February always flies by! It seems it only started a week ago and now it's over.
Over the weekend a woman I didn't know excitedly shared the news that she had just been to the movies: all by herself. I was chatting to a friend in a shop and this woman came in and started talking. She seemed to be well into her sixties and very excited at the realisation that it was possible to do things alone and enjoy the experience.
She was so excited and appeared in good humour so I asked her if the film she saw was "Fifty Shades of Grey". It seemed possible, given she was dressed from head to toe in several shades of grey.
"Oh no! I wouldn't go and see THAT! I'd go home all thingy!" she proclaimed.
We all knew what "thingy" meant in this context. I imagined her husband observing her upon arrival at home and asking what the bloody hell was wrong with her.
"What did you go and see?"
"The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel," she beamed. "It was really good. Really enjoyable. Funny, but there were things that made you think about things, you know?"
We all nodded sagely.
I confirmed my suspicion that Richard Gere is a feature in the film.
Her enthusiasm went up a notch.
"Oh yes. I tell you what, there's a man that makes my toes curl."
It seemed that more than one of the current crop of films could send a girl home feeling thingy.
"But you know, I got sick of waiting for my girlfriends to be ready before I could go out and do anything. I'm glad I just went and now I know I can go to the movies on my own."
Underneath the bravado, there seemed to be some social isolation. She walked out of the shop smiling and laughing and so did we.
I can't stop noticing my toes.
(According to IMDB, Richard Gere's middle name is "Tiffany".)
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Monday, 2 March 2015
Sunday, 18 May 2014
Brisbane perspectives.
I'm sitting beside the Brisbane River enjoying the sunny view and a cafe latte. (Brisbane finally knows how to make them.) I'd forgotten how much brighter than Melbourne the mornings are. Sleeping past 7:30am without comprehensive blackout curtains, even in May, is an impossibility. So even though my breakfast date is not until 11am, I'm up, checked out and sitting by the river.
A favourite thing of mine is to visit markets and the Brisbane Riverside Markets were a huge sprawling cornucopia of handmade artisan wares. I expected to easily fill an hour and half but have been disappointed. Perhaps twenty stalls exist, some of them lovely, but most selling junk. Perhaps the online shopping revolution has hit here too.
The Story Bridge looks more serious by day. Its structure black and grim, contrasting with the clear blue sky and sparkling water. The river beneath is busy with traffic - ferris zigzagging from one side to another while cars cross the river above.
Just before 10am my phone tells me it's currently 22 degrees Celsius, yet a man sits at a nearby table wearing the strange combination of skimpy shorts, thongs and a polar fleece jacket. I'd forgotten the craving for seasons that one gets living somewhere like this. During the week, I saw women on their way to work defiantly wearing knee-high boots, scarves and coats. I watched them, dressed in a summer dress.
As I walked in this morning, the river was on my left and the skyscrapers loomed on the right, their footprints substantial, standing solidly, in contrast to the mercurial water opposite. They look so clean and impossible. It must be the space around them that makes them seem bigger than anything in Melbourne.
Three metres from where I sit, a white-haired woman has paid a woman with a matching hair-do to tell her fortune. Her husband has opened his wallet, handed over the cash - and his wife - and made himself scarce. The two women look like old friends meeting for coffee.
My weekend has been filled with friends and food. I love living in Melbourne but I do feel a tug whenever I come back to Brisbane!
How was your weekend?
A favourite thing of mine is to visit markets and the Brisbane Riverside Markets were a huge sprawling cornucopia of handmade artisan wares. I expected to easily fill an hour and half but have been disappointed. Perhaps twenty stalls exist, some of them lovely, but most selling junk. Perhaps the online shopping revolution has hit here too.
The Story Bridge looks more serious by day. Its structure black and grim, contrasting with the clear blue sky and sparkling water. The river beneath is busy with traffic - ferris zigzagging from one side to another while cars cross the river above.
Just before 10am my phone tells me it's currently 22 degrees Celsius, yet a man sits at a nearby table wearing the strange combination of skimpy shorts, thongs and a polar fleece jacket. I'd forgotten the craving for seasons that one gets living somewhere like this. During the week, I saw women on their way to work defiantly wearing knee-high boots, scarves and coats. I watched them, dressed in a summer dress.
