Erm, happy new year! Chinese new year that is.... So yes, it's been a while and I still haven't sent out my Christmas epistle to all those who usually get it. I've been even more late than usual this season.
Why? Well basically November happened, and then December... For me, like most people I know, the major political event of November 2016 was pretty galling, but I was already in a state of altered reality and discombobulation. Nothing to do with Brexit (although that too has added to the general feeling that somehow we seem to be living in Discworld where parody has overtaken reality), but a day after her 90th birthday Phyllis took ill. Three days of scaring the living daylights out of me with her rapid decline led to hospitalization, treatment, further decline and the prospect of losing her loomed large.
Having reached the point where the Doctors were saying 'you do realize this is end of life care don't you, we're just making her comfortable for her last days, perhaps weeks' everyone started turning up to say goodbye to Grandma. She was ready to go, prayed to go in fact, but whoever was listening decided that there were other plans afoot and instead she started to get better.
It has been a slow, but steady improvement. And after a transfer back to the local hospital for rehab and now the local rest home for more of the same, she's literally back on her feet again if a tad unsteady at times. Not back to how she was (remarkably well for 90!), but there's time yet and currently the issue is reminding her how sick she was so don't over do things!
So I'm now rather well acquainted with the local hospital staff and routines, Joanne and I could probably get a pretty good reference if we wanted to be auxiliaries and we've learned more than we ever wanted to about a whole heap of things to do with the personal care of an incapacitated person. We've also learned how desperately understaffed our hospitals are and that the prospects are slim for anyone who needs that level of care who doesn't have family and friends to be at the bedside almost 24hrs a day coaxing food and drink down in minute but regular quantities, who help can adjust positioning the moment discomfort is felt, who can assist a nurse rather than them have to wait until two of them are free to change dressings and pads, toilet, shower etc.
Gradually life is now slipping into a 'new normal' and feels somewhat more connected to the outside world rather than being in some strange bubble. In fact I have been blogging for a couple of weeks, but that was setting up Marion's blog for her recipes etc. Basically she doesn't have time to get things publishable, so it's a team effort where she drafts stuff and I post it. After her and Mandy rescuing the gluten free and/or non-meat eating Summer Gatherers from the results of miscommunication and understandings and whipping up some fabulous food with the kitchen staff her recipes are in even more demand than ever! So now I just need to get my own blog back on track again, oh and get Docs in Advance ready for the printer, and the last bit of the new EcoCentre website drafted, and..... hmmm, anyone got a timeturner I could borrow?
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Sunday, February 05, 2017
Monday, November 07, 2016
to have and have not
A f/Friend shared this article on Facebook earlier this week. In it a piece written by a medical student who had experimented with living on $3.30 a day for 200 days is critiqued. His argument was that as he had thrived on this it shows how all the other factors of poverty must have a bigger effect on health outcomes than poor diet.
His argument sounds fairly reasonable until you factor in that he had weekends 'off', and stuck it out for 200 days out of +20yrs. Real poverty doesn't take weekends off, and the health impacts are generally due to accumulation over years not 200 days, unless one is only 200 days old. Anyway, the other article says lots of this better than I can.
I've lived on or below the official poverty line for a hefty chunk of my life. However I come from a middle class background where there has been enough money to house us well throughout my childhood no matter how low our family income might have been at times. Whenever I've found myself facing homelessness (3 times!) I've had friends with good incomes who have provided me with a home. I've lived off a very low disposable income since coming to Aotearoa NZ but there has always been someone else paying the bulk of the bills. Yes I have eating healthily off a low income down pat which proves it can be done, but I have the cashflow ability to buy in bulk, I never have to sacrifice buying food to replace a broken washing machine, buy school shoes, or fix a car. Also the only times in life that I've been turned down for jobs through prejudice has been when I was considered 'over qualified', rather than from having the wrong address, skin colour etc. Yes I know what it is like to have too much month at the end of the money, and have lived off frozen spinach, tinned tomatoes and bread from the half price bakery for several weeks waiting for the next grant cheque, but I've never actually gone hungry.
I think for some people doing the living off $3 a day or whatever experiment is quite an eye-opener and can teach them a very different perspective on life they might otherwise have been oblivious to. But they are usually still doing that in the comfort of their own home, with their bills paid, a job to go to etc etc etc. To really 'get it' you need to factor in more than just one aspect of your day. I'm always impressed though with the will power of those who've done the living off x amount a day, or refugee rations for a week/month in aid of Oxfam etc to raise awareness/funds. It's not something I ever intend to try given my health, and it would take a lot of planning not to end up with other food in the house/garden going to waste because you weren't eating anything but the rations etc, which does seem rather pointless. After all I'm pretty sure those for whom it is a daily reality wouldn't appreciate perfectly good food being wasted on their behalf.
The difference between living in poverty and living below the poverty line can be huge and I am grateful for the skills I've learned as a result of the latter, and the fact that I've had the privilege in life not to fall into the former. Being part of inter-generational poverty, growing up with poor nutrition through lack of funds and/or education, living off cheap takeaways as there isn't enough money for power bills this month is the reality for some. Living in poverty is often more expensive than simply being poor, you can't take advantage of supermarket specials as you have no spare cash to buy anything not desperately needed this week, you end up paying far more for power etc to get the fixed installments so you can budget (or worse have to have pay a $500 bond to get those fixed installments! I was horrified to discover this when sorting out our neighbours affairs earlier this year) and so the list goes on. So yes providing good healthy food for the children of these families will go a long way to improving their outcome, no matter how cheaply someone else in better circumstances can feed themselves. There has recently been a swell of enthusiasm locally to get some fruit trees planted around town on public land and I really hope we can make it happen to improve access to free healthy kai here as there are plenty who need it. Now we just have to kick up a noisy fuss about the new food regulations which are making it difficult for small scale growers who sell off their surplus at the market to help make ends meet... there's always something to make life harder when you're struggling already.
His argument sounds fairly reasonable until you factor in that he had weekends 'off', and stuck it out for 200 days out of +20yrs. Real poverty doesn't take weekends off, and the health impacts are generally due to accumulation over years not 200 days, unless one is only 200 days old. Anyway, the other article says lots of this better than I can.
I've lived on or below the official poverty line for a hefty chunk of my life. However I come from a middle class background where there has been enough money to house us well throughout my childhood no matter how low our family income might have been at times. Whenever I've found myself facing homelessness (3 times!) I've had friends with good incomes who have provided me with a home. I've lived off a very low disposable income since coming to Aotearoa NZ but there has always been someone else paying the bulk of the bills. Yes I have eating healthily off a low income down pat which proves it can be done, but I have the cashflow ability to buy in bulk, I never have to sacrifice buying food to replace a broken washing machine, buy school shoes, or fix a car. Also the only times in life that I've been turned down for jobs through prejudice has been when I was considered 'over qualified', rather than from having the wrong address, skin colour etc. Yes I know what it is like to have too much month at the end of the money, and have lived off frozen spinach, tinned tomatoes and bread from the half price bakery for several weeks waiting for the next grant cheque, but I've never actually gone hungry.
I think for some people doing the living off $3 a day or whatever experiment is quite an eye-opener and can teach them a very different perspective on life they might otherwise have been oblivious to. But they are usually still doing that in the comfort of their own home, with their bills paid, a job to go to etc etc etc. To really 'get it' you need to factor in more than just one aspect of your day. I'm always impressed though with the will power of those who've done the living off x amount a day, or refugee rations for a week/month in aid of Oxfam etc to raise awareness/funds. It's not something I ever intend to try given my health, and it would take a lot of planning not to end up with other food in the house/garden going to waste because you weren't eating anything but the rations etc, which does seem rather pointless. After all I'm pretty sure those for whom it is a daily reality wouldn't appreciate perfectly good food being wasted on their behalf.
The difference between living in poverty and living below the poverty line can be huge and I am grateful for the skills I've learned as a result of the latter, and the fact that I've had the privilege in life not to fall into the former. Being part of inter-generational poverty, growing up with poor nutrition through lack of funds and/or education, living off cheap takeaways as there isn't enough money for power bills this month is the reality for some. Living in poverty is often more expensive than simply being poor, you can't take advantage of supermarket specials as you have no spare cash to buy anything not desperately needed this week, you end up paying far more for power etc to get the fixed installments so you can budget (or worse have to have pay a $500 bond to get those fixed installments! I was horrified to discover this when sorting out our neighbours affairs earlier this year) and so the list goes on. So yes providing good healthy food for the children of these families will go a long way to improving their outcome, no matter how cheaply someone else in better circumstances can feed themselves. There has recently been a swell of enthusiasm locally to get some fruit trees planted around town on public land and I really hope we can make it happen to improve access to free healthy kai here as there are plenty who need it. Now we just have to kick up a noisy fuss about the new food regulations which are making it difficult for small scale growers who sell off their surplus at the market to help make ends meet... there's always something to make life harder when you're struggling already.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Helen
Thanks to Facebook I heard this morning that Helen Steven has died. It is many years since I last saw Helen, but she has long been a huge inspiration to me and I am very grateful for having had the opportunity to meet her.
The first of those occasions was probably the most memorable. I was 16 years old and attending a Northern Friends Peace Board facilitators training day in Leeds, I think it was at Adel QMH. I'd been to Junior Yearly Meeting earlier that year and the session Marion McNaughton had led, and the Non-Violent Direct Action (NVDA) workshop she ran with us, had made a huge impression on me, so I'd jumped at the chance of going to something else she was running. It was a bit scary though, I went on my own which required a bus, a train and then another bus in Leeds to get there. I wasn't to know then, but it was to be the first of many times I'd set off for a QMH I'd never been to before putting my faith in a hand drawn map on a photocopied bit of paper to ensure safe arrival. No Google maps, no smartphone apps (not that I have those now either mind), and only a supply of 10p coins for the phonebox to call for help if I got lost! It was also the first time I'd gone to something 'for grown-ups' rather than all age or aimed at teenagers.
I arrived at the QHM to find that there was at least someone from our MM whose face and name was familiar to me, even though I didn't really know them. Also there was another Young Friend, albeit a good number of years older than me, and Woody quickly took me under his wing for the day. So there I was, still a little nervous, but reassured some that it was okay to be there and those gathered either didn't think I was 'too young', or at least were kind enough not to say as much!
We settled down into worship to start the day. This at least was very familiar and I started to relax. As the silence gathered there was a creak as the door opened, and two women tiptoed in to join us. I expected they'd quietly take up a couple of the empty chairs in the circle and the silence would continue as with most Meetings for Worship. But no, Marion leapt up out of her chair, flung her arms wide open and cried out 'Helen! Ellen! But I thought you were in prison!' Their quick reply was they'd been released the day before and had got the train down from Scotland first thing in the morning.
After hugs had been exchanged they did indeed join the circle and the silence continued until its appointed time. After which explanations were made and the rest of us discovered that Helen & Ellen had been in prison for about a week I think, as a result of NVDA at Faslane, the nuclear submarine base in Scotland. (A place where Ellen was to later make international news as one of the Trident Ploughshares 3 who broke in to the base, boarded a submarine, damaged the computer control panels, throwing bits of it overboard, and then when still no-one had come to investigate rang to let the base know they were there, and then sat and ate their sandwiches whilst they awaited arrest. The ground breaking ruling by Sheriff Gimblett followed, being that they were preventing a greater crime and nuclear warheads had no place in Scotland. Sadly the warheads are still there)
It was a rather sobering reminder about the possible implications of taking part in NVDA. But the focus that day was more on facilitating groups within the peace network and we got stuck right in to the days programme. As the day passed I got to hear snippets from Helen in our small group discussions about her seemingly tireless campaigning for peace, and against Trident. As the years rolled on I learned much more, from her, from others speaking about her, and from reading her 2005 Swarthmore Lecture No Extraordinary Power. I remember her wonderful sense of humour, that twinkle in her laughing eyes, and the quiet confidence that seemed to flow out of her to embrace everyone else in the room. But most of all I will remember her has one of the first Friends I got to know who somehow seemed to embody speaking truth to power, walking cheerfully and letting her life speak. Quaker phrases that I was just starting to really understand were as applicable to people in my lifetime as they were to the historical Friends I'd learned about in Children's Meetings.
Helen was a remarkable woman, and her loss will be felt keenly by many. So many people I know, either amongst Quakers, or those who knew her through the Iona Community and/or Peace House in Dunblane, of my generation and younger, have spoken of her lovingly over the years. Whilst she probably wouldn't have thanked us for the analogy 30 years ago, I think she would've understood what we meant by the description of being everyone's Quaker granny. She had time for everyone, of all ages, and had the ability to help you see value in yourself and yet be very self depreciating about her own doings and made sure she didn't get stuck on any pedestals! Helen helped us believe we could make a difference, and in doing so she certainly made a difference to many lives. Sadly the peacework and campaigning Helen was renown for is still needed as much today as it was when I first met her, but I'm pretty sure her legacy will live on for many generations to come as those she inspired go on to inspire others.
