Tuesday 31 January 2012

Brrrr...!

At my sewing group today I was told that one of the previous inhabitants of this house, a vicar's wife, had said that it had been so cold that the hot water bottles were frozen by morning. I guess that must have been one which had fallen out of bed onto the floor in the early hours. Or maybe she was joking.

When I got into my car this morning the steering wheel was so cold. It has made me find a pair of gloves to use just for driving in winter.

Sainsbury's has a big display of snow shovels by the till, that made me check the weather forecast when I got home. I have an industrial sized one in the garage ready for any storm.

Even my knitting needles were cold when I picked them up a few minutes ago. That's not right.

Monday 30 January 2012

Reading Bishop Tutu

Over Christmas and New Year I read about the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. I did this because it is so famous, because I have heard Bishop Tutu speak to the public in Durham in the 1980's, because there might be clues for me as I follow what is happening in Bahrain from a great cultural distance, and because I can!

So many paragraphs jumped out at me, but I am picking this edited one:

'Our meetings for the first year or so were hell. It was not easy to arrive at a common mind as each of us tried to stake our claim to the turf and to establish our particular space...I had not been prepared for this atmosphere because I had been spoiled by our church meetings, especially by our synod of bishops meetings, which we all looked forward to eagerly. They were so congenial, so affirmng, so positive, with none of the barbs, innuendoes and slights, real and imagined, that characterised those first Truth and Reconciliation meetings. We were certainly authentic in reflecting the alienations, chasms and suspicions that were part and parcel of our apartheid society. We were a useful paradigm for our nation, for if we could eventually be welded into a reasonably coherent, united and reconciled group then there was hope for South Africa.' p70/71

From 'No Future Without Forgiveness'
By Desmond Tutu, 1999

Friday 27 January 2012

Nothing like my own shed

I went out to sit in the stable which continues to exist in our back garden. It has a new wooden roof, put in by the previous owners, but the rest of it is gently returning to nature.

I have put in a comfortable folding garden chair. 2 logs act as a footstool and a side table for those little boxes of fruit juice!

It is such bliss to sit and smell the air, hear the birds, planes, bells for mid-day, wind wooshing through the trees and children in the playground nearby.

I even started nature journalling today. My new book on this lives out there, covered up by the blanket on the chair.

During the cold weather it is too uncomfortable, but I miss it so much. No door in the doorway, no glass in the window, just woodwork to hold up one side and brickwork on the other 3 sides.

Thursday 26 January 2012

Reading the BICI Report

I have a suspicion that not many people have read the whole of the BICI report.

I shall start with quoting paragraph 1240., partly because it is on the page before the one I'm on and I had to turn back a page to remind myself of where I was, and also because it put things clearly.

"1240. The Commission notes a number of statements by detainees consistently showing that those inflicting mistreatment expected impunity. The Commission is of the view that the lack of accountability of officials within the security system had led to a culture of impunity, whereby security officials have few incentives to avoid mistreatment of prisoners or to take action to prevent mistreatment by other officials. In the light of this culture of impunity, the Commission acknowledges the immense courage that was required for the victims of torture and mistreatment to report their experiences to Commission investigators."

What do I see? Bravery allocated to individuals and ultimate blame placed on a current human system, ie something which can be changed.

.....

I wrote that just after Christmas and am still reading. I would like to complete it before Feb 14th. That would be a good challenge.

Wednesday 25 January 2012

Fresh starts

One of my best parenting tools has been a fresh start. In fact lots of them, every half an hour possibly, until the concept of what happened earlier affects now is graciously forgotten. I am now able to go from active row to happy food making and delivery on a sixpence.

Sometimes I do get stuck in an angry rut. That is really annoying and pointless. Going out for a drive or walk is good. A long hot bath or generally having my own time out is great to break my bad cycle.

Very little actually matters that much.

Tuesday 24 January 2012

Brilliant idea

I was having a chat with my mother about all the self care which goes out of the window from 1st December onwards each year, only to be picked up again very gradually during the January.

