We are well into February, and thankfully, my rather shaky start to 2013 has stabilised somewhat for now, thanks to all your support and encouragement. (Really, I’m not just saying it – thank you.) End of January, I took my first tangible step to work towards my fourth goal as stated in the first post of the year: to give more thought and time to offline, tangible investments in my relationships. I bought this card which I just love and then I wrote and sent it off last week:
Card from Pencil Diaries at Paperchase.
One thing that I have neglected in my personal relationships that I enjoyed so much in the past, was writing snail mail. Letting my loved ones know that I am thinking of them has not happened for too long, beyond sending a quick text, email or Facebook message. I had already been forming a plan in my mind, to write at least one card per month that is not a holiday or birthday card. It’s not even halfway as ambitious as Ziggy’s Illustrated Letters project, but I think it’s manageable for me.
I read Ginna’s February Goals post (haw haw, accidental pun) for her blog, My Pretty Pennies, on 1st February. What a great idea to link up and encourage each other to reach our goals! I’ve been a little slow to complete my post but I wanted to share the step-by-step goals I have set for February. All the goals I share are connected to my overall goals for 2013 to reduce the risk of overwhelming myself!
Write a card to someone for no particular reason, just to let them know I’m thinking of them
Clear my desk of things that are waiting to be filed away
Sort through old clothes that I have piled up as potential sewing material, deciding which to keep and which to donate
As I have explained, I don’t live life straightforwardly, so I won’t be too surprised if I get started on some side projects along the way. But now I’ve put this month’s goals out there, hopefully it will help me to focus and work towards getting them done! I’m excited to be able to cross the first one off already and to be almost through the second at this point. Hopefully, I will be able to cross everything off by the end of the month!
How about you? Have you tried regular goal setting? Does it work for you?
I wish sneezing would banish mosquitoes from around me! I have sustained five bites overnight in the most aggravating way. I hate waking up to the evidence that something has taken a leisurely stroll down my leg, sucking my blood. Gross and totally uncalled for if you ask me. All I ever did was aggressively exact revenge on two of your species in the past week with my slipper *thwack*! That is no justice for the total of ten bites and counting… An average of one per day. Grrrrr!
The crazy thing is, mosquitoes are totally out of season here right now. But this year’s weather has been out of kilter all around the world it seems. I’ve seen news of more flooding in the UK. I hope everyone is ok back in good ol’Blighty?
I thought I’d post a cheerful photo to help make the lemons easier to swallow. I flew Virgin Atlantic last week and was given a mini tube of Love Hearts as we were preparing for landing. I do dislike long haul flights and would not choose to take them if I had the choice. But I do find marketing and consumer psychology interesting!
I’m not adverse to allowing myself to appreciate the quintessentially British style that Virgin employs. No milky coloured pile of mints for them on the approach to your destination. Just some playful and nostalgic (if you’re a Brit) compensation for having suffered the discomfort of embedding your knees into the passenger in front for the last eternity.
And my last Love Heart is a message for you this week. Framed by my favourite pen to travel with. My fun Muji 5-colour plus pencil contraption (also somewhat nostalgic – did I ever mention that I love stationery?) Have a very blessed week, whatever you are facing.
I desperately miss home with its cold early evenings, frosty mornings, proper dark and neon light deficiency, easy accessibility to good cheese, strong black tea that goes well with milk, slightly less unpredictable weather and hibernating bitey things.
When you are away from where you call home, what do miss the most?
If I believed in previous lives I could, without a doubt, tell you that I was an ostrich. Actually, forget about multiple reincarnations. I am an ostrich mocked up as a human being. (I just got a picture of that. It’s ridiculous.) I am an expert in living in denial, pretending like it’s never going to happen so that it will go away. At times, I have been known to completely refuse to prepare for something that is bound to happen, because I feel so overwhelmed by what I have to face. I end up panicking and doing everything last minute, or even having to wing it. Stupid, I’m telling you. If only I could bring myself to pop over for tea with Her Majesty from time to time, I’d have been the first decorated ostrich in the Kingdom a long time ago. I am so accomplished at digging holes in sand where there isn’t even any sand around!
