November 23, 2020

Focus of thought

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Focus of thought

I was privileged recently to be part of a zoom call organised by a writer on Facebook; It was attended mostly by US writers, so while I was pondering the making of supper, my colleagues across the pond were just getting into their morning stride. But that’s the wonder of live internet communications.

In the course of our discussions, I gleaned that yes, it is very okay to write for twenty minutes at a time; and yes, we can indeed, and often do, listen to music while working. Obsession with particular pieces of music is, it seems, as valid a way of coaxing writing as an obsession with writing itself.

All of which I find so reassuring and helpful in getting back to some kind of work. Until fairly recently, I had come to believe that “writing” means being a devotee of the art, spending days immersed in other worlds, research and writing. Not so. We can have other interests, hopes and dreams, we can be involved in other fields – it is good to be, since that informs our writing – and we can apply focus of thought to write in shorter bursts of twenty minutes or half an hour at a time, providing we focus for that time and do not answer the phone.

Who is going to grudge me twenty minutes of writing time? Who will even notice? It’s not the amount of time we have, or spend, at work, but the direction and application we apply to our efforts. Realising that – and realising how much good thinking can be the result of a few minutes’ concentration – is, for me at this time, the most important thing to hear.

I’ve been stalled, rather ill, and unwilling to consider anything except dealing with the basics. So it’s heartening to realise that I don’t need to have acres of time at my disposal in order to be effective; nor, in order to write, do I need to exclude every other aspect of what makes life interesting. I can mix and match, do a bit here and there, and hope, while I am currently mired in a strange kind of confusion, that the little steps all add up to something worthwhile. That I cannot yet see any kind of end point, may not, at the moment, be the point.  

Thanks for reading.

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November 17, 2020

A World of Opposites

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A world of opposites?

Right now, the world appears as one of opposites: Republican, Democrat; mask wearer, not a mask wearer, Brexiteer, Europhile… And more than ever, we seem to be insisting on our rights to oppose. All of which appears to be sowing division, discord, and unhappiness.

Division, discord and unhappiness are not attitudes I wish to learn or absorb into my thinking, nor would I ever think that endorsing these aspects was a good thing. It is my experience that we all have something to learn, and that if we want to begin to find solutions to the world’s very real problems, we have to begin to find a way to live amicably, despite our different viewpoints. So how can we do this?

I can see many different points of view. Depending on my mood and a host of other things, I can agree that a certain viewpoint is justified sometimes, even if I hold a different viewpoint; it all depends. So, if I lived in a country with minimal state provision for its citizens and a very thin or vulnerable safety-net for the sick or disabled, of course I understand those who insist on the right to keep working as long as they can, and who decry any attempts to restrain their freedoms in that direction, pandemic or no pandemic.

Self-reliance is laudable, but it can sit uncomfortably in the midst of a global health crisis. So, since members of my family involved in healthcare are in the midst of a viral outbreak which is having deadly outcomes and which most observers agree is now barely being controlled, and since I have friends directly involved in looking after the sick, I support restrictions on our social lives and even on our freedom to earn a living if that helps to bring the crisis under control. If I expose myself to un-necessary risk in exercising what I think of as my rights, how might an eventual illness in me or in my household add to the burdens of an already toiling health care system?

It is very apparent to me that, even in a world of opposites, although the Covid 19 virus and its ilk has not – not yet – affected me directly, it is better for me to curtail my daily expectations, since the combined effect of us all doing so reduces the risks to healthcare workers: even in times of crisis, we do not routinely choose to work in a field of endeavour in which the risk of serious illness or death is constant, and many times that of other work.  

However that may be, I can and do listen to differing points of view, and try to see the merit in all different perspectives. Despite our differing philosophies, we have to find ways to listen and co-operate with one another every day, so that together we can contribute to constructive, long-term solutions to our problems. That is what politics is all about. Since climate change, environmental losses and the weakening of democratic systems affect us all, the most enduring solutions will come from as wide a field of contribution as possible.

Thanks for reading.

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November 5, 2020

Keeping going

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Keeping going

For a long time now, possibly years, I’ve been toying with giving up my writing. In any event, lately, I haven’t been writing much at all, and the dismay of my paralysis has been hard to get my head round.

So I’ve tried to ignore this particular patch of desert, to pretend that lockdown and its outcomes do not affect me. Though my situation remains surprisingly similar to what it has always been, the realities of lockdown, with their peculiar mix of worry and resignation, make working on a fictional series about hard-pressed women – and men – rather hard to justify.

Do I need to justify it? Lately, there have been so many good reasons why I should stop writing: I have lots of calls on my time, from my husband, my daughter, my sisters, friends, my mother, even my daughter’s guinea-pigs; but sitting here, crafting and editing my work, I am reminded again that I do sincerely delight in this particular combination of concentration and escapism.

Even when so much of writing seems to be carried out it a private world that feels like a vacuum, how could I excuse a final decision to stop, when writing makes me smile and feel good? I also know that it is one real, tangible thing I do, that my husband sincerely supports. He wants me to keep writing. And I’ve seen how the things that contribute to our happiness and sense of fulfilment make the routines and hardships of life easier to live with. Constructing fictional worlds is the nearest I’ll ever get to time travel; or, at this time, to actual travel, which is another reason why I will be keeping going.

I’m working now on a final edit of my three novels, which though they each stand alone, also represent a series of characters whose lives may work out in so many different ways. I’m almost driven to conclude that my novels are, as they stand, only outlines, scoping out what might happen, never cast in stone.

That I’m keeping going in itself gives me reason to feel celebratory.

Thanks for reading.

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October 5, 2020

Taking a longer view

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Taking a longer view

My mother’s health is failing. Finally, after several years of painful struggle and wishing that things could be different – I’ve not quite lost sight of the woman who was content in her domain and saw the purpose in carrying on – my mother’s light is fading.

In watching this long-drawn out process, taking a longer view, many emotions surface. And though I don’t know on any given day which will be uppermost, and which will lie dormant and sabotage me as I sleep, I know that this period of waiting will simply have to be endured, as all painful things are.

Certainly, there is regret, and a patina of peculiar relief, as we both accept the inevitable: I can’t make things better in the way she would like them to be: herself able and competent, living in France, her son alive, well, and, (in the dream she would have liked) living a happy life… I can’t put back the clock, and I’m not sure, even if I could, that it would be a wise course. Would all the things that have happened in the intervening five or so years have to happen again? I’m not sure we could cope with that.

There is comfort, as there always is, in knowing we have succeeded in coming this far together, in peace, and finally in a clearer understanding.

As a kid and a young adult, I often felt my parents to be remote, living by adult rules and logic to which I was not, nor expected to be, privy any time soon. Now, since I see Mum most days and have a hand in keeping her affairs in order, I have, I think, proved my claim to be as content, happy and competent in my own life as most of us are: my mother can relax now, knowing that, although I’ll never reach her heights of scholarship or astonishing grasp of detail, there is enough of her in me to ensure that I’ll be okay. Different, but okay.

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September 23, 2020

Stories of Personal Courage

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Stories of Personal Courage

My friends like to share stories of personal courage with me that they have themselves read and been inspired by. And there was a time – a period covering roughly thirty years – during which I was fascinated by them, mining individual stories of personal strength for nuggets of inspiration and advice when I needed it most. Some of the accounts I have read, I have taken to heart, and they have undoubtedly played their part in keeping me sane and alive.  

Nowadays, I feel as if I have found more of my courage, and so, I simply want to live as happily as I can, one day at a time. Does this make me unsympathetic? Not at all. When I am asked a question, or spoken to, I listen, as I hope I am listened to. But I also want to live freely, untrammelled by feelings of regret or pity.

I would not, and do not, want anyone to pity me; and therefore, while I do sincerely admire people who are living examples of courage every single day, I want not so much to admire them, as to enjoy their company, share their jokes and wish them well.

All of us, whether heroine or oppressed worker bee, at heart just want to be seen for who we are: not placed on a pedestal, nor looked up to, nor discriminated against or judged unfairly as we grovel trying to pull together our dignity from way down the queue.

I want to live on the level with others. I am not a mascot for the “unfortunate”, mainly because I don’t characterise myself or others as unfortunate, nor do I have unique access to spiritual insights, wisdom or empathy. There may be times when I feel I have something I want or need to say, perhaps voicing the views of those who may find it harder to speak out or be heard; but in this, as in most things, I cherish the hope that we are all alike in campaigning for what is meaningful to us.

Are my ambitions at risk of sounding flaccid and pedestrian? Perhaps, though while I do have ambition, my stamina is not always up to par; and for me, walking on the level is an achievement in itself.

Thanks for reading.

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August 31, 2020

“Eat Pray Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert

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“Eat Pray Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert

I can totally understand why “Eat Pray Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert has garnered so much attention and a devoted following worldwide. I’m not put off by the cynical reviews, though reading the book, I’m less convinced by the film – which I saw first. I understand film and book as loosely paired, each bright exponents of their own art: the film as very colourful, the book as a very readable exploration of how spirituality can marry well with the best of western values.

“Eat Pray Love” is full of the kind of pithy wisdom that we might collect for ourselves and deploy over a life-time, taking our favourite nuggets with us on our holidays, or into our encounters with difficult people… And it is also an immensely readable story of how one brave woman learned to slough off the trials of her life to find something more rewarding.

If she can manage to do that, so can we. Speaking as one who has spent years in a spiritual quest to understand Why? and who now acknowledges increasingly that Why is not the point: it’s more useful to work out How… it is heartening to notice many of my own suspicions echoed in this volume. I nod, agree “Yes, of course!” and “Oh, so now I understand…” Which is what, for me, makes this book such a gem.

“Eat Pray Love” is well written, and grapples with seeming ease, with abstruse spiritual concepts that would leave many of us floundering. With a seeming effortlessness, Gilbert lays out to view her evidence for a kind, generous all-seeing deity who loves us totally, and would like us to be happy. To argue with that seems churlish.

Rather than write a glowing review and indicate that this book saved my life, I would rather you read it and collect from it what suits you, given where you are now, and where you are going. It’s the kind of tale that will resonate with each of its readers differently, so that will have to be my main recommendation: read it, because it might just be the book you’ve been looking for. If not, then working out the reasons why not, is useful to know.

If I have one quibble, it’s that Ms Gilbert – who has such an amazing array of language she could use – in her heated moments references disability as an insult. I wasn’t really expecting to see it written, so when I saw “spaz” it was a jolt, and to see “spastic” used as a form of abuse was like tasting metal in my mouth. Once, as Lady Bracknell might say, is unfortunate. Twice begins to look like carelessness.

Nevertheless, a book I will keep.

Thanks for reading.

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August 25, 2020

Knowing all this…

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Knowing all this…

Knowing all this…. Covid resurgence, climate problems, disappearing wildlife, wildfires, water shortages, riots, political shenanigans and catastrophic explosions, not to mention other issues closer to home that constantly pull me up short and make me question… Knowing all this, what am I going to do?

Am I going to watch videos fervidly late at night and worry? Am I going to scroll endlessly through mini clips exposing this disaster or that impending crisis? Look out of the window at relentless rain and wonder where the Summer went…? Or…? Can I do something positive?

My life, my choices, my peace of mind, my freedom.

I hold tight onto my choice to be purposefully kind, and to work hard despite these and other pressures that bear down on my heart. I can still help a bit, by keeping my health strong, and my mental processes tidy and clean. Just because life’s situations are sometimes messy, is no reason to head straight for the swamp and drown in it.

All change, or betterment to any degree, starts with me, right now.

So that signals the end of obsessive anything, of endless checking, clicking, scanning the horizon and fretting. Instead, I’ll go for a walk in the fresh morning or as evening light fades. Instead, I’ll eat well, take a rest when I need to, and chat with my friends on the phone or over a cup of socially distanced tea. There is always plenty to do, and when that is finished for the day, I can read a cheerful book, watch a funny movie, have a laugh with my family.

When I look back at this unsettling time of change, I want to know that I worked hard and did my best. And in that, there is precious little space for wasted time or regret.

Thanks for reading.

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August 17, 2020

Taking refuge

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Taking refuge

In the process of growing up and getting older, have I been taking refuge behind unhealthy behaviours? In a household which was unusual, it comes as no surprise that I must have learned some very odd coping habits. And of course, I would unthinkingly accept what I saw around me, adapt to it and adopt it as mine too. Odd, that we adopt dysfunctional behaviour in order to fit in, when dysfunction makes true co-operation non-existent or at best, reluctant.

And so in the cause of adapting to what I have seen and felt, I have become too often, and painfully, bad tempered, perfectionist, judgemental, and I have spent a great deal of thought and mental energy in “fixing things”: keeping people happy, not rocking the boat, both appeasing and enabling bad behaviour, even while I was totally unaware of doing any of that.

In the process of realising all this, I’m having to recalibrate a lot of things I thought I understood. I’m having to take fresh responsibility for being too quick to be offended, for being sharp with judgements, and being impatient. None of what we get through in daily life matters so much that it should make us unhappy, and since bad behaviour alienates people, it’s no wonder I’ve felt too often alone and beleaguered.

But it’s never too late to start again. It’s taken me a long time to get to this point, and I’m glad I have, finally reaching a place from which I can work constructively. Painful as it may be, understanding my part in keeping difficult things going, and choosing now to work and behave differently, brings rewards I could previously only dream of, and a kind of peace and resolution that I feel as if I’ve been searching for all my life.

Thanks for listening.

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August 3, 2020

A Great Falsehood

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A Great Falsehood

I know, now, that there is no necessary connection between having an impairment and being unhappy.

That such a great falsehood was allowed to be planted and to grow inside me for decades, occasionally leaves me feeling quite devastated. Every revelation has its downside; and while I now feel uplifted and energised by the liberation that comes with recognising this lie for what it is, I can’t escape knowing that I’ve wasted acres of time and energy trying to rationalise, and then escape from, the deeply rooted assumption I held to, that impairment and unhappiness were bound to twist together.

Paralysing childhood reasoning is much easier to dismantle and let go of, when we are allowed to talk it through and can be offered reassurance and a wider perspective. Goodness knows, we all have challenges to deal with. And we don’t all devise a twisted logic to try and make sense of the impossible.

Only now do I see, that I could have been very much happier if I’d had more considered and unconditional love. Though I’m very grateful for all my life lessons, even the hard ones, I’ve come a long road round to the obvious truth, that it is love that makes people happy and well adjusted, able to cope with whatever life throws at them: the kind of love that I now allow myself to feel, and that I try to offer to other people.

In so many ways I have been, and I am, incredibly lucky. And I wish I could have felt that luck and joy – that sheer sense of freedom – more often, when I was younger. I have come late to the realisation that none of our warped thinking matters. We are free, whatever our lot in life, to be relaxed, happy, calm and certain of our confidence and our achievements.

That feelings of freedom and happiness can flourish despite our challenges, is a wonderful lesson to harvest from a great deal of reflection.

Thanks for listening.

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July 23, 2020

Birth family dynamics

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Birth family dynamics

Taking time in lockdown to browse through on-line videos on self-help, I listen, learn and recalibrate a lot of what I thought I understood. My understanding of many of my birth family dynamics changes, firming up, and offering new perspectives that bring me up short, as I ask myself a host of questions which will probably remain unanswered.  

Some answers I do have, however. And this process of reflection is very welcome, as finally I can feel myself standing up straighter and coming out from under a lot of pointless habits, such as needless introspection – Wow! It was never about me after all, there never was anything I could have done to change that – worrying, and overthinking around painful subjects – What might I have done differently? Turns out, not much.

This process of setting to rights and starting again is often painful: I’m having to review most of what I previously thought I had understood about “what happened” and reconsider events in a very different light, as having much less to do with my conduct or perceived failings than I had assumed. Coming to terms with a lot of wasted time and wasted regrets – there was no shape I could have twisted myself into that would have made any difference, after all – has been stark. A process of uplifting liberation from the old narratives also leaves me feeling quietly appalled.  

Children accept what is reflected back at them and assume it is inevitable. So, my childish realisation that my parents both had difficulty accepting my particular suite of impairments was part of the juvenile understandings I collected about life in general and me in particular: “I’m obviously impaired, therefore I’m unhappy, obviously…” As youngsters, we take on board a great many mixed messages, then spend years trying to contort ourselves to make sense of them. So I took for granted an assumption about my world, that I now recon is the Great Falsehood.

To be continued.

Thanks for listening.

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