Preparing for the Christmas Crazies

Have you been seeing those little hints around the place that say it's coming? The odd bit of tinsel strung up in the supermarket, a few red, green and white items tucked discreetly on one side of an aisle somewhere on your way up and down with the trolley? The odd post by some well meaning friend on Facebook...only X Fridays until Christmas. Gosh folks, it's bearing down on us like a runaway train, so we'd better get organised. I'm not sure who said it all had to be such a fuss. Who came up with the idea that Christmas has to be perfect? Who decided that everything must be colour coordinated and that outdoor chairs ought to be dressed for the occasion...along with everything else indoors and out? What a fantastic merchandising effort it has been. What an advertiser's dream. What sort of junk will they foist upon us this year? I know, I know, it's all about the spirit of togetherness and love and celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ but can't we do that without spending countless hundreds or thousands of dollars on stuff that is fashionable for a day or a week then relegated to the bottom of the toy basket or the linen closet or stored in the shed?

I am not for a moment suggesting that you should not get into the so called silly season in any way you see fit, but I am suggesting that perhaps it is worth thinking about why you do, and whether it is worth spending so much of your hard-earned cash on it. I'm just asking you to have a think about what it is that drives you to work so hard and stress so much over one day (or two) when we get our families together or make an effort to comfort and include the lonely. Wouldn't it be better to spread that energy and expense out over the year, and actually have a few more family days, or invite the lonely neighbour over for a meal a bit more often? Just a thought. If you make a lot of effort to be kind and jolly and giving and generous just for Christmas, then perhaps you could ask yourself why? Should it be an effort to open your heart and your home to others in your family and community? Should it be saved for special occasions? Perhaps I'm just an old cynic, but we all get together with smiles and loaded with gifts for people we hardly notice the rest of the year. We make out that we are some kind of fairy tale Christmas movie family and then at the end of the day off we go and don't really take much notice of each other until Christmas comes around again. Weird. Maybe that happens with Christmas movies too. 

Anyway, I do see a lot of stress and worry going into getting it all right and I honestly think it's a bit of a waste. I watched my mum every year as a kid...or so I remember...working full time, shopping and hiding wrapped gifts in the top of the wardrobe, shopping and preparing, shelling the peas and having a sherry on Christmas morning while we opened gifts, then collapsing into bed with a migraine leaving Dad and we kids to dish up the roast and eat without her. It spoiled every Christmas, not having her there with us to enjoy it. Being hushed because she had a headache. Poor mum. She worked so hard to make everything beautiful for us all. How many other women (and men) are worrying themselves silly trying to make a perfect day? Not just for Christmas, but other celebrations too...weddings, engagements...birthdays. We make fancy cakes and spend countless hours looking for the perfect gift. We spend more hours and dollars finding the perfect outfit and getting perfect nails and hair for the occasion...whatever it is. You know what? In the end it only matters that you are together with other people. It matters that you have enough food to wear and clothes to be warm. It matters that you care about each other and are willing to listen to each others' stories. It matters that you do it more than once a year if you can. 

Gifts. Gifts are lovely. They are lovely to give and they are lovely to receive. Somehow gifts have become a measure of caring in our society; a measure of love. Have we lost the plot a bit? I think maybe we have. One of my most precious gifts sits her on my desk. It's a pottery horse. It has a smooth brown body and rough feathers around its clumpy feet, and a mane that looks like it was made with a garlic press...maybe it was. None of that makes it precious; it's that my dad saw it someplace when he was out with mum, years and years ago, and he thought I'd like it so he bought it for me. It was not my birthday or Christmas or anything else. It was just love. Thanks dad. Gifts are nice because they can let us know we are loved and cared for. We all know that not all gifts convey that, and sometimes the ones bought just because it is Christmas and it has to happen...or a birthday...sometimes they are bought more as an obligation than as an expression of love. They are still nice to receive, especially if they are a thing that's been dreamed of or yearned for. But somehow the little out of the blue gifts carry much more weight, even if they are smaller or less valuable. You can't measure love in dollars and cents. No you can't. 

Christmas is very good at bringing to light the inequities in family finances, and I'm sure many families across the world struggle when everyone is together and some are able to give lavish and expensive gifts and others are not. Some of us handle it better than others. Some of us feel like we have failed somehow when we can't provide the same level of material wealth for our kids. It's awkward sometimes if you have a lot and others have only little. It can feel a bit embarrassing. Gosh, so much potential for worry and stress and upset! In the end I'm pretty sure that the thing that matters most is love. 

Love, love, love. Isn't that what we really want? We want bear hugs that say I'm so glad you're in my life (I got one like that from my brother the other day...he'd had a few beers, but still I'm counting it!). We want smiles and hand holds. We want stories and cricket games, we want walks on the beach or to the park, we want laughter and the joy of being together. We want to enjoy some nice food and perhaps a couple of bottles of wine or a few beers. Can we try to do that this year without busting the limit on the credit cards? Can we manage to make do with little gifts that don't cost the earth? Can we do something to show that we care instead of buying a gift then going on our merry way thinking we've done our duty? Can we make some phone calls or send some letters that say I love you or I forgive you?

Can I suggest that you keep it simple this year? Keep the gifts simple, the meal simple...nice but simple...so that you are calm and happy and able to relax and enjoy the time sitting with the kids or playing Mr Potato Head or whatever is required? I'm hoping to reinstate my own personal tradition of starting a jigsaw puzzle. I like to do that as anyone who is around can add a few bits here and there and it's kind of low pressure, or no pressure. You can come and go around a jigsaw puzzle. I'm going to go easy on the food and drink and just drink in the sight of my loved ones, whichever ones happen to be around. I'm just going to love them. I'm like everyone else I guess, or perhaps like my mum because I guess I learned how to do Christmas from her...I usually make a bit of fuss and like to try and make it a good day...that's been kind of difficult since divorce and then the death of loved ones along the way...it kind of makes it all a bit less wonderful somehow. 

I don't know...if I should even publish this. Am I being a sad sack? I've never gone into debt for Christmas. I shudder when I think of all the people out there who do. Why is there so much pressure for people to do that? How can you feel happy and joyous if there is a huge debt to pay afterwards? Is it really necessary? I know the answer to that one. No it's not necessary. It's a choice. I hope you can see that. How long will it take you to clear the debt? Eek!

Well, I know it's not Christmas yet, and writing this was really an attempt to help you choose to do it all with a little less stress this year. Maybe I could give a few hints to help?