I do not just buckle at fears. I mean, this applies to how I tackle fail at packing for travel too. I see a myriad items and pieces of clothing that I have to collect from all corners of the house, and I envisage an organised and packed suitcase. And the conclusion I invariably draw, is that I can make the one turn into the other by sheer willpower and remaining completely immobile. A procrastinating ostrich is a terrible beast. I suppose much of my inaction is related to things I desperately do not want to do, places I do not want to go. I often have a choice in these matters, but I know that I should make the choice that I do not want to. So, I try to make it all go away by sticking my head stubbornly in the sand and chewing it.
Fears, as we all know, do not have to be rational. After we have talked ourselves into being ok with something, we can still get to the point of almost getting into gear to face it, only to suddenly and completely freeze. On the other hand, I have some real, deep-seated fears that propel me into positive action. The desire to overcome them, motivates me to try to tackle them.
I do not like heights. I know in my mind that there is nothing to fear, and yet my body will tense up and it will be a mission to keep going. What really annoys me, is that my fear is tied to my lack of confidence in my own body to keep me upright. I’m not even talking about scaling a high mountain. I’m talking about the inability to walk up a tame hillside when the wind is approaching from the wrong direction. Perhaps it isn’t so much a fear of heights, as a fear of falling. And it doesn’t have to be falling from a great height either. Perhaps my fear is of a loss of control. Of stumbling into an indefinite slide and tumble…I fear…hiking. There I’ve said it. Snigger all you like. It absolutely infuriates me.
I LOVE the outdoors. I LOVE walking. When I lived in Hamburg, one of my favourite things was the German obsession with the Spaziergang. The culture of taking a leisurely walk with friends, combining with my other passion – a good ole natter. Finding a good coffee and cake or ice cream along the way never hurt either.
Alfred Wainwright is my hero, with his beautifully illustrated and fondly crafted pictorial guides to the Lakeland Fells including charming stories and anecdotes from walking over some of the most beautiful terrain in good ole Blighty. And yet, I had barely touched the foot of the gentle Barrow a couple of years ago, before the incline became too much to handle. Thankfully, there were few witnesses to my display of cowardice. One day, I will respectfully set foot on a little ridge somewhere in the Fells…
However, today’s story is a little more positive. There is hope yet.
Earlier this year, as the Olympic torch was passing through Stroud, I was on my way up the beautiful Malvern Hills. I took a gentle route starting not far below St Ann’s Well, approaching from a steep little road going away from town past some lovely cottages. I made my way up towards the Beacon, the highest point along this beautiful hill range. Most of the way has well laid footpaths to make it accessible to more people, although scree does make me nervous when I am going downhill. As you approach the Worcestershire Beacon however, there is a short part of the route that requires a gentle amble up well worn but slightly more undulating paths.
The weather was beautiful – sunny, but with a good breeze. Having almost reached the hilltop, the wind was quite spectacular. In fact, that was the reason why my walking companion wanted us to go up there. And, having made it to the top of the hill, except for another ten metres or so, that’s where I buckled. With the hillside gently sloping away, I settled in a little nook just below the summit, where there was shelter from the wind. I decided, I thought, that I had made it just shy of the top and it was a good achievement.
But then, I caught sight of the toposcope at the very peak, designed by Malvern architect Arthur Troyte Griffith. To be precise, I caught sight of the words on the side of it that told me that it was erected to commemorate the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria in 1897. Fortunately for me, I made my first ascent of the Malvern Hills in Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee year, at a time when the country was in great anticipation of the Olympic Games. It gave me that extra impetus to brave the wind, and practically crawl up to the very summit. Yes indeed, Queen Vic gave me a kick up the bum and told me to do those last ten metres since I was up there already. I was not likely to get another chance to do something so momentous for another little while, so I might as well just do it.
