it's just a cup of tea. At the same time remember other friends and family who have passed, all too many of them it seems in the short time I have been back here. Cheers to them all, for the memories.

From the Bush Telegraph November 2012

"Many of you will have known Bill or known about him as the crazy man who put his boat up on Jimmy Mitchell's slipway and cut the bottom off it. He wanted to be able to get in and out over the Southport bar into Hastings Bay where he found safe and secure anchorage for the Minerva III after bought a little cottage in Ida Bay back in the late 1980s. 

Bill passed away at his home just north of Bundaberg in Queensland on August 6th this year (2012). In accordance with his wishes, there was no funeral. We held a wake for him at the Railway Hotel in North Bundaberg. Joanna, Mark and I were joined by a couple of close family members and a few old friends. A wreath arrived from an old schoolmate who now lived in WA. 

It was a bitter-sweet occasion as we celebrated the life of our friend, father, brother, brother-in-law and partner in crime! Bill and I separated seven years ago but through ups and downs remained friends until the end of his life. I wanted to write this as it feels a bit like there is unfinished business as we lived here in southern Tasmania for nine years and became a family here with the birth  of our two children Joanna and Mark. Friends here have not had the chance to meet together to hear Bills story so I thought I could share it with you all this way.

Diagnosed with cancer in 1999, Bill often said it was the best thing that ever happened to him as it made him see what was really important in life. He devoted many years to following a natural heading regime which included fresh fruit and vegetable juices, meditation, exercise and keeping a positive healthy outlook. He outlived the doctors' predication by more than ten years by his dedication to that path. During those thirteen years and three months total, he had an impact on many peoples' lives, and that is what I'd really like to share with you.

We left Tasmania in 1997 full of plans to sail extensively under Minerva III's new junk rig, but the cancer diagnosis 18 months later put an end to our plans. We rented a place in Maryborough in Qld and whilst were there Bill volunteered his time to drive the bus for a disability group and enjoying picking up the clients and taking them to and from work and social functions. He kept fit and strong by riding his pushbike up to 40km a day. We eventually sold the boat and bought a property in Little Tinana near Maryborough. Bill planted fruit trees and created an extensive veggie garden and when we needed some big gum trees taken down he didn't fall them with a chainsaw but dug them out by hand. Although the soil was sandy, it was a mammoth task and one that drew stares of wonder from neighbours and friends!

After a few years there horses became a part of our lives and we needed to find a bigger property. It was then that we bought the 25 acres where Bill saw out his days. Sadly our relationship faltered around that time and I moved with the children to a small rented house in a nearby town. Over the next few years Bill sailed to the Solomon Islands crewing for an old friend Mike Taylor, and enjoyed  sitting chatting with the older islanders while he was there. He took a couple of trips to Thailand and a favourite photo was one of him with a massive tiger. 

He was involved with the local vegetarian group in Bundaberg and gave talks there about cancer and diet. Bill was always busy reading and learning more about cancer and was always willing to share his knowledge with others. He joined the WOOFAs group as a host and had many visitors who stayed and enjoyed the serenity of the property. The notes they wrote on the wall of the visitors' room show their appreciation for learning so much from him and for his ever-popular home brew!

Bill took on the task of caring for his aging mother, sharing the job with his sister Frances. They travelled from their homes in Queensland and NSW respectively and lived with her in Victoria on 2 months shifts for about 2 years. He applied the same principles of healthy lifestyle choices to caring for his mum, and her health improved significantly during that time but eventually she was moved into a nursing home. During those stays in the Yarra Valley Bill volunteered at the Gawler Institute, working in the gardens there, and was involved in a community project to help feed homeless and needy people. 

In March this year (2012) we gathered together to help Bill celebrate his 60th birthday. Joanna painted him an enormous and beautiful picture of the Minerva III based on a photograph taken back in 1998 as we sailed into Pearl Bay with the four of us on board. It was hung proudly on the wall of his home. Joanna completed the painting with Bill's input which ensured accuracy of the finer details. It was a special time for them both. 

Bill's sister and brother-in-law and our son, Mark cared for him for the last fifteen months of this life. He was forced to undergo emergency surgery in May 2011 and needed care from that time on. Whilst it was a difficult time, he tried to remain positive and kept planning a trip around Australia with horse and cart. His sister and brother-in-law are preparing to do the trip and take him with them in spirit. 

Bill, you were a 'trooper'. You were tough and determined and an amazing man in so many ways. 
As Brian said at the wake, you were just a humble boiler maker, but you did so much. Before I knew you, you had worked and travelled around the world and regaled us all with tales of those times.
You are missed and loved and you won't be forgotten. Rest in Peace."