1. Decide on a budget (how much can you reasonably spend without going into debt?)

2. Decide what are essentials for your day to be a success.

3. If they don't fit in your budget, think about how you might be able to scale it down a bit.

4. Decide how much you can spend on each gift.

5. Write it down and stick to it.

6. Delegate - share the work with others. 

7. Ask others to bring something towards the meal.

8. Pretend Christmas Day is the 22nd and have everything bought, wrapped and ready to go in plenty of time.

9. Choose simple, fun, generic gifts that can be recycled if people don't like or need them.

10. Save some energy for loving and laughing your way through the day.

11. Know that you are enough. 

12. You and Christmas Day don't have to be perfect to be good, to be great, to be enough. 

13. Count your blessings.

14. Breathe, relax and enjoy getting ready...it's on it's way!!

There are lots of great ideas on the net for saving money with DIY gift projects. You still have time if you start now!! Have fun!
http://www.tipjunkie.com/homemade-gifts/gift-in-a-jar/
http://notmadeofmoney.com/blog/2006/11/50-homemade-gift-ideas-from-around-the-web.html
http://www.getrichslowly.org/blog/2008/11/13/a-do-it-yourself-christmas-34-great-gifts-you-can-make-yourself/

Trip to Rossel Point - What I found!

Whilst it is so lovely to pull up in the car ready to explore a natural place, a beautiful place, a wild place, it is equally unlovely to be witness to the detritus (rubbish) left by previous visitors. You can't be responsible for everyone else's rubbish I know, but I think there is a responsibility to do what we can where we are with what we have. I happened to have a plastic shopping bag in the car and I happened to have a little time on my hands, eyes that can see and a conscience that wouldn't allow me to leave the mess where it was. I photographed what I found and thought I'd share it here. If you live locally and know someone who uses the place as a drinking spot or...whatever...then please share with them because they might want to claim something they left behind. So here is what I found.

A paper bag, six pack carton, a pie wrapper, solo can, coffee cup with lid...

A beer can, a chips packet, another beer can, another pie wrapper, another coffee lid, a small white plastic bag with handles and a lemon squash can...

Some broken glass, a piece of plastic, a Jim Beam can, another coffee cup with lid, a large Coca Cola bottle with lid and yet another coffee cup...

A plastic stubbie wrapper, a glass bottle, a Jack Daniels whisky can, a cola can, a squash can, another beer can...

A Drum tobacco pack, a Four Seasons condom wrapper (well done on the safe sex but please take your rubbish with you and put it in a bin), a Red Bull can, another two beer cans...

Another paper bag, another two beer can, a bottle top, a juice bottle sealer, an instant noodles flavour pack...

A yoghurt peel off lid, a bottle label, a Mentos wrapper...

A cider can, a red plastic scraper, an empty pill bubble pack,  two bottle tops, a vodka can, a half bottle (jagged and broken...so dangerous!), a piece of silver duct tape, part of a cigarette packet, four cigarette butts, one ring pull, more plastic and a large empty plastic garbage bag partly buried in the dirt...

Okay, so that's all I picked up today in a short space of time (there was more but maybe someone else will join my crusade to clean up a bit), but seriously people, not good enough. I know the wind plays havoc with rubbish sometimes but I don't think all of this was accidental. Please think and take your rubbish home with you. None of it is heavy. Most of it is not very big. It's not hard to take it with you. Please make the effort. You don't really want to be living in a rubbish dump do you? If you can keep a bag in your car for rubbish it is easier to remember to use it...or even a little swing top bin...why not? If you go somewhere and see rubbish, then take a few minutes and pick it up and make the world a cleaner place. It really is worth the trouble and if we all do it we can make a huge difference. Check out this link for some cool guys who are making the world a cleaner place. http://www.take3.org.au/ Thank you from the generations of the future (that's your kids and grandkids).

Trip to Rossel Point Southport

It's not very far from home the drive to Southport, but it's funny how you tend to arrange trips further afield and look at your own 'backyard' last of all! Today we decided to make the short run down to visit a place I remembered visiting some twenty plus years ago. I have always known of the place as Burial Ground Point, but a quick exploration of the net when I got home informed me that it is in fact Rossel Point...but it is still the location of a convict burial ground. I had vague memories of the place being a rather barren and stony ground with a rough old rusty iron railing around it. Perhaps my memory is failing or playing tricks on me, because I discovered today a lush and vibrant place bushy with bracken and quite wet underfoot from recent rains. Frogs croaked happily in the abundant dampness. It wasn't wet enough to cause problems walking, but rather well soaked like a lightly squeezed dish sponge.

I was disappointed to find no signs or markers supplying information about the place, although there were some posts where a sign had previously been mounted, and there was a strong galvanised iron fence around an extensive area which presumably was the site of the convict graves.The profusion of bracken made it impossible to see if there were any markers inside. It would have been interesting to read about the history of the place, so I might need to follow up and do a bit of research.

It was such a beautiful day; some sunshine after such a lot of rain and wind, so wandering about climbing the rocks and taking in the sights was so enjoyable. I was lucky enough to see a seal in close to the rocky shore. I only caught two glimpses, one of his tail and then his head popped up for a moment and then he was gone again. Busy fishing no doubt! A couple of skinks showed their faces but scurried into crevices as I moved near. I took a photo of some tea tree flower buds and discovered when I got home that I had also captured a grasshopper, although I didn't see him at the time. He's a bonus! Can you see him? Right in the middle of the picture!

I have to admit it wasn't a terribly energetic time. Sitting and enjoying the solitude and peace was enough to keep me busy for quite a while. I'd like to share some of what I saw from my perch.

 I feel so lucky to have places like this so close to home. I can't imagine life in a city where there are so many people and cars and so much man made everything all around. I don't mind going for a day or two but that's enough. Days like today, just sitting and soaking in all this beauty, feeds my soul in a way that the hectic comings and goings of everyday life can't. I know I am so lucky to have this choice in my life. I read somewhere recently about someone taking children from the cities in England to the seaside. There were ten and twelve year old children

 who had never seen the ocean. That is so difficult for me to comprehend. It means I am lucky on a very grand scale. I will not take it for granted. Not for a minute. I will breathe it in and feast my eyes on it and let it fill me up 'til I think I might burst with the joy of it. That's how it is. How privileged I am to sit and breathe air that has not a hint of smoke or exhaust fumes or industrial output...just pure beautiful air with the healthy sting of salt. How long will that last if we keep abusing our oceans? I don't know. My heart worries for the future.

 If you live in a city, I hope you can find a way to spend time in wild places. It will make you want to save them and keep them forever. I love to walk with my camera because it makes sure I notice small details I might otherwise miss. It makes me want to explore and look at things from other angles. It tunes me in with the place and space. I love it. David has a different approach altogether. He takes eye pictures, not photographs. He prefers to look at the whole space and place as one big glorious thing. I like to find all the little bits and pieces...all the surprises that go together to create the magic of the place. Funny how we're all a bit different

in the way we see and experience things. It's good to have other perspectives. So these few pictures show the big picture, and I hope you won't mind if I share with you some of the details of the place too. I've had some trouble organising the photos; I'm not sure how to put them where I want them. On a word document I can move things around to be where I want but that's not how it's working here on Blogger! I have things to learn either about the limits of the formatting or the tricks for getting it to work for me!