So. I made it up to touch the toposcope. On the Worcestershire Beacon. At a mere 425 m or 1,394 ft (according to Wikipedia). I’ll have you know, I clung on for dear life while we snapped a few photos for posterity. I will not show you them. The strong winds were whipping my hair upwards giving me an extra foot in height, even though I did have it tied back. To the traumatised cyclist out there somewhere, who had just approached via the ridge to witness a crazed woman shrieking and laughing manically, I apologise sincerely. The wind was buffeting around my ears, giving me the illusion that no one could hear the racket I was making… until I took those few steps back to the nook where I hid before and realised how beautifully quiet it was if one was not exposed to the wind…
But I will share with you, a souvenir of my little adventure:
To end, I may be mostly ostrich-like, but I do have my moments of brilliance when I will kick into reverse-ostrich mode and find some grit to make me do things that continue to amaze me afterwards. These moments may mean nothing to someone like the poor cyclist or a couple who preceded us up the hill, one with a child on his back and the other pushing a buggy with another child clambering about in front of her. But for me, they are moments where I made a brave decision, and half a year later that shrieking moment still makes me smile just thinking back to it. There is no lemonade bubblier and sweeter than that.
I hope that you will join me in braving those little challenges this coming week. We all have our fears. Others may dismiss them as silly, but if it is a fear for you, it is REAL. But it is yours to confront. You may not completely overcome the fear, but that shouldn’t stop you trying for those little victories. (Woohoo! *Punches the air*.)
Maybe one day I will tell you the story of the glacier and the fjord…
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If you are interested, here is a YouTube video I stumbled across whilst writing this post. Jon Bywater kindly shot some footage of their little amble up the hill and it’s lovely.
…and…
I came across the following beautiful, inspiring and uplifting post by John D Burns on 3 December. I wanted to add a link so that I would remember it: Treasure In the Hills. It just made me smile!
It was a bit of a rubbish week last week. Although I managed to finish my first scarf by Friday and am now wearing it. I ran out of wool to make the length I wanted for a scarf… but the wool is out of stock, so instead, I sewed it up and made a cowl
I guess I have to learn to do that more often. Be prepared to change course more readily. Take action to make things better even when they don’t turn out the way I would have hoped.
It’s all been coming to a head recently. Somehow things are a bit more intense and rubbish than usual. Although, let me get one thing straight right now… I’d not swap being me, for anything else. Some days I don’t even have the energy to feel depressed. But those moments bring me through to a clarity afterwards that I have to pounce on and get creative with!
I’ve been feeding off some of your incredible posts lately, and they are helping me to get some of my thoughts in order. Here’s a couple I found inspiring at just the right time – and by inspiring, I mean, they challenged me personally and helped me to take a step back and a deep breath:
Be happy in the moment, this moment is your life. The title says it all. I’m not going to get all self-help and “hippie” (quoting Sarah) on you here. I was simply reminded that now is my life. Not yesterday, not tomorrow. Right now. And I have to do something with now, or it’s going to leave me.
Morning walk on the Detmold countryside. Wendy took me on a beautiful walk through her lovely photos. It’s the kind of walk that I relish and haven’t been on for a while. She shared some of her own thoughts on life at this point in time. She ends with “Carry on…” Enough said. Life never stops, you’re either going backwards or forwards. Sometimes it’s the former, sometimes the latter… either way, we carry on for as long as we have the strength to.
Apple, by Addia
And. I have been meaning to feature this photo for some time now. It’s by the lovely Addia who was so sweet as to send me the original and allow me to feature it here. I feel happy every time I look at it. I just love the intense colour of the apple. But it’s so exposed, vulnerable, all open and half-eaten. I guess its fragility and intensity against the gritty grey surface that it is lying on is what makes it so beautiful for me.
I feel so alive when I see something so beautiful.
So here we go again, I’m rooting for you to go out there and keep on keeping on too! Have a good week.
It is truly autumn here in London, although some would call it winter. Even though the sun really worked hard all day Friday and the skies were a beautiful gorgeous blue, it was cold.
