December 2018

December 30, 2018

A meditation for the year end

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Here is a meditation that I have been mulling over for a while.

At the end of the year we release to life all that yearns to be released.

We light three candles.

The first candle is lit,

to resolve in what remains of the year, all that can be resolved.

The second candle is lit,

to take all the good of this year forward to make miracles in the next year.

The third candle is lit,

to unite and strengthen our purposes and promote peace, understanding and love.

Wishing you all a very happy New Year 2019.

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December 20, 2018

End of term

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End of term

Dear friends

As the end of term hoves in view, it’s time for me to take a break from blogging, though I will pop in from time to time.

In past years, I have done my best to continue working through the holidays, but that rarely works. We have commitments in other parts of the country and in other countries, which makes blogging impractical, so now I take a rest with my family and enjoy seasonal down-time when it comes.

Thank you all so much for reading, commenting and supporting my blogs.

Looking through the the list of what I’ve previously written about, I’m amazed at the number and range of my topics in the last few years. There are plenty of subjects I will be taking another look at in 2019. In the meantime, if there is any particular subject you would like me to write about, please let me know. Suggestions are always very welcome. 

I hope that you and your friends and family have a lovely, restful Christmas, and that New Year 2019 is our best year ever for good news, positive outcomes and enjoyment.

With many blessings, always.

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December 17, 2018

As Christmas Comes

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As Christmas Comes         

 As Christmas comes and a time of new beginnings draws near, what useful lessons have l learned that I might take with me into 2019?

  • I am capable of far more than I ever thought possible. Though at times my life resembles that of a juggler and fancy-footwork merchant, if I just work steadily towards a stated aim, I’ll get there.
  • Doing a little of my own work every day, no matter how busy I might otherwise be, feels better than doing nothing at all.
  • Since we are worthy of consideration and respect, my opinions matter less than I think they do.
  • Receiving is as blessed as giving. Despite the emphasis, perhaps especially at this time of year, on giving gifts, it is vital that I show my appreciation to others for what they give me, and allow them the joy of recognising the ways in which they make me happy.
  • Heart-centred living is more restful and productive than head or mind-centred living. There is much talk of mindfulness, which means, quietening our ‘mind chatter’ to find peace. Another way to look at peace, is to notice that if we consider all our actions through the prism of the heart, instead of the mind, the mind is naturally quietened by the loving alternatives, which reveal themselves without much fuss or noise.
  • I can easily do one thing a day – give money to charity, pick up litter, take the bus instead of driving – to help the planet and feel that I am making a difference.
  • It’s easier to live peacefully when I do what I choose first, then attend to the needs of others.

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December 14, 2018

Book Review: “The Time Traveller’s Guide to Medieval England” – by Ian Mortimer

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Book Review: “The Time Traveller’s Guide to Medieval England” by Ian Mortimer

 I started reading “The Time Traveller’s Guide” while at my mothers, and – skipping the introduction, which I have now read – started reading the first page. I felt myself swallowed by the narrative, taken up quickly into seemingly effortless depictions of castles, gate houses, bishops’ palaces, merchants’ homes and hovels for those less fortunate.

The subtitle for The Time Traveller’s Guide is “A Handbook for Visitors to the Fourteenth Century” which is as engaging as it is unique. I don’t think I’ve come across anything similar lately, but it is a lovely idea, taking us back into the thick of life as it might have been lived in the thirteenth century.

It quickly becomes clear that living in mid-medieval England was no picnic.  Dogged by legal and servitude rules as complex and barbaric as any modern-day “princes and dragons” computer game, life for the poor majority was short, beset with peculiar complexities – who knew that there were two systems of telling the time? There is solar time, and clock time, which is why we still say, “Seven o’clock” – and likely to be painful and harsh. But there were compensations: noise levels were low, there were no cars or tarmacadam, and music, humour and dancing were near universal.  

Mortimer writes with an extremely accessible, almost chatty style, his narrative festooned with details that are affectionately revealing and confiding in the reader. Where he finds all his data, and how he manages to mesh it fairly seamlessly into the portraits of the lives of his cast of thousands, is not, thankfully, my concern. And though there are times when the level of detail threatens to overwhelm, or, at least, to leave the impression that Mortimer is a tad too fond of showing off his detailed grasp of his subject, at the same time, that very level of detail speaks of intense engagement that brings the account alive with an almost real-time vividness.

