Set for Solstice

June 22, 2014June 24, 2014 / kategresham / 5 Comments

Writing 101. Daily Prompt.

Set for Solstice.Today’s summer solstice, the longest day of the year…How are you taking advantage of the extra hours of light at this time of year?

Well, here in Australia it’s the winter solstice and because of the time difference it was actually yesterday. So while you may choose to write about sunshine and long days and watermelon and going to the beach, I shall write about sitting by the fire, and mulled wine and books and slow cooked casseroles…

We have pretty skies

But no, I won’t write about such things because I’m sitting on my front porch, wearing a short sleeved tee-shirt and the cat’s asleep in the sun. It’s a warm, sunny day with yet another pretty skyscape; people are walking their dogs and a family just went by on their way to the park. There are still tomatoes ripening on the bush- it’s supposed to be winter! Does this mean the cold will come later? Even though it doesn’t feel like midwinter, yesterday was our shortest day, with only nine hours of sunlight.

Around both winter and summer solstices I find myself wishing for traditions and rituals to mark the turnings of the year. I’ve grown up with a British sensibility; my ancestors who first settled here were from Britain. At school I studied British and European history and read mostly British literature. I’m a transplant. So I want to celebrate Beltane in May, have bonfires for Midsummer and a Yule log at Christmas.

We haven’t worked out how to replace these old traditions. There are still Christmas cards with snow, robin redbreasts, holly, Santa Claus and reindeers. The attempt to put Santa on a surfboard or replace his reindeer with kangaroos doesn’t seem to work. But we still have traditional Christmas dinners even though it may be a heatwave.

The question of how to create meaningful rituals and celebrations is something I ponder. Here in this new home which I share with a friend we will attempt to create moments of community for the times that matter. Perhaps those moments will include telling stories of special times and sharing our memories. After all, much of our history has come through the stories we have shared.

Five minutes from my house- black and white cows!

My favourite winter memory is from my early childhood. I would have been, maybe four, and we were living with my grandparents on their farm. I would jump out of bed early and run across to my uncle,who was doing the morning milking. Barefoot, I used to dance across the grass, sparkling with frost still on it, my breath misting out. The dairy was filled with the big, black and white cows, swishing their tails as they waited to be milked. I would put my finger under the milk coming down the separator and lick it- warm and sweet, straight from the cow. The clang of the buckets, the sound of the machines, the stamping of the cows, the smells of the dairy…I wasn’t cold, I was filled with the joy of the fullness of the morning.

It was a moment when “God’s in His Heaven, all’s right with the world.”

This memory will be my Winter Solstice celebration for this year.

Binding judgement.

June 9, 2014June 11, 2014 / kategresham / 8 Comments

Writing-101.

Daily prompt: Does it ever make sense to judge a book by its cover- literally or metaphorically?

Hey! In one of my lives, I’m a librarian, often working in school libraries. Ask me about judging a book by its cover! So many times in schools, I’ve tried to sell one of my favourite books to an avid reader, quite unsuccessfully. Why? Because they don’t like the cover. No matter how much I’ve protested, no matter how much they respect my opinion I have never been able to get that book borrowed, or even glanced at.

One day, after discussing it with some of my favourite readers, I thought about it myself. I had to confess- the cover affects my decision whether or not I will read the book. In fact, it may be the decider. It would take a very convincing blurb or it would need to be a favourite author to win me over a negative cover.

The school libraries where I’ve worked have limited budgets, so classics were in outdated versions. Covers from the fifties and sixties look old-fashioned and hence impossible to sell. I have never worked in a school with a highly literate population so I don’t know what the response would be with children who were exposed to books and stories from birth. W

Sometimes covers serve other purposes. I remember an old man coming into the public library where I worked and asking for the book with the red cover. It had been on display a few weeks earlier A red cover?? Back then my memory was sharp, I remembered the book with the red cover and…one satisfied customer. (I hope he was impressed.)

It isn’t only fiction where covers matter. A boring garden photo on the cover? No matter how useful the information might be, I’m not going to buy a garden book that’s not beautiful.

I like these covers- they look and feel good.

Have I ever bought a book for it’s cover? If its non-fiction then I’m always going to flip through it. But fiction? I’m attracted to the current trend in publishing fiction with a hardback cloth cover, usually with an old-fashioned illustration. If it has rough-cut pages as well, then I’m well on the way to being sold on it. But it’s not enough, I need more.

A few books.

I like books to be tactile and if it smells bookish then so much the better. Nowadays, because I can buy e-books and save space in my crowded, crowded bookshelves, (Do you know how many boxes of books I packed, last time I moved?) I need a reason to choose the hardcopy form.