There was real drama in the colours and the clouds were truly amazing. But it was cold. In fact, it was chilly indoors. Not just out.
I was thinking about my blog and some line about the weather was about to enter my head. I was wondering how often this happens to people who are not British. On our beautiful isles, the weather plays such an important role that we watch it with huge interest. We devote very artfully crafted pieces of journalism to describing the minute changes in temperature, movements of air pressure, currents of warm or cold air travelling over our little island from neighbouring land masses. Weather forecasters are household names. No one has forgotten the legendary Michael Fish have they?
From one day to the next, the weather can change drastically, affecting everyone’s mood and influencing simple decisions. My colleagues will watch the clouds as lunchtime approaches and decide whether or not to dive out early to buy food before a downpour is unleashed. While I, on the other hand, prefer to bring my lunch so I do not have to worry. The quality of the light coming through the windows changes dramatically with the weather. A peek of sunshine and the whole place feels brighter, lighter, happier… grey clouds make you feel more tired, more gloomy, lethargic. Rain makes you wish you never got out of bed in the morning at all.
Well. It’s Monday again. After the wettest summer for a century or so apparently, in spite of the beautiful Olympic and Paralympic sunshine (lest we forget) it’s now crisp and cold. Some days we have had the beautiful sunny skies that we enjoyed this weekend, but mostly it’s been wet and miserable. I’m officially in denial and playing a different soundtrack to nature. Also, work’s been a bit weird lately. “Looks like nothing’s gonna change…” so I’m thinking of making some changes myself - instead of stressing, I’m chillin’ today…
Does the weather have as great an influence on your part of the world? Does it affect your mood as much as it can mine I wonder?
Some of the most effective members of staff in the organisation where I work quit within the past month. They had been recruited most recently, but before they had even left, we were mentally preparing ourselves for a quieter office, less banter, lower morale – all hands have always been on deck, but now there would be fewer capable and dedicated hands to carry the ever-increasing load. Adjusting to the resulting changes since got me thinking, not just of the strength of their impact on the organisation, but of my own direction.
I began to reflect upon my own life goals, wondering whether I still brought value to the workplace, and whether I was having as much an impact on those around me as I would like. If I left, would I be missed and would my colleagues speak well of me even in my absence as we were doing of those who had just moved on?
In light of my recent thoughts, Diana Schwenk’s post a couple of weeks ago,Who are you?was particularly apt. Diana posed a question that her boss had asked her and she in turn asked her direct reports:
What do you want people to say about you when you’re not in the room?
I had been wondering what other people would say, but had not asked myself what I hoped that they would say. And so below are a few things I’d like my colleagues to say about me:
That I care and always make time to truly listen to what matters to them
That I help them to develop beyond what they know they are capable of
That I am reliable, trustworthy, proactive, passionate, creative and have a wicked sense of humour
One for sorrow, two for joy…a favourite sight. I like magpies a lot! That’s something my colleagues won’t say about me, because the only birds near work are pigeons…
Diana boldly displays her personal vision and mission statement on her blog. I guess I had an indirect mission statement on my About page all along, although I think as I grow through different stages in life, my focus shifts. As I have wandered about on this blogging journey, I’m grateful that I’ve found the space to explore ideas and be more creative than I have been in a while. It’s helped me to treasure my life a little more and challenged me to be more mindful of the effects of what I do or say. And reading or seeing what is going on in your mind as we each explore our worlds, makes this journey just that bit more interesting.
Do you tend to think of yourself in the context of what you do rather than who you are? How would you answer the above question?