Mā mua ka kite a muri
Mā muri ka ora a mua
Those who lead give sight to those who follow
Those who follow give life to those who lead
postscript
The Herald obituary refers to her imprisonment in Cornton Vale as happening in 1987, so it must've been a few months later than I remembered. But I'm pretty sure it was still before my first YFCC in February that year. http://www.heraldscotland.com/news/14447403.Helen_Steven/
The first of those occasions was probably the most memorable. I was 16 years old and attending a Northern Friends Peace Board facilitators training day in Leeds, I think it was at Adel QMH. I'd been to Junior Yearly Meeting earlier that year and the session Marion McNaughton had led, and the Non-Violent Direct Action (NVDA) workshop she ran with us, had made a huge impression on me, so I'd jumped at the chance of going to something else she was running. It was a bit scary though, I went on my own which required a bus, a train and then another bus in Leeds to get there. I wasn't to know then, but it was to be the first of many times I'd set off for a QMH I'd never been to before putting my faith in a hand drawn map on a photocopied bit of paper to ensure safe arrival. No Google maps, no smartphone apps (not that I have those now either mind), and only a supply of 10p coins for the phonebox to call for help if I got lost! It was also the first time I'd gone to something 'for grown-ups' rather than all age or aimed at teenagers.
I arrived at the QHM to find that there was at least someone from our MM whose face and name was familiar to me, even though I didn't really know them. Also there was another Young Friend, albeit a good number of years older than me, and Woody quickly took me under his wing for the day. So there I was, still a little nervous, but reassured some that it was okay to be there and those gathered either didn't think I was 'too young', or at least were kind enough not to say as much!
We settled down into worship to start the day. This at least was very familiar and I started to relax. As the silence gathered there was a creak as the door opened, and two women tiptoed in to join us. I expected they'd quietly take up a couple of the empty chairs in the circle and the silence would continue as with most Meetings for Worship. But no, Marion leapt up out of her chair, flung her arms wide open and cried out 'Helen! Ellen! But I thought you were in prison!' Their quick reply was they'd been released the day before and had got the train down from Scotland first thing in the morning.
After hugs had been exchanged they did indeed join the circle and the silence continued until its appointed time. After which explanations were made and the rest of us discovered that Helen & Ellen had been in prison for about a week I think, as a result of NVDA at Faslane, the nuclear submarine base in Scotland. (A place where Ellen was to later make international news as one of the Trident Ploughshares 3 who broke in to the base, boarded a submarine, damaged the computer control panels, throwing bits of it overboard, and then when still no-one had come to investigate rang to let the base know they were there, and then sat and ate their sandwiches whilst they awaited arrest. The ground breaking ruling by Sheriff Gimblett followed, being that they were preventing a greater crime and nuclear warheads had no place in Scotland. Sadly the warheads are still there)
It was a rather sobering reminder about the possible implications of taking part in NVDA. But the focus that day was more on facilitating groups within the peace network and we got stuck right in to the days programme. As the day passed I got to hear snippets from Helen in our small group discussions about her seemingly tireless campaigning for peace, and against Trident. As the years rolled on I learned much more, from her, from others speaking about her, and from reading her 2005 Swarthmore Lecture No Extraordinary Power. I remember her wonderful sense of humour, that twinkle in her laughing eyes, and the quiet confidence that seemed to flow out of her to embrace everyone else in the room. But most of all I will remember her has one of the first Friends I got to know who somehow seemed to embody speaking truth to power, walking cheerfully and letting her life speak. Quaker phrases that I was just starting to really understand were as applicable to people in my lifetime as they were to the historical Friends I'd learned about in Children's Meetings.
Helen was a remarkable woman, and her loss will be felt keenly by many. So many people I know, either amongst Quakers, or those who knew her through the Iona Community and/or Peace House in Dunblane, of my generation and younger, have spoken of her lovingly over the years. Whilst she probably wouldn't have thanked us for the analogy 30 years ago, I think she would've understood what we meant by the description of being everyone's Quaker granny. She had time for everyone, of all ages, and had the ability to help you see value in yourself and yet be very self depreciating about her own doings and made sure she didn't get stuck on any pedestals! Helen helped us believe we could make a difference, and in doing so she certainly made a difference to many lives. Sadly the peacework and campaigning Helen was renown for is still needed as much today as it was when I first met her, but I'm pretty sure her legacy will live on for many generations to come as those she inspired go on to inspire others.
Mā mua ka kite a muri
Mā muri ka ora a mua
Those who lead give sight to those who follow
Those who follow give life to those who lead
postscript
The Herald obituary refers to her imprisonment in Cornton Vale as happening in 1987, so it must've been a few months later than I remembered. But I'm pretty sure it was still before my first YFCC in February that year. http://www.heraldscotland.com/news/14447403.Helen_Steven/
Thursday, February 25, 2016
rights and responsibilities
Well I've finally made it, I've got my citizenship of Aotearoa New Zealand. It has taken a few months over ten years since I moved here and I really don't want to think about how many dollars the Depts of Immigration, and Internal Affairs have had out of me between them along the way, and there's still a passport to pay for! However no matter what happens to the rules and regulations about permanent residents I know I'm safely ensconced here and I can come and go (once I've obtained aforementioned passport) whenever I like.
It was a strange experience going to the ceremony and affirming my loyalty to Queen and country (Queen Elizabeth II of New Zealand that is, quite who they think QEI was I don't know). For some there it was a obviously a very emotional event. I'm not really one for ceremony and dignitaries etc, and I probably have a rather cynical view of such proceedings, I would've been quite happy just getting a letter in the post. But it was nice to be able to go through the ceremony in the atrium at Te Ahu which I'm rather fond of, and to be able to have Phyllis and William with me in support.
In many ways though it felt like rubber stamping; transferring my Quaker membership here felt like it had far more significance to me emotionally, and spiritually. Getting citizenship has been the legal side of things. As we were about to head over I said to Phyllis that I felt like I was dressed for a wedding; something old (my brooches), something new (my shawl), something borrowed (Nancy's shoes) and something blue (the shawl again). I've known a few folk who've got the legal side of their weddings done separately from the more meaningful (to them) celebration of their relationship and commitment and it does all feel rather similar, albeit lacking any kind of party 8yrs or so ago when I was formally handed over from the care of South East Scotland MM (or no doubt Area Meeting by then) of Britain YM to Waitemata North MM of the YM of Aotearoa New Zealand.
The way many Kiwis have become second class citizens in Australia in recent years, with limited or no rights to citizenship, benefits, education grants for them or their children etc etc etc has certainly been an extra incentive to ensure I did get my citizenship here. Thankfully our Government hasn't stooped to playing the same game against the Aussies, or those from any other country, yet, but to be quite honest I wouldn't put it past them. Especially now Britain has started removing rights Kiwis have previously had to health care whilst in the UK. When folk jokingly or otherwise had suggested in the past that I take the 'green card' route to residency I'd pointed out that aside from the dearth of eligible options I wouldn't want my ability to stay in the country to hang on my ability to stay in a relationship. Nor would I want it to hang on my ability to stay healthy! I don't exactly have an outstanding track record on either front, and yes the two have certainly been related at times.
There have been various occasions over the years when people I know well have risked getting arrested whilst taking part in non-violent direct action. I've never dared take part in case it affected my ability to stay here. As Kiwis are being bundled off to detention camps ready for deportation from Australia for being of 'bad character' or having clocked up a cumulative two years in jail again it is a reality that if the powers that be decide they don't like you they can kick you out if you aren't a citizen. We won't go into the irony of Australia kicking convicts out whilst still considering their convict early settlers to be next to royalty! It doesn't matter why you were in jail either; so clocking up jail time from protesting against weapons trade fairs, or against keeping refugee children in detention camps where there is torture and other human rights abuses going on would have you treated the same way as someone done for fire arms offences or grievous bodily harm. Now I'm not about to rush out and get myself arrested at the next protest march (they can still stop my benefits!), but at least my concerns on that front now are the same as the next Kiwi's, and there is certainly plenty to protest about. I'm not sure if my British citizenship (which I retain) would protect me from being treated like a second class citizen in Australia or not now I'm a Kiwi, but as I have absolutely no desire to live there (too many nasty poisonous bitey things, and that's just the politicians....) it is a moot point.
So yes, I'm proud to be a Kiwi and it is most definitely home, but that means taking the rough with the smooth. Much as we like to describe this country as paradise it is a relative term, and there is much room for improvement. I see part of my responsibilities as a citizen are to challenge the inequalities; to speak truth to power; to be part of kicking up a noisy fuss when things aren't right; especially on behalf of those who, like I was just a few days ago, don't yet have the security of knowing their place here is permanent.
It was a strange experience going to the ceremony and affirming my loyalty to Queen and country (Queen Elizabeth II of New Zealand that is, quite who they think QEI was I don't know). For some there it was a obviously a very emotional event. I'm not really one for ceremony and dignitaries etc, and I probably have a rather cynical view of such proceedings, I would've been quite happy just getting a letter in the post. But it was nice to be able to go through the ceremony in the atrium at Te Ahu which I'm rather fond of, and to be able to have Phyllis and William with me in support.
In many ways though it felt like rubber stamping; transferring my Quaker membership here felt like it had far more significance to me emotionally, and spiritually. Getting citizenship has been the legal side of things. As we were about to head over I said to Phyllis that I felt like I was dressed for a wedding; something old (my brooches), something new (my shawl), something borrowed (Nancy's shoes) and something blue (the shawl again). I've known a few folk who've got the legal side of their weddings done separately from the more meaningful (to them) celebration of their relationship and commitment and it does all feel rather similar, albeit lacking any kind of party 8yrs or so ago when I was formally handed over from the care of South East Scotland MM (or no doubt Area Meeting by then) of Britain YM to Waitemata North MM of the YM of Aotearoa New Zealand.
The way many Kiwis have become second class citizens in Australia in recent years, with limited or no rights to citizenship, benefits, education grants for them or their children etc etc etc has certainly been an extra incentive to ensure I did get my citizenship here. Thankfully our Government hasn't stooped to playing the same game against the Aussies, or those from any other country, yet, but to be quite honest I wouldn't put it past them. Especially now Britain has started removing rights Kiwis have previously had to health care whilst in the UK. When folk jokingly or otherwise had suggested in the past that I take the 'green card' route to residency I'd pointed out that aside from the dearth of eligible options I wouldn't want my ability to stay in the country to hang on my ability to stay in a relationship. Nor would I want it to hang on my ability to stay healthy! I don't exactly have an outstanding track record on either front, and yes the two have certainly been related at times.
There have been various occasions over the years when people I know well have risked getting arrested whilst taking part in non-violent direct action. I've never dared take part in case it affected my ability to stay here. As Kiwis are being bundled off to detention camps ready for deportation from Australia for being of 'bad character' or having clocked up a cumulative two years in jail again it is a reality that if the powers that be decide they don't like you they can kick you out if you aren't a citizen. We won't go into the irony of Australia kicking convicts out whilst still considering their convict early settlers to be next to royalty! It doesn't matter why you were in jail either; so clocking up jail time from protesting against weapons trade fairs, or against keeping refugee children in detention camps where there is torture and other human rights abuses going on would have you treated the same way as someone done for fire arms offences or grievous bodily harm. Now I'm not about to rush out and get myself arrested at the next protest march (they can still stop my benefits!), but at least my concerns on that front now are the same as the next Kiwi's, and there is certainly plenty to protest about. I'm not sure if my British citizenship (which I retain) would protect me from being treated like a second class citizen in Australia or not now I'm a Kiwi, but as I have absolutely no desire to live there (too many nasty poisonous bitey things, and that's just the politicians....) it is a moot point.
So yes, I'm proud to be a Kiwi and it is most definitely home, but that means taking the rough with the smooth. Much as we like to describe this country as paradise it is a relative term, and there is much room for improvement. I see part of my responsibilities as a citizen are to challenge the inequalities; to speak truth to power; to be part of kicking up a noisy fuss when things aren't right; especially on behalf of those who, like I was just a few days ago, don't yet have the security of knowing their place here is permanent.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
past present
I've spent a lot of time over the last few weeks working on a photobook, not for me or a Summer Gathering one (although one of those is also in progress), but as a birthday present for one of my self-appointed nephews. I'm reasonably sure no-one who sees this post will see him before he gets it, or if they do I'm sure they can keep a secret!
For almost four years we both lived around here and I spent many a weekend plus time in the school holidays looking after him. Anyone who followed my photostream on Flickr will know I took a lot of photos of him, and the ones that got uploaded were often only a fraction of those taken. I'd hear 'Take another, and another, and one of this' as he'd pull a different pose, expression or jump yet again off whichever piece of playground equipment it was, aiming for that 'perfect' shot.
These days though he's very reluctant to be in front of the camera and I practically have to plead with him to get a more up to date photo, so I figured it was time to share a reminder of how it used to be! Well that and the fact that when I was visiting recently he very proudly showed me an album with old photos, school certificates, and postcards I'd sent to him over the years. I'd thought about making the book last year but wasn't really sure the time was right so left it, this year though I knew for sure he'd appreciate it.