As I walked in this morning, the river was on my left and the skyscrapers loomed on the right, their footprints substantial, standing solidly, in contrast to the mercurial water opposite. They look so clean and impossible. It must be the space around them that makes them seem bigger than anything in Melbourne.
Three metres from where I sit, a white-haired woman has paid a woman with a matching hair-do to tell her fortune. Her husband has opened his wallet, handed over the cash - and his wife - and made himself scarce. The two women look like old friends meeting for coffee.
My weekend has been filled with friends and food. I love living in Melbourne but I do feel a tug whenever I come back to Brisbane!
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| Refractions © 2014 divacultura |
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| Refractions II © 2014 divacultura |
How was your weekend?
Friday, 24 January 2014
Re-entry
It's been a week since I returned from my annual visit to Summersong music camp. As usual, that week has really refuelled and refreshed my creative drive. Living in a creative community for a week with nothing to do but soak up music, laughter, ideas and the company of kindred spirits is a fantastic opportunity that I cherish. Re-entry to the world can be an odd ride. I stayed in Lennox Head on the night camp finished and wrote this while I was waiting for my meal to arrive.
The shock of re-entry into the world hits me. I knew that after a whole week of being nurtured in a loving bubble of creativity there would be a jolt at this moment. Having experienced it so often before I know that ordinary activities like talking to strangers, making menu choices and counting money will be harder than usual. It took me an age to choose a drink; then to decide on food to accompany it. I read the menu thoroughly, forensically and eventually decided. It has been more than a week since my brain had to read and process another person's written words without a musical accompaniment. Apart from lyrics to songs I'm singing, the only words I've read this week have been words I've written - they week have been mine. Even when receiving a friend's new work, I hear it, rather than read it. I wonder at this gift.
At a nearby table a family sits - standard model: mum, dad, girl, boy. The boy looks to be about six years old and sleeps in his chair; legs dangle, relaxed, hands lie limply by his side. On the table before him sits a black rubber spider the size of his forearm. His sister is more animated but it is the boy, sweet in sleep, who draws my attention. He wears the ensemble of a small boy these days: blue checked shorts, cream and white striped t-shirt. His thongs lie discarded under the table.
A ham and pineapple pizza is delivered for him and still he sleeps. The pizza is removed from the table and returned in a box when the boy fails to stir. The black rubber spider guards the contents as it sits upon the box.
It is the very old and the very young who are allowed to sleep in public. The vulnerability of this simple act is humbling. I recall the man I saw in a shopping centre in Tamworth before camp. He was literally asleep on his feet. My father commented that he looked like a horse. I am tired and would love to join this sweet sleeping boy (easily could) but I fear I'd be charged with vagrancy, looked upon as weird. Or robbed.
Do you sleep in public?
The shock of re-entry into the world hits me. I knew that after a whole week of being nurtured in a loving bubble of creativity there would be a jolt at this moment. Having experienced it so often before I know that ordinary activities like talking to strangers, making menu choices and counting money will be harder than usual. It took me an age to choose a drink; then to decide on food to accompany it. I read the menu thoroughly, forensically and eventually decided. It has been more than a week since my brain had to read and process another person's written words without a musical accompaniment. Apart from lyrics to songs I'm singing, the only words I've read this week have been words I've written - they week have been mine. Even when receiving a friend's new work, I hear it, rather than read it. I wonder at this gift.
At a nearby table a family sits - standard model: mum, dad, girl, boy. The boy looks to be about six years old and sleeps in his chair; legs dangle, relaxed, hands lie limply by his side. On the table before him sits a black rubber spider the size of his forearm. His sister is more animated but it is the boy, sweet in sleep, who draws my attention. He wears the ensemble of a small boy these days: blue checked shorts, cream and white striped t-shirt. His thongs lie discarded under the table.
A ham and pineapple pizza is delivered for him and still he sleeps. The pizza is removed from the table and returned in a box when the boy fails to stir. The black rubber spider guards the contents as it sits upon the box.