It is quite an accomplishment to encapsulate in a single volume the very varied political and social scene of a very varied century. Which, in itself does modern readers the service of dispelling the myth that in medieval life, very little happened. In some ways Mortimer’s book only has time to skim the surface, but it does so in such an engaging way that it indeed manages to succeed as a visitor’s guide, albeit a very unusual one. If I’m ever posted to the thirteenth century, I shall be sure to take this book with me.

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December 12, 2018

Being scared of writing

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Being scared of writing

I suspect that one reason why we writers shy away from writing is that we are scared of it. I know I am – I have been – but I suspect that this fear, which can be paralysing and lead to all kinds of delaying tactics, is based around a fundamental misconception about how writing works.

Writing is basically about having fun with words. And worrying about writing is obviously not fun. But why do we worry?

I suspect that one reason we delay, fret and make endless excuses not to write is because we fear we have to ‘get it right’. Since we are frightened that our text is never going to be the best it could be – and it should be easy, FGS, we are writers after all – we shy away from it.

But if we are holding ourselves back from doing what we can enjoy – having fun with our writing – through any belief that we ‘have’ to get it perfect,  we have forgotten that every single piece of work evolves over time by a slow process of idea, expression, editing and refinement, often in ways that are highly personal.

Nonetheless, the key realisation that breaks through personal dread, is that all writing has to evolve; and each writer works in a different ways and at a different speeds to reach an end point which may be months or years ahead. Evolution is a process, implying that every story, every item of literary expression has to be worked at, refined and perfected.

By definition, our first, often most creative writing phases – the ones we are scared to attempt – and not going to be perfectly polished, and are never intended to be. The best they can hope to be is to be perfect material for the next stage in the process.

Once we realise that our writing is not expected to be totally perfect the first time we put it down, we are suddenly much freer to simply relax and allow ideas their expression. Expressing ideas and giving characters and events form in words is, almost by definition, a hard thing to do, so it is rare that an idea announces itself fully formed.

There are times when I have been able to put down a chapter without making many changes, but, simply considering the law of probability, this is bound to happen to all of us occasionally and does not disprove the general rule, that most writing is a labour of love, crafted in different ways and stages over a period of time.

Recognising that our version of perfection may take a while to turn up, suddenly we feel much freer to write whatever we feel like writing, as a first draft. And, paradoxically, admitting that writing is a many-stage process, frees us up to be more confident and to take that leap, to fly by the seat of our pants.

They say the trick is to make it look easy. But writing a smooth finished product rarely is. But that’s okay, as long as we realise that every good thing takes time to get right, and that our time is well invested.

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December 10, 2018

“This Charming Man” by Marian Keyes

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“This Charming Man” by Marian Keyes

I may have said this before – okay, so you’d have to be entirely new to my blogs not to know – that I really love Marian Keyes’ books. It’s the same with any author we love: we read their books to shreds, and each time, uncover new wisdoms and ideas that strengthen our own lives. Why else would we read them?

I first read “This Charming Man” soon after it was first published in 2008 – I was in the early stages of serial reading: find the latest, read it, and wait impatiently for the next book to be written and published. I’ve done that with all the authors I love. Elizabeth George, Dick Francis, James Herriot, Peanuts, Tintin…

There is a seam of real-life tragedy running through Marian’s books, often to do with alcoholism and co-dependency, and this book pulls no punches. Telling the stories of four women, Lola, Grace, Marnie and Alicia – and assorted friends, lovers and colleagues – and their entanglements with a certain Paddy de Courcy – if you google him, he will come up, though he doesn’t yet have his own Wiki entry – it’s a gripping and intricately woven story about abuse between couples and how to survive it.

Though the overall narrative has domestic abuse as its main focus, it is also, and very tellingly, about the lies that vulnerable people indulge in to keep themselves trapped: hiding from the truth by being stuck in the past, constantly rehearsing old wrongs, blaming others and refusing to see what might have changed, fielding the fear of change by swamping oneself in self-pity.

I’ve been there and done all that and more. Self-harm comes in many guises, not just the obvious physical signs but also in the shying away from life, the refusal to engage with real people, in keeping oneself isolated and alone so that “I can never be hurt again”, and in refusing to acknowledge that our refusal to engage with the world – and with all the wonderful people in it – is what hurts us most.

So read this book, please, if you want to learn from the example of a master story-teller. But once we have read the book and digested some of the lessons – it’s a big book and might take a while – we owe it to ourselves to go out and live. Not to just get by in life, by reading books.

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December 7, 2018

Speaking for themselves

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Speaking for themselves

I finished Book 2 in my “Lisa Somerville” series of novels and then confidently expected to carry on with Book 3 and just write it. You know, just fill the page with wonderful, easy text that would be lifted from me as if by magic.

But Book 3 had other ideas. “You need to rest for a while,” it said, “You need to take a bit of time to find my new characters and get a feel for them, before you can write me.” And most obviously, “We are different voices, which may take a little time to emerge, so just keep listening.”

Obvious, really. Now that I come back to writing properly, I find myself editing with relish, to locate the slightly different voices of the characters and their varying vocabulary. My main character, whom I think I voice correctly though she rarely speaks, is staying with others who insist that they have their own way; and if I will only just be patient and listen to them, they will show me. Speaking for themselves, once again I am pleased to find myself listening to my characters and taking notes.

So I tread carefully, I listen – with no music on, at the moment – and I write and edit; and I am pleased to feel my characters relaxing and coming alive. Each of my characters has different motivations – Mr Semple is a bit taciturn, but good at heart; his son is not kind, but then, Ian is motivated by his own fears, so what are those? My MC simply has to navigate the best she can for the moment, until she can pluck up enough courage and resources to take her next steps.

And if I can trust the process of listening and flying with the story, and be available for it, then I can learn a great deal from it. Certainly, it has never felt truer for me, that my characters are teaching me a lot about life.

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December 5, 2018

Thinking about life

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Thinking about life

 

Thinking about Life, the Universe and everything, I feel that it is now time for me to commit. Considering all the articles, the books and blog posts I’ve written about being positive, staying cheerful, finding meaning and purpose in mundanity, I’ve finally come to the point where, instead of saying, “Some day, I wlll…” I am now thinking, “Now I shall…”

I’ve decided that ‘positive’ is going to be my default. Okay, so that doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly evolved, or that I will never be … usefully angry again – which I take to mean, moved to decide something when I feel strongly. What I mean is that, I will no longer use negativity or those oh so familiar negative narratives (that sometimes announce themselves so clearly in my head!) to wallow, or to excuse myself from trying my best, aiming for the stars and giving life my best shot, every day, all the time.

Because, after living in the slow lane – aka merely existing – for so long, and after compromising my wishes almost to death, I owe myself that. I owe my husband, my daughter, my mother and my sisters that. And I’ve wasted so much time in unhelpful thinking, I don’t want to waste another second.

Positive is what we say it is. Positive is how we see ourselves, what we do to assist ourselves to feel good, purposeful and useful. It shows up in the ways we choose to have fun, the clothes we wear, the books we read, all the ways we relate to other people. And honestly, there are so many lovely things out there, colourful, bright and life enhancing, and there are so many truly gifted and wonderful people in the world, that I no longer have no excuse for accepting anything that takes away from my enjoyment of these.

We do deserve to treat ourselves well, and to hope for and anticipate the best. We never “have to” sell ourselves short. So from now on, I’m going to hope for the best, and live as if I really mean it. Wish me luck!

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December 3, 2018

Reading books or hiding?

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Reading books or hiding?


I have decided that I’m going to collect all of Marian Keyes’ books, re-read them and keep them. They are not only some of the best books I’ve read – funny, heartfelt and honest, as every reviewer has said – but every time I read them, I learn something more about myself. I see aspects of myself clearly in the characters of her books. And perhaps now it’s time to engineer some of their happy endings for myself. Yet, after reading these novels, nowadays I am struck with a new question: “Am I reading books or hiding?”

In many ways, I still feel I need to get a life. To stop being a social voyeur. Learning from other people’s mistakes – even through fictional characters – is all very well, but there is no substitute for true life.So despite the fact that – or perhaps because – Marian’s books are such compulsive reading, I’m not going to be reading as much as I have done.

Also, I can’t help noticing that I have used reading – huge irony, it is one addiction that we can carry around in plain sight that no-one will object to – to hide from what else I could and should be doing: going out to meet people, having fun, keeping in touch with my far-flung family and friends. That I can use reading as a professional excuse, just makes it easier to hide behind the covers, when what I really must do now, is stop hiding and get outside, into the world.

There is nothing stopping me. Nothing at all. Hubby is at work, and daughter is at school. She has her own social diary, so does Eddie. It’s me that sits at home, feeling fed up – or worse – and wondering why. It could be reading, it could be a hundred other reasons, but one thing I know. It’s time to get outside into the world, and meet people again.

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