It was lovely looking back at the photos as I pulled the book together, it was as much a document of my life then as his. Amongst the stuff I'd recently brought back from Pukepoto was a bundle of paintings and drawings he'd done when staying with us. Those have now been photographed and recycled, it was hard to let go of them even so. But I have a box that has been covered with his pictures that I keep my files in so I do still have some originals. I think putting the photobook together helped me let go of the pictures, realizing that it was the memory of him doing the painting and drawing with me that was far more important to me than what he actually produced.
I've also been sorting through a box of cassette tapes, and I managed to halve my collection - again! It's a decade now since I had anything to play them on so it really was getting ridiculous to keep them all. I wrote a list of a pile of albums that I had that had been copied by various people that I had yet to get on cd or electronically and parted with those, and for mix tapes I'd put together either from my own or various past flatmates/boyfriend's music collections I went through and wrote a list of the tracks I now don't have, and parted with those tapes too. Mix tapes made for me by others survived to live another day, along with some recordings of friends' bands and a few originals that I still can't bring myself to part with even if I do have the cd/iTunes version now! Then to make up for what felt like a ruthless cull I splurged on iTunes and bought some of the most nostalgic 'missing' tracks, and fished out the insert cards that had friends' handwriting on and kept those too. After all, it has reached the point now where it is the memory of the people associated with it that is far more important than the physical means to listen to the music. And a few pieces of card take up way less room than a pile of C90s!
So two very different eras of my life, one recorded in photographs, the other in music (I've photos of that era too, but they are a task for another time), both now reduced to a more compact mostly digital archive. Another step towards a smaller scale of living without sacrificing the important things, the memories of people who have shaped my life; our love, laughter, tears and hugs.There's a quote from Maya Angelou: I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel, this is very true and is probably the most important thing to remember about someone, but it is nice to have some physical reminders of the times you have shared all the same.
For almost four years we both lived around here and I spent many a weekend plus time in the school holidays looking after him. Anyone who followed my photostream on Flickr will know I took a lot of photos of him, and the ones that got uploaded were often only a fraction of those taken. I'd hear 'Take another, and another, and one of this' as he'd pull a different pose, expression or jump yet again off whichever piece of playground equipment it was, aiming for that 'perfect' shot.
These days though he's very reluctant to be in front of the camera and I practically have to plead with him to get a more up to date photo, so I figured it was time to share a reminder of how it used to be! Well that and the fact that when I was visiting recently he very proudly showed me an album with old photos, school certificates, and postcards I'd sent to him over the years. I'd thought about making the book last year but wasn't really sure the time was right so left it, this year though I knew for sure he'd appreciate it.
It was lovely looking back at the photos as I pulled the book together, it was as much a document of my life then as his. Amongst the stuff I'd recently brought back from Pukepoto was a bundle of paintings and drawings he'd done when staying with us. Those have now been photographed and recycled, it was hard to let go of them even so. But I have a box that has been covered with his pictures that I keep my files in so I do still have some originals. I think putting the photobook together helped me let go of the pictures, realizing that it was the memory of him doing the painting and drawing with me that was far more important to me than what he actually produced.
I've also been sorting through a box of cassette tapes, and I managed to halve my collection - again! It's a decade now since I had anything to play them on so it really was getting ridiculous to keep them all. I wrote a list of a pile of albums that I had that had been copied by various people that I had yet to get on cd or electronically and parted with those, and for mix tapes I'd put together either from my own or various past flatmates/boyfriend's music collections I went through and wrote a list of the tracks I now don't have, and parted with those tapes too. Mix tapes made for me by others survived to live another day, along with some recordings of friends' bands and a few originals that I still can't bring myself to part with even if I do have the cd/iTunes version now! Then to make up for what felt like a ruthless cull I splurged on iTunes and bought some of the most nostalgic 'missing' tracks, and fished out the insert cards that had friends' handwriting on and kept those too. After all, it has reached the point now where it is the memory of the people associated with it that is far more important than the physical means to listen to the music. And a few pieces of card take up way less room than a pile of C90s!
So two very different eras of my life, one recorded in photographs, the other in music (I've photos of that era too, but they are a task for another time), both now reduced to a more compact mostly digital archive. Another step towards a smaller scale of living without sacrificing the important things, the memories of people who have shaped my life; our love, laughter, tears and hugs.There's a quote from Maya Angelou: I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel, this is very true and is probably the most important thing to remember about someone, but it is nice to have some physical reminders of the times you have shared all the same.
Monday, September 21, 2015
WGYF+10: nostalgia, reflection, and looking forward
I'm not sure quite why it has taken several weeks to finish this post, probably because the right words kept eluding me, but having to get something written down for Thomas helped give shape the bits I'd been struggling to encapsulate. Anyway, 'tis good enough, and it will have to do...
It is 10 years now since the World Gathering of Young Friends 2005, was held in Lancaster, UK. Thomas pitched the idea of a reunion event that would also be part of the preparation for those going to the FWCC Plenary in Peru in January 2016, and he made it happen. It wasn't until I got there that I really appreciated how nice it was to just turn up as a participant at a WGYF event! Something I hadn't had to organize or feel any responsibility for, that was a real gift for which I am incredibly grateful.
Accompanied by the next generation we had a very literal reminder of what 'fruit had been born' in the intervening years. Sharing the less obvious fruit that had grown out of WGYF was a really special experience. We drifted between a worship sharing mode and discussion as felt moved and there was a real depth to the time spent recalling what stood out for us most about WGYF itself, the Triennial here in 2004 that led up to it for four of us, and the subsequent impact on the following decade.
We had Ben, Lucas and Saskia join us as they are all hopefully heading to Peru in January, along with Charlotte and Thomas, so the ease with which we dropped into that deep sharing cannot fully be pinned on the collective shared WGYF experience. But the fact that we had so much shared spiritual experience between us I am sure helped us slip into the space so easily and comfortably. I found myself holding back a couple of times from saying something as I 'knew' that a someone was about to speak and I knew my contribution could, and should, wait until after it.
There are some groups where I am hesitant to engage with fully at a deep level as I feel vulnerable, and unclear as to whether that is the right space or time for certain sharings. The old 'not wanting to sound silly' anxiety is a long standing acquaintance of mine. Yet in this space there were no such worries, no holding back. Even in an over dinner conversation that included visiting local Friends I was able to better articulate something I've been grappling with in recent years than ever before. The sense of everyone really wanting to make this work, that had flowed through WGYF itself, carried on and really enabled us to all be fully present, no mean achievement with young children around!
I've been trying to distill from that weekend some coherent thoughts to pass on to Thomas who offered to write up a collective piece on the event for our national Friends Newsletter. What was it about the WGYF experience that I carry with me today in my life and into my future? Two things that really stand out for me are the Meeting for Worship to discern the theme for WGYF, and the strong sense of calling to do the administrator job. Both of which happened the year before the event itself.
The Meeting for Worship was at the FWCC Triennial in Auckland January 2004. It remains the most amazing worship I have ever been part of, and at over two hours is most definitely the longest unprogrammed Quaker worship I've been part of. Yet somehow the time flew by, it gave us some insight into the early days of Quakerism and the lengthy Meetings for Worship that seemed to to be fairly common at the time, with or without a lengthy sermon from George Fox and others. There was a palpable sense of the spirit moving in that Meeting, and yet when we looked back at it the four of us there at the weekend who had been part of it had very different, but equally high impact memories of it. In some ways that Meeting has overshadowed every Meeting for Worship I've been part of since, as none have had quite the same feel. Although there have been a few that have come close.
In a similar way the incredible sense that the administrator job had my name on it has made other leadings feel more vague and shaped by my will as much as any leading of the spirit. I'm not saying that sense of calling hasn't been there, as it has. But nothing quite like that almighty kick up the backside that sent me hurtling into a whirlwind of 18mths living, breathing, and often dreaming, WGYF around the clock. Part of me yearns for that overpowering sense of purpose, yet at the same time the mere thought of of it is exhausting! It was achievable for a shortish set period of time, but as a way of life??? Can that same drive to do whatever be compatible with ordinary life, one that has time and space for other things and people, and can it be done without being detrimental to my health?
The event itself in all honesty is a bit of a blur. In the flurry of WGYF related posts on Facebook as the 10 year anniversary came around Betsy shared a photo (amongst many others) of me sitting at a computer in the corner of the administration team's office with my back to the rest of the room engrossed in whatever it was that needed doing. I have some very vivid memories of sitting in that chair, including receiving Loida's email about getting the delayed Friends from Bolivia and Peru to WGYF 'Miracles we can do, the impossible takes a little longer'. That line summed up a lot of the achievements in making the event happen. Still I find out new things that took place somewhere along the line to make WGYF happen that I had no idea about, and I was the one supposedly in the thick of it with a finger in every pie! It really does feel like a miracle that it happened at all.
I keep coming back to something Leith said at the weekend, and has written about for our Friends Newsletter that she has shared with us, about the importance of the stories that were shared, of the inspirational people that were there, the many and varied ways in which Friends put their faith into action in their lives. There were many there passionately pursuing their causes in life who stood out like beacons, successors of the Valiant Sixty perhaps? But there were also those whose light wasn't as blinding who still inspired a reassessment and taking stock of how our faith integrated into our daily lives. It isn't given to all of us to be 'speaking truth to power' at QUNO, FCNL or QCEA etc, or being International Observers in Palestine with CPT or EAPPI, or being out there in the thick of aid and development work with AFSC, QPSW, Peace Corps or many other agencies. To me those are the dauntingly scary tasks that I'm very grateful others feel called to do and it never failed to amaze me to hear the stories of those, often a decade or more younger than me, going out into the field or working in the political arena. These were Young Friends, between the ages of 18-35 remember, which is why it sticks in my craw somewhat when I hear older Friends lamenting the lack of younger Friends 'getting involved'. If only those Friends could hear some of the stories we did.
Equally powerful were the stories of those working within their own communities to bring people together, share resources and learning, resolve conflicts and create a better environment for all. These stories were often the ones that had the most power in that you'd more often come away thinking 'I could do that too...', which then begs the question 'so why don't you?'
It wasn't just the activists working for change that inspired me from within the WGYF community, but the depth of soul searching, prayer and seeking clearness that often accompanied or prompted it. As administrator I was privileged to get to read all the application forms that came in and get an advanced insight into those about to be gathered, and I was rather relieved when reading them I hadn't had to fill one in! I could much better articulate my readiness to perform the practical tasks of enabling such an event happen than I could find the spiritual language to express what I could give or hope to get from participating from the event at a deeper level. By the end of it all though, through a process that at times felt like total immersion surrounded by those to whom such words came more easily, I had started to find my own voice, and better articulate my experience of the movement of the spirit without feeling awkward or silly.
I met many people through WGYF who I continue to admire greatly to this day. I get a a little glow of reflected glory every time I see a WGYF name pop up on the international Quaker grapevine - whether they are working for their YM, running seminars, taking up Quaker posts in educational establishments or the kind of organisations I mentioned earlier. The mission statement spoke of creating the next generation of Quaker leaders, words I wasn't fully comfortable with when I first heard them as the concept of 'leadership' is often linked with a hierarchy we generally don't have. But I will say this, there are an awful lot of 'weighty Friends' around the world who went to WGYF 2005, which I think means we can claim that that mission was certainly accomplished! To take all the credit for it would be ridiculous, but as Jonathan put it, WGYF reinforced a trajectory he was already on. I know that for some people WGYF sent them hurtling off in a new direction, for others more the quiet reassurance that they were on the right track.
For me, it felt like a stepping stone in a journey of having faith that the universe will show me the way; the next step being to get to Aotearoa NZ and be Resident Friend in Wellington, the one after that to undertaking my ECE training, but the last few years I've had a feeling of being stuck midstream. Not without things to do mind, andmaybe I've needed this time to take stock and sort a few things out in life.
But where is that journey taking me now? I think the simple living and plain dress discussions that I ended up in at WGYF have definitely shaped the downsizing I'm currently in the midst of. It isn't so much the 'live simply so others can simply live' ideology, worthy as that is, that drives this but an increasing awareness of my footprint on this planet and my attempt to reduce that. Being able to live less encumbered massively increases ones ability to go where the spirit blows you too. Some of the threads of conversations had and stories heard feel like they are starting to come together and form a new pattern, and I'm pretty sure that conversations from this weekend that have built on those from the last ten years will in time be seen to be milestones on that journey.
Whatever happens, I am really grateful to have been blessed with such amazing fellow travellers on this WGYF journey. I cannot imagine my life without them, even when most are only a Facebook post in my day. Seeing the energy that buzzed round in Kenya 2012 when the WGYF 1985ers got together for a photo op, as well as us 2005ers, just reinforced for me how lasting that connection is, irrespective of how well or often you've kept in touch over the intervening years. We were a great people to be gathered and we are still seeing what Love can do in our lives, and long may that continue.
 |
| WGYF 2005 participants plus children |
Accompanied by the next generation we had a very literal reminder of what 'fruit had been born' in the intervening years. Sharing the less obvious fruit that had grown out of WGYF was a really special experience. We drifted between a worship sharing mode and discussion as felt moved and there was a real depth to the time spent recalling what stood out for us most about WGYF itself, the Triennial here in 2004 that led up to it for four of us, and the subsequent impact on the following decade.