It is the very old and the very young who are allowed to sleep in public. The vulnerability of this simple act is humbling. I recall the man I saw in a shopping centre in Tamworth before camp. He was literally asleep on his feet. My father commented that he looked like a horse. I am tired and would love to join this sweet sleeping boy (easily could) but I fear I'd be charged with vagrancy, looked upon as weird. Or robbed.
Do you sleep in public?
Tuesday, 26 November 2013
Being a patient - for real this time.
This time last week I was recovering from general anaesthetic. Hence my absence from writing. Beforehand I was a little anxious and just didn't have the headspace to write. Afterwards, I was recovering, sleeping and thinking and just needed space.
Thanks for bearing with me. Thanks also for the love and support sent my way at this time.
While I'm very experienced in being a patient interacting with the health care system, I'm not usually sick. Everything feels completely different when you're confronting surgery. From the moment of walking in the front door of the hospital (if you're lucky enough to be able to walk in), doing paperwork and making payments, to following instructions and having observations taken, the power relationship shifts. Suddenly I went from being an independent woman who acts on my own behalf and decides whether or not to follow rules and obey instructions, to being completely passive and following all instructions without question or comment.
Luckily I had a solid and trusted person with me who helped me keep perspective and stop me from worrying myself into a puddle on the floor.
Waking from a general anaesthetic is surreal. One minute you're listening to the friendly and soothing chat from the anaesthetist as whatever marvellous stuff he has given you starts to loosen your hold on consciousness; you're noticing a mask being placed over your face. Next thing you're hearing your name, you're somewhere else and you're in pain.
Pain was attended to swiftly and with gentle concern. Even as I shook uncontrollably for what seemed like ages, I was aware of the care and attention I was receiving. When the shaking didn't stop, I started to become distressed and tears started to flow. It seemed like a biological reaction which I was observing from afar. Unpleasant. It took a long time to make it out of the first stage of recovery. I kept falling asleep and my oxygen saturation was low. An alarm kept sounding and I was being reminded to breathe. I would and the alarm would stop.
I was relieved to be moved to another area and see my friend arrive. God knows what we talked about. I can't really remember. I hope I wasn't rude and didn't reveal any secrets. A different nurse took over. She didn't introduce herself and I felt she was very matter of fact and not very empathetic. My friend said she was doing a fine job from his perspective and I should appreciate that. I did. I've spent so much time thinking about and teaching empathy to health care professionals that I really notice when it's not there.
We arrived home after 8pm and my friends changed shift. My friend who stayed the night had a quiet night of it. The next morning I thanked her for staying and apologised for there being no middle-of-the-night emergency. We both have an appreciation for drama and she said she was a little bit let down she hadn't been required to play the scene requiring her to drive me somewhere, in my car. The kicker is that it would have been her first driving practice in about 20 years.
We both understood that we were joking.
On Friday, I had a half day of simulated patient work. I was back in a hospital gown and lying on a trolley. While the case was very different from my own circumstances, I felt that my recent surgical experience was adding to my authenticity in the role. Several students checked to see whether I would be okay as they finished their exam station. (Now that's empathy!)
Monday, I was back in shapeless blue piece of material, hopefully (ironically?) referred to as a "gown" as I went to have an MRI on my knee. (This is the one I fell on back in August.) The procedure was straightforward and painless and required me to follow one simple instruction: lie perfectly still. Suddenly, this was an impossible task. My right arm was at a funny angle. Could I move it? Only it? Surely if I just shifted it a little, it wouldn't move my right knee? Would it? I can't breathe! Oh, yes I can, but am I moving too much when I breathe? Or maybe I'm not breathing enough? Is that why my left big toe is suddenly incredibly ITCHY? I've got pins and needles in my left hand! Just lie still! Just lie still! Only 17 more minutes to go. I hear the machine go quiet. The technician reads my mind and just as I think I can move, her voice instructs me through the headphones to "keep lying still...only five more minutes to go...you're doing really well!" Look how much my chest moves when I breathe! How deeply can I breathe without moving my whole body? Wow, suddenly I'm aware of my earlobes...
And so it went for the whole 20 minutes.
I was told I'd been very still and given a well done as I carried my basket of clothes back to a cubicle to extricate myself from what I hope will be the last gown I'll wear for real for a while.
Thanks for bearing with me. Thanks also for the love and support sent my way at this time.