[The title of this post is a quote from j.r. Tolkien]
Time. I don’t know anyone who does not struggle to find enough time. Time to work. Time to play. Time to sleep. Time to read. Time to eat. Time to dream. Time to finish something, anything, everything. Time to blog. I do not personally know anyone vaguely like any of those super-people out there, who have ever confidently listed their time-management tactics on their blogs for the benefit of us lesser mortals. All the people I know, wish they had more time…
Last month, I attended a training session. It was not specifically related to the concept of time. It was somewhat related to management though. As we neared the afternoon coffee break, one of the participants expressed her frustration at the overwhelming number of tasks she was expected to perform along with the actual job she was contracted to do. The rest of us nodded empathetically as one. Eyes met in full sympathy across the room. Heartfelt murmurs of commiseration and support were imparted. She was speaking of the experience of everyone present. In this atmosphere of deep mutual understanding. the trainer spoke the following words. Yes, she said them with a bit too much awareness of their significance. She intentionally paused and repeated to give them more weight. But she explained that when she first heard them, it was as though someone had switched a light on. And by them I was at once moved and inspired:
You have all the time there is… You have all the time there is…
And indeed that is the only equality that is perhaps given to all. Old and young, rich and poor, male and female of whatever colour or creed… we are each given the same 24 hours in a day. Although the number of days we have ahead maydiffer, I don’t have enough time is not really a valid complaint. I don’t have more or less time than you, I may just be trying to do more or less than you are trying to do with the time that we have. And Adriana of PhotoAddia seems to have been thinking along the same lines too recently. Her angle on the topic challenges me: “Don’t be fooled by the calendar. There are only as many days in the year as you make use of.”
My question to myself now therefore is, I have all the time there is, am I making good investments with it? Are the ways in which I spend my time meaningful, rewarding, constructive, worthwhile, beneficial? Because these are the attitudes that I would like to have towards my life and how I use it.
Last week, on my way home, I actually took a seat on the train. I was ill equipped to occupy myself in a useful way as usual, so I just sat and stared at random patterns and adverts.
About two stops into my journey, a man in his thirties or so got on. He had in-ear buds plugged in and tinny beats emanating from his head to the rest of the passengers. I suddenly realised that all the men in my section of the carriage, bar one, had their ears stopped up with various portable speakers. There were two other sets of nondescript ear buds. One young crisply suited male had a spotless almost glowing Beats by Dr. Dre halo clamping down on his ears. Another two had black-coloured headphones in a similar but less trendy style (the kind that could double up as ear-muffs). Another man slouched against one of the high seats at the end of the carriage, his head drooping as he dipped in and out of a fitful snooze.
My mind quickly referenced an article I had read recently about athletes training andpsyching themselves up to motivational music. I wondered what these guys were getting ready for. The music did not seem generally to be of the kind that helps you to relax judging by the sounds from some of the headphones and the bouncing chins of the other wearers whose music I could not hear. (Notable exception could be the guy who was semi-conscious.)
(I must say I wouldn’t mind having one of these Bose QuietComfort 15headphones for every Tube journey. I stepped foot in a Bose shop for the first time a couple of weeks ago out of curiosity, and recommend that anyone that has not tried these does so for the pure amazement value. Once you have experienced them, the attached price tag will no longer surprise you. I can imagine if I had a pair, every Tube journey in future would be like an out-of-body experience!)
That day’s observation did bring to mind the fact that there is a different story behind each person with whom I rub shoulders, literally or metaphorically, on my daily commute. We may all wear a similar uniform. We may even enjoy similar tastes in music. Each of us probably sports a familiar blank look as we meander home by various means. But we each go back to a different place and life can be very very different behind each door that we severally close behind us at the end of that journey.
For some, on the other side of the door is a refuge from the world. For others, to open that door is to leave a refuge behind for the night. For still others, the door opens a gaping hole of emptiness which envelops that person until he emerges again the next day. Then there are those we do not realise have no doors to journey to and live a expertly fabricated deception that we so readily believe. We can live so closely alongside one another, and yet, we can be such solitary souls.
I have no deep insights to offer on this trailing thought. I’ll try to remember to make lemonade and share it around while I know how. I am just glad that behind my closed door, I can open up this world here from time to time, and see your smiling and encouraging faces.