We had Ben, Lucas and Saskia join us as they are all hopefully heading to Peru in January, along with Charlotte and Thomas, so the ease with which we dropped into that deep sharing cannot fully be pinned on the collective shared WGYF experience. But the fact that we had so much shared spiritual experience between us I am sure helped us slip into the space so easily and comfortably. I found myself holding back a couple of times from saying something as I 'knew' that a someone was about to speak and I knew my contribution could, and should, wait until after it.
There are some groups where I am hesitant to engage with fully at a deep level as I feel vulnerable, and unclear as to whether that is the right space or time for certain sharings. The old 'not wanting to sound silly' anxiety is a long standing acquaintance of mine. Yet in this space there were no such worries, no holding back. Even in an over dinner conversation that included visiting local Friends I was able to better articulate something I've been grappling with in recent years than ever before. The sense of everyone really wanting to make this work, that had flowed through WGYF itself, carried on and really enabled us to all be fully present, no mean achievement with young children around!
I've been trying to distill from that weekend some coherent thoughts to pass on to Thomas who offered to write up a collective piece on the event for our national Friends Newsletter. What was it about the WGYF experience that I carry with me today in my life and into my future? Two things that really stand out for me are the Meeting for Worship to discern the theme for WGYF, and the strong sense of calling to do the administrator job. Both of which happened the year before the event itself.
The Meeting for Worship was at the FWCC Triennial in Auckland January 2004. It remains the most amazing worship I have ever been part of, and at over two hours is most definitely the longest unprogrammed Quaker worship I've been part of. Yet somehow the time flew by, it gave us some insight into the early days of Quakerism and the lengthy Meetings for Worship that seemed to to be fairly common at the time, with or without a lengthy sermon from George Fox and others. There was a palpable sense of the spirit moving in that Meeting, and yet when we looked back at it the four of us there at the weekend who had been part of it had very different, but equally high impact memories of it. In some ways that Meeting has overshadowed every Meeting for Worship I've been part of since, as none have had quite the same feel. Although there have been a few that have come close.
In a similar way the incredible sense that the administrator job had my name on it has made other leadings feel more vague and shaped by my will as much as any leading of the spirit. I'm not saying that sense of calling hasn't been there, as it has. But nothing quite like that almighty kick up the backside that sent me hurtling into a whirlwind of 18mths living, breathing, and often dreaming, WGYF around the clock. Part of me yearns for that overpowering sense of purpose, yet at the same time the mere thought of of it is exhausting! It was achievable for a shortish set period of time, but as a way of life??? Can that same drive to do whatever be compatible with ordinary life, one that has time and space for other things and people, and can it be done without being detrimental to my health?
The event itself in all honesty is a bit of a blur. In the flurry of WGYF related posts on Facebook as the 10 year anniversary came around Betsy shared a photo (amongst many others) of me sitting at a computer in the corner of the administration team's office with my back to the rest of the room engrossed in whatever it was that needed doing. I have some very vivid memories of sitting in that chair, including receiving Loida's email about getting the delayed Friends from Bolivia and Peru to WGYF 'Miracles we can do, the impossible takes a little longer'. That line summed up a lot of the achievements in making the event happen. Still I find out new things that took place somewhere along the line to make WGYF happen that I had no idea about, and I was the one supposedly in the thick of it with a finger in every pie! It really does feel like a miracle that it happened at all.
I keep coming back to something Leith said at the weekend, and has written about for our Friends Newsletter that she has shared with us, about the importance of the stories that were shared, of the inspirational people that were there, the many and varied ways in which Friends put their faith into action in their lives. There were many there passionately pursuing their causes in life who stood out like beacons, successors of the Valiant Sixty perhaps? But there were also those whose light wasn't as blinding who still inspired a reassessment and taking stock of how our faith integrated into our daily lives. It isn't given to all of us to be 'speaking truth to power' at QUNO, FCNL or QCEA etc, or being International Observers in Palestine with CPT or EAPPI, or being out there in the thick of aid and development work with AFSC, QPSW, Peace Corps or many other agencies. To me those are the dauntingly scary tasks that I'm very grateful others feel called to do and it never failed to amaze me to hear the stories of those, often a decade or more younger than me, going out into the field or working in the political arena. These were Young Friends, between the ages of 18-35 remember, which is why it sticks in my craw somewhat when I hear older Friends lamenting the lack of younger Friends 'getting involved'. If only those Friends could hear some of the stories we did.
Equally powerful were the stories of those working within their own communities to bring people together, share resources and learning, resolve conflicts and create a better environment for all. These stories were often the ones that had the most power in that you'd more often come away thinking 'I could do that too...', which then begs the question 'so why don't you?'
It wasn't just the activists working for change that inspired me from within the WGYF community, but the depth of soul searching, prayer and seeking clearness that often accompanied or prompted it. As administrator I was privileged to get to read all the application forms that came in and get an advanced insight into those about to be gathered, and I was rather relieved when reading them I hadn't had to fill one in! I could much better articulate my readiness to perform the practical tasks of enabling such an event happen than I could find the spiritual language to express what I could give or hope to get from participating from the event at a deeper level. By the end of it all though, through a process that at times felt like total immersion surrounded by those to whom such words came more easily, I had started to find my own voice, and better articulate my experience of the movement of the spirit without feeling awkward or silly.
I met many people through WGYF who I continue to admire greatly to this day. I get a a little glow of reflected glory every time I see a WGYF name pop up on the international Quaker grapevine - whether they are working for their YM, running seminars, taking up Quaker posts in educational establishments or the kind of organisations I mentioned earlier. The mission statement spoke of creating the next generation of Quaker leaders, words I wasn't fully comfortable with when I first heard them as the concept of 'leadership' is often linked with a hierarchy we generally don't have. But I will say this, there are an awful lot of 'weighty Friends' around the world who went to WGYF 2005, which I think means we can claim that that mission was certainly accomplished! To take all the credit for it would be ridiculous, but as Jonathan put it, WGYF reinforced a trajectory he was already on. I know that for some people WGYF sent them hurtling off in a new direction, for others more the quiet reassurance that they were on the right track.
For me, it felt like a stepping stone in a journey of having faith that the universe will show me the way; the next step being to get to Aotearoa NZ and be Resident Friend in Wellington, the one after that to undertaking my ECE training, but the last few years I've had a feeling of being stuck midstream. Not without things to do mind, and
But where is that journey taking me now? I think the simple living and plain dress discussions that I ended up in at WGYF have definitely shaped the downsizing I'm currently in the midst of. It isn't so much the 'live simply so others can simply live' ideology, worthy as that is, that drives this but an increasing awareness of my footprint on this planet and my attempt to reduce that. Being able to live less encumbered massively increases ones ability to go where the spirit blows you too. Some of the threads of conversations had and stories heard feel like they are starting to come together and form a new pattern, and I'm pretty sure that conversations from this weekend that have built on those from the last ten years will in time be seen to be milestones on that journey.
Whatever happens, I am really grateful to have been blessed with such amazing fellow travellers on this WGYF journey. I cannot imagine my life without them, even when most are only a Facebook post in my day. Seeing the energy that buzzed round in Kenya 2012 when the WGYF 1985ers got together for a photo op, as well as us 2005ers, just reinforced for me how lasting that connection is, irrespective of how well or often you've kept in touch over the intervening years. We were a great people to be gathered and we are still seeing what Love can do in our lives, and long may that continue.
 |
| WGYF+10 particpants |
Thursday, April 16, 2015
A&Q
For most Quakers A&Q stands for Advices & Queries. There are various versions around the world, often starting off quoting the advice from the elders of Balby:
Dearly beloved Friends, these things we do not lay upon you as a rule or form to walk by, but that all, with the measure of light which is pure and holy, may be guided; and so in the light walking and abiding, these may be fulfilled in the Spirit, not from the letter, for the letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life.
(Postscript to an epistle to ‘the brethren in the north’ issued by a meeting of elders at Balby, 1656)
But today for me A&Q took on a whole new meaning as I labelled up another tub of stewed Apple and Quince for the freezer on a label too small for whole words! Combining our own abundance of quinces with someone else's over-supply of apples has provided (along with the feijoas from over the fence, still no new neighbours...) an alternative for the year to come to the ridiculous amounts of stewed peaches from our own garden. Whilst it was lamented at the time that the plum tree didn't fruit much this year it is probably just as well as we've now reached the stage where we have to start eating the other things in the freezer on a regular basis in order to make room for more fruit. The rest of the household is gutted about having to eat up the ice cream as you can probably imagine, we also need the emptied ice cream tubs to put more fruit in so the pressure really is on!
The task and writing A&Q did bring some of our Advices & Queries to mind though:
C14: Even the mundane and the everyday can be performed as a form of worship
D14: Aim to live simply. A simple lifestyle freely chosen is a source of strength. Value beauty in all its forms. Share what you have.
D17: Certain times of life bring energy and activity; other times bring a need for rest and renewal. Do you respond to the rhythms of your life, accepting or declining commitments without an undue sense of pride or guilt?
D17 resonates particularly. There have been many tasks lately that have been a response of the rhythms of the seasons, yet I have to remind myself when feeling guilty about not taking on more that the rhythm of my own life means I still don't have as much energy as I'd like to. I need to remember the fact that I've managed to do as much as I have is a huge improvement on this time last year, but unless I factor in enough 'rest and renewal' there isn't going to be enough energy for more activity!
ps Could anyone use some quinces? We've given away as many as we can find homes for and still have plenty to spare!
Dearly beloved Friends, these things we do not lay upon you as a rule or form to walk by, but that all, with the measure of light which is pure and holy, may be guided; and so in the light walking and abiding, these may be fulfilled in the Spirit, not from the letter, for the letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life.
(Postscript to an epistle to ‘the brethren in the north’ issued by a meeting of elders at Balby, 1656)
But today for me A&Q took on a whole new meaning as I labelled up another tub of stewed Apple and Quince for the freezer on a label too small for whole words! Combining our own abundance of quinces with someone else's over-supply of apples has provided (along with the feijoas from over the fence, still no new neighbours...) an alternative for the year to come to the ridiculous amounts of stewed peaches from our own garden. Whilst it was lamented at the time that the plum tree didn't fruit much this year it is probably just as well as we've now reached the stage where we have to start eating the other things in the freezer on a regular basis in order to make room for more fruit. The rest of the household is gutted about having to eat up the ice cream as you can probably imagine, we also need the emptied ice cream tubs to put more fruit in so the pressure really is on!
The task and writing A&Q did bring some of our Advices & Queries to mind though:
C14: Even the mundane and the everyday can be performed as a form of worship
D14: Aim to live simply. A simple lifestyle freely chosen is a source of strength. Value beauty in all its forms. Share what you have.
D17: Certain times of life bring energy and activity; other times bring a need for rest and renewal. Do you respond to the rhythms of your life, accepting or declining commitments without an undue sense of pride or guilt?
D17 resonates particularly. There have been many tasks lately that have been a response of the rhythms of the seasons, yet I have to remind myself when feeling guilty about not taking on more that the rhythm of my own life means I still don't have as much energy as I'd like to. I need to remember the fact that I've managed to do as much as I have is a huge improvement on this time last year, but unless I factor in enough 'rest and renewal' there isn't going to be enough energy for more activity!
ps Could anyone use some quinces? We've given away as many as we can find homes for and still have plenty to spare!
Friday, April 03, 2015
the post-gathering blues
I read this post by Robin recently and wished I'd had something like this 30yrs ago to explain why, if my weekend had been so wonderful, was I now in tears. Why, over the following few years, I'd come home from various events completely exhausted, emotionally and physically wrung out, completely unable to articulate why and desperate for the next gathering to come round. Why I couldn't find it in me to be pleased to be back home.
As the years have passed I've learned that those early experiences of Quaker gatherings were far from unique and whilst no there never will be quite the same combination of people together again, the same intensity, the same depth and the same connections can be found time after time after time. Some of the older and more seasoned participants were sharing wry smiles with each other at the outpourings of emotion at the end of the World Gathering of Young Friends 2005 as we all went our separate ways around the globe. Even then email and text meant keeping in touch with those far afield was an absolute doddle compared to the days when snail mail and expensive toll calls was all we had. And now with Facebook, Twitter etc it is even easier.
But no matter how much easier it to keep in touch with those you've shared the journey with (literally and metaphorically) the bit that doesn't seem to change is that time of 're-entry to reality', adjusting back to the everyday stuff that fills up the days between gatherings. Many a conversation has been had as to which is 'reality', that which we were usually in the process of leaving behind at the time on the long journey home, or that which we were heading to? Being part of a household with others going to the same things helps that transition, if nothing else they are as knackered as you are and they at least get the in jokes. But even if the home environment is full of fellow weary travellers, the outside world isn't. So you find yourself having to get used to not being able to just drop into deep and meaningful conversation with the person next to you even if you've never met them before; remembering that actually if you want to eat tonight you'd better think about cooking rather than just stand in a queue and be given a plateful; adjusting your conversation back into normal everyday language rather than a plethora of acronyms and 'Quaker speak' (jargon?); and not expecting everyone in sight to be wearing a name badge.