While I'm very experienced in being a patient interacting with the health care system, I'm not usually sick. Everything feels completely different when you're confronting surgery. From the moment of walking in the front door of the hospital (if you're lucky enough to be able to walk in), doing paperwork and making payments, to following instructions and having observations taken, the power relationship shifts. Suddenly I went from being an independent woman who acts on my own behalf and decides whether or not to follow rules and obey instructions, to being completely passive and following all instructions without question or comment.
Luckily I had a solid and trusted person with me who helped me keep perspective and stop me from worrying myself into a puddle on the floor.
Waking from a general anaesthetic is surreal. One minute you're listening to the friendly and soothing chat from the anaesthetist as whatever marvellous stuff he has given you starts to loosen your hold on consciousness; you're noticing a mask being placed over your face. Next thing you're hearing your name, you're somewhere else and you're in pain.
Pain was attended to swiftly and with gentle concern. Even as I shook uncontrollably for what seemed like ages, I was aware of the care and attention I was receiving. When the shaking didn't stop, I started to become distressed and tears started to flow. It seemed like a biological reaction which I was observing from afar. Unpleasant. It took a long time to make it out of the first stage of recovery. I kept falling asleep and my oxygen saturation was low. An alarm kept sounding and I was being reminded to breathe. I would and the alarm would stop.
I was relieved to be moved to another area and see my friend arrive. God knows what we talked about. I can't really remember. I hope I wasn't rude and didn't reveal any secrets. A different nurse took over. She didn't introduce herself and I felt she was very matter of fact and not very empathetic. My friend said she was doing a fine job from his perspective and I should appreciate that. I did. I've spent so much time thinking about and teaching empathy to health care professionals that I really notice when it's not there.
We arrived home after 8pm and my friends changed shift. My friend who stayed the night had a quiet night of it. The next morning I thanked her for staying and apologised for there being no middle-of-the-night emergency. We both have an appreciation for drama and she said she was a little bit let down she hadn't been required to play the scene requiring her to drive me somewhere, in my car. The kicker is that it would have been her first driving practice in about 20 years.
We both understood that we were joking.
On Friday, I had a half day of simulated patient work. I was back in a hospital gown and lying on a trolley. While the case was very different from my own circumstances, I felt that my recent surgical experience was adding to my authenticity in the role. Several students checked to see whether I would be okay as they finished their exam station. (Now that's empathy!)
Monday, I was back in shapeless blue piece of material, hopefully (ironically?) referred to as a "gown" as I went to have an MRI on my knee. (This is the one I fell on back in August.) The procedure was straightforward and painless and required me to follow one simple instruction: lie perfectly still. Suddenly, this was an impossible task. My right arm was at a funny angle. Could I move it? Only it? Surely if I just shifted it a little, it wouldn't move my right knee? Would it? I can't breathe! Oh, yes I can, but am I moving too much when I breathe? Or maybe I'm not breathing enough? Is that why my left big toe is suddenly incredibly ITCHY? I've got pins and needles in my left hand! Just lie still! Just lie still! Only 17 more minutes to go. I hear the machine go quiet. The technician reads my mind and just as I think I can move, her voice instructs me through the headphones to "keep lying still...only five more minutes to go...you're doing really well!" Look how much my chest moves when I breathe! How deeply can I breathe without moving my whole body? Wow, suddenly I'm aware of my earlobes...
And so it went for the whole 20 minutes.
I was told I'd been very still and given a well done as I carried my basket of clothes back to a cubicle to extricate myself from what I hope will be the last gown I'll wear for real for a while.
Thursday, 17 October 2013
Farewell Amanda - reflecting on life and death.
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| Amanda with the Love Rug knitted for her, square by square. Used with permission. |
Today I went to a funeral. The funeral was for Amanda Rynne about whom I've written before. Only two years ago, I wrote about the contribution I'd made to a "love rug" for her following the news that she had breast cancer.
Today we said goodbye.
I didn't know Amanda that well, but am very close with people who were very close to her. I went to her funeral to mark the fact she and I were connected and show myself as part of the community of people touched by her. I also went to support my friends who were also close to her. A very large church was filled with people dressed in red at Amanda's request. There was laughter and there were many tears as stories were told and life and death contemplated.