Brian and Frances are currently travelling around the outback west of NSW and it's amazing to hear the tales of their journey. I think it's brilliant when ordinary people do extraordinary things; when people dare to do things differently or to march to the beat of a drum that the majority of us refuse to hear. They are the people that allow us all to dream. Today is a day of remembrance for me and for many others. It's also a day to look forward, to dream and to live a life that allows others to dream too.

Basic Black

It is so hard to get rid of 'stuff'. You know that's one of my bug-bears! Soon after writing about it last time I went through my clothing and amassed a huge bagful to take to the op-shop but made the mistake of not putting it in the car straight away...so today I went through it again. I took about four things out but that's not too terrible as I added another six. In the meantime I have been given three pairs of pants and eight pairs of socks. I'll try the pants on and with a bit of luck they won't fit and I can add them to the bag...except for the beaut walking pants...zip off legs, quick dry, secret pockets...it will be good if they fit. Socks...well they don't take up too much room. Don't you just love the feel of new socks on your feet? 

Do you have a wardrobe full of things that mix and match...or a matchless mix like me? This goes with....nothing really. That goes with... Well everything goes with jeans. Or black pants. Do you go shopping with a plan? Or are you a spontaneous, spur of the moment, Specials Rack Buyer like me? I keep trying to tell myself that I should only buy if it's my size and black, grey or...black. I'm a sucker for the 2 (of anything) for $10 rack!! The funny thing is that if you put me in any shop, anywhere in the world, I'd be willing to bet my life that I could instantly put my hand on THE most expensive item on the rack, shelf, table, bin or anywhere else. This tells me that I can appreciate and identify quality fabrics and classic style (these are the things that hold their price), but somehow they are always beyond my budget. I know, I know, if I didn't buy lots of useless bits with which to later endow the local charity shop, I could save and buy quality. I could invest in timeless pieces that I would wear for years and always look fabulous because they would be suitably accessorised with chunky gold jewellery. I can only wear gold because my body disagrees with me wearing anything else; I end up smelling like I've been rubbed with old pennies. Not nice and rather annoying as there are lots of lovely 2 for $10 costume jewellery options out there. So, even the atoms of my body seem to know that quality is what I've been bred for; those that are not part of my brain anyway. 

My brain takes over when I am out shopping. It does the math. It says yes you can do this but not that. Lay-by is difficult here because I'm a long way from the shops and what if I forget to make the payments?? My shopping self is still in the Dark Ages. It still thinks you have to go into the shop and get it now. It hasn't moved properly into the 21st Century and adapted to online shopping (although I do order toner cartridges for my printer that way...and have been tricked there by the cheap and nasty too!!). I bought two pairs of jeans that way once too...that worked out well because I had budgeted $50 for a pair of jeans - a brand that I knew fitted me - and when I got to the webshop it had a sale on and I got two pairs and postage for less than the fifty bucks! Woohoo! So it's not that I can't do it. What I need to do is make a plan for my clothes shopping and (the hard part) stick to it.

Have you ever gone through your wardrobe and decided what you need to buy to make it work better for you. I look and I just want to laugh...or cry...or both. It's so confusing. I mean, where does one begin? There has to be a systematic way to approach this job that will ensure success every time. If you have any tips let me know! I've trawled through various websites at different times trying to find the simple solution, but I'm just not convinced that I can do things their way. I don't seem to have the right stuff to start with. And in the end, does it really matter, I ask myself. 

I am clothed. That's a good thing. Let's look at the bright side. I haven't noticed anyone laughing at me when I go out, so I guess I am not standing out in the crowd. I must look fairly decent. I read somewhere recently (on one of those websites aforementioned - I'll put a link at the bottom of this rave if I can find it again - done!) that some women had done an experiment where they wore the same top or dress or outfit for weeks on end, and only one person got any kind of a comment about it...from a work colleague I believe it was. So it's hard to believe that we make so much flipping fuss over what we wear. You may well be the only person who notices what you're wearing...unless it happens to be so tiny that it defies easy identification...that may pull a bit more interest...as onlookers try to work out if it's a skirt or a belt for example. This is not a problem I'm likely to have in the near future or ever if I have anything to do with wardrobe management in my house. More likely...did I last see that holding potatoes?? Not really. It's not that bad...really it's not.