For some time now, I have been a quiet admirer of a certain man. He was never a friend, in fact he was a business owner and I was a regular patron. Unlike many of his peers, he seemed to make a conscious effort to connect meaningfully with the people who contributed to his success – his loyal customers. I admired his skill in conversation and the thoughtfulness he put into building relationships, the confidence his staff had in him and the ease with which they worked in his presence. Yes, it was business, but infused with a certain unassuming altruism.
Yesterday I learned of his passing. I knew that he was seriously ill, so I can’t say the news came as a shock. But I was surprised that it affected me so much and that I am so deeply saddened. He was far from old. In my memory he is wearing a favourite blue checked shirt, his eyes are creased at the laughter lines with just a little twinkle in them and he is engaged in lively small talk. I remember his mannerisms and voice well, even though I did not see him in over a year. We only ever had brief encounters, but this one human being made a deep impression on me.
We only live once. We cross paths with many people only once in our lives and for a fleeting moment. And yet, we have the potential to influence greatly, without even being aware of it ourselves. I do not believe this man ever cared to think that I would sit here thinking of him. We played no real part in each other’s lives.
But then I think of the countless times when a small kind gesture has suddenly altered how I have felt in an instant. And a simple word of appreciation or a colleague’s offer to make me a cup of tea, can often be enough to give me just that added buoyancy to make it through the day.
So in the same vein, thank you for those kind comments that you put at the bottom of my posts. They are very special and uplifting. Just as deeply as words can wound, so they can also heal, inspire and propel someone on to do more than they ever imagined possible…
Has a virtual stranger ever had such an impact on you?
I am writing on a rainy bank holiday. I have a yucky sore throat. I have been thinking happy thoughts about blogging!
The reason why I started blogging is not unique. I was touched by Amy’s post on her cozywalls blog last week (take a look, it’s full of treats!) in which she explains:
I started this blog at a particularly uncozy time in my life. The point was to focus on the GOOD TIMES. Of course, life is not always cozy, but I wanted to put my good memories together in one spot so as not to dwell on those things that are beyond my control.
I could not have put it any better myself. Amy is one of those precious people who are giving me that lift at the end of a difficult day, inspiring me to be bolder in what I attempt to do, reminding me of things I used to love doing but have put down because I simply forgot about them or have been told for too long that they are not “important” or “useful” things.
Many blogs are polished and pretty and there are even people out there who criticise some bloggers, accusing them of being “fake” or “staging” their blogs. However, the more I read, the more I appreciate the number of people who are using the confines of their blogs to collect the best and worst parts of their life experiences and reach out to others to encourage or find encouragement.
This morning as I was clearing away last night’s dishes, I had the privilege of seeing a magpie up close as it hopped right past the kitchen window. Magpies are my favourite birds. I love their elegant tail feathers and their backs that shimmer and delight with the flashes of rich blues and greens.
Magpie illustration from RSPB
The average lifespan of a magpie is three years, according to the RSPB, although some are known to have lived for much longer. This fact made me think. I’d never before thought about how the magpie I had just been watching might imminently cease to exist. After all there aren’t lots of dead birds lying around everywhere. I see these chattering creatures gliding about effortlessly every day in the expanse that is the sky above our heads.
As I watched the magpie this morning, I remembered this quote from DH Lawrence:
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.
I remember when I first came across these words, many moons ago as a teenager. They were inspiring, but oh so impossible to emulate. Perhaps you don’t get bogged down by the negative things in your life ever, but I’m still on the journey to try and make each day count without it being all about me and my little worries. It’s definitely worthwhile, and it’s getting ever more exciting as I add to my own hoard of beautiful memories and sparkly bright treasures!
Time. I don’t know anyone who does not struggle to find enough time. Time to work. Time to play. Time to sleep. Time to read. Time to eat. Time to dream. Time to finish something, anything, everything. Time to blog. I do not personally know anyone vaguely like any of those super-people out there, who have ever confidently listed their time-management tactics on their blogs for the benefit of us lesser mortals. All the people I know, wish they had more time…
