Shadow artist
picture by anandham
I’m definitely one. Are you?
I’m back to doing the Artist’s Way again. This time with a bunch of online buddies I have known for some time through the Intuitive Parenting forum. The first chapter urges you to trawl through your past and process past hurts with regards to your creativity. I put up some resistance to this process last time, but this time I’m feeling more ready to express all those petty hurts. It feels good to get it out.
How weird that I have supported so many others on their creative journeys and in the process, delayed my own creative ‘awakening’.
We have many musical and artistic friends, and we’ve collaborated on creative projects in numerous ways, and yet I only indulged myself some formal music lessons for the first time last year. And I’m loving it!
Giving up art classes and drawing in highschool to focus on more academic things was a way of appeasing my dad’s interest in us being employable when we left school. Which I can appreciate (and goodness knows, the touch typing class definitely gave me skills I still use) because now I’m in a position to do it again, but geez, I don’t know why I’ve been denying myself that pleasure all these years! I did at least allow myself the pottery hobby years ago, but it really wasn’t practical with a small family. Must get back into that, too.
And there have been times when I’ve caught myself reacting against someone else’s success, just like it was described in the first chapter of TAW, and having an ‘aha’ moment about all the time I’ve wasted not-practising the things I loved to do and was good at, because my friends and acquaintances were already doing it, and better than I ever could be (ie. more practised at it by the time I realised it was my thing too).
Even becoming a teacher, was a way of staying in the shadows (which I suspect is the case for many teachers).
I’ve spent so much time in noisy clubs, lugging sound gear and coiling leads and packing cars for friends, more time assisting in recording sessions and bouncing ideas around, more time reading about than doing, more time enabling someone else to achieve their goals than pursuing my own. Even my husband’s successful career is an extension of my shadow.
Not that I see all that as a bad thing, but I can definitely now perceive it all as a delaying tactic, because I’m afraid to fail at something, rather than try my hardest. Well, I’m not that scared of trying anymore.
March 4th, 2010 - Posted in personal growth, childhood, play, wisdom, self-care | | 6 Comments
Sharing the load
picture by Jasmic
I still stand by the old adage that it takes a village to raise a child. I have great faith in the power of community living, and still believe it is necessary to put energy into building villages. Supportive, like-minded people just don’t appear in your life by magic.
So I was intrigued to read Cassie’s article on her new blog, Together Parenting. In particular, I loved her reference to a practice that I like to call housework swapping. This is something I have done and it is definitely a fast-track to more solid and reliable family friendships.
It helps immensely if your mother-community are relatively local and don’t have to travel far to arrive at your door. It is the locality issue, most of all, that hinders the development of an effortless back and forth of support between families. Which is why families in remote or regional areas often feel so isolated. Still, there are ways to connect with like-minded folks, though those ways will be unique to every community. The Australian Breastfeeding Association does a great job of networking mothers in urban Australia, but country mothers may find their options limited. Maybe there are community notice boards, or playgroups and mother’s groups in the area? Maybe there are special interest clubs to join, or maybe it’s a matter of placing an advertisement in the local free press. However might work, it’s fine to do. The biggest step is, of course, just doing it.
Once an initial connection is made, it is necessary to break the ice. Someone must be willing to play host to strangers in the first instance, but think of it this way: one small investment can pay dividends for years, and if you’re especially lucky, for the rest of your life. Do yourself a favour and make the first move. A family BBQ as Cassie suggests might be a great starting point. Don’t feel your house must be perfect to have guests come. They’ll be busy families too. And if they pass judgement on your first impression they’re obviously not ideal candidates for your village.
Regular get-togethers are a good idea, though I don’t believe it needs to be so formal as a regular day of the week, it can help get things off the ground in the early stages. Figure out your common interests and design your activities around them. Want to get out of the house with the kids? Fine. Want to knock a few tasks off your to do list? Great - but remember to return the favour. Want to stockpile meals for the freezer? Why not host a cook-in, plan the menu, pool the ingredients and send everyone home afterwards with a variety of meals they wouldn’t normally have ready-made in the freezer.
No need to bake before the gathering - do it together! There is no greater bonding exercise than the communal preparation of food. And the communal clean-up afterwards is more pleasant than being left with a sink full of dirty dishes as your happy house-guests leave your home - none the wiser to the extra stress they’ve caused you.
Housework and garden swapping are two of my favourite past-times. For some reason, I find washing someone else’s dishes, or vac’ing someone else’s floor much more enjoyable than doing my own. Or maybe it’s just having the company while doing it.
Here’s how it works:
Alternate hosts so that everyone gets the chance to have their house cleaned. Plan some activities for the children that require minimal supervision, such as sand-play or water-play in an outside area (bowls of water, cups and whisks and teapots - all those non-toys kids love so much). Guests can bring some of their own cleaning equipment if the host doesn’t have enough to go around. Task allocation can be done however the group pleases, but I have found it works best if the host does the more intimate stuff, such as cleaning her own toilets, while the guests do the generic windows, floors and walls. Over time, the barriers will break down. I assure you, you’ll all be cleaning out each other’s fridges and pantries and folding each other’s laundry in no time.