Melbourne turned on wild and unpredictable weather. Throughout the service, the wind sounded like a woman humming. I imagined that it was Amanda singing as we heard about Amanda's love of music. This contemplation was interrupted by the sound of a baby gurgling or crying. I thought about the bookends of life; beginnings and endings; innocence and pain.
The blanket we made for Amanda rested on her coffin today. My first glimpse of it caused the first tears of many to flow. I walked out with a handbag filled with soggy tissues.
Forty-one is young to have life taken away. I reflected on my own life and wondered whether I'm living it in the best way, fulfilling it in every aspect. It's good to think about these things.
I drove another friend back to her home afterwards and we shared a cup of tea together. Her extroverted four year old daughter came out and introduced herself. She gave me a hug and asked where we had been. I told her that we had been saying goodbye to a friend. Of course she asked why we were saying goodbye. I told her that our friend wasn't coming back anymore. She thought about this and nodded and then told me she really liked my shoes! It was lovely to be surrounded by the life pulsing through this little girl.
And so life goes on.
The news on the radio in the car as I drove to work carried a story about new drugs available for the treatment of breast cancer. I hope they work. Too many lives are affected by this disease.
One thing that has stuck in my mind from the homily was that there are only three things you need to be able to say to the people in your life: I love you. I'm sorry. I forgive you.
Amanda, I'll miss seeing your gorgeous photographs on Instagram. It was nice to know you Amanda, even a little bit. It was clear from today's turn out that you touched many people. A life well lived.
Sunday, 28 April 2013
My favourite things...this week.
Usually I write this post on a Friday, but after hours of work, driving to the airport in Sydney to return to Melbourne and then actually arriving home, I did not feel like sitting down to write. So I didn't. Having just finished my Business Activity Statement and a couple of other pieces of work for a client, I just want to step away from the desk, but I'll write this first.
One of my favourite things this week was an early text message on Saturday morning from my dear friend S. who now lives interstate. She was in town and wondered if I would be free for coffee. Would I?! We had a delightful morning catching up on the news and just enjoying each other's company for a couple of hours before I headed off to my jazz vocal class and her 8 month old son became a bit cantankerous. It reminds me that with good friends, no matter how much time has passed, each meeting takes place as though the last one happened only yesterday.
A particularly challenging project I've been managing for a client all came together this week. We're producing mental health scenarios working with simulated patients and clinicians which are filmed in Melbourne and sent over the internet via web conference to NSW. The technology has been touchy and the team wasn't very tech-savvy to begin with. It's been a painful birth, but this week EVERYTHING worked. I knew this moment would come, but I don't think my team did. We really needed this moment!
I had a moment of observation where I consciously noticed myself embrace fear and leap in anyway. I selected my first song (one of two) for the jazz vocal workshop. I'd never heard it before and I loved it the moment I heard the lyrical melody. When the words were revealed I couldn't resist. As I took the stage to explore further, Bob Sedergreen told me this was a really challenging song with a lot of key changes. "It's really difficult. Are you sure?" My response was, "Excellent!" For that I received a round of applause.
My next favourite thing comes from that class too. While I'm all open to experience whatever happens, I've noticed that that is not the mindset of the entire class. There are a couple of people who are very worried about everything they don't know. They want information NOW about things that will be revealed in due course. Instead of relaxing and just being where we are, they become anxious. Initially, I could feel myself pursing my lips and a little voice of judgement was seeping in: "They need to relax and just BE!" Then I realised that this applied to me too. We're all in different places and one of my lessons is to be cool with where other people are.
My fabulous day in Sydney on ANZAC Day was a highlight of the week.
Lastly, travelling home on the train yesterday afternoon I noticed a young man with the piano score for Percy Grainger's "Gumsuckers March" spread before him on his lap. He was playing "air piano" so intently I could almost hear the music.
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| © divacultura 2013 |
What were your favourite things this week?
Friday, 30 November 2012
My favourite things this week
1. The electrician who called to let me know he was running 10 minutes late! Miraculous and very courteous. He was lovely and helpful when he got here too.