Orchid

My favourite finds today are the little fish pictured below, which is exactly how I found it...just a little rock fish in a sandy hollow on top of a rock, and the comical little wooden family at the bottom of the page. I love the whimsical faces and didn't notice them until I loaded the pics onto the computer. I think they're gorgeous. I took the picture because I loved the wind and sea-worn timber, but finding a family in the photo was a delightful surprise.I especially like 'mum' in the middle with her sideswept seaweed fringe.

Stone fish in a sandy pool

Tangles

Textures

Rocky grin

Shame

I am saddened when I see wanton destruction like this. Nature is working so hard to make a beautiful world for us, and whilst signs may not add beauty to the area, this one is sharing important information that aims to protect the local inhabitants. I can't imagine what pleasure is derived from defacing such things. It is just sad. I'm sad to say that I collected a significant amount of rubblish adjacent to the parking area. I'll be sharing about that in the other post I'm about to write. You might see something you left there...although I hope not!

Little wooden family

Helping Umoja and Happy Birthday Mum!

Tonight I have friends and family coming over for dinner. It's Mum's 77th birthday and this is also the date chosen by Umoja Orphanage to hold their World's Biggest Dinner Party attempt, so I asked Mum what she thought and we decided to combine the events. It's all go here today. How am I finding time to write?...haha, I'm not sure but maybe it's a way for me to get my head organised ready to do what has to be done! So welcome to a bit of chaos really. I have no idea how it will all work out as we live in a fairly small house and the weather here in southern Tasmania has been typically Spring-y; rain, wind and smatterings of sunshine to get your hope up. We are so blessed to live in a such a beautiful part of the world. I was born into a family where we have always had food on the table and a roof over our heads and people who love each other enough to get mad with one another and still hold together somehow. I have never needed for anything. 

My Mum has told me of times in England when we kids were small, when she would eat bread and jam so that there was more meat and vegetables for us two kids and Dad. I believe her. I know she used to get boils on her neck and I guess that might be why. It's a sacrifice a mother makes without thinking about the cost to herself. I can't imagine how life must have been for her then. I have never felt like I went without anything. Oh, sure, there have been times when I really felt put out because I didn't have designer jeans or the latest gizmo...or that we didn't go on holidays to Singapore like the doctor's daughter did. At least the doctor sent his kids to a regular high school or I might not have known them! I used to go horse riding with them sometimes. Yes, I had a horse as a teenager in Australia...Mum and Dad moved us over here when I was just six years old. Dad's parents followed soon after and as we two were the only grandchildren, we were just a bit spoiled and I did have a horse or two over the years. How very, very lucky I was. 

I don't know if I realised back then just how lucky. I would see World Vision ads on tv about the poor and starving people in Africa and it would make me feel sick to the stomach. I would be put off my dinner if I had to look at it. I would turn away or move to another room. I would cover my face with my hands or a cushion so I wouldn't have to look. I think it should make us sick to the stomach to see poor and starving people. It should make us want to do something about it, especially when we have so much. I have always been chubby. I have so much; they have so little. How does that work? But the thing is that I didn't make that connection back then as a kid. The images just turned my stomach. That was all. I've always been on the side of the 'underdog' but I don't know if I've managed to DO much to help. Just knowing is only the start really isn't it. Awareness is the beginning. It's easy to think the problem is so big that there's nothing I can do to make a difference, but a teacher in Bundaberg in Queensland, Cathy Booth, saw the plight of homeless children in Kenya and decided to DO something about it. I take my hat off to her and thank her for giving me and my family and friends the opportunity to do something here tonight to help. Perhaps it will lead to something more. Everything you do is a step in life to something that comes next.

I borrowed a cook book from the library...Cooking the East African Way. We've had a look at it to choose some dishes to cook for tonight's event. David was astounded and said it was the worst cook book he'd ever seen. There aren't many recipes in it. There is nothing glamorous or exciting. It is basic. The ingredients are few and unexciting. It is an honest book. It reflects the culture of East Africa and uses ingredients that would be found there. I'll be making sweet vermicelli with raisins, pilau and groundnut sauce. I think it will be good for us to appreciate the simplicity of food from Kenya. Of course, like so many other places, there has been influence from other cultures, especially India, with pilau, samosas and curries. It wonder if it would be possible to find a culture of cooking anywhere now that is 'pure' for surely travellers have for generations been leaving a little of their own culture wherever they go. Just a thought. The thing about the cook book discussion is just that it brought the realisation that life there is very different to what we are used to here. To what we take so easily for granted. We already knew that, but it was a different angle. The food is simple. But still, only the lucky ones eat so well. This I know. We all know.

Well, I suppose I had better get busy and get things ready for tonight. Just now the sun is shining and perhaps it will dry things out enough for the celebration to spill happily onto the deck outside where guests can enjoy watching the wallabies nibbling the grass and a million stars spread on a velvet sky and reflected on the bay. If not, we'll be close and cosy inside. I hope we'll all be remembering just how well off we are. I'm happy that our little gathering will help Cathy and her team in the work they're doing far away on the other side of the world. I'm glad we can help. I wonder what else I can do. Happy Birthday Mum. I have a Mum. I am so blessed. We have cupcakes. We are so blessed. Count your blessings lovely people. If you are reading this, how lucky you are. You can read. You have access to a computer or Iphone...and so much more.

Wishing you love and light, peace and the seed of hope. May you be inspired to make a difference in some small or large way today. If you have nothing else to give, then give a smile or a hug. Find someone worse off than yourself and do a little something to help. It will feel good. I promise. That's the funny thing about giving. It blesses the giver.

Sunday 27.10.13

Here's a snap from our gathering last night. Everyone brought food along to share for our dinner party.  We played some silly games, gave away lots of goodies as prizes, ate lots of delicious food including cheese platters, quiche, curry, salad, chicken, polenta, passion-fruit flummery, bread pudding and cheesecake. We sang happy birthday to my Mum, Dad sang a little song, we hugged friends and family and made some new friends too. We had visitors from Victoria and my aunt was the longest distance from home, visiting from the UK. We raised just over $400 for the Umoja Orphanage so it was a winner night all round. Thanks to everyone for coming!

The Last Square

We were chatting in the staff room yesterday afternoon and somehow the talk moved to the ubiquitous loo paper situation...that the primary female in the house (building) seems to be the only one with the skill and know how to put a new toilet roll on the holder. Now I know loo paper holders can be tricky and sometimes need basic problem solving skills to interpret, but seriously, anyone with a brain (or even half a brain) ought to be able to work them out because they are designed to work. They are designed to hold a roll of toilet paper for the duration of its usability and then to relinquish the empty cardboard tube with minimal effort in readiness for a pristine, end stuck to itself in a most annoying fashion, burgeoning new roll. Sometimes there is a movement required; to shift the chromed bar holding the empty tube a little to the left or right and then upwards to enable the tube to be slid off and replaced by a new roll. The chromed bar is then moved in the opposite direction; down and little to the right or left, allowing it to click back into place for use. A satisfying sound it is; it's a shame more of the population are not privy to it (pardon the pun). Sometimes, in a slightly trickier and more creatively designed version, you might have to push one end of the bar into the other end, thus shortening the bar and allowing the old tube to slide off easily. These can be a bit more difficult to operate as the new roll (especially the new super-duper 3 rolls in one) can be a tight squeeze to put on. It can be done but some determination and persistence may be required. The old unhook one wire end from the wooden bar and slip the tube off and the roll on then hook the wire back into the hole in the end of the wooden bar; they are the ones many of us will remember from childhood, but they are still around in some older buildings. They are foolproof really but still seem to baffle some potential roll re-placers.