When I buy for a school library, I want children to use books written specifically for information- they’re often more appropriate than the ‘Net, but a book has to be gorgeous or quaint or have something extra as well.

One of our wise elders- Doris Lessing, I salute you!

What does this say about us humans? Appearance does matter? I don’t like to come to that conclusion, it seems both superficial and judgemental. But when I think about it, appearance reveals character. Kindness, compassion, wisdom, endurance, humour, a life lived well…what do you want written on your face? I treasure a photo of the older Doris Lessing. Her face may have wrinkles, but she glows.

No, I’ve never chosen a book for its cover. It’s what’s inside that counts in the end.

Country Life.

June 8, 2014 / kategresham / 4 Comments

Some of my loot!

I’ve just arrived home from our monthly farmers’ market. It’s a lot of fun, although I always buy much more than one human being could possibly eat. There’s so many yummy fresh vegetables and fruit, home-made jams and pickles, organic meat, seedlings and much more all begging me to take them home and grow them. Chooks and ducks, rabbits… once I was offered a belted Galway calf (oh, the temptation!). For a person who yearns for the large, productive, rambling and beautiful garden, for the paddock with an alpaca or two, a donkey or two, maybe a pretty cow, a dovecote, chooks, ducks, a dam, a creek with a stony bed and maybe platypuses, deciduous trees, an orchard every aromatic herb ever…it’s an endless source of temptation! You get the picture?

(The reality is a yard that is too small for even one alpaca or donkey or cow; there is no dam or creek; the garden is still in the planning stages; maybe there will be chooks; maybe we’ll get a paddock.)

But there’s still the monthly market. I’ve been living here just over a year and so I’m familiar with most of the stallholders. There are the wonderful women from landcare who run the community stall- when I have an excess of produce I will sell it there. I go into the local Landcare office with all my questions and they provide advice with endless patience.

John’s Japanese pumpkin. Isn’t it beautiful?

Then there’s John from Chichester- probably three hours away. He’s a large genial man, dressed in King Gee overalls with a broad grin. He gives me practical advice on saving seeds, on how to grow everything. He’s a country man of several generations so his advice is grounded in what has worked. His produce, like all the others, is picked that morning and will last for weeks. Goes without saying that everything is delicious.

This week I meet a young couple who are pickling the vegetables they grow. They also have some ketchup, some harissa paste, some fermenting- all from their own garden and all organic. They ooze their dedication and love of what they’re doing. I make a note to remember the ketchup for Christmas presents. They also have Jerusalem artichokes and guavas. I have to buy them because my grandmother grew them. As I eat them it will be a chance to remember her.

Jerusalem artichokes and guavas, in memory of my grandmother.

I don’t need fresh macadamia butter or oil from the couple with the macadamia business. The macadamia butter is probably addictive it’s so delicious. And, it’s good for you!

I buy some pecan nuts and make a note to myself: visit Uncle (about an hour away), to gather some pecans for myself. He has so many they fall to the ground, ungathered. Maybe I’ll meet my niece there to talk about bees and bee-keeping. My uncle lives on my grandparents’ farm and my grandfather kept bees. My niece who is experimenting with dried honey products, wants to see her great-grandfather’s bee hives and talk about bees.

I’m glad to see the family with the local, organic oranges is back. It’s orange season and these are sweet and juicy. Almost as good as the ones were on my father’s orange trees.

I meet my neighbours and we have a coffee. I’ve talked to everyone and had a wonderful time. Once again I relish the sense of well-being from that comes from the simplicity of life in the country. And I’m grateful.

Mornings

June 2, 2014June 2, 2014 / kategresham / 7 Comments

The cat’s purring on my lap and I’m sitting, hot cup of coffee in my hand, gazing out the window, my thoughts coming and going. The sun is warm through the windows , the sky is blue and I don’t have to be anywhere.

One of my morning sofa choices.

I do have a commitment with myself however and that is to rapid write for at least twenty minutes every morning as soon as I wake up. Now I interpret the “as soon as I wake up” (which is the usual suggestion) to mean after I’ve managed to stagger out of bed and find a cup of coffee.

You see, I’m not much of a morning person. In fact, I’m absolutely not a morning person. I’m in some sort of somnolent state when I get up and as long as I don’t have to do anything or go anywhere, this is fine. I like to sit, gaze into the distance and take my time. I can run into difficulties if there’s a morning person in my space- you know the sort. They wake up, full of energy, ready to take on the world. If I’m going to snap at someone that’s when it will happen. I try to make it clear to anyone who may be around me in the mornings that it’s best if they don’t speak to me and absolutely best if they don’t ask me things, like “What would you like to do today?” or “What are your plans?”