I shall make myself an Advent Calendar based on all the actions which are of direct benefit to myself for that month. I would need a row of actions across the top and a list of days down the left hand side.

I would put boxes to fill in because I read that if people fill in a box rather than simply write a tick it has greater power. Maybe they are more keen to do the work of completely filling in the shape and so are correspondingly more keen to do the task required first.

The boxes could even be stars or crowns to beinkeeping with the season....

Embarrassing moments

T and I had a long discussion this evening.

After the actual discussion we got on to embarrassing moments from my past:

Dumping a holdall full of books at Victoria Coach Station on the ground beside the desk of the member of staff who, rightly, had refused to guard it until my mother arrived to pick it up. I had to go on with my journey for some reason. I have never stropped in public at a complete stranger before or since. It was back in the days of bomb scares, 1980's, so unaccompanied luggage was a no-no. I can't remember any comment at all from people around me, or from my mother who did get the bag from where I had left it.

Literally stamping my foot on the ground in fury at ds2 at home time at his primary school. The whole of the school and parents were in the playground at the end of the day and there was that same silence from the onlookers!

Thursday 19 January 2012

Silence across America

Mares' tails in the sky
Across the prairie grass bends
Walking with the wind

1986 Faith, South Dakota


Mountain clouds gather
Ravens fly tossed by the wind
And then the rain falls

1986 Teton National Park, Wyoming


On a desert road
Sunrise takes the longest time
Blooming like a rose

1986 Arco Desert, Idaho


Softly the rain fell
Tires whispered on wet streets
Slick with green-red leaves

1984 Spokane, Washington


Gray sky touched the sound
Quietly the ferry crossed
To the other side

1984 Port Townsend, Washington


Sometimes the changes come from within
Seeing with no eyes
Hearing with no ears
We begin

1975 Slide Creek, Kalmiopsis Wilderness


From Planet Walker: 17 years of silence, 22 years of walking
By John Francis, Ph.D.

Saturday 14 January 2012

The Artist's Way book

A group of us are using this book for the next 12 weeks. The Daily Pages are the daily task which is the key to everything else really.

Just today I read a quote by David Mitchell. I like the bit about dealing with stuckness.

'Everything you need to learn about writing you will learn, and can only learn, by writing. So get rid of the TV and work. And when you are stuck, write about being stuck, with merciless honesty, and you will become unstuck.'

Maybe doing the pages, which I haven't done yet today... is like brushing teeth and other daily actions. Yesterday I felt so energised and clear somehow after getting through it.

Friday 13 January 2012

No Kvetching Sabbath

On Twitter a contributor has a hashtag to encourage people to stop complaining for 24 hours a week. I tried it, combined with no Internet. Guess which one I couldn't do? It is so, so easy to just not use the Internet, but so impossible to stop moaning and complaining.

I will try again this Friday. Being silent may be the only way to do it....

Thursday 12 January 2012

The really olden days or far off times

'Bird Island was a trackless and tempestuous landscape, a wild land where natural forces reigned. As I stood on the mull of the hill, the fragile fortifications of the icebergs holding their line against the stormy seas below, my mind turned even further back, to riotous landscapes of prehistoric forests, jungled and unbroken, to times when nature alone transfigured the Earth, not the technologies of humanity.

Over 400 million years ago, the early clutch of exotic plants began their lustrous capture of the landscape. The first, monstrous forests emerged from giant horsetails, ferns taller than several men standing on one another's shoulders, and the simple, olive-green club mosses. After this grew the beautiful cycads and conifers, their nuts and kernels trumpeting their fertility, and giant ferns that sheltered little revolutionary blisters of pollen. These presaged the flowering beauty of our world, such as the exquisite, magnolia-like Archaeanthus linnenbergeri, ninety-eight million years ago, with its generous curls of petals and the dissected hearts of its leaves. And the buzz and dart of insects and birds, their lives strung on the scents and dusts and fruits of these early flowers.

No such wildernesses as these exist anywhere in the world today, not even on Bird Island. Our influence is too pervasive. But the Earth's astounding potential is there, recorded with almost photographic precision in its rocks, soils and ice. From these, we know of times and landscapes absolutely outlandish to our imaginings.'