Given that it really is relatively simple to replace a depleted loo roll with a new one it raises the question - Why do so many people seem to avoid doing it? Many will use the last scrap; wipe, flush and exit apparently  without a backwards glance. Do they think the next person in will not need paper? Do they think it is beneath them to undertake the lowly task of replenishing the loo paper? Do they think it might be too difficult for them or have they not been able to find the instruction book? Are they unable to see the new roll on top of the cistern or cupboard, in the basket or on the shelf...or stacked on the stick-holder thingy in the corner? Are they so relieved to unburden themselves of their unwanted load that they are in a funk...or some state of ecstasy that blinds them to the obvious? Are they deep in thought about the article they've just read to distract themselves from the evacuation taking place? Are they so important, so busy, that they can't take a moment to think of someone else i.e. whoever is next to visit the little room! Are they afraid the X-box will die in their absence? Or that someone will post on their social media page and they won't know about it...although seeing the addiction to those digital 'comforters' I imagine they accompany the users wherever they go...so that can't happen! Or that their team on the box (more like a tray than a box these days) might score a goal...in these days of instant replays, slow replays, fast replays, upside down replays and replays from each player's perspective, I'm sure they'll be out in plenty of time. Seriously though, what is the problem here? Why are so many people not considerate enough to spend 23.4 seconds (generous estimate) to make life a little easier for someone else? 

I wonder if the ones who won't refresh the loo paper are the same ones who thoughtlessly hoick their Macca's refuse out of the car window. I wonder if they're the ones that won't let the old lady with two items go ahead of them and their trolley load at the supermarket. I wonder if they're the ones who can't make the effort to take their empty pizza boxes and cola cans to the recycle bin. I wonder if they're the ones who don't bother to say please or thank you when others do things for them. I wonder if they realise that they are being inconsiderate. I wonder if they ever have that little glow that comes from quietly doing something that makes life easier for someone else without them knowing that it was you. I wonder most of all about the ones who leave one square of loo paper stuck awkwardly to the cardboard roll. What is going on in their tiny minds? Do they think that ANYONE can manage a toileting exercise with ONE SQUARE of toilet paper? Do they? Would they avoid the dexterous challenge of replacing the loo roll yet expect the following customer to manipulate one square of paper to clean and shine their nether regions after depositing a poo? Surely not. They know damned well that one square won't be enough. 

This is a worse crime if the new rolls are kept out of reach of the throne; even in the hall cupboard or under the sink in the laundry or bathroom. Ever been caught? It's easily done, because when one is heading INTO the bathroom, there is often a lot on your mind. It's often a high speed event, especially if one has a 'delicate' system or if one's work is so important that one cannot leave to answer nature's call until the very last second. I prefer to think of this as being 'in the flow' and not having an immature alerting system at this later stage of life. You can forgive kids for leaving it 'til the last minute but we older folk should have our warning systems worked out so that we get there with time to spare I suppose. It's a nice thought, but if others are like me, there will be an element of 'hurry up' in their decision to move towards the bathroom (toilet, john, WC, dunny, little room...depending in which country you sit as you read this). I know I don't have time to check the paper holder when I get there. It's all about getting my clothing out of the way in time!

Might I suggest here today that we all check the paper before we leave the loo and ensure that there is sufficient left in working order for the next customer. It's not that hard. It just requires you to be in the moment. Be mindful of where you are, what you're doing, and that there are others in the world worthy of the same consideration as you are. Make it your project in life to never leave another bereft of ample or enough tissue to complete their task in comfort. If you leave one square on that roll you are a stinker! Don't be so lazy! Get off your behind...yes...and get a new roll and put it on the hanger. If there are no new rolls to be found then do the least and put a box of tissues or a phone book handy. Thank you.

PS If you really can't get the darned thing on the holder, at least leave it close so someone with more intelligence can do it when they venture by. Thank you again.

Language

Global Language Monitor claims that the English language comprises over one million different words. Even the Oxford Dictionaries, though claiming less, reckon we have about 250 thousand to choose from. I'm sure other entities would claim greater or lesser numbers but the thing to recognise is this; we who use the English language to communicate have a lot of words at our disposal. 

The reason I've decided to write about this today is that I'm becoming a bit despondent reading comments on social media that comprise so few words and often words of an unpleasant nature. You know the ones I mean; the ones we have labelled 'swear' words. The Oxford defines 'swearing' as "use of offensive language, especially as an expression of anger." If that's right, then there are a lot of angry people out there; especially our younger folk. I guess they have plenty to be angry about, but offensive language doesn't really help anything. Younger people, you are our hope for the future; swearing about stuff that you don't like won't change it. Find out what you can do and become pro-active to see change in the world. Resorting to offensive language gives the impression that the writer is not all that intelligent, whether it is true or not. It gives the impression that they don't have the vocabulary to say what they really want to say. It's not that I don't notice the well written contributions, I do, but the blatantly offensive comments splashed about like they are everyday language really concern me.

Of course, I recognise that offensive is a subjective term, and that what is offensive to some is quite okay to someone else, but I think we have a common understanding for the most part about what is okay to say in general public comment and what is considered offensive. Some people get a kick out of being offensive in their remarks, or are wanting to make a strong point. Am I wrong in thinking that their position might be better advanced by being able to actually explain what the problem is? It seems that often there are rash and sometimes rude statements made but that there is not really any room for discussion. I notice that many people are very quick to point out problems and to condemn situations, people or beliefs but are not willing to listen to the opinions of others. I wonder how often the people who make those harsh statements of anger against life in general realise how those words piece the hearts and minds of others who read them? I wonder if they understand that words are so powerful; that they breed more words and give rise to feelings in others. I guess that is where the power is in bullying too; in words. 

Sticks and stone will break my bones but names (words) will never hurt me. An old ditty I heard in the school ground often as a kid. Wrong. Words sting and burn and scar. They rip people's hearts out and make them cry. Sticks and stone might give you wounds that can be seen with the eyes, but words inflict wounds that can only be seen with the heart. Learn how to use words to do good in the world. Learn about words so that you can communicate more effectively with others.

