What can you do with old pillows? Or, the hidden challenges of co-housing.

July 13, 2016 / kategresham / 3 Comments

What can you do with old pillows?

They say to replace pillows every twelve months for health reasons. That makes for a lot of leftovers.

We are two households combining gradually.

A corner offering sanctuary, my old house.

I’d been living by myself. My house had three bedrooms and two bathrooms . I was working in a permanent job with a regular income. Not a normal thing in my life, so I had lots of fun buying furniture, linen, bedding, cookware … all the accoutrements of a “proper” lifestyle, after many years of making do and never having enough. I was able finally to have enough, perhaps even, to have abundance – lots of pillows and lots of stuff. I loved it . I enjoyed being able to buy another set of towels or good bakeware or whatever took my fancy.

lots of … stuff.

My co-houser has brought her furniture, linen, bedding, cutlery, and …. So here we are now with… excess.

There must be something you can do with pillows. All the couches (and yes, we have several couches, four in fact), have European pillows, standard pillows and cushions, covering them. I’m interested in the way visitors will perch on the edge and stay there (there’s no room unless they move some clutter), looking uncomfortable and ill at ease, but ignoring admonitions to ” move the cushions, they’re only thrown there, you won’t disarrange anything!” The cushions and pillows aren’t placed there for decorative reasons, but as somewhere to put them.

couches are for holding cushions and pillows.

And excess quilts, blankets, cutlery, saucepans, cupboards, tables – the obvious answer – get rid of them! But who wants leftover pillows or quilts or blankets or? And how do we choose what to keep and what to give away? Who wants to give away their cherished blankets, the ones their granma gave them when they first left home? Which set of saucepans do we keep? Do you begin to see the hidden depths of what may have appeared to be simple?

Back to the original question- I hold the belief that excess pillows are very useful. They can be cushions, or pillows for picnics, or beds for stray animals, or heaped on the deck or … I find it difficult to give away something that is inherently useful, someday I may need it. And no, I ‘m not a child of the Depression era. And yes I do save plastic bags-I hate to buy plastic when the earth and all her living creatures are being poisoned by micro plastic! How can I knowingly add to that huge plastic continent in the middle of the Pacific?

Need I mention here that I am plagued by the fear of scarcity? What if my co-houser discovers she hates living in the country and moves back to the city? There won’t be enough pillows and blankets, saucepans and cutlery to go round!

Now my co-houser is much better at giving things away (perhaps reckless?). A wonderful colonial silky oak cupboard went to the removalist. Her reason? There’s nowhere for it here. I would have hung onto it, hoping that a home would be found for it. That’s why there’s a red cedar chest of drawers sitting downstairs. So far there is nowhere for it, but my father adored red cedar. He found this one at an auction and treasured it. Throwing it out feels disloyal to his memory.

My old house- books and space for cats.

This house has big windows and not much wall space. We need bookshelves, so even less wall space. Can you see where I’m heading? Yes, we each have a collection of paintings, prints, photos, tapestries … if it’s difficult to choose between cutlery sets without causing upset, how much more difficult to choose paintings!

some wall for paintings.

Thus the unexpected traps of co-housing when each member has abundance, requiring tact and understanding and for each person o be able to let things go.

Not only does the rationising of possessions highlight one of the unexpected challenges of co-housing, it also raises the dilemma of disposal. What do we do with them? I do not want to be part of the throwaway society. Use it, get rid of it, add to landfill … our earth is drowning in garbage. Our excess is of good quality; there are people in need. After fruitless phone calls I have given up trying to find some way of getting them to refugee camps, to those thousands in Europe I s huddling in adequate clothing and shelter. But. No one wants my excess. What do I do?

(A postscript: help! the aloe versa keep on multiplying and multiplying! what can I do?)

It’s possible! Who needs lots of money to be happy?

July 10, 2015July 14, 2015 / kategresham / 16 Comments

You can do it! You can stop working full-time and have enough to eat, somewhere to live, your basic needs met and enjoy being alive. Trust me, I’m doing it, so I know what I’m talking about. (The tiny house movement is just one example of doing it differently.)