2. Car trips with a fellow actor to get to a job on the other side of town. Even though it was a very early start, two days in a row, we enjoy each other's company and it wasn't much of a hardship. We spent the time revising our roles, talking about stuff and being silly.
3. A visit and dinner with a very good friend. Life had kept us apart for about a year which is just too long. I really value my relationships and this one is important to me.
4. The vegetable curry I made accompanied by my new favourite food product, Rice Plus. I love rice and made the switch to brown or basmati a while a go, but this take rice to a whole new level. It's delicious and full of goodness and I can't imagine going back to plain old rice again. (I have no association with the product - I'm just a very happy consumer.)
5. Giving things to my readers! There's still time to be in the running. TO WIN a double pass to see "2 Days in New York" comment on this post, telling us where you'd like to spend two days and why. Entries close Friday, 30 November. Winners will be announced on the blog. Don't forget to check back and see if you've won - you'll need to provide your mailing address details.
Passes are valid during the season in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Gold Coast, Adelaide and the ACT.
Good luck!
2. Car trips with a fellow actor to get to a job on the other side of town. Even though it was a very early start, two days in a row, we enjoy each other's company and it wasn't much of a hardship. We spent the time revising our roles, talking about stuff and being silly.
3. A visit and dinner with a very good friend. Life had kept us apart for about a year which is just too long. I really value my relationships and this one is important to me.
4. The vegetable curry I made accompanied by my new favourite food product, Rice Plus. I love rice and made the switch to brown or basmati a while a go, but this take rice to a whole new level. It's delicious and full of goodness and I can't imagine going back to plain old rice again. (I have no association with the product - I'm just a very happy consumer.)
5. Giving things to my readers! There's still time to be in the running. TO WIN a double pass to see "2 Days in New York" comment on this post, telling us where you'd like to spend two days and why. Entries close Friday, 30 November. Winners will be announced on the blog. Don't forget to check back and see if you've won - you'll need to provide your mailing address details.
Passes are valid during the season in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Gold Coast, Adelaide and the ACT.
Good luck!
Wednesday, 31 October 2012
Birthday reflections.
I wasn't going to turn my computer back on today and enter the online world, but at the end of another birthday, I feel the need to say a few things.
Rather than railing against growing older, I embrace my birthdays with exhilaration How wonderful that I am still around to share and celebrate another year! As I do grow older I hear stories of people who do not have that opportunity.
In the digital age, it's great to hear from a variety of people. Greetings are public, private, personal, heartfelt, auto-generated, funny, surprising, touching, bland. Whatever they are, someone has made the effort to think of me and reach out across the bandwidth, just for a moment. I like it!
Today I received a birthday card from one of my Twitter followers. We were working together yesterday and she recognised me. Somewhere along the line, I mentioned that today was my birthday and today she presented me with a funny, handmade card. I was delighted. What a great thing! Why not be the kind of person who gives or sends a birthday card to people they have met? It spreads goodwill and good feeling and that's a good thing.
This wasn't a birthday ending in zero so I didn't have a big shindig. I'd been surrounding myself with friends who had been wrapping me in love, so I didn't do anything spectacular. I slept in this morning; had a conversation with a prospective client and went off to lunch with a friend. We happened to be working in the same neighbourhood and she took time out of her day to meet me. We enjoyed sitting outside in the warmer weather. I worked for the afternoon and then had dinner with a close friend this evening. In between I read emails, facebook posts, text messages and took calls from friends and family. I arrived home and listened to the messages on my answering machine - one from my four year old nephew, exuberantly shouting "Happy birthday Aunty Tanya" . His message started with the cue from my sister whispering "go, now".
I wore a new dress today. Rich emerald green.
I examined my face intently. To me I look the same - except for those annoying grey hairs that I'm sure the hairdresser sprinkles in after each visit - but I know that I do not. I don't have worry lines or frown lines. You can see that I laugh.
I feel serene.
I feel happy.
I feel like my hard work is paying off.
I feel intensely interested in my work.
I feel valued.
I feel loved. The most important feeling of all.
Thank you everyone. I actually feel like this most days. It's wonderful.
Rather than railing against growing older, I embrace my birthdays with exhilaration How wonderful that I am still around to share and celebrate another year! As I do grow older I hear stories of people who do not have that opportunity.