On the plus side there is your own bed, no (or a much shorter) queue for the loo and shower, and literally all the comforts of home. You know you should be glad to be home, to those who you've missed and have missed you, and most of you is, especially the sleep deprived and possibly also jet-lagged part of you. But no matter how many gatherings you go to there is always that window of readjustment from one set of routines to another, and no longer having the day's carefully timetabled programme on a piece of paper in your bag or pocket to refer to when in doubt as to what comes next. There are very few who readjust back without some size of a dose of the post-gathering blues. There are many different coping mechanisms, generally mine is to retreat from the world and try to process what I've just experienced within my head rather than by talking about it. I never seem to be able to find the words to explain why it was so *wonderful, deep, moving, exciting, energising, heartbreaking, etc etc etc (*delete as appropriate), which I acknowledge isn't easy on those who didn't go who are trying to get an idea of what I experienced.
Depending on the theme or purpose of the event 'real life' can seem incredibly trivial when you get back to it. It can be hard not to get judgmental about those who are getting wound up about the latest tv reality show when you've been hearing first hand experiences of genocide and incredible stories of survival and forgiveness. It can also be hard (especially when still a teenager/young adult), to convey how humbling and inspiring it is to meet such people, or those working in reconciliation work closer to home; or standing up for their beliefs to the point of being imprisoned for it; to meet people who appear on the news reels; to learn from some incredibly talented and wise folk and so on without it sounding like those who lead more everyday normal lives 'back home' are an inferior breed that you suppose you'll just have to put up with until your next exciting adventure... Sure you could go home and complain about the snorers in your dorm, the food, the weather, the uncomfortable and/or squeaky chairs/beds/floor, that your flight/train/bus was delayed, and there are those who do just that, and you get the impression that the thing biggest importance of the last few days was not having the right breakfast cereal and they'd had a thoroughly miserable time. The latter of which occasionally is true but generally such reports are simply another coping mechanism. It's far easier to complain about cultural differences and expectations than it is to describe a deep spiritual experience or feeling of inadequacy for the task you are feeling called to take on, and it is often much easier for the listener to understand.
It's reassuring in many ways to read posts like Robin's, someone who goes to such events for work as well as leisure, it is a reminder that such feelings are normal. I'd like to think that after 30yrs of gatherings I've got better at getting home afterwards, but I know it is something I still need to make more effort with and at least have a few coherent sentences on hand to describe my time away other than 'Yeah it was good. I'm off to get some sleep...'
As the years have passed I've learned that those early experiences of Quaker gatherings were far from unique and whilst no there never will be quite the same combination of people together again, the same intensity, the same depth and the same connections can be found time after time after time. Some of the older and more seasoned participants were sharing wry smiles with each other at the outpourings of emotion at the end of the World Gathering of Young Friends 2005 as we all went our separate ways around the globe. Even then email and text meant keeping in touch with those far afield was an absolute doddle compared to the days when snail mail and expensive toll calls was all we had. And now with Facebook, Twitter etc it is even easier.
But no matter how much easier it to keep in touch with those you've shared the journey with (literally and metaphorically) the bit that doesn't seem to change is that time of 're-entry to reality', adjusting back to the everyday stuff that fills up the days between gatherings. Many a conversation has been had as to which is 'reality', that which we were usually in the process of leaving behind at the time on the long journey home, or that which we were heading to? Being part of a household with others going to the same things helps that transition, if nothing else they are as knackered as you are and they at least get the in jokes. But even if the home environment is full of fellow weary travellers, the outside world isn't. So you find yourself having to get used to not being able to just drop into deep and meaningful conversation with the person next to you even if you've never met them before; remembering that actually if you want to eat tonight you'd better think about cooking rather than just stand in a queue and be given a plateful; adjusting your conversation back into normal everyday language rather than a plethora of acronyms and 'Quaker speak' (jargon?); and not expecting everyone in sight to be wearing a name badge.
On the plus side there is your own bed, no (or a much shorter) queue for the loo and shower, and literally all the comforts of home. You know you should be glad to be home, to those who you've missed and have missed you, and most of you is, especially the sleep deprived and possibly also jet-lagged part of you. But no matter how many gatherings you go to there is always that window of readjustment from one set of routines to another, and no longer having the day's carefully timetabled programme on a piece of paper in your bag or pocket to refer to when in doubt as to what comes next. There are very few who readjust back without some size of a dose of the post-gathering blues. There are many different coping mechanisms, generally mine is to retreat from the world and try to process what I've just experienced within my head rather than by talking about it. I never seem to be able to find the words to explain why it was so *wonderful, deep, moving, exciting, energising, heartbreaking, etc etc etc (*delete as appropriate), which I acknowledge isn't easy on those who didn't go who are trying to get an idea of what I experienced.
Depending on the theme or purpose of the event 'real life' can seem incredibly trivial when you get back to it. It can be hard not to get judgmental about those who are getting wound up about the latest tv reality show when you've been hearing first hand experiences of genocide and incredible stories of survival and forgiveness. It can also be hard (especially when still a teenager/young adult), to convey how humbling and inspiring it is to meet such people, or those working in reconciliation work closer to home; or standing up for their beliefs to the point of being imprisoned for it; to meet people who appear on the news reels; to learn from some incredibly talented and wise folk and so on without it sounding like those who lead more everyday normal lives 'back home' are an inferior breed that you suppose you'll just have to put up with until your next exciting adventure... Sure you could go home and complain about the snorers in your dorm, the food, the weather, the uncomfortable and/or squeaky chairs/beds/floor, that your flight/train/bus was delayed, and there are those who do just that, and you get the impression that the thing biggest importance of the last few days was not having the right breakfast cereal and they'd had a thoroughly miserable time. The latter of which occasionally is true but generally such reports are simply another coping mechanism. It's far easier to complain about cultural differences and expectations than it is to describe a deep spiritual experience or feeling of inadequacy for the task you are feeling called to take on, and it is often much easier for the listener to understand.
It's reassuring in many ways to read posts like Robin's, someone who goes to such events for work as well as leisure, it is a reminder that such feelings are normal. I'd like to think that after 30yrs of gatherings I've got better at getting home afterwards, but I know it is something I still need to make more effort with and at least have a few coherent sentences on hand to describe my time away other than 'Yeah it was good. I'm off to get some sleep...'
Sunday, March 08, 2015
passing through...
A couple of days ago my Facebook feed was full of death, dying, and remembering those we've lost. I'd also spent several hours trawling through emails and files for Testimonies to the grace of god in the life of various Friends in our Yearly Meeting, some of which are just names to me, others well loved and much missed f/Friends. We never know quite how many other lives we touch as we pass through our own, who will remember us, who will mourn our passing.
I'm feeling grateful to have been a part of so many lives, sometimes just a fairly small part, and/or a long ago part, but a part none the less. Each and every one of them has helped shape me into who I am today, we're all ripples in each others' ponds.
Giving thanks for the lives of those who have passed on, celebrating who they were to each of us, keeping them alive in our hearts bears out the words of William Penn (1693) 'They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it.Death cannot kill what never dies. Nor can spirits ever be divided that love and live in the same Divine Principle, the root and record of their friendship. If absence be not death, neither is theirs.'
I'm feeling grateful to have been a part of so many lives, sometimes just a fairly small part, and/or a long ago part, but a part none the less. Each and every one of them has helped shape me into who I am today, we're all ripples in each others' ponds.
Giving thanks for the lives of those who have passed on, celebrating who they were to each of us, keeping them alive in our hearts bears out the words of William Penn (1693) 'They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it.Death cannot kill what never dies. Nor can spirits ever be divided that love and live in the same Divine Principle, the root and record of their friendship. If absence be not death, neither is theirs.'
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
rain at last!
It's raining!!!! There are two reasons why this has caused great excitement in our house in the last 24hrs. Firstly we've been desperately needing it for weeks: the ground was parched and cracked, the veg garden was suffering, the fire risk has been extreme and the farmers around here were getting anxious. The second reason is we have two new rainwater tanks - 2,000 litres capacity collecting off one side of the garage roof. With what has fallen in the last 24hrs we've already got about 100lt in there which is pretty good going for mostly fairly light rain.
I emptied the kitchen scraps bucket on to the compost heap this afternoon and went to wash the bucket out from the hosepipe when I realised I could use collected rainwater instead, much better to be chucking the swilled out contents on to the garden without the added extras of chlorine and whatever else goes into our tap water to make it taste so disgusting before it is filtered! It'll probably be a while before we have enough in the tanks to run a hose off it, but even just to be able to fill up a watering can or bucket is great.
It's just a small step towards improving our footprint on the earth, We've got re-purposed sorbitol tanks set up, they're sitting on some old concrete fence posts laid down on the bare earth. A few fixings and a short length of alkathene pipe and hey presto! Jess had fun with the gold spraypaint sealing all the joints in the galvanised cages the tanks sit in so hopefully it should last a good few years. What's more Oscar traded a supply of firewood sustainably cut from their land (mostly storm-fall plus thinnings) in exchange for the tanks so we supported alternative economies, re-purposed materials and reduced our tap water consumption all in one project! That's pretty good I reckon. A shame Phyllis had to wait 30yrs to get the rainwater tanks she wanted but at least it has happened whilst she's still living here.
Now to figure out if we can squeeze another tank or two in somewhere to collect the water off the other side of the garage, or the house...
I emptied the kitchen scraps bucket on to the compost heap this afternoon and went to wash the bucket out from the hosepipe when I realised I could use collected rainwater instead, much better to be chucking the swilled out contents on to the garden without the added extras of chlorine and whatever else goes into our tap water to make it taste so disgusting before it is filtered! It'll probably be a while before we have enough in the tanks to run a hose off it, but even just to be able to fill up a watering can or bucket is great.
It's just a small step towards improving our footprint on the earth, We've got re-purposed sorbitol tanks set up, they're sitting on some old concrete fence posts laid down on the bare earth. A few fixings and a short length of alkathene pipe and hey presto! Jess had fun with the gold spraypaint sealing all the joints in the galvanised cages the tanks sit in so hopefully it should last a good few years. What's more Oscar traded a supply of firewood sustainably cut from their land (mostly storm-fall plus thinnings) in exchange for the tanks so we supported alternative economies, re-purposed materials and reduced our tap water consumption all in one project! That's pretty good I reckon. A shame Phyllis had to wait 30yrs to get the rainwater tanks she wanted but at least it has happened whilst she's still living here.
Now to figure out if we can squeeze another tank or two in somewhere to collect the water off the other side of the garage, or the house...
 |
| Oscar with Chris & Jess moving the tanks into position |
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| All in place and waiting for rain to fall... |
Thursday, November 13, 2014
aliens in my head or just another day?
Today Jane and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Finally, after about a year, the Kaitaia TimeBank banner to be used outside the EcoCentre, at working bees, market stalls etc., has been finished. It didn't take that long to make relatively speaking, but there was about a 9 month gap between cutting out all the lettering and starting on the main panels.
The main reason things stalled was because my brain just wasn't up to figuring out the logistics of the banner which goes on one of those freestanding pole things. Should the pole go up one side or the middle? Should the lettering be from top to bottom (so you tilt your head to read it) or go across-ways? How do I make it so it will cope with the high winds of the Far North and not get ripped to shreds in a few weeks? If I put a pole pocket down the middle which seams can I sew before I turn the thing from inside out to the right way out and which have to wait until after?
Gradually I've plodded through the list. Jane, bless her, did the applique work which at least saved me that headache. Today saw the final piecing together of the two panels to make a single banner. It is a sign of how much I have improved over the last few months that I even tried. How often I used my quick-unpick is a sign of how much further I still have to go... I nearly had the whole thing sewn together complete with pole pockets etc before the penny dropped that the three lines I'd just sewn meant I now couldn't turn it the right way out - d'oh. I shouldn't have been surprised though. Earlier in the day, whilst working on another rather time-delayed project, I'd ironed several metres of binding in half the wrong way out before I realised what I was doing.
Common sense is something I've usually had a reasonable supply of. In various circles I gained a bit of a reputation for pointing out 'the bleeding obvious' to those who had somehow completely overlooked it. Until this year I could never fathom how people could miss such things. I really do feel handicapped without my usual capacity to see what's staring me in the face. Similarly towards the end of my time teaching I was finding my usually long patience had shrunk and I was snapping at kids in a way that shocked me when it happened. It felt like someone else controlling my tongue. I'd be horrified at myself at times and apologized straight away to whichever poor child I'd just bitten the head off. It was an eye opener to me to realise that this is what life is usually like for some people; that frustrated verbal response before thinking. Thankfully I didn't have to deal with an instinctive physical response on top, the flash of uncontrolled emotional response was bad enough.
For whatever reason I haven't had that flashpan response to children happen again since I stopped teaching week in week out at the end of 2012 and I am extremely grateful for that. I know one of my colleagues got the sharp edge of my tongue a few times when relieving last year. Our methods of teaching were completely at odds with each other and I wasn't in a space to be able to just let stuff go that in a better state I would've had the wisdom to just leave be.