I remember the anxiety and fear. Sometimes I think it was terror- of the future, of what might happen, of all the what ifs. I dreaded being old and homeless, joining the community who lived on the street.

I remember the constant anxiety before I bought a house. The constant worry of when I would have to move again. Rentals get sold or the owners want it for something else or… the one certainty in life was that sooner or later I would have to move. There would come the search for somewhere suitable, finding the best possible home that I could afford, then the packing and cleaning; the expense and the disruption and the stress.

I remember finally, at last buying a house. I was fifty-one and I had lived for years without even the hope that this might happen. I was given the keys to my house and that evening I sat on the floor, I simply sat there, and the fears and the tensions and the worries melted away. I had a home. I could plant a garden. It was mine. (Well, yes, there was a mortgage, but…)

Manning Regional Art Gallery's photo.

After many years of insomnia I started sleeping. I fed birds from the deck through the day and possums at night. I sat by the lake and was content or wandered into the rainforest across the road and breathed in the trees.

And then ( there always seems to be an “and then”). Illness happened. Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and I couldn’t work for almost twelve months. Then a gradual return: a half day, two half days, one full day… I reached four days. Then brain surgery, then a heart condition… In six years I was never able to return to work a five day week in my full-time permanent job.

The fear and the anxiety returned. What if I couldn’t pay my mortgage? What if I lost my job? What if I was too ill to continue working even part-time? The bag lady spectre came back.

Eventually I sold my house. A work flat was available, furnished and the changes had begun. A friend in a similar situation ( single, unable to buy a home by herself ) was happy to buy a house with me.

And we lived happily ever after. Well, you can fill in the next events. They aren’t what matter here.

What I really want to tell you is how part of this story, the part before I resigned from my job, meant facing the possibility of poverty- looking the fear in the face and asking if I could cope. (This is a wonderful post exploring some of the possibilities.)

Harvest from the garden.

What if I couldn’t afford to have a car? What if I couldn’t afford heating? No new clothes? Dentists? Food? Doctors? Never have another massage? Or see a chiropractor? What if I couldn’t afford the restaurant get-togethers? Meeting friends for coffee? Would I have to live with hairy legs, no more waxing? Concerts? Theatre?

Of course I went through the self reprimands of how privileged my life had been, of how I had frittered money, if only I’d been more frugal, if I’d stayed in one job and worked my way up, if …but that’s another story.

Two and a half years later I can tell you that it is possible! I still have my car but if I can’t replace it in the future I live in a small town where I can walk to the things I need or catch a bus.

Shared bounty from a friend.

I know that if I have no money left for food one week there is enough in my pantry to feed us. My neighbours have hens and can give me eggs. The vegetable garden is developing and will supply some food. There’s always rice and lentils and …

If it’s freezing and the heating bill is high, then… more clothes, warm underwear… there are secondhand clothing shops, there’s the world of online buying and selling… I need special clothes for an occasion? someone might lend me something…

The most significant awareness I have and that which I believe with all my being is that we must join together. A group of people on limited incomes can support each other in times of need. We must reach out and not be alone. A pestilence of our modern lifestyle is isolation and loneliness. We can find ways of living together and of sharing and of caring for each other.

It is possible! Not only is it possible, it’s fun and exciting. I have challenges, things to strive for and the endless possibilities that come with stepping out of the box.

Never give up, I say.

Take the step and throw yourself in.

It’s been a while, Kate, maybe it’s time for a review.

July 7, 2015 / kategresham / 15 Comments

a very long time ago.

Who am I ? Why do I blog? What am I on about?

It’s time to review, recharge the batteries, re-connect and go back to the basics. A time to remember what drives me.

I blog because I must. For many years I lived with an urge to write. Something inside kept on pushing me to write. Web 2 happened and with it blogging. That vague, constant “I want to write,” became “I could write a blog.” It’s taken a very long time but I’ve finally started, instead of merely thinking about it.

This year I have had several months when I haven’t written and I said to one of my friends, in a moment of misery, “If I don’t write, then I might as well be dead.” Not because I’m accomplished, not because I think I’m good but because I must. Without writing, I lose a sense of purpose

in writing mode.