This morning, as is the normal pattern at the moment, it’s just the cat and me. A cat is the perfect companion for my mornings, being happy to sit and drowse with me. I have one complaint. He can’t get up and make more coffee and toast and that’s when a morning person is useful -by this stage of wakefulness I would attempt and wheedle coffee and toast from them. After all, who am I to disturb a cat? It’s a privilege to be chosen by a cat as a sleeping mat.

Part of the morning view.

I cherish mornings such as this when I can wake gradually, write, gaze out the window and (when I’m ready) dislodge the cat and make my own coffee and toast. I revel in the pleasure of it and feel so very thankful. I don’t have to struggle out of bed, force myself into the shower, grab something to eat, find what I need for the day, get dressed and rush out the door (unless I’m on a morning work stint).

How wonderful to be able to start the day feeling grateful. It hasn’t always been like this, nor will it always remain so, but I shall cherish these moments of peace and slowness.

An Ordinary Day

May 20, 2014 / kategresham / Leave a comment

Well, maybe not so ordinary. I’ve just spent almost three weeks relieving in a local school library, and when I work all my routines go out the window. All I do is go to work, come home and get ready for the next day. So now I’ve finished that block I’m focused on writing, publishing some posts, exercising, practicing mindfulness… AND tidying, cleaning, vacuuming, gardening… catching up on long overdue paperwork….

You get the idea. I had breakfast sitting in the sun on the front verandah, making lists, with all my different colured textas and pens. Arrows, asterisks, underlinings, highlightings….What would be the best use of my time? How can I make sure I get the most important things done? What are the priorities?

Eventually I decide that I’ll feel best if my home is clean and tidy; chaos is unsettling and clean floors are a pleasure. Somehow, deciding this gives me permission to just get on and stop worrying about wasting time.

the calm of clouds in a blue sky.

It’s a beautiful day. Sunny, warm, still, blue; small clouds decorate the sky. This town is set in a ring of hills, but not buried in a valley. It has the best skyscapes and since I’ve been here I keep driving out of town to take sky photos.

There’s washing on the line. I’ve finally planted the struggling peppermint geranium cutting – it may still survive. It’s been sitting in water on the window sill for?? weeks? months? and I’ve kept promising myself that I’ll plant it today, but then, there’s always those priorities… But now, it’s planted!

the pleasure of washing, drying in the sun.

I’ve sprayed the aphids on the roses with soapy water. And I’ve sat in the sun drinking cups of tea, chatting with my neighbours. I confess, I’ve also spent some time gazing at the sky, watching birds, checking out the way the gum looks against the blue of the sky… in other words, daydreaming and simply being glad I’m alive.

The vacuuming isn’t done, nor is the house tidy but I feel relaxed and happy. Of course the question still remains: how do I manage to do what needs to be done and also those things that are the most important? I read other writers who juggle the demands of caring for a child while earning a living as full-time writers. I am in awe of their discipline. I’ve recently read a TED blog about a woman who was bed-ridden with chronic pain and chose to work as a TED translator during that time. There are plenty of role models of people who achieve in spite of the odds.

A pretty end to a pretty day.

But today, I will revel in my freedom.

if only…

March 8, 2014 / kategresham / 2 Comments

if only… I don't think "if only" crossed the minds of Bear or Pusska.

: I don’t think “if only” crossed the minds of Bear or Pusska.

if only I’d… asked for help… told someone how I felt… known I was valued… taken the chance to… spoken up for myself… told my side of the story… let them know I loved them … gone to visit that last time… gardened at every opportunity… gone to the beach every possible moment… rung when I thought of it… this list is straight off the top of my head and I could go on and on…

I wonder if you live with some “if only’s” in your life and what they might be.

You might be thinking it sounds negative, as if I’m judging myself, but I find the opposite is true. My if only’s are learning moments. They can lead to self understanding and to insights about myself. I’d like to think that by learning from them I don’t repeat them. If only that were true! I can be a very slow learner.

The if only I’ve been thinking about happened a long time ago. I was teaching in a very good private school in Melbourne, a few years after I had been desperately ill and spent many months in hospital. I was still frail, with limited energy and had moved to Melbourne after finishing an Arts degree the year before- full-time study had taken less energy than working full-time…although, if only I’d had more energy…

Back to this story- I had a wonderful class, bright, sassy and I loved almost all of them. The principal liked me and showed me he valued me. I had, unwittingly, come after an unpleasant situation and, without knowing, saved the day for him.

Not having taught for about five years I found I had lost my confidence. At night after work, I quite simply lacked the energy to plan and organize. I felt unable to deal with any classroom management issues- not that there were many, this was the dream class; I couldn’t have organized programs and all the other things expected of teachers.