Opportunity shops do pretty well out of me. I frequently drop a bag or box of clothes off for them to sell. I often buy bits n pieces too...and later they get them back for nix when I find out they don't fit...or they don't go with anything! They use the money to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and to run programs for counselling the less fortunate or less happy among us. They do good work. I'm happy to support them. So really it's not going to matter if I never get this fashion thing worked out. It's not that terrible if I buy 2 for $10 thingys that the op-shop can re-sell and get back and re-sell again. One little impulse buy like that on my part has the potential to make hundreds of dollars to help the needy. I can look at it as an act of community service if I am liberal enough in my thinking...in the meantime...I pinky promise only to buy anything new if it's black!

http://theproject333.com/ This website has lots of helpful information on dressing with less...I might go back and have another read I think. I'm sure I'll work it out eventually! I'm pretty sure this is where I read about the experiment I mentioned above.

A Little Courage

Back in 2008 I did a massage course. I know. Daredevil I am! I remember well that long ago my then boyfriend and later hubby was interested in us doing a couples massage course and of course, the very thought absolutely freaked me out! I imagined (in my over-active thinker) that I would be required to be intimate with my partner in a room full of other people being intimate with their partners and well....I just wasn't going to go there because in my mind it was aaaarrrrrgggghhh...WAY too scary. So we never did it. Shame really because it probably would have been a very good thing. Sometimes those of us that over think things scare ourselves out of doing things that could be fun or just plain good for us. Anyway...

Some years later, after our sad parting and with my interest sparked by a fellow who needed massage to cope with a medical issue, I came across a course labelled massage 'therapy' that sounded much safer and just the kind of thing I needed to learn to be some help. Spurred by my desire to help this man (much misguided it turned out but that is another story altogether) I booked myself a place. I was scared stiff but 'love' can motivate us girls to do the most unexpected things! The course was taking place in my local capital city, six hours driving away, so it was necessary to find accommodation. As I'd never stayed in a back-packers hostel and I was obviously right into getting way out of my comfort zone at that stage of life, I decided that might be just the thing to do. I have to say that the decision was at least partly financial. I'm still trying to work out if it was a good decision five years later! The hostel I booked into looked pretty good on the internet. Nice rooms. Nice photos. I was really looking forward to the whole adventure in a really terribly nervous kind of way.

I didn't drive the car so I wouldn't need to worry about parking; I took the train. I like the train. It's comforting to travel with the ca-choonk, ca-choonk, ca-choonking sound. One can manage a pretty decent nap listening to that, which is good thing on a six hour journey. All good. Arrived. Collected from the station by a typical back-packer hostel van along with an interesting mix of travelling folk. My room had no windows. I checked. Twice. No windows. A very glum, rather yellowish - grey skylight above the bed, but no fresh air and no view. The carpet had stains that I am sure were blood. Lots of them. I began to feel a bit uncomfortable really. The sickly aroma of mould overwhelmed the wafting scents from dishes of all nations floating up from the communal kitchen. Yes up...it was upstairs. Up about twenty rickety stairs that threatened to drop from beneath me each time I climbed them...and I climbed them a lot in the two weeks I stayed there. 

The showers were novel too. They ran warm for just about long enough to get shampooed and then cold. Doing a massage course one ends up pretty oily by the end of the day and hair washing becomes pretty important to a girl with ANY self-esteem. The fridges in the kitchen were loaded with bags of stuff with names on. You had to put your name on your stuff so people knew who's stuff they were nicking! Let's just say it was interesting. Oh, and very loud. I was told that it was a 'young people's hostel' by the admin staff; I guess they were just making sure I knew I wasn't in that category. I met a lovely young woman the next morning at breakfast and somehow knew we were headed to the same place. She was off to the massage course too so I had a friend to help me find the place. Meeting that inspiring young woman was one of the best things about the whole adventure. She is an absolutely marvellous human being and I am in awe of the adventures she and her handsome French hubby embark on as their life's work. Awesome!

Despite my early misgivings, I survived that hostel experience and the massage course was one of the best things I've ever done for myself. I learned so much. I learned to allow others to work on me. I learned to allow strangers to touch my body. This is big. After all, I'm English. I learned to massage others. It was all so respectful and professional and wonderful and also challenging. It stretched boundaries for me and I discovered that I could really do something beautiful for another human being. I learned that when people really relax and trust you, that all the lines disappear from their faces. That is so beautiful to see. I learned that touch is so very therapeutic, for both the giver and receiver. 