Years ago I used to write a column in a small magazine. Come the deadline and I would sit at my computer and ask myself “What’s in my heart today?” That’s how I want to write.

Cheryl Strayed (author of “Wild: A journey from lost to found”, now a movie) says “When you’re speaking in the truest, most intimate voice about your life, you are speaking with the universal voice.”

You probably know that feeling when you strike a chord in the heart of the person to whom you are speaking. That’s what I want to do.

Most likely these are some of the things I write about:

I love and cherish this Earth, our home. I care about what we have done and am committed to living in a way that is least damaging. That means living simply and sustainably. I was a city dweller and now live in a small rural town in Australia. The garden beds are begun so we can grow some of our own food.
the garden begins.

I’m a woman, a single woman. For many reasons I have little financial security, but I am one of the fortunate ones. I live in my own home, paying neither rent nor mortgage. To do this, I have chosen to buy a house with one of my friends and become a co-houser. I have been fortunate. The spectre of homelessness as an older woman no longer looms so close. However, I remain passionate about the plight of many older women.
I love ideas and reading, listening to and watching stimulating programs. Favourite activitiesof mine include discussing ideas endlessly with friends, thinking and pondering things I’ve heard, read or seen. Ideas fill me with enthusiasm and I want to share them, to pass them on, to let others know.
Illness has affected my life. I understand exhaustion, fatigue, insomnia and extreme illness because I’ve been there. I am alive because I have a stoma and ileostomy. Many times I have longed for another person who understood, really understood what I was experiencing. If someone who is exhausted, can’t sleep or been ill for a very long time, reads something I have written and feels the relief that comes with finally being understood, then I’ll be happy. And I want to show how it is to you who may not have been there, to deepen your understanding and empathy.
I need to feel I belong. It’s one of our most basic needs- to belong and be part of a group. One of my aims in this community, as always is to help to bring people together, to do what I can to make sure no one is isolated and alone. Community matters.
One of my kookaburras yesterday. A simple pleasure and a delight.

And sometimes I write about nothing very much, because life is mostly ordinary and nothing very much, but greatly to be treasured.

The other side of the coin.

February 22, 2015March 10, 2015 / kategresham / 3 Comments

Can’t sleep

Bad night. Couldn’t sleep. Feel exhausted and cranky. Don’t want to do anything. Snarl at anyone who looks at me. Have had two cups of strong coffee. Didn’t help. Want to go back to bed, pull the blankets over my head and oblivion. Know that wouldn’t help. My co-houser tiptoes around me.

It’s only one day, you might say. So? That’s one whole day out of my life. I don’t know how many I will have. Don’t want to waste one. Anyway, I don’t like feeling like this- edgy, scratchy, everything too hard, screaming inside at anything I try to make myself do.

grrr! don’t get in my way!

Some sort of irony? One day I write about how wonderful life is when I’ve slept well, the next I want to scratch and snarl and bite and write about how bad I feel because I haven’t slept.

Yes, it is only one day and it will pass, but how do I get through it? I don’t want to feel like this all day.

Force myself to have a shower, admit grudgingly I do feel a bit better. Might be able to do something. I put on some Lullabies- soothing and serene. Maybe I’ll do some gardening. Having my hands in the earth is soothing and consoling. The Amish say that having your hands in the earth is when you are closest to God- that must mean I’d be sweet and kind. And gardening doesn’t require much energy, only walk downstairs, put on some gardenng gloves and sit near a garden bed. I know I’ll feel better, but… I’m folding my arms, stamping my foot, pushing out my chin…well, not literally, but I would if I was six! I feel like being six, stamping about, growling, knocking things over…

stamp, growl, glower…

All right. I will do some gardening and I’ll phone the rehabilitation centre and book a session in the hydrotherapy pool. Hot water and gentle exercise, followed by a time suspended in the water, wearing a weights belt and a flotation ring. Yum. It’s the best feeling. Completely relaxed. There’ve been times when I’ve almost fallen asleep.