The primary edict for teachers is to teach literacy. Numeracy and other subject areas are there too, of course, but literacy, literacy, literacy is the catch-cry across the nation; across the globe. What does it mean to be literate? Does it mean being able to read and write? Partly, yes, but that is not all. Being literate means having a range of ways to communicate and the knowledge of how and when to use those ways. It means being able to choose what is appropriate for different situations. It means being able to express yourself in order to have your needs met, or to clarify and understand when communicating with another human being. Being literate means availing yourself of an amazing array of words that allow you to articulate precisely what you mean. Being literate means being an active user of language to function effectively in our society. It means being able to interpret messages from others, to analyse written and other texts in order to make decisions. It means being able to discern what is reasonable information and what is not. Another old adage comes to mind - Don't believe everything you see (hear, read). It's important to be able to gather evidence to support an idea or statement. It's important to ask if something makes sense when it's measured up against other knowledge you have.

Seeing so many swear words showing up in social media causes me to worry that we are, generation by generation, becoming less literate. This disturbs me so much as I am, among other things, a lexophile. I am passionate about words. I am thrilled by the number of different ways there are to say something. We have so many words to choose from so that we can affect nuance...hint at things not so plain to see. Being literate means being able to read between the lines; to draw inference. To wonder at least about what is not being said. Being literate means being able to ask questions about things read or heard. What is really meant by this? What is the emotion or motivation behind it. Who is the message for? What outcomes was the author hoping for? What did the author want you to feel, think or do?

Every time you write or say something, you become the author of those words. They stick. That's how important it is to think about what you're saying or writing. A friend who is involved in human resource management and recruitment has told me that the first things employment companies do when they get applications is log on to Facebook and start checking people out. They can glean a lot of information about a person from there. They can see the kind of language they use. That first step can determine whether that applicant remains on the list to be considered for an interview or not. What you write is important. It reflects, rightly or wrongly, the sort of person you are. At least it gives an impression. Today is the day for old adages. This is one I've heard quite often too - If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck, it's a duck. 
I guess the trick is to decide what kind of duck you'd like to be seen as, and make sure that's the picture you're painting with what you do and say...and write. 

Well, that's probably about the end of my little rant for today. It's almost midnight here, and my bed is calling me. I suppose it would be fair of me, though, to share some ideas for people who would like to improve their personal literacy. If you can communicate your ideas more clearly, you are more likely to be understood. You are more likely to have your needs met. It's worth the effort really. 

Read more.
Join the local library.
Write letters or cards to friends or family. 
Use descriptive language to tell about something in more detail.
Pick up a pen and write a poem or a song.
Google the lyrics for a song you like. What are they actually saying?
Indulge in conversation with others. 
Use a dictionary when you come across a word that's unfamiliar.
Talk to people instead of playing games on your Iphone.
Listen to people who are willing to talk to you.
Ask questions about advertising - who benefits if you buy the product?
Ask questions about research that backs products - who financed the research?
Read more. 
Books.
Magazines
Online articles.
Cereal boxes. 
Anything really.

Share your ideas below. 
With love, Kerry

PS Here's a lovely word for you. Penumbra. It means the edge of the halo of light produced by a candle. How beautiful to have a word for that. That's the magic of our language. Spell-binding.

Family and the unexpected elements of love

Our read last month for book group was The Unexpected Elements of Love by Kate Legge and one of the things that was overwhelming about it in a sense was the number of issues that were covered or touched on in such a short read. It was a pretty good snapshot of family life in some ways. Aging, invisibility, dementia, ADD and ADHD, infertility, loyalty, friendship, sibling relationships, denial, dependency, parent - child relationships, responsibility to family, death and celebration of life; they are all issues or situations that occur in families, either singly or in confusing multiplicity!

It was interesting to think on that when some members of my own family joined for morning tea yesterday. There we sat; my mother, my father, my aunt, my cousin, my new partner in crime and myself. Stories were shared with enthusiasm as we all got to know each other, either for the first time or again after time apart. I see my parents often, but my cousin lives far away and I'd not seen her for over a year, and my aunt lives on the other side of the world so it has been some years since I last saw her. It was so lovely to see mum with her little sister. They are both in their 70s now but giggle and huddle together over whisperings just as if they are two naughty children; it's delightful to see. The children within remain alive and well.  There are subtle jealousies around the table as we all deal with being human...wondering if we are loved enough. Stories meander and segue happily from one to another. My new partner shares some new stories that reflect the similarities in his own family. 

Both of our families are from the United Kingdom. Both emigrated to Australia in the 1960s. We share a lot in common because of those roots. It's interesting to share our stories because we have an understanding of how people are who have come from that place; those places. We are both grateful that our parents came to Australia and learned to love the place and make it home. We both have stories of aunts and uncles and cousins. His family is bigger and wider and deeper in some ways perhaps because of his mother's European heritage - there is more 'culture' evident in the stories. I have often felt that there has been little cultural heritage in my own family, although I'm sure it must be there and perhaps I would be able to see it more clearly if I'd been back to the 'homeland' and felt what it was like to be there. He can remember what England was like; he was older when the move to Australia was made. They travelled by ship; my family came by plane. My family's transition was fast and furious; he has memories of a long and languorous sea voyage to prepare the family for a new life in a new country. I've seen old photos of my children's Australian grandparents and great-grandparents, in particular those taken by a great grandfather on a sea voyage from the UK early last century. There are pictures of pyramids and camels and all sorts of wonders as they travelled through the Suez Canal. Marvellous old black and white prints - tiny and faded by age, edges worn a little although they are respectfully held in what was probably quite an expensive album back in the day; thick black paper pages. Beautiful to regard in this modern age of the digital snap. How much more wondrous and awe inspiring it is to turn those old pages than to look at someone's Iphone!

It was interesting to hear from my aunt that she and Mum are amazed at the number of parallels in their lives. I guess we all have those lines of similarity when we sit and share stories. They allow us to bond in our human experience. They allow us to feel heard. It's important to sit and share stories and to listen. When we are younger we often don't have time to listen. I was really chuffed recently when, chatting with my young niece, she told me how much she enjoys Papa's stories. She shared that he always says some parts of his stories in the same way - using the same voice each time to make her laugh. He is a great storyteller and has so many tales to regale us all with. He forgets that he has told the stories before and tells them each time like it is the first time. I have been meaning to record them and publish them for him sometime. I'd like to honour his stories.  For him and for the kids that now don't have much time to sit and listen. I was thinking the other day about how sad I am that my grandmothers had both passed away when I was still quite young. I didn't have time to listen to them really. I was more interested in telling them things about me and my life. I was too young to appreciate their wisdom.  I wish they were here now because they would be able to share with me such a different world. I wonder what it was like being them when they were little girls. I wish someone had recorded their stories for me. Perhaps I can do something precious for the next generation if I can make time now to record what is known. I'm sure I'd enjoy it. Perhaps that should be motivation enough. 

My family history is pretty scant really. Vague snippets of grandparents and great grandparents enter conversations now and then but there is nothing solid to pass on in the way that cultures with a strong storytelling culture have; those that rely on words alone to pass on history. When stories are being told I sometimes find myself zoning out. There is so much to do and to be thinking about. It takes effort to remain present and to internalise stories. That can't really happen when the tv is going or I'm pounding on the computer keyboard. I need to stop and focus more while there are still stories to be had.