In the digital age, it's great to hear from a variety of people. Greetings are public, private, personal, heartfelt, auto-generated, funny, surprising, touching, bland. Whatever they are, someone has made the effort to think of me and reach out across the bandwidth, just for a moment. I like it!
Today I received a birthday card from one of my Twitter followers. We were working together yesterday and she recognised me. Somewhere along the line, I mentioned that today was my birthday and today she presented me with a funny, handmade card. I was delighted. What a great thing! Why not be the kind of person who gives or sends a birthday card to people they have met? It spreads goodwill and good feeling and that's a good thing.
This wasn't a birthday ending in zero so I didn't have a big shindig. I'd been surrounding myself with friends who had been wrapping me in love, so I didn't do anything spectacular. I slept in this morning; had a conversation with a prospective client and went off to lunch with a friend. We happened to be working in the same neighbourhood and she took time out of her day to meet me. We enjoyed sitting outside in the warmer weather. I worked for the afternoon and then had dinner with a close friend this evening. In between I read emails, facebook posts, text messages and took calls from friends and family. I arrived home and listened to the messages on my answering machine - one from my four year old nephew, exuberantly shouting "Happy birthday Aunty Tanya" . His message started with the cue from my sister whispering "go, now".
I wore a new dress today. Rich emerald green.
I examined my face intently. To me I look the same - except for those annoying grey hairs that I'm sure the hairdresser sprinkles in after each visit - but I know that I do not. I don't have worry lines or frown lines. You can see that I laugh.
I feel serene.
I feel happy.
I feel like my hard work is paying off.
I feel intensely interested in my work.
I feel valued.
I feel loved. The most important feeling of all.
Thank you everyone. I actually feel like this most days. It's wonderful.
Monday, 14 May 2012
Philosophy day
Yesterday was a very social day. I started the day discussing books over brunch with my book group. We were discussing "Hard Times" by Charles Dickens and I put my credibility on the line early by declaring that I had now read Charles Dickens and that was now done. There will be no more.
Then I met a school friend for coffee in the afternoon. She was in Melbourne for the weekend and we realised that the last time we had seen each other was at the ten year school reunion which was fourteen years ago! When did these numbers get so high?
While we are connected on facebook, she made the observation that we don't really know each other now. This is essentially true. We have very different lives, but there were echoes of similar quandaries and dilemmas in our lives. It was interesting to hear her views about me.
She sincerely congratulated me on having my own business and celebrating its first birthday. I was very happy to receive this acknowledgement.
She is going through a change of perspective about some of the people in her life; the term she used was "culling". I asked why. She told me about the treatment she had received at the hands of some of these people. I shook my head and said she was right to realise that she was better off without these people in her life. She observed that I had always "spring cleaned" as I went along. Her concern that I would be offended was visible. I wasn't offended at all - that is very true. As I've gone along in my life, I have pretty clear lines about what's acceptable and who is worthwhile to have in my world.
We also talked about perceptions that people have and what it means if we live our lives with deep concern for what others think of us. It could translate into a sense of doing what is expected of us. She had been constrained by this feeling and is now finding her power to realise that it doesn't matter and it's okay to act in accordance with what she thinks of herself, rather than what others think.
I offered her my congratulations.
In the evening it was off to dinner with another friend. We talked life, work, world, politics. The discussion turned to the issue of life plans. Neither of us have one, although now that I'm in business for myself, I am thinking more long term.
I've always been an opportunist. I'm quite happy to seize the moment and turn down a path to see what is down there. My friend was quite vocal about how he felt about "those people" at university who had life plans which mapped out their whole lives. I wondered why it mattered. We pondered this question and it led into a discussion about everyone getting on with their own thing and doing what they need to do without worrying about how others were approaching their lives. A theme was emerging.
More and more I find myself feeling very happy about the choices I've made and not worrying about the choices others make. Except when it comes to politics. This is the area where I really care and will work to persuade people. Perhaps because whoever is in power can potentially have a profound impact on my ability to live my life.
I finished the day feeling philosophical and thoughtful. I pondered the meaning and nature of friendship and individuality. I said thank you to the world for where I am and the people I have in my life. I realised that I probably do have a life plan - it's more about how I live than what I achieve and would look like a mind map rather than a lineage of milestones. That suits me just fine!
What's your approach to life? Have you thought about this lately?
Thursday, 23 February 2012
Nourishment of more than the food kind
On one hand I've been feeling really appreciated today and on the other I had an encounter that left me, well, puzzled.
There has been some turbulence this week. Nothing dramatic, just a few bumps, but enough to make me purse my lips and clench my jaw. The fact I haven't reached the point of not being able to open my mouth is a positive sign that I've been dealing with it.
My uncertainty this week has grown from challenges to the mindset I have when approaching dealings with other people. That mindset can be summed up as "I give the best of myself to others and have no reason to expect that others will not do the same." This has been a liberating thing, but it can also be challenging when people act in a way that is inconsistent with this. Vulnerability is the word that springs to mind.
I've been showered with love today from three women with whom I have very different relationships. The general theme has been "you're fantastic". How wonderful! How lucky I am to have friends in my world who are so willing to be expressive!
After my lovely long lunch with one of these women today, I dropped her at the tram stop in Collins Street and went off to run some errands. The particular stop is one of those super stops where the tram runs down the middle and passengers alight on the outside. I was waiting for an approaching tram to stop at the stop before crossing. To my left was a woman wearing a full bur-qua. She stepped out to cross and was on her way to walking in front of a tram approaching from the other direction. I called out to her to stop and took a step to grab her. She shook me off and said that she was fine.
"I'm not blind you know. I may be wearing a bur-qua, but I can see. I'm not blind!" she said angrily.
My instinct to stop her walking in front of an oncoming tram was unconnected to what she was wearing! I was just reaching out to another human being. Another woman who was also crossing, looked at me and rolled her eyes.
"You just saved that woman's life. Good work! She should be thanking you!"
I thanked her for noticing. It was nice to be acknowledged.
Wonder why the bur-qua clad woman took such offence to my gesture? I was feeling good after being so affirmed by my friends. Maybe the bur-qua clad woman is in need of such nourishment from the relationships in her own life. So, I thanked the woman who acknowledged me and it doesn't matter that the woman on the fatal path didn't - I still offered the gesture and that's what really matters.
Thank you to the wonderful people in my life.
There has been some turbulence this week. Nothing dramatic, just a few bumps, but enough to make me purse my lips and clench my jaw. The fact I haven't reached the point of not being able to open my mouth is a positive sign that I've been dealing with it.
My uncertainty this week has grown from challenges to the mindset I have when approaching dealings with other people. That mindset can be summed up as "I give the best of myself to others and have no reason to expect that others will not do the same." This has been a liberating thing, but it can also be challenging when people act in a way that is inconsistent with this. Vulnerability is the word that springs to mind.
I've been showered with love today from three women with whom I have very different relationships. The general theme has been "you're fantastic". How wonderful! How lucky I am to have friends in my world who are so willing to be expressive!
After my lovely long lunch with one of these women today, I dropped her at the tram stop in Collins Street and went off to run some errands. The particular stop is one of those super stops where the tram runs down the middle and passengers alight on the outside. I was waiting for an approaching tram to stop at the stop before crossing. To my left was a woman wearing a full bur-qua. She stepped out to cross and was on her way to walking in front of a tram approaching from the other direction. I called out to her to stop and took a step to grab her. She shook me off and said that she was fine.
"I'm not blind you know. I may be wearing a bur-qua, but I can see. I'm not blind!" she said angrily.
My instinct to stop her walking in front of an oncoming tram was unconnected to what she was wearing! I was just reaching out to another human being. Another woman who was also crossing, looked at me and rolled her eyes.
"You just saved that woman's life. Good work! She should be thanking you!"
I thanked her for noticing. It was nice to be acknowledged.
Wonder why the bur-qua clad woman took such offence to my gesture? I was feeling good after being so affirmed by my friends. Maybe the bur-qua clad woman is in need of such nourishment from the relationships in her own life. So, I thanked the woman who acknowledged me and it doesn't matter that the woman on the fatal path didn't - I still offered the gesture and that's what really matters.
Thank you to the wonderful people in my life.
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