Haven’t seen my friends there for a few months. There’s P who hit a tree, late one night, at around 100 kms. Brain damage with physical results- some paralysis, some slight speech slurring. Works hard at his rehab, visits the pool three times each week. Says it helps. There’s B, don’t know what happened to her, maybe arthritis. She isn’t elderly, uses a walker, finds it difficult even to get into the pool. There’s C, a farmer, had an accident in the dairy and injured his back. He can no longer farm, desperately wants to work. And there’s A, just reaching adolescence, severe Cerebral Palsy, adores the water. It helps with muscle spasm. His carers joke around, as does the man responsible for the pool. Can’t help being cheered by a visit. The atmosphere is always friendly, supportive, we’re a gang. It’s fine to whinge, no one minds and we’ll end up feeling better. I worry about them when I haven’t been able to go. Has P become gloomy and despondent? His long marriage ended last year. How is B managing? She lives with her aged mother and finds it difficult at times. Has A become more spasmed, less mobile, smiling less?

I have a bet with the pool manager. We both need to lose weight, so we have challenged each other, have regular weigh-ins. Last time I was there, he had lost seven kilograms. I had put on four! Comes from having made friends, having regular lunches and women who bring home-made cakes to book club. Churlish to refuse to eat it. And after all, I believe that any food made with love, is beneficial.

There was a time, after a deeply unsettling and distressing experience, when a dear friend took me to the beach for a picnic- a salad he had prepared. We had a swim, sat on the beach and ate it. I was teaching quite a distance from home so was staying with other friends that night. The wife, fastidious and obsessive about what she ate, reacted with horror to the loving kindness of my picnic. ” But you didn’t eat it?” she said.

Of course I did. It had been prepared with great compassion and love. Nothing about it would hurt me.

Today, from my back deck. How can I complain?

I’m feeling better! I can survive the day and I’m enjoying it. It’s a sublime one, a day of sunshine after rain. Clouds in a blue sky, a warm sun that’s not too hot, and a cool, gentle breeze. Perfect day for catching up on the washing or even better, sitting outside with a book. I thank my co-houser for her forbearance. A plump, snarling woman is not a pretty sight.

Maybe I’ll take a sleeping tablet tonight.

A prescription for life.

I’ll get there, I have the tools for better sleep, I know it won’t happen instantly. It’s exercise and mindfulness meditation. Some yoga. Some time being merry.

And acceptance- after all, it is only one day.

The Great co-housing adventure continues.

December 30, 2014 / kategresham / 8 Comments

Boxes and furniture put wherever they would fit.

The front porch after the removalists left.

Perhaps there’s a reason why Wendell Berry’s statement “Don’t own so much clutter that you will be relieved to see your house catch fire” caught my eye this morning.

But I would never be relieved to see my house catch fire and while I know we have too much we are looking forward to sorting and simplifying.

I want to show you our home as it is today, after the removalists have brought everything, right at the beginning. I want you to share this adventure of co-housing and community with us, the creating of the home, the evolving garden, our own journeys, the shared journey, the challenges we face, the successes, the life – our own, the house, the garden, the community, this valley and neighbourhood.

When you see these photos it might cross your mind that there’s quite a lot… and I’d agree, but there are mitigating circumstances. And here’s the background.

I am more able to understand nowadays the devastating effect chronic insomnia, illness and continual exhaustion have had on my life. The more I understand the more accepting and compassionate toward myself I am. As I become less tired and have fewer external demands I’m experiencing the contrast between a life chronically exhausted and a life less so.

No wonder I have spent years reading mainly escapist literature. No wonder I have started so many wonderful books only to put them down because I couldn’t concentrate. No wonder I have such a long list of things I want to do when…

There are flowers by the door- not all is chaos.

I have just spent my longest period ever in a full-time permanent job. This was interrupted by severe and long illnesses, but…with a secure wage I experienced the joy of buying a spacious light-filled house – three bedrooms, two bathrooms. And then I enjoyed filling it up- such pleasure in having enough linen for guests, buying quality saucepans, a dinner set, crystal glasses, furniture that wasn’t just cast-offs and the indulgence of books and books and books (and yes, clothes and more clothes). I remember feeling I was a proper adult when I bought myself a new and beautiful fridge…and then a washing machine. I could look after myself, I could be independent, strong and capable. So empowering. But illness, Chronic Fatigue and exhaustion meant that I couldn’t keep up with the sorting and clearing out and throwing away…it’s all come with me.