 At a far too infrequent family gathering to honour Dad's birthday recently, my brother and father were sharing stories about me. I didn't remember some of the things they were saying but they were adamant. I didn't think about it a lot but later it was pointed out to me that it was a way of showing their love for me. Wow! That made me cry...I'm crying again now (where did that come from??). What a gem. I would never have seen that if I hadn't been shown. Their stories are a way to show their love. For me and for each other. When I tell stories about them it is also a revelation of my love. Even if we share stories of rogues and ratbags in our families, are we not in some ways proud to know them. Do we not love their humanity even if they have done dreadful things? Do we not love them knowing that none of us are perfect? We do. We all adore a 'lovable rogue' or a 'rough diamond', and even better if we know them!

We share stories either readily or reticently depending on how well we know and trust others. We share different stories depending on who we are speaking with. To share a story with another is not just to honour the story but also the person who is listening. It says to them "You are worthy of my story. You are worthy to hear about my life, my loves, my loss, my brokenness, my joy, my lessons in life." 

A good listener is blessed. They hear not just the words of the story but the heart behind them. They are trusted to hold the story and to treat it well. It is a gift to them. A good listener blesses the storyteller. The good listener says through his actions, "Your story is worthy. I am willing to honour your story by being here to give value by listening. I hear your heart."  I am writing this because I want to remember these new understandings. They are a gift. Sometimes an observer can see what we ourselves cannot. I don't know how much longer I have to gather stories for a family history. I have my parents and my aunt here to milk for their memories. I shouldn't let this chance go by. If I remember that I am loved then listening should be easy.

I

Remembering the good times

It's almost eight o'clock in the morning and I'm writing this, my 50th post. I'm kind of excited and proud to be doing this as it all started with just one back in July. I feel pleased with myself that I am still going at 50. I can begin to think now of 100 and even more. I haven't managed to write every day but that's okay. I just have to keep going and not give up. I woke early this morning and I have a lot to do. I have written some cards and letters to friends. That is such a joy for me. I sat in the quiet at the table and looked out over the bay and shared some thoughts and love with people who live far from me. How lovely it would be to be able to meet up for a cuppa, but time, distance and financial constraints mean that we must find other ways to remain connected. I see snips of life on Facebook - bits and pieces of lots of people's lives - like pieces of a jigsaw of my life. All our lives are somehow interconnected. We share so many similar experiences. That gives us a precious gift really. We can support others when they are going through hard times and celebrate with them when things are good; laugh together when life is funny...and often it is! 

Going to uni as an adult learner put me in touch with lots of younger people and I remain in touch with many of them now through Facebook. We are not constantly chatting or anything like that, but we are all there together. Because of their stage of life they are enjoying engagements, weddings, pregnancies and new babies. I see those beautiful pictures and stories and they bring back to me so many emotions and memories of those times in my own life. I feel really blessed to be sharing in those experiences, albeit at a distance. 

Today it is 21 years since I was married. Since that day there have been children, separation, divorce and death. I feel sad that I can't say that it's our 21st anniversary. It would be good to be here together and celebrating that. But life got in the way.  There has been much sadness and sorrow. There has also been so much joy and so much happiness. It is such a blessing that we can't see the future. On the other hand, how much more would we listen to the wisdom of elders if we could see the paths we were on? I sometimes wonder what I could have done differently. So often we hear people say, " I wish I'd know then what I know now." 

Would we do things differently if we could see what lay ahead? In some cases I'm sure we would, but in changing what seem like bad experiences, would we not also displace the joys along the way. If we changed the course of our own history, would we not be missing out on important lessons...but then, if we knew, we wouldn't need to learn. The irony of it all. 

Our wedding, 21 years ago today, was a small affair. We married at home. It was a day not dissimilar to this day; a little overcast, a little drizzly. We had 'open house'. Our daughter was less than two years old and I was expecting our son. We had been 'together' for something like eleven years and so it was really just a formality. Although we lived in a remote area, we were blessed to be joined by over 70 people that day. What a lovely celebration of life and friendship it was...and love. Our neighbours were Dutch and they brought a bunch of beautiful tulips for a gift. I remember them telling me to keep them in the fridge at night as they would last longer that way. When the tulips begin to bloom I always think of that day. We only had family and one lot of long-term friends at the ceremony in the morning, but the afternoon was full of lovely people coming and going. We had little money so we asked everyone to 'bring a plate'. A friend had made the wedding cake as a gift. I still remember snips of conversations from that day. Some of you reading this were there. Thank you for sharing that time with us. What if I could have seen what lay ahead? I'm glad I couldn't. 

I'm not happy for everything in my history. I'm not proud of some of the things I've said and done. I've  managed to make peace with myself though, and that is an important step. We all make mistakes. Few of us really listen to our elders, do we? We are almost driven to make our own mistakes and to learn our own lessons. Perhaps it's because we are all individuals. We are all the same but we are all different. We all have different world views depending on our own individual and unique experiences. Two people in the same place seeing the same event will describe it quite differently. No wonder we disagree so often! Taking into account both 'nature' and 'nurture' we all just do the best we can with what we're given. I did the best I could whilst doing battle with all the emotions that affect the decisions we make. Someone said to me recently that with any decision they always 'sleep on it' for three days. Sounds like a good system to me. Three days and three nights is a lot of thinking time. I don't think I've ever made any really rash decisions (there are no doubt those that would argue!) but I've certainly had to make some hard decisions. Life can be like that sometimes.

This morning as I thought about this 'anniversary', I realised that I could make a choice to dwell on the sadness and loss and sorrow or I could acknowledge the occasion and focus on what was good about it... So that's what I'm doing today. I'm acknowledging that this is a day of importance to me and my memories, but also I'm giving myself permission to live in this day 21 years later, and not in the past. Today is today. I can only live this day. The past is past. Remembered but not dwelt in; celebrated in the best possible way by living now as well as I can.

Today is a busy day. Today I've written cards to friends. Today I've written my 50th blog post. Today I will be heading back to the house I am leaving and clean the oven, the fridge and the microwave to make the place ready for the new tenants. Today I'm going up to school to continue preparations for next term which begins on Monday. Today is a good day. Today wonderful things can happen. Today is a gift waiting to be opened and enjoyed. I hope you will enjoy unwrapping your gift today. I've already taken a peek at mine but now it's time to dig in and see what else it holds. Be kind to yourself today. Remember the past but live in this day. With love, Kerry.

Lost and found

Yesterday I went up to town to do some shopping and was feeling a bit under par; had a short snooze in the car at one stage, had a coffee and a bit of lunch at my favourite cafe (it's retro and kitsch and all the things that make one feel right at home - mismatched furniture - everything just perfectly imperfect) then dawdled home. When I got home I discovered that I had an earring missing. Not just any earring but one of my favourites; gold ones that cost me $119 some few years ago. It was a huge extravagance at the time but I found that I could only wear gold without getting upset ears and when I got my ears re-pierced I bought them to celebrate. I only have three pairs of earrings; the other two pairs were a lot less expensive. Have you noticed that you always lose the best things! Aaarrgghhh!