From 'On Extinction: How We Became Estranged from Nature'
By Melanie Challenger
Granta 2011

Wednesday 11 January 2012

'...my internal shed'

'My dad's shed was dark and within it there was the feeling of all the possibilities, all the options that were open to me; it was like sitting at a vast organ and being able to pull all the stops. Anything could be made with his tools, which was an exhilarating thought. The shed was arranged delightfully with the window in the middle and all the drawers, shelves and tools down the sides and underneath. It was like an altar. I've thought later that as a physical template it was very satisfying, as well as being a powerful metaphor for creative thought. My own creativity and art practice has been a mental shed - a sanctuary as well as a place of action - where I have retreated to make things. It gives me a sense of security in a safe, enclosed space while I look out of the window on to the world. The shed was where I first learned how to make things, where my subconscious was schooled in colour, texture and the concept of making. I still have that excitement now, of being very glad that I'm a maker and that my internal shed is always available. I can retreat into my head while in bed or in the bath - wherever I am - to think about things I want to make, and knowing that I will create at least some of them is extremely exciting.'

From 'Grayson Perry : Portrait of the Artist as a Young Girl'
By Wendy Jones
Vintage 2007

Monday 9 January 2012

Counting on and on

It's easy now to note down things I am grateful for each night. Several topics keep on coming up: Twitter, Amnesty, campaigning work by so many wonderful and dedicated people, breathing, having more nights to sleep compared with those preparing for their last one. Contact with anything to do with the death penalty has a sobering effect.

Lots of my items are about things I find beautiful or give me pleasure. The luxury side of life. When it has been snowy I have been very happy about electricity and gas.

The phrase 'being able to...' comes up a lot too. Being able to post letters or read a book by Bishop Tutu is so good. Being able to link up with other home educating parents online via blogs and discussion lists is a wonderful thing. Amazon is amazing.

Writing, then switching off is helpful because I like being able to shut my book and have a sense of completion, job done.

Now I have written all that I see I need a simple opening of the day ritual to balance it out. My initial idea is to hand write part of a poem and draw an edging on the paper around it.

Wednesday 4 January 2012

Imagine getting up at 4am to go to the gym

"This was the epiphany. I am sitting there with a new baby, angry, tired, and out of shape. The baby is up for that 4 o'clock feeding. And my husband is lying there sleeping. That's when it struck [me] that if I wasn't there, he would eventually have to wake up [and take care of the girls.] It worked. I would get home from the gym, and the girls would be up and fed."

from 'Michelle Obama: In Her Own Words'
edited by Lisa Rogak

Tuesday 3 January 2012

Fractional reserve banking, as mentioned by Hector Sants

A bank lends out way more cash than it can pay back out to its depositors. Shock, horror...but it works most of the time and enables all sorts of ventures.

As a mother I offer 24/7 medical, emotional and practical care. However, were both my children to actually need this for more than a certain amount of time I would go broke. Same with firemen, the lifeboat crews, accident and emergency, politicians too. We rely on the fact that the service we offer is not asked for that often and there is time to recover or replenish our reserves in preparation for the next crisis.

I enjoy seeing parallels in life, even if they are a little bit rough and ready.

http://www.channel4.com/news/no-reason-to-pack-up-camp-say-st-pauls-protesters This is a short article about Hector Sants and the Occupy discussions.

Monopoly - every game is different

We are back in a playing Monopoly phase. It is laid out on our kitchen table permanently.

This evening we had a rerun of the 'but you must show everyone else the Community Chest card for long enough for us all to read the details' argument. I am the one who gets aggrieved if I can't read it!

Then we had the 'the game WILL stop at 9.30' statement from S.

We had a clash over no one else wanting to hear me explain how my very interesting variation on Free Parking and Go To Jail affected the choices players made.......zzzzz

Finally we agreed to just pull the rest of the crackers and a wit created a last fake one out of two ends put together. H and I fell for that one.

So all's well, that ends well. If your family can survive Monopoly, then it gets a medal.
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