The more my physical health improves the more obvious the anomalous state of my brain and emotions becomes, and reflecting back, the more I realise how long ago the changes started to become apparent. A lot of it is quite simply hormonal and due to going through peri-menopause of which several doctors, nurses and specialists have all agreed I've been having a lousy time of. The fact that most of the more obvious symptoms seem to fluctuate in sync with how tired, run down, and otherwise not well I am does give me some hope that 'this too shall pass' and normal service shall be resumed at some point. Hopefully some point sooner rather than later.
Spending a lot of time with those a generation or more older than me has meant I have been around regular discussions about those in the community slipping into states of advanced Altzheimer's, or senile dementia. I do wonder at times about the similarities between the way my brain feels mussed up and those conditions, although those I know with them aren't really in a state to compare notes. But in a week when 'today, tomorrow and yesterday' have got completely mixed up (what do you mean that if I re-read an email on Tuesday that I got on Monday that refers to 'tomorrow' that means today and not Wednesday??? In my defense I was expecting it to refer to Wednesday due to an earlier conversation); where I've given someone an answer only to ask them the same question back 10 minutes later; where I can't even get to the compost heap and back without forgetting what I was doing before I set off bucket in hand, I do have to wonder just how well I'd do in those assessment tests right now! But whilst I might be struggling to know what day of the week it is or how the heck it came to be Tuesday again already (but not today though!) I did figure out that Granny would've been 110 yesterday without even having to think about it. Admittedly remembering it was Tuesday before it got to 1.30pm would've been far more useful given Granny has long since gone beyond birthdays, whereas the pay office needed my timesheet posted yesterday and I was supposed to be somewhere else at 12...
I have to take heart though from the fact that I have more than one thing going on to keep track of, and that I do have a life again that doesn't simply consist of endless medical appointments and not much else. I don't mind unpicking seams half as much now as I used to as at least it means I had a go at sewing them in the first place, and I spotted the mistake before it was too late to change something. I still haven't quite plucked up the courage to attempt to unpick a counted cross-stitch I started some months ago and somehow managed to get the centre line in the wrong place, despite carefully (I thought...) counting the holes twice to make sure! Some mistakes are easier to fix than others.
Given what feels like personality transplants and my brain short-circuiting at times over the last few years I can understand why there have been people convinced they've been abducted by aliens in their sleep etc. It wouldn't need much mental instability, paranoia, certain drugs, or living amidst a culture of fear, scaremongering and some really dubious red tops 'journalism' on top of my own kind of experiences to really freak folk out. It's freaky enough at times as it is when I have a perfectly rational medical explanation for it all! Mind you when I had the third pregnancy test done on me this year irrespective of me pointing out that whilst I dropped biology at school as soon as possible, I did know enough to know without a doubt that I couldn't possibly be, there was that back of the mind thought 'But what about the Midwich Cuckoos?' I'm still debating whether aliens would be preferable to angels proclaiming or not... Thankfully the tests all agreed with me that I wasn't, so that all remains hypothetical!
So life trundles on. The 'guilt pile' is slowly being tackled and whilst new things inevitably get added to it at least I've not been looking at them all year. Another sewing project is close to completion, and only 6mths late this time so there is actually a chance of folk getting handmade Christmas presents after all. I'm not going to say when they'll get them mind, that feels far too much like tempting fate!
The main reason things stalled was because my brain just wasn't up to figuring out the logistics of the banner which goes on one of those freestanding pole things. Should the pole go up one side or the middle? Should the lettering be from top to bottom (so you tilt your head to read it) or go across-ways? How do I make it so it will cope with the high winds of the Far North and not get ripped to shreds in a few weeks? If I put a pole pocket down the middle which seams can I sew before I turn the thing from inside out to the right way out and which have to wait until after?
Gradually I've plodded through the list. Jane, bless her, did the applique work which at least saved me that headache. Today saw the final piecing together of the two panels to make a single banner. It is a sign of how much I have improved over the last few months that I even tried. How often I used my quick-unpick is a sign of how much further I still have to go... I nearly had the whole thing sewn together complete with pole pockets etc before the penny dropped that the three lines I'd just sewn meant I now couldn't turn it the right way out - d'oh. I shouldn't have been surprised though. Earlier in the day, whilst working on another rather time-delayed project, I'd ironed several metres of binding in half the wrong way out before I realised what I was doing.
Common sense is something I've usually had a reasonable supply of. In various circles I gained a bit of a reputation for pointing out 'the bleeding obvious' to those who had somehow completely overlooked it. Until this year I could never fathom how people could miss such things. I really do feel handicapped without my usual capacity to see what's staring me in the face. Similarly towards the end of my time teaching I was finding my usually long patience had shrunk and I was snapping at kids in a way that shocked me when it happened. It felt like someone else controlling my tongue. I'd be horrified at myself at times and apologized straight away to whichever poor child I'd just bitten the head off. It was an eye opener to me to realise that this is what life is usually like for some people; that frustrated verbal response before thinking. Thankfully I didn't have to deal with an instinctive physical response on top, the flash of uncontrolled emotional response was bad enough.
For whatever reason I haven't had that flashpan response to children happen again since I stopped teaching week in week out at the end of 2012 and I am extremely grateful for that. I know one of my colleagues got the sharp edge of my tongue a few times when relieving last year. Our methods of teaching were completely at odds with each other and I wasn't in a space to be able to just let stuff go that in a better state I would've had the wisdom to just leave be.
The more my physical health improves the more obvious the anomalous state of my brain and emotions becomes, and reflecting back, the more I realise how long ago the changes started to become apparent. A lot of it is quite simply hormonal and due to going through peri-menopause of which several doctors, nurses and specialists have all agreed I've been having a lousy time of. The fact that most of the more obvious symptoms seem to fluctuate in sync with how tired, run down, and otherwise not well I am does give me some hope that 'this too shall pass' and normal service shall be resumed at some point. Hopefully some point sooner rather than later.
Spending a lot of time with those a generation or more older than me has meant I have been around regular discussions about those in the community slipping into states of advanced Altzheimer's, or senile dementia. I do wonder at times about the similarities between the way my brain feels mussed up and those conditions, although those I know with them aren't really in a state to compare notes. But in a week when 'today, tomorrow and yesterday' have got completely mixed up (what do you mean that if I re-read an email on Tuesday that I got on Monday that refers to 'tomorrow' that means today and not Wednesday??? In my defense I was expecting it to refer to Wednesday due to an earlier conversation); where I've given someone an answer only to ask them the same question back 10 minutes later; where I can't even get to the compost heap and back without forgetting what I was doing before I set off bucket in hand, I do have to wonder just how well I'd do in those assessment tests right now! But whilst I might be struggling to know what day of the week it is or how the heck it came to be Tuesday again already (but not today though!) I did figure out that Granny would've been 110 yesterday without even having to think about it. Admittedly remembering it was Tuesday before it got to 1.30pm would've been far more useful given Granny has long since gone beyond birthdays, whereas the pay office needed my timesheet posted yesterday and I was supposed to be somewhere else at 12...
I have to take heart though from the fact that I have more than one thing going on to keep track of, and that I do have a life again that doesn't simply consist of endless medical appointments and not much else. I don't mind unpicking seams half as much now as I used to as at least it means I had a go at sewing them in the first place, and I spotted the mistake before it was too late to change something. I still haven't quite plucked up the courage to attempt to unpick a counted cross-stitch I started some months ago and somehow managed to get the centre line in the wrong place, despite carefully (I thought...) counting the holes twice to make sure! Some mistakes are easier to fix than others.
Given what feels like personality transplants and my brain short-circuiting at times over the last few years I can understand why there have been people convinced they've been abducted by aliens in their sleep etc. It wouldn't need much mental instability, paranoia, certain drugs, or living amidst a culture of fear, scaremongering and some really dubious red tops 'journalism' on top of my own kind of experiences to really freak folk out. It's freaky enough at times as it is when I have a perfectly rational medical explanation for it all! Mind you when I had the third pregnancy test done on me this year irrespective of me pointing out that whilst I dropped biology at school as soon as possible, I did know enough to know without a doubt that I couldn't possibly be, there was that back of the mind thought 'But what about the Midwich Cuckoos?' I'm still debating whether aliens would be preferable to angels proclaiming or not... Thankfully the tests all agreed with me that I wasn't, so that all remains hypothetical!
So life trundles on. The 'guilt pile' is slowly being tackled and whilst new things inevitably get added to it at least I've not been looking at them all year. Another sewing project is close to completion, and only 6mths late this time so there is actually a chance of folk getting handmade Christmas presents after all. I'm not going to say when they'll get them mind, that feels far too much like tempting fate!
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Anders
Love life. Engage in it. Give it all you've got. Love it with a passion because life truly does give back, many times over, what you put into it.
Maya Angelou (1928 - 2014)
This post has taken a few weeks to write, not because of my health/energy levels, but because it is hard to type with a lump in your throat, eyes full of tears, and when your words feel inadequate.
Twenty five years ago after Meeting in Glasgow Meeting House I met a cute little 10yr old who was incredibly cheeky. I was there as a Young Friend helping with the catering at an NFPB event over the weekend, he was there with his Dad. Recognising the London school on his sweatshirt I innocently asked 'Do you know the Gibsons?' Hervey replied with a laugh 'We are the Gibsons!' I can't quite remember Anders' exact response but it was along the lines of him being the most important one, and the fact that I knew his older brothers Kester and Stefan would pale into insignificance having now met him! It seemed quite funny at the time, but no disrespect to them, it proved to be more prophetic than I'd ever have imagined possible.
Much to Anders' disgruntlement time put paid to him being 'cute' and 'little' but he never lost his gift for cheek and his ability to find the humour in life, often at someone else's expense when not at his own, and somehow he usually got away with it.
The early 2000s saw me traipsing through to Glasgow from Edinburgh for a series of training courses as I tried to get to grips with Sage and advanced use of Excel. The bonus of which was catching up with assorted f/Friends through there more often than usual, including Anders. It was the first time we'd really spent much time together not at a Quaker event or planning one, and despite having known him for over a decade by then it was probably the first time I'd had any lengthy in-depth conversations with him about his Cystic Fybrosis and assorted side effect conditions. I'd picked up quite a bit over the years, you couldn't know him and not do. He was far from afraid to talk about it and would take great delight in giving somewhat graphic explanations at mealtimes about feeding tubes and and sputum if only to see how many people he could put off their food. His party trick for several years as a pre/young teen was sticking the entire length of his little fingers up his nostrils to prove he could, well what can I say, there's something about finding humour in bodily functions that must come with the Y chromosome, and he had a double dose...
Anders had often reminded us he was living at the cutting edge of medical science; even by his teens he'd already well exceded his original life expectancy and we all knew it was a case of hoping that science would progress faster than his lungs deteriorated so he'd have decent chance. It was one thing intellectually knowing he was on more tablets a day than most folk his age would take in a year, but seeing all the boxes, jars and packets lined up in his flat along with the oxygen machine and protein drinks made it really sink in for me. At the time Anders was campaigning for all the medicines needed by those with CF to be free as only a fraction were - those for associated conditions such as osteoporosis, kidney problems, diabetes etc were still charged for and these could mount up to a hefty sum which the Disability allowances weren't really geared up to covering. Although I'd left the country by the time it happened I gave a whoop for Anders and co when I heard all prescriptions would be free for everyone.
I can still remember one particular conversation as if it were last month, rather than over a decade ago, when I first realised the future option of a lung transplant was a possibility for him. He reckoned that one could give him a life expectancy of late 50s - mid 60s, which, as he pointed out, wasn't bad for a Glaswegian! However of course there was always the possibility that a transplant could fail, or him not even survive the operation. It was a risk, but one he was prepared to take. He figured that by the time one would be available to him the chances were he'd not have long left anyway so it was far better to die trying. It was all so hypothetical at the time, and there was something slightly surreal about even having the conversation. Apart from prompting me to get a new Organ Donor Card as my old one had so many changes of contact information crossed out on it that it was almost illegible, there didn't seem much else to do at the time, but it certainly gave me a renewed admiration for his pragmatic and philosophical approach to life and death. Oh and it also meant I was slightly more anxious each time he landed in hospital, he just had to live long enough to get that 'second chance', he just had to....
In more recent years Anders became a regular in the Scottish media giving interviews about the Cystic Fybrosis Trust, The Butterfly Trust, and Live Life Then Give Life amongst other things. The great advantage of the internet meant I still got to read print articles even though I was half a world away, although internet broadcasting restrictions meant I missed the radio interviews. Being Anders he not only got heavily involved himself but got a whole heap of his friends on board, whether playing in the fundraising football tournaments he organised, inspiring them to do crazy (as far as I am concerned!) fundraising events of their own, or simply getting a large number of people sharing links to the NHS Donor Registry on Facebook. The 'Anders Effect' as it became known by some of us had become evident back at Northern Friends Summer School in his teens where his frank openness and sometimes blunt way of putting things got a lot of people to really think about issues around medical testing, disability awareness etc. Telling someone to their face that you'd be dead if it wasn't for experiments on animals when they've just been trying to convince a room full of +60 teenagers and 20 adults it was a bad idea certainly makes an impact! Not only has he led to people running races etc because of him, he's immeasurably shaped the lives and thinking of so many people.