Well, I was really disappointed. I retraced my tracks mentally and realised that I had been in nearly every shop in town (not quite but I'd whizzed about and it would be difficult to locate the lost earring if it had somehow been knocked off and dropped along the way). David remembered that I'd had a nap in the car while he was doing some bits n pieces so he went outside to look in the car for it. He came back inside absolutely jubilant! Had he found the earring? No. He had found the lost key for his car. It had been missing for about four months he told me. He was rapt. It was worth $375!! Crazy, the cost of keys for newer cars. I remember getting new keys cut for six dollars. Gone are the days! So, he was happy and I was happy for him but still feeling lopsided with my one earring. Well I'd put another in the other side but I didn't like being mismatched. Mismatched furniture is comfy and welcoming and fine but mismatched earrings - not so much.

A bit later on I popped into the loo and heard a tinkle other than the obvious one. That's funny I though to myself. I didn't have anything in my pockets - I'd checked when I was looking for the earring. Well, I'll be darned, the tinkle was the lost earring bouncing on the hard ceramic floor. I don't know where it had been. I'd patted myself down and checked pockets as soon as I realised it was missing. I did go to the loo while I was in town, so I can only imagine that somehow it was knocked loose then and had lodged itself somewhere in my clothes. How lucky to find it. How lucky that it hadn't dropped out somewhere along the way unnoticed. Now I too was jubilant and rapt...and more evenly balanced once I had put the found earring back in its right place. It really is a lucky, lucky earring that one. I had lost it once before. The silliest thing that was. I remember dropping it in the car once when I was still living in Queensland. The saga of this earring spans several years...anyway, I dropped it and it bounced. All the doors of the car were closed so it had to be in the car somewhere but I couldn't find it. I finished up deciding that I'd somehow knocked it out of the car while I was looking for it. I was very sad.

I sort of forgot about it after a while, but I kept the remaining earring because I am an optimist and I guess deep down I always hoped it would show up again and also because it cost a lot and I was not going to part with it - no way! Well one day a beautiful friend drove the couple of hours up to visit me and to do a fantastic musical lesson with my little class of prep children. It was fabulous - she used puppets and had two classes (we invited the class next door to join us) of children utterly enthralled for the entire session. She brought her daughter along to assist and they both stayed at my flat with me that night. 

The next morning the daughter was asking for some money to go shopping with. I offered to pay her to clean my car for me. Cleaning the car is rarely done I am sorry to say. Pet hate. Avoid at all costs. Get someone else to do it if at all possible. Grab every opportunity. This was a grand opportunity for me and she would get some cash to splash! She did a great job and I was delighted to have a lovely clean, shiny car. When I was doing the 'inspection' I happened to have the passenger door open and glanced down. There was my missing earring. Luckily it hadn't disappeared into the vacuum cleaner! It was sitting safely in the little map holder that was molded into the door. What a find! Happy days! So that is the story of my lost and found (twice!) earring. Well, I don't know if it was the same one each time, but you know what I mean. 

Losing things is not fun. We agonise over what we did to misplace the item. We spend a lot of time mentally retracing steps. Car keys, door keys, glasses (that's an entertaining one - can't see a thing without them!), shoes, lipstick, bank statements, letters, cups of tea...I spend a lot of time looking for things most days. I think it's very common. I read somewhere recently that when you walk through a door your brain lets go of the thoughts it was thinking in the other room or space and prepares for taking in new information. Have you experienced that blank feeling? That what did I come in here for feeling? Well, that's why it happens, so you no longer have to feel like you're losing your mind...or your marbles...or whatever it is that keeps things rolling along for you. It's okay. You're just wired that way. 

Finding things is awesome but I am ashamed to say I once found a gorgeous ring with a large emerald cut smoky topaz and I kept it. I found it when I was a teenager and I was at a public swimming pool when we were in Queensland on holidays. I wore it for ages and liked it very much but always felt guilty about not handing it in to the office. Sorry to the person who lost it. It was very mean of me to keep it. One day, of course, I lost it. Never to be seen again. Fair enough really. I've found wallets a couple of times in my grown up years and have gone to great lengths to return them to their rightful owners, with the contents intact! Both times they were on the road. Do be careful about where your wallet or purse is when you're getting in the car. I'm sure they were both left on the roof of the car and dropped off unnoticed when they drove around a corner.

What have you lost or found? Love to hear your stories too!

Equality

This subject came up over a cup of tea the other evening and the man of the house asked "Why would women want to be equal to men?" then added, "I just don't get it." He went on to discuss how women were doing all sorts of work now that was seen as unpleasant in some way, and how women are spending so much time out of the home at work and then burning out or being stressed. I didn't say much but I listened and I'm going to write here about what I think. I know you're excited!! 

I think I understand what he was trying to say but it would be easy to misinterpret his words as chauvinistic or misogynist if you didn't know him, so I'm just saying in his defence that he's a nice guy and I'm sure he wouldn't mean to offend. I think he was meaning that he didn't understand why women would want to 'become' men or to 'become' manly in the way they live and work. Maybe I completely misunderstood, but I think that perhaps a lot of people think that. I think that the whole feminist movement has in some ways been terribly misunderstood. I'm sure there are some radical thinkers that took the idea to extremes, and I understand that sometimes that is the only way to elicit change in society, but the heart of the matter really is, I think, about choice. And about fairness. Really. 

Surely it makes sense for a person, male, female or otherwise (that might stretch your imagination a bit, but yes, it's possible) to be paid the same amount for doing a job regardless of gender. It would be like working out wages based on sexual orientation or hair colour, to pay one gender more than the other for doing the same job, would it not? And surely we would see that as entirely irrational and unfair wouldn't we? So the old headline, 'Equal pay for equal work' makes sense. It is fair. It is just. 

Now I could do a lot of research on the subject, or even a little, but for now I'm just having a little chat over a cuppa with you and wondering how many bastions of maleness have been broken through in the name of the feminist movement? I know that once women did not go into the bar area of pubs. Now they do. Most places anyway. Not all women go into bars, but they can choose to now if they wish. I'm not sure if they were actually banned before or if it was just socially accepted that it was 'not the done thing' for a woman to go in...

Choice is the big thing really. Women were in a position where they didn't believe they had the right to make choices about things in their lives. I suppose that is what got them moving in the first place. They found out during the wars that they could do the work that men had traditionally done. They had to while so many men were away fighting. Women discovered that they were strong. They discovered that they could do things they hadn't had to think about before. Sometimes I get frustrated with the whole men versus women thing. Sexism is right up there with racism, making life unpleasant and far more difficult for everyone that it could be if we all relaxed a bit and accepted one another as people with differences. We are all different from one another but we all have commonalities as well. It is fair for each of us to have the freedom to make choices for ourselves and our lives so long as we are considerate of how our actions affect others.