What I learned proved useful over coming months as I helped friends and also managed to earn a few extra dollars tending to knotted necks and shoulders at the university. After a while...after the misguided yearnings mentioned earlier subsided and I 'moved on'...I sort of gave up doing massage. I remember one day an ex-army guy came into the wee room I worked in at the uni (he was a new lecturer in something or other) and I couldn't do anything to penetrate his bulging muscles. He was so tough! I tried fingers and thumbs, elbows and knees and he was completely unmoved by my efforts. I felt like such a failure. Sad but true. That might also be why I stopped. 

Enter winter 2013. I think I want to massage again. I have helped a friend here and there along the way and have always felt like I did a good job for them. I just get a bit scared that I might not do well enough. Hmmm we've all heard that little demon; he sits on our shoulders and nags us to believe we are not enough...know him? I gave an old friend a massage this afternoon. If she ever finds this blog to read I worry that she might tell you all that it was 'crap'...but I have to be honest with myself and remember the look on her face as she lay on the table so relaxed when I was finished. I have to remember the hug on the way out and the fact that she mentioned 'next time'. I guess it must have been ok. So what I'm thinking is that I really like to do this for people and all I need to do really is keep doing it until I feel more confident. There will always be moments when I'm not sure I've done enough, but if I just do the best I can, it will be enough for most people. 

It takes a little courage to serve people in such a personal way. It takes courage to accept the  privilege of being trusted to treat them with respect and care. That is what I do. In the world today, it's not good to restrict one's earning capacity to one thing. I am a teacher. I am also a massage therapist. I just have to believe it a little more.

Do you have things you like to do or want to do but something is holding you back? Could it be lack of courage? Remember you just need a little bit to get started.

Mid Week Holiday

I wasn't called in to work today and was sitting at home this morning thinking about all the things I ought to do...I have an office that needs sorting out rather desperately, reading I ought to do, washing, ironing...you know how it is. Luckily I hadn't written a list so it was easy to re-frame my day as an opportunity to go for a walk. I've been meaning to walk to Fisher's Point for a long time and here, the first day of August with just the tiniest smattering of snow on the highlands and the sun shining brightly, was the perfect day. 

I soon rustled up a partner in crime to accompany me and we headed off mid-morning. It's only a two hour walk so there was no rush. The drive to the end of the road was long and bumpy but deserted so there was no need to hurry. One other car in the car park warned of other adventurers and we found a couple of men fishing on the rocks when we first headed off. Friendly waves and nods were all that were necessary in this vast, beautiful wilderness; they got on with their fishing and we got on with our walk.

Magic was all about...for anyone with an eye for texture and line it is a banquet! My camera was out time and time again but there were too many wondrous sights to capture them all. Everywhere I looked were the elegant twisted limbs of gale-worn trees and shrubs, kelp abandoned by the sea, shells collected in corners by pushy waves and currents. My senses reeled with the pungent smell of seaside saltiness and rotting kelp. The sun shone, the breeze was light as a feather brushing my skin. Heading overland at one point into a dark, damp forest dressed in moss and several degrees cooler than the beach was quite a surprise really. I hadn't expected such contrast in a matter of metres.

We sat in silence at the point of destination and took in the birds (sooty oyster catchers, gulls, a heron perched high in a naked tree overlooking the coast) and the placid ocean caressing the shore. The noise of the waves breaking on the rocky coast was a little more than the lapping in the bay, but nothing compared to what it's capable of with a good wind blowing. The peace was enormous and the only thought I had was a wondering what it would actually be like to have no thought. I figured it would be pretty good and it was sad that this lone one got in the way. It was enough just to be. It was enough just to see, to smell, to hear.

On the way back my mate walked ahead and I rounded a bend on the beach and found it so warm...the water so absolutely crystal clear, the rocks so clean and smooth, the white sand shining brightly ...I took off my backpack and reached down to touch the water. It was cool but not freezing as I thought it might be. I was hot from walking...I wanted so badly to douse myself in that refreshing coolness. It took a large dose of courage but I decided to take the plunge. Down to my undies (scary thought for those that know me!) and in I went. It was fabulous just to do it. I just got wet. Splashed a bit of water here and there, washed my face and then got out and sat on the rock in the sun. Soon covered up again and underway, I felt so great! Spur of the moment madness can be so good for the soul. My mate mentioned later that he thought he'd seen a mermaid. More likely a young whale or a seal I think. But I know better than to challenge him on that.

In the car on the way home I sighed a deep sigh and felt like I'd been on holidays. We were only on the beach and walking for about two and a half hours. It's amazing how relaxing and energising a couple of hours can be. What do you do to refresh yourself? Do you take the time to break routine and get out for a walk...or a crazy winter swim (it was very quick but very good!)? Right now I can highly recommend it! Oh, and it could be an idea to pack a towel.