In April last year Anders made it to the lung transplant waiting list. It was good news and bad, great that he'd get a chance, but you have to be in pretty bad shape to make it to the list. It took over a year, and several false alarms that saw him rushing down to the Freeman Hospital in Newcastle-upon-Tyne only to find that the op couldn't happen. Either his health wasn't good enough (ironic really, you have to be pretty bad to get on the list then you have to be healthy enough to have the op), or someone else got the lungs. The journeys between Glasgow and Newcastle themselves didn't help his health and with one lung collapsed and the remaining one at 35% functionality it really was becoming a race against time. Then finally it was his turn, if the number of Facebook likes and messages of support could dictate a medical outcome he'd have been jogging straight from the operating theatre out on to the football pitch (probably still in his theatre gown for the laugh of it!). However after a few all too short days it became evident that the lungs hadn't taken, and after 7 weeks in intensive care the refs whistle blew, it was game over.
As well as getting to know most of his family fairly well at one point or another over the years, Anders was part of a crowd of Quaker teenagers I'd looked after, and in time worked with, at various events who became very dear friends. They have supported me through some pretty lousy times of my life. I've watched that crowd grow up, grow together, and support each other through thick and thin. Not being able to be there for them now hurts about as much as losing Anders does. But I am oh so incredibly grateful to know they are grieving as adults in their 30s, and not as a bunch of teenagers. As one Summer Schooler put it on Facebook 'You kept telling me this day would come, but I didn't want to believe it.' None of us wanted to believe it, and kept hoping for that miracle, yet Anders would be the first to tell us that he got the miracle, he got 30yrs over the odds which isn't bad really.
As this article from the Evening Times shows, Anders inspired to the end. The pages and pages of tributes that poured in to Facebook, those who showed up to his Memorial Meeting, not to mention all those who would've if they could, speaks volumes about a a life well lived. Oscar Wilde said 'One has a right to judge a man by the effect he has over his friends', and the Anders Effect I'm sure will be with us for many, many more years to come as we do our best to dance for one more of us.
Friday, May 16, 2014
slow progress
Ooops, I'd been on a bit of a roll keeping up with blogging, but then I had another week or so of brain fade, and got out of the habit again... plus of course I also needed to catch up on all the other things that hadn't got done! A couple of projects have just had to be shelved temporarily until I can find a day with time, energy, enthusiasm and inspiration all co-inciding, which seems impossible to schedule in advance!
The projects are a couple of Quaker leaflets - one for our Monthly Meeting, and one using the Kabarak Call for Peace and Ecojustice which will come under the FWCC reps budget line for Yearly Meeting. Yes I know I officially stopped being a rep at the end of December, but poor old Noms Com still haven't found a replacement name to put forward yet and Thomas has the small matter of a book to finish for publication on top of having moved cities and started a new job this year so he's been a bit preoccupied! I have however managed to complete two other leaflets about FWCC ready for YM next week, and a booklet for MM which isn't bad considering a few months ago I could only manage to use the computer for about quarter of an hour at a time.
Part of what slowed me down was getting frustrated trying to work on the tiny screen of my notebook, my laptop is in far worse shape than me and I've been eeking out its existence by only switching it on once a fortnight or so to download, edit and upload photos (and save to another external back-up!). However my laptop has just gone off to the computer doc who will hopefully have more success figuring out what is wrong with it than the medical docs are doing sorting me out... so no pressure Brad!
The last few months though have certainly made me appreciate the small achievements that do get made all the more. I try to remember to feel good about it when I do remember to do something rather than beat myself up when yet again I forget to take paperwork to an appointment or completely forget I was supposed to do something etc. My old fall back of my 'to do list' book is of dubious value at present given I can go days (ahem, weeks...) without remembering to look to see what still needs doing! I had to look at a map the other day to remember the name of the street where I last lived in the UK as I filled in a form as my mind went completely blank, an appeal on Facebook (yay for keeping in touch with former flatmates!) and Google Streetview provided me with confirmation of the house number. I felt a great deal of sympathy for my Granny that day, unlike her worries at least I know it is unlikely to be dementia kicking in just yet! On the plus side at least I knew how to track down the information I needed, even if I couldn't remember it...
A big plus though this week has been able to get out and about a bit under my own steam. I can walk far enough now to be useful - the doctors, chemist and the post office are within reach again (the three places I seem to need most often right now!). Now I just need to hone the skill of estimating how far I can walk so I don't get caught out (again) having got 'there' but not quite had enough energy to get 'back'! It is just as well we have plenty of benches along our main shopping street I can tell you.
The next big adventure though is rapidly approaching - four more days until I set off to Yearly Meeting via Wellington & Blenheim. Thankfully I have lots of lovely people lined up to help me en route, I just have to remember where I'm supposed to be when and hope I manage to pack everything I need and carry it....
The projects are a couple of Quaker leaflets - one for our Monthly Meeting, and one using the Kabarak Call for Peace and Ecojustice which will come under the FWCC reps budget line for Yearly Meeting. Yes I know I officially stopped being a rep at the end of December, but poor old Noms Com still haven't found a replacement name to put forward yet and Thomas has the small matter of a book to finish for publication on top of having moved cities and started a new job this year so he's been a bit preoccupied! I have however managed to complete two other leaflets about FWCC ready for YM next week, and a booklet for MM which isn't bad considering a few months ago I could only manage to use the computer for about quarter of an hour at a time.
Part of what slowed me down was getting frustrated trying to work on the tiny screen of my notebook, my laptop is in far worse shape than me and I've been eeking out its existence by only switching it on once a fortnight or so to download, edit and upload photos (and save to another external back-up!). However my laptop has just gone off to the computer doc who will hopefully have more success figuring out what is wrong with it than the medical docs are doing sorting me out... so no pressure Brad!
The last few months though have certainly made me appreciate the small achievements that do get made all the more. I try to remember to feel good about it when I do remember to do something rather than beat myself up when yet again I forget to take paperwork to an appointment or completely forget I was supposed to do something etc. My old fall back of my 'to do list' book is of dubious value at present given I can go days (ahem, weeks...) without remembering to look to see what still needs doing! I had to look at a map the other day to remember the name of the street where I last lived in the UK as I filled in a form as my mind went completely blank, an appeal on Facebook (yay for keeping in touch with former flatmates!) and Google Streetview provided me with confirmation of the house number. I felt a great deal of sympathy for my Granny that day, unlike her worries at least I know it is unlikely to be dementia kicking in just yet! On the plus side at least I knew how to track down the information I needed, even if I couldn't remember it...
A big plus though this week has been able to get out and about a bit under my own steam. I can walk far enough now to be useful - the doctors, chemist and the post office are within reach again (the three places I seem to need most often right now!). Now I just need to hone the skill of estimating how far I can walk so I don't get caught out (again) having got 'there' but not quite had enough energy to get 'back'! It is just as well we have plenty of benches along our main shopping street I can tell you.
The next big adventure though is rapidly approaching - four more days until I set off to Yearly Meeting via Wellington & Blenheim. Thankfully I have lots of lovely people lined up to help me en route, I just have to remember where I'm supposed to be when and hope I manage to pack everything I need and carry it....
Tuesday, February 04, 2014
gratitude
Through facebook I've watched several friends over the last couple of years or so record daily what they are grateful for, either in photos or status updates. Reminders that it is the little things each day that help us get through the toughest of times. Various images have also been circulated with the quote On particularly rough days when I'm sure I can't possibly endure, I like to remind myself that my track record for getting through bad days so far is 100%, and that's pretty good.
It is perhaps unsurprising really that each of those who have undertaken this gratitude journalling have been those who have for various reasons had a hefty dose of 'bad days' either currently or in their not so distant past. Being in an incapacitated or vulnerable state certainly makes small acts of kindness feel all the more important, not only in simple practical survival stakes - getting to shops and appointments, collecting prescriptions etc, but the emotional support and stepping up to do the needful when things get a bit much, not to mention sending lovely care packages, messages of loving support and prayers.
I've been feeling very blessed with the support I've been getting, literally from around the world. However what I'm living with just now whilst uncomfortable, unpleasant and decidedly limiting is nothing compared to those with life threatening conditions, and hopefully isn't a long term state of being. I'm gradually being able to read for a little longer in a day and have started to catch up on some f/Friends' blog posts rather than just the bare essentials of emails and facebook (and yes, in my world facebook counts as essential - however only the updates; games, funnies, articles and quizzes are definitely optional extras). One of the blogs is Anders' he's on the lung transplant waiting list and he'd joking commented on my facebook update linking to my previous blog post 'I hope you aren't trying to compete with me!' - I sure hope not too. I'll take having a bloated stomach that looks like I'm 4 or 5 months pregnant (rather than the more usual three...) over having a collapsed lung and being stuffed full of weight gaining steroids and half the pharmacy any day. Whilst I think about if, if you aren't on your country's organ donor register yet, please join. I like my friends to be alive but if the worst happens I'd rather you helped someone else to remain so.
As I fumble my way around the kitchen struggling to do what to me are regular tasks of baking bread and making yoghurt that I can usually do on autopilot amidst three other things at once, I am reminded of the quirky quotes a f/Friend often shares on facebook about the problems faced by someone (like her) with ADHD such as I have been told I have AHDH, but I don't think I - hey look a squirrel! Although it isn't that everything is interesting at once but that my mind wanders off on a tangent and then I find myself standing in front of a cupboard or the fridge, hand on the door looking at it completely blankly because my autopilot got me that far but then spluttered to a stop and the rest of my mind has no idea of where I am up to or what happens next. I've been in this boat so many times before though I long since stopped getting worried about it. It happens pretty much every time I get really sick, overtired, run down, stressed out etc. I just have to remember to avoid multi-tasking and set the kitchen timer more often when cooking - however it does help when I then don't put it straight back in the drawer...but whilst this fuddled brain state is no stranger, it isn't a constant companion for which I am extremely grateful. And for my family's information, no, I haven't yet put the baked beans in the teapot, either literally or metaphorically. Although it has come close...
Well the timer has just gone, I can smell the bread from here, so I'd better go and take it out of the oven before I forget! Then, if I remember, I'll come back and proof-read this before posting rather than after...
It is perhaps unsurprising really that each of those who have undertaken this gratitude journalling have been those who have for various reasons had a hefty dose of 'bad days' either currently or in their not so distant past. Being in an incapacitated or vulnerable state certainly makes small acts of kindness feel all the more important, not only in simple practical survival stakes - getting to shops and appointments, collecting prescriptions etc, but the emotional support and stepping up to do the needful when things get a bit much, not to mention sending lovely care packages, messages of loving support and prayers.
I've been feeling very blessed with the support I've been getting, literally from around the world. However what I'm living with just now whilst uncomfortable, unpleasant and decidedly limiting is nothing compared to those with life threatening conditions, and hopefully isn't a long term state of being. I'm gradually being able to read for a little longer in a day and have started to catch up on some f/Friends' blog posts rather than just the bare essentials of emails and facebook (and yes, in my world facebook counts as essential - however only the updates; games, funnies, articles and quizzes are definitely optional extras). One of the blogs is Anders' he's on the lung transplant waiting list and he'd joking commented on my facebook update linking to my previous blog post 'I hope you aren't trying to compete with me!' - I sure hope not too. I'll take having a bloated stomach that looks like I'm 4 or 5 months pregnant (rather than the more usual three...) over having a collapsed lung and being stuffed full of weight gaining steroids and half the pharmacy any day. Whilst I think about if, if you aren't on your country's organ donor register yet, please join. I like my friends to be alive but if the worst happens I'd rather you helped someone else to remain so.
As I fumble my way around the kitchen struggling to do what to me are regular tasks of baking bread and making yoghurt that I can usually do on autopilot amidst three other things at once, I am reminded of the quirky quotes a f/Friend often shares on facebook about the problems faced by someone (like her) with ADHD such as I have been told I have AHDH, but I don't think I - hey look a squirrel! Although it isn't that everything is interesting at once but that my mind wanders off on a tangent and then I find myself standing in front of a cupboard or the fridge, hand on the door looking at it completely blankly because my autopilot got me that far but then spluttered to a stop and the rest of my mind has no idea of where I am up to or what happens next. I've been in this boat so many times before though I long since stopped getting worried about it. It happens pretty much every time I get really sick, overtired, run down, stressed out etc. I just have to remember to avoid multi-tasking and set the kitchen timer more often when cooking - however it does help when I then don't put it straight back in the drawer...but whilst this fuddled brain state is no stranger, it isn't a constant companion for which I am extremely grateful. And for my family's information, no, I haven't yet put the baked beans in the teapot, either literally or metaphorically. Although it has come close...
Well the timer has just gone, I can smell the bread from here, so I'd better go and take it out of the oven before I forget! Then, if I remember, I'll come back and proof-read this before posting rather than after...
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
redefining pain
This is taking me a while to write. For the last couple of weeks I've had blinding headaches which have left me tolerating less and less screen time, or even reading print on paper which has been a huge challenge for someone whose coping mechanism with being unwell for whatever reason is to curl up with a book.