Maybe I'm too simplistic in my thinking, but I see things become so complicated all the time and all we really want from one another is to be accepted and appreciated. We want to be treated fairly...all of us. We want to be able to exercise choice. Being of equal value doesn't mean being the same. Often our value is in our uniqueness. I think it's okay for men and women to have groups that are sacred to one gender or the other. Women like to get together to talk about things that interest them and it has to be okay for men to do the same. Women don't like men to break in on their 'girly' times...but many seem to think they should be able to be in everything the men are doing. Sometimes I think that men have been lost somehow in the feminist debacle. Can I call it that? I mean the things that have gotten just plain silly; things I've heard of like women growling at men for holding doors open for them or offering to help carry something heavy or awkward. I don't consider it an offence for a man to offer his help to me in this way. I feel happy that another human being is willing to see that they can make life better or easier for me in some way and is also willing to act on that. I don't care if they are male or female (or other) I just feel recognised as a fellow human being.  I called it a debacle because I think in the rush to find fairness, choice and equal value, somehow half the population has become reluctant to help the other half simply because they might be 'shot down' for doing so. I actually feel cranky sometimes when I am struggling with something difficult and I see other people ignore me and leave me to struggle alone. I think sometimes that the feminist movement is to blame; or the misinterpretation of the actual goals of the feminist movement (unless I've completely missed the point - do let me know if that's the case!!).

I'd love to hear what you think about this. I'm sure some of you will have things to say. I know there are still situations here and around the world where workers are still paid according to gender. We still have a way to go, but along the way, do you think we might just learn to be a little kinder to each other. If someone offers to help you smile, and thank them. You can make someone else feel valued and appreciated by allowing them to help you. Have you considered that? Sometimes I've said no, I'm fine thank you...but it wouldn't have hurt me any to let another person help me. We would have exchanged a few words and smiled...connected for a minute or two. Isn't that important...to connect with other human beings and not to block them out. Just a thought. It's time to see each other as of 'equal value'. It's time for fairness in the workplace with regards to conditions, wages and salaries. It's time for fairness and justice and kindness. Divisiveness has had its time. We need to be building bridges, not tearing them down. You have to make yourself vulnerable to connect with others. You risk being hurt or used or 'taken for a ride' but isn't loneliness and disconnectedness the plague of our times...despite all the fancy communication devices we have. It's got to be worth letting your guard down a bit sometimes and letting others in. 

Peace

Peace is something I have to recognise in myself. It’s something I have to ‘sit into’. I have a small photo of my son sitting just above the computer screen on the top of the roll top desk that is now home for my writing.  I glanced up at it a moment ago and let my gaze rest upon it for a few seconds and realised that as I looked at it I felt a deep peace. How often do we take a moment to look at something and tap into what we are feeling? Momentary meditations like that can help you to get through some tough times and can make the good times richer and deeper. I guess not everyone likes rich and deep, but they are things I appreciate.

My baby son, wrapped in a hand me down bunny rug, snuggled under a fresh cotton quilt, nestled in a cradle hand built of Tasmanian Myrtle, has his left hand tucked over his left eye and the two smallest chubby fingers rest gently on the bridge of his nose, just at the edge of his eye socket. Whisps of dark hair lay close on his scalp. A perfect ear marks the place between his hair and the vest strap visible above a tiny hint of shoulder. Perfect lips, perfect nose, perfect eyes closed in gentle repose. This photo was taken only hours after he was born in our little wooden cottage in the Tasmanian ‘Far South’.

He was the second baby born in the cottage; a daughter had arrived first. The cradle was crafted in anticipation of her arrival by a dear friend. It was a precious gift and after it cradled two babes in our home it was passed on to rock other newborns in its wooden arms. I often wonder where it is now. Perhaps someone will read this and tell me. It would be interesting to follow its travels as I'm sure that by now it has provided a secure sleeping place for many new infants in the vicinity.

The decision to birth our babies at home was made after attending natural birthing classes, even before falling pregnant. We had noticed a midwife advertising in the local paper and thought it would be good preparation as we were planning to start a family soon. The classes were so interesting and informative and we became sold on the idea of having a baby at home. We did lots of reading and research and conferred with our chosen midwife to ensure that all would go as well as it could. We had the blessing of our local GP and so that was what we did. It made so much sense to us for a baby to born at home. I know it’s not for everyone, but for us it was right.

The photo brings back so many memories. Many visitors came that day, and a decision was made to move a bed from one room to another. My new babe lay in his cradle. Dad, a tall, good natured joker, was helping to move things around. He suddenly called out in a kind of shocked voice something like, “Oh, the baby’s in there…I nearly put all this lot on top of him!” I looked up from the chair I was resting in and Dad was holding a huge bundle of bedding. In my fragile state, still in recovery from birthing in the morning, I quickly took that statement and in my mind’s eye saw my baby son smothered beneath the weight and bulk of all those blankets and quilts. I became hysterical, crying in a terrible panic. It was awful. 

One of my visitors began praying in tongues and although at the time I was attending a Pentecostal Church and was accepting of that practice, it added further to my distress because my husband didn’t attend. I was calling for the praying to stop and Dad was upset because he hadn’t meant to upset me…and really nothing had happened. It was a crazy few minutes until someone managed to calm me down and I suspect now, though I can’t remember exactly, that someone put that beautiful baby in my arms to reassure me that he was alright. It is amazing how quickly our minds can take a thought and create chaos out of it. Poor Dad was the one most hurt by the whole scene. He felt terrible but also completely confused by my over the top reaction. Oh dear!

I’m happy to say that my beautiful son is now approaching his twenty-first birthday. He is taller than me by quite a way and sports an impressive head of dread locks! In the same way that I felt panic when he was so new and I thought about something happening to him…for many years I still worried for him. I still conjured scenarios in my head of things that could go wrong. He lives far from me now, in another state. I have learned to let go and to trust him. He’s a great young man and yes, he goes through trials and tribulations and probably a great many things I’m better off not knowing about! He is maturing and growing and finding a way to live life that suits him. It’s not up to me to be his protector now, although it is with a certain flood of peace and joy (relief?) each time I hear either of my children’s voices on the phone! It’s always great to know they are okay!

Peace is important to our well being. It’s important to my well being. I have learned to let go and trust because not to would make me sick. I’d like to be around for a long time yet. I’ll do what I can to stay well. Peace is part of that. Consciously feeling that peace is part of that too. It needs not to be a superficial peace, not just an ‘I’m okay’ peace. It needs to be the kind of peace that I can 'sit into' and know that everything is going to be okay. Every day. Whatever happens. Life happens. None of us can predict what will be in the days ahead. We can only live this day and enjoy those moments of peace when we find them. Seek them. Sit into them. Feel them. Appreciate what a blessing peace is. So many people have none.