So… you can probably guess how this story ends. The shared household where I was living was proving to be more difficult than I’d expected, I certainly lacked the skills and confidence to deal with that, so… I ran away back to my home city. Couldn’t face the Principal, wrote a letter in the holidays.

What did learn I from that, many years later, when I was a bigger person? You’ve probably been shaking your head, wondering how anyone could be so dense. Yes, I could have gone to him, told him how I was feeling and, I am absolutely certain, I would have been given unlimited help. It was that kind of place. I could have been happy there and may have reclaimed my teaching career- but that is pointless conjecture.

What I do know, clear down to my bones, is that a plea for help would have been heard and answered.

However, to ask for help, I needed to know that I could. Sounds obvious? Somewhere along the way I learnt not to ask for help, that it wasn’t OK to ask for help. I’ve spent many years unlearning that. And to ask for help I needed to feel safe enough and courageous enough to be vulnerable, to be able to say that I wasn’t perfect. My belief that I wasn’t perfect was part of what prevented me from asking for help. My response was to try to hide this, so no one would find out, so I wouldn’t get into trouble. My very need worked against me.

It’s obvious what I keep learning from this story. Have the courage to be vulnerable. Ask for help. Believe in myself. An essential part of my humanness is my imperfection.

In sharing my vulnerabilities other people may find the courage and the space to share theirs.

I’d really like to know if you have some if only stories and I’d also like to hear your response to this story of mine- but only if you want to!

Making changes and resolutions.

January 28, 2014January 28, 2014 / kategresham / 8 Comments

I don’t like New Year resolutions. I don’t like the attitude that now it’s New Year so we make resolutions and I hate it when people ask me what my New Year resolutions are. It feels imposed and artificial. I don’t like that.

But I don’t want my life to drift along. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that “I was always going to…but now it’s too late!” I do need to remind myself of the things that matter and are my highest priorities. That way I can keep control of my life. At least, that’s the aim.

Easy enough to say, but not always easy in practice. I get busy and routines fly out the window. I discover that it’s a week or a month or even longer and I haven’t spent any time in mindfulness practice, or exercise or writing. Too easy then for me to fall into gloom and beat myself up – never helps.

In some TV show one character said of another that when she died they’d put on her headstone ” She died with potential.” Now that scares me. I do not want to die with potential. I want to use it all up. Was it the singer Placido Domingo who said he would rather wear out than rust?

Helene Lerner, in an interview on CNN, about Resolutions,( posted on January 21, 2014,) reminds us to take time for self-reflection; to go inside ourselves and ask ourselves what it is we really want, what excites us and turns us on? She reminds us of how easy it is to get off focus. And that’s where the time for self-reflection needs to come in.

Helene says that if we decide that this is the year to do something we’ve always been going to do, then DON’T GIVE UP. She emphasizes that there’LL always be obstacles. The challenge? is to keep going. I’m embarrassed by how many things have been on my list for years.

In the post “When self-improvement gets boring, try these 6 motivational strategies,” (in the Huffington Post: healthy living, posted 01/26/2014, written by Brant Secunda and Mark Allen,) the writers talk about “soul resolutions”. They explain what they mean by this is those goals that ” concern the deeper aspects of personal growth.”

I like this much more than New Year Resolutions. For me, these are those essential, on-going goals that keep me oriented. They are my life blood. I won’t even know what they are unless I spend time in self-reflection.

BUT…that doesn’t mean I do it. I’m so easily distracted from that self-reflection time. I might get up late and have appointments.. so my time goes. Or I decide to set time aside at night.. then I read for too long or a friend phones and I’m tired. I can make excuses or justify missing my time much too easily- I can always do it tomorrow, I think to myself, one day won’t hurt. But the next day I mightn’t even think about my soul resolutions.

As long as I never give up.

Winston Churchill said “Success is not final. Failure is not final. It is the courage to go on that counts.”

That gives me heart to pick myself up yet again, take time out and keep going.

I’d really like to hear any tips or strategies you have for keeping on. How do you overcome obstacles?

Little boxes on the hillside, and they all look just the same.

December 12, 2013January 1, 2014 / kategresham / Leave a comment

Having lunch at work one day, a colleague remarked: “Now I can understand why Kathryn (me) has never married…”

I was so startled at this , I didn’t even ask her why I hadn’t. She could have saved me many hours and many dollars spent with my therapist as I’ve struggled to unravel the complexities of my relationships.

Why haven’t I ever married any of the very suitable men who may have given me security, stability, safety, a sense of belonging, a family…the very things I have always thought I wanted?

Why have I (mostly) chosen the ones who will never give