Over that same timeframe my energy levels have taken a nosedive. Energy hasn't been my strong suit throughout my adult life, even when I'm doing well I generally have lower reserves than many of my peers, although having said that there is rather a scary number of people I know in my age group who have had debilitating energy levels over the last 25yrs. It does make me wonder whether there is some bigger picture underlying factor behind it all. But even by my standards my energy levels had been dropping for some months and then fell through the floor.
Then a week ago Sunday I found myself doubled up on the bed, then the floor in excruciating pain - period pains completely off the scale of reckonning. Topped off with full on projectile vomiting and diarrhoea thrown in for good measure and a head that felt like it was about to explode, I was not a happy bunny. Once it became obvious it really wasn't going to just stop and go away and I might as well be eating smarties as paracetamol the ambulance was called.
Well of course it was Patti who turned up, who 11months ago had been the one to respond when Phyllis fell and fractured her hip - I hope this doesn't mean we'll be taking it in turns year about! Thankfully she had a helper with her this time as there is no way Phyllis could've helped Patti carry me out to the ambulance in the stretcher chair.
The morphine shot they'd given me hadn't done anything so I spent the short journey up the hill to hospital with some kind of inhaler thing in my mouth that was supposed to help, it didn't. In fact it took two more shots of morphine to kill the pain. No wonder the paracetamol hadn't worked!
By now my veins had 'collapsed' which as far as I can work out means they'd gone into hiding - I still have a lovely collection of bruises and puncture marks on my hands and arms from where they had tried and failed to draw blood, the drip was going in the one place they'd had any success and the luer the ambulance had used for morphine had a fitting they couldn't use. So femoral artery it was for the first of what ended up being several blood tests.
At this stage I was two days off 8 straight weeks of periods back to back (I'm now at 9 weeks and decidedly unimpressed about this, although it might, just might, finally be stopping....) so the plan initially was to get me to Whangarei and the gyneacologists. But once they realised that even though it had been 8 weeks near as damnit, the bleeding hadn't been heavy, the blood tests were rather confusingly coming back normal and the cramping pains dropped to more normal levels the plan was revised to keep me in overnight (longer if need be) get my fluids back up, fill me with painkillers, try to stop the bleeding via different meds (the first attempt some weeks back by a GP having spectacularly failed) and do a referral.
More (and yet more, post-discharge from hospital) blood tests came back normal which started to indicate a possible virus as being responsible for the sudden energy drop and need to sleep more than be awake. There is a nasty one doing the rounds at present symptoms complete with loss of energy, projectile vomiting, diarrhoea and stomach cramps, hmmm.... mind you it also includes a persistent cough and sore throat which thankfully (as yet...) I haven't had. So this could explain the ongoing stomach cramps way beyond the couple of days that I consider normal (although with nine weeks of periods 'normal' doesn't really figure).
My blood pressure is usually low, but seems to drop stupidly low very easily at present which has resulted in a couple of really wobbly days since discharge - possibly too many cinnamon and honey drinks, so I've switched to ginger and honey instead just to be on the safe side. Cinnamon can apparently drop your blood pressure, whereas ginger boosts it.
I've ended up compromising on the headaches - I have tablets that help, but upset my stomach if I take two a day, so I'm managing on one in the morning and trying to get done what I can then which works up to a point, as long as I don't fall asleep again and miss their benefit!
I've had extended times of low energy in the past, I'm used to managing that - it's a bummer, but I've learned the hard way not to over do things on the days when I do have more energy as I then end up sleeping through the next day to make up. But what has had the biggest impact on me over the last couple of weeks was the pain. I thought I had a fairly low pain threshold, in fact I still think that, but I would've previously assumed I'd've passed out with pain that was so severe as to need 3 shots of morphine to control. As I was writhing around on the living room floor in pain I had very vivid memories of Heather doing much the same 20 yrs ago on my bedroom floor at Napier Rd, in her case it was gallstones but the effect was much the same. I don't think at the time I'd really appreciated what pain like that could feel like, but I sure do now. It was sort of a comfort though to remember that time and know that it had been overcome with a hefty dose of pethadine, it meant I had faith in doctors' ability to stop it.
The stomach cramps that have continued this week have been 'normal' levels of pain, the sort I've lived with on and off for the last 25yrs or so, but although the occassional one has had me doubled up until it has passed what has dominated my thoughts each time has no longer been 'heck that hurts' but relief that it wasn't as bad as I now know it can be, edged with fear that the next one might be.
I do seem to be making some progress though, yes I have days, like yesterday, where I achieve extremely little and feel no better than when I came home from hospital to sleep it all off in my own bed rather than theirs. But I also have a few hours every so often of functioning better, like just now, of being able to think without it being a struggle, to catch up on emails etc and be able to read the supportive and loving messages on facebook from F/friends and family around the world. Yes my joints ache, yes my head hurts, yes my abdomen feels like I've been kicked by a horse and my back like I've been doing hard labour for weeks but compared to what landed me in hospital, it is nothing I can't cope with.
Luckily life is such that I can take the time I need to get my strength back without pushing myself too hard, I can pace myself and if I need to sleep, well I can do so. I am very aware that what is hopefully a temporary situation for me in terms of energy levels is what is normal every day life on a good day for a couple of my friends, so I'm counting my blessings, taking inspiration from their positive attitudes and having faith that somehow everything will work out, as the quote goes 'Everything will be all right in the end... if it's not all right then it's not yet the end.'
Over that same timeframe my energy levels have taken a nosedive. Energy hasn't been my strong suit throughout my adult life, even when I'm doing well I generally have lower reserves than many of my peers, although having said that there is rather a scary number of people I know in my age group who have had debilitating energy levels over the last 25yrs. It does make me wonder whether there is some bigger picture underlying factor behind it all. But even by my standards my energy levels had been dropping for some months and then fell through the floor.
Then a week ago Sunday I found myself doubled up on the bed, then the floor in excruciating pain - period pains completely off the scale of reckonning. Topped off with full on projectile vomiting and diarrhoea thrown in for good measure and a head that felt like it was about to explode, I was not a happy bunny. Once it became obvious it really wasn't going to just stop and go away and I might as well be eating smarties as paracetamol the ambulance was called.
Well of course it was Patti who turned up, who 11months ago had been the one to respond when Phyllis fell and fractured her hip - I hope this doesn't mean we'll be taking it in turns year about! Thankfully she had a helper with her this time as there is no way Phyllis could've helped Patti carry me out to the ambulance in the stretcher chair.
The morphine shot they'd given me hadn't done anything so I spent the short journey up the hill to hospital with some kind of inhaler thing in my mouth that was supposed to help, it didn't. In fact it took two more shots of morphine to kill the pain. No wonder the paracetamol hadn't worked!
By now my veins had 'collapsed' which as far as I can work out means they'd gone into hiding - I still have a lovely collection of bruises and puncture marks on my hands and arms from where they had tried and failed to draw blood, the drip was going in the one place they'd had any success and the luer the ambulance had used for morphine had a fitting they couldn't use. So femoral artery it was for the first of what ended up being several blood tests.
At this stage I was two days off 8 straight weeks of periods back to back (I'm now at 9 weeks and decidedly unimpressed about this, although it might, just might, finally be stopping....) so the plan initially was to get me to Whangarei and the gyneacologists. But once they realised that even though it had been 8 weeks near as damnit, the bleeding hadn't been heavy, the blood tests were rather confusingly coming back normal and the cramping pains dropped to more normal levels the plan was revised to keep me in overnight (longer if need be) get my fluids back up, fill me with painkillers, try to stop the bleeding via different meds (the first attempt some weeks back by a GP having spectacularly failed) and do a referral.
More (and yet more, post-discharge from hospital) blood tests came back normal which started to indicate a possible virus as being responsible for the sudden energy drop and need to sleep more than be awake. There is a nasty one doing the rounds at present symptoms complete with loss of energy, projectile vomiting, diarrhoea and stomach cramps, hmmm.... mind you it also includes a persistent cough and sore throat which thankfully (as yet...) I haven't had. So this could explain the ongoing stomach cramps way beyond the couple of days that I consider normal (although with nine weeks of periods 'normal' doesn't really figure).
My blood pressure is usually low, but seems to drop stupidly low very easily at present which has resulted in a couple of really wobbly days since discharge - possibly too many cinnamon and honey drinks, so I've switched to ginger and honey instead just to be on the safe side. Cinnamon can apparently drop your blood pressure, whereas ginger boosts it.
I've ended up compromising on the headaches - I have tablets that help, but upset my stomach if I take two a day, so I'm managing on one in the morning and trying to get done what I can then which works up to a point, as long as I don't fall asleep again and miss their benefit!
I've had extended times of low energy in the past, I'm used to managing that - it's a bummer, but I've learned the hard way not to over do things on the days when I do have more energy as I then end up sleeping through the next day to make up. But what has had the biggest impact on me over the last couple of weeks was the pain. I thought I had a fairly low pain threshold, in fact I still think that, but I would've previously assumed I'd've passed out with pain that was so severe as to need 3 shots of morphine to control. As I was writhing around on the living room floor in pain I had very vivid memories of Heather doing much the same 20 yrs ago on my bedroom floor at Napier Rd, in her case it was gallstones but the effect was much the same. I don't think at the time I'd really appreciated what pain like that could feel like, but I sure do now. It was sort of a comfort though to remember that time and know that it had been overcome with a hefty dose of pethadine, it meant I had faith in doctors' ability to stop it.
The stomach cramps that have continued this week have been 'normal' levels of pain, the sort I've lived with on and off for the last 25yrs or so, but although the occassional one has had me doubled up until it has passed what has dominated my thoughts each time has no longer been 'heck that hurts' but relief that it wasn't as bad as I now know it can be, edged with fear that the next one might be.
I do seem to be making some progress though, yes I have days, like yesterday, where I achieve extremely little and feel no better than when I came home from hospital to sleep it all off in my own bed rather than theirs. But I also have a few hours every so often of functioning better, like just now, of being able to think without it being a struggle, to catch up on emails etc and be able to read the supportive and loving messages on facebook from F/friends and family around the world. Yes my joints ache, yes my head hurts, yes my abdomen feels like I've been kicked by a horse and my back like I've been doing hard labour for weeks but compared to what landed me in hospital, it is nothing I can't cope with.
Luckily life is such that I can take the time I need to get my strength back without pushing myself too hard, I can pace myself and if I need to sleep, well I can do so. I am very aware that what is hopefully a temporary situation for me in terms of energy levels is what is normal every day life on a good day for a couple of my friends, so I'm counting my blessings, taking inspiration from their positive attitudes and having faith that somehow everything will work out, as the quote goes 'Everything will be all right in the end... if it's not all right then it's not yet the end.'
Thursday, September 26, 2013
don't worry, be happy...
I was reading a post about 'the habits of supremely happy people' several people I know had shared on facebook and it made me think about a the power of positive thinking. Over the last few years various friends of mine realised that many of their facebook updates were moans and groans - mostly probably around the time the 'word clouds' of your most common status words became a popular widget to play with - and decided to make an effort to post positive updates, or at least see the silver lining in the bad times. From what I can gather it has made a difference to how they see their lives, I know it certainly makes a difference to how I feel reading my newsfeed!
Whilst I don't do anything like the 'find one thing every day to be grateful for' and post it online challenge I did have a gratitude journal a few years ago when I was going through a rough time. Each night as I went to bed I wrote down five things to be grateful for that day. Some days it was easy and I could've filled the page, others it was tough going even to get started. I spotted the book that had set me off on this journey on the library shelves this week when shelving and almost borrowed it thinking that maybe I should revisit it and see what other changes I could now bring into my life. The only reason I didn't was the pile of books I already have waiting to be read - some of which need to go back to the library! But it is good to know it is there.
I realised whilst keeping the journal that half the time what got me down was the negative attitudes of those around me. When all you hear are complaints about yourself and other people it is hard to keep positive - the old adage of 'if you can't say something nice say nothing at all' is one that could do with being put into practice more often! It is especially hard if you never or rarely hear the good things about yourself and others, trying to figure out what is expected of you from what isn't appreciated about others is a pretty soul destroying method which also leaves you wondering what complaints are made about you that you don't hear!
Focusing on the good things that happen, especially in times of adversity, certainly makes life more bearable. I've also found that it has made me realise that sometimes the best things that happen seem to occur at the darkest of times. Maybe it is just like a drink when you're parched tasting better than one you didn't really need and it is the adversity that makes it seem better than it would otherwise, but the reason why it feels so good doesn't take away from the pleasure.
When I was in Melborne earlier this year I was trying to remember the name of a film I had watched which featured the work of Masaru Emoto who showed quite graphically the effect of negative images and sounds on water - thankfully Jo could remember it was 'What the bleep do we know?' so I could track it down again. Given how much of our bodies is made up of water is it any wonder that being surrounded by negativity has an impact on us physically, mentally and emotionally?
I do wonder sometimes if the things people do (or don't do!) that seem to cause so much stress for others are often done (or not done...) in ignorance of the impact on others. We're not all mind readers (probably a good thing really) so rather than complain, maybe we just need to be more upfront about asking for what it is that we need in order to have a happier life, not just for ourselves but those around us too.
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