Most importantly, don’t force it. Do what works for the group without expecting too much of the time frame or the relationships. When it feels right, you’ll know it is right. Keep communication open among the group and don’t feel bad if some members fall away over time. The communal thing might excite you and me, but some people simply don’t know how to negotiate giving and receiving. That’s their loss. Not yours.
February 23rd, 2010 - Posted in gratitude, parenthood, community, duty of care, friendship, self-care | | 2 Comments
Domestic haiku #23
busy mother
brushes her teeth
and cleans the mirror
February 21st, 2010 - Posted in haiku | | 4 Comments
The power of Thank You
picture by T. A. Joseph
Doesn’t matter whether we personally need to be thanked for things we do, we still appreciate it. Even if the typical answer is, “no problem” or, “you’re welcome” that tiny acknowledgement has the power to save relationships. I have learned the hard way.
I used to convene a community group. The volunteers were all women, new mothers with very young children and babies, often with another on the way. Of course, that described me too, and I suppose, blinkered by leadership, I thought we were all motivated by the same things. Our little group was so damned productive, really we did great things together, so I figured we all obtained some kind of satisfaction inherent to the task itself and none of us ever yearned for that pat on the back, that “well done” or “thank you” that lubricates the engines of a small group of people working in synergy.
Inevitably, there lay my downfall and probably the most significant lesson in my life to date. People thrive on positive words, gratitude and warm feelings. Our little network of very busy, sleep deprived, yet highly motivated new mothers gave and gave and gave of themselves. But rarely did I think to acknowledge their contributions and achievements. Over time we all moved on, most of us feeling quite spent by the experience. Thanks to Facebook, most of us can keep in touch, but I feel a strange emptiness, that what was, is no more, and I do wish I had taken more time to thank everyone for their hard work and friendship. It really was a pivotal time in my life. Hopefully for others too. It is nice to see the community group still thriving since my own sisterhood stopped having babies and moved onto the next stage of life. I do miss them sometimes.
Now I’m more proactive about acknowledging the initiative of others, including my husband and children. I realise it doesn’t matter whether someone is expecting to be thanked or not. If they are, I can fulfill their expectations. If they’re not, I can pleasantly surprise them with those little words that cost me nothing, but seem so generous.
And in more general terms, I can use the energy I generate with those thank you’s to cultivate a gratitude mindset that touches every aspect of my life. For several years I kept a gratitude journal - something that seemed frivolous and self-indulgent when I started it (about the time I was involved with the above community group) but that ever so gradually improved my outlook on life, love and family and gave me access to a mental state, a flow, that was so healthy and life-affirming.
I want to write more on gratitude later. But for now I just want to put out there a big THANK YOU to those women (and their families) whom I probably never fully thanked for their contribution to the community group way back when. And THANK YOU to those of you who read this blog, even if you don’t offer comment. I hope there is something here for you.
February 14th, 2010 - Posted in personal growth, gratitude, happiness, ritual, beliefs, wisdom | | 2 Comments
On edge
picture by darkmatter
This post was partly inspired by an entry on Ali Clifford’s photographic blog Twenty-Ten when she featured a candid portrait of her mother. I was moved by the image and by the title: she brought me here. If only my feelings for my mother were so pure and so simple.
My mother has come to stay. She arrived yesterday and will be with us for three weeks while the hubby is away on a business trip. I love her dearly, but there is … history … and much that goes unspoken between us. I have tried to discuss said history with my mother. Many times. But she cannot bear the confrontation. Either she shuts down, or she blows up. And neither situation is easy to endure. Especially for three weeks under one roof.
So here we are on day one and already I need an outlet for my frustration. How can one person push so many of my buttons at once? I’ve done a lot of work, a lot of healing, over the past six or seven years and I truly thought I was at peace with the past. I truly thought I had let go of Mum and all her petty stuff. I had evolved enough to have her come and stay for longer than we’ve spent together since I was a teenager coming home for uni holidays. I truly thought I was now above it all. And as far as she is aware, I am.
Oh, but what would I give for her to be different to who she is! What if she was relaxed and open and able to talk about anything with me? What if she could rationalise her experiences and trust her memories and express her love freely? What if she could be free from pain and relieved of the weight of her anxiety and depression? What would she be like then?
But it is futile to wish her different. She is who she is. Our relationship is what it is. The only aspect of this situation I control is my own. So I will try, very hard, to have a pleasant three weeks with my mother, to give her happy memories with her grandchildren, to avoid any conflict or unpleasantness that may arise, to keep building the precarious bridge between her world and mine.
But it won’t take much to push me over the edge.
February 10th, 2010 - Posted in personal growth, nostalgia, grandparents, grief, love, self-care | | 3 Comments