Angela, my co-houser, moved to the UK eight years ago, for a planned long-term stay. Her possessions- furniture, linen, books, kitchen…all went into long-term storage. The move didn’t work out. Angie arrived back in Australia- heartbroken, homeless, jobless, broke…but not friendless.

This is Angela’s bedroom. Wait until it’s painted and organized!

When she found work her choice was to house-sit, furniture and possessions staying in storage. A move into a small unit meant there was no space to retrieve her belongings. After several years, my dominoes all fell perfectly and we bought this house. I moved… and all my stuff. Angela remained living and working in the city, but was finally able to move her long-term stored things to this house. (Imagine her delight in seeing much cherished possessions again! ) We stacked everything somewhere- we are talking two households here and neither were minimalist. And this house has no garage or external storage space.

At last Angela has reached the moment when she can leave her current work, uproot herself from the city and move to her home in this small, beautiful, rural valley. Today, the unit has has been packed up and all the contents are now here, Angie is yet to arrive. As Max says “Let the show begin!”

Share our adventure!

One of my kookaburras yesterday.

(And I thought this post was going to be all photos! Silly me.)

The Great co-housing adventure begins!

December 6, 2014 / kategresham / 4 Comments

(Or, as Max says in “Where the Wild Things Are”, “Let the show begin!”)

Well, it’s almost begun. Angie, my co-houser hasn’t arrived yet, but all her things are here. (Well, except the clothes and things she needs for the next few weeks.)

Here’s some of the background to this adventure.

Angie and I have been friends for forty years. More than friends, she’s part of my family. We have cared for each other, slept on the floor at each other’s homes when we’ve been homeless. She’s the person I have phoned in the middle of the night, after I have phoned for an ambulance. Over the years we have guarded each other’s back, when trouble was stalking.

We’re often single. Careers and security have not been our primary aims. So we haven’t reached middle age, financially secure and affluent. ( Most of the time we realise how very secure and how richly abundant we are in so many other ways.) For many reasons we have chosen to buy a home together.

There are so many reasons. I am passionate about the necessity to create community and build a safe and loving space where we can belong and have that absolute sense of trust. I love the Wendell Berry poem which says “home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”

to give my presence, my aim

I want home to be that place of unconditional love, total trust and safety…the place where I know I can be completely vulnerable… and I’m not thinking only of these four walls here and of Angie and myself. I am committed to building a larger community and helping to create such a space for others.

With Angie here, I can relax. There’s someone else to share all the jobs. There’s someone who loves and supports me through thick and thin. There’s someone who will give me space and silence and solitude whenever I need it. There’s someone to provide that rare and special feedback that will enable us each to grow and blunt our sharp edges, to point out when we have been less than the best we can be. There’s someone to laugh and play with, to have fun. So much, so much to be so very grateful for.

The garden will be started- finally! The house will be painted. (I HATE THE COLOURS!) Together we will practise living frugally and sustainably and we’ll be better at it, because we’ll have each other to prop up our resolve when we fall into lust and wanting. (We both love things- books, paintings, beautiful objects… and I adore clothes. I fall into lust and wanting very easily.) We have more than enough.

(And you thought this was going to be easy, Angela!)

Life in the moment!

I said to Ange the other day: “Thank God you will finally be here!!! We can paint and garden and start a market stall and go to the gym regularly and get fit and have picnics at the beach and invite people for meals and sort out boxes of stuff and get started on that photographic project and you can begin building and making and maybe we’ll have some hens and we’ll sit about and read and have a glass of wine together and cups of tea and…(I stopped for a breath)”.

Angie: “I’ve been looking forward to resting and doing nothing much for a while!”

(Silly girl!)

katesclippings

ideas that are dear to my heart.

co-housing

It’s been a while, Kate, maybe it’s time for a review.

The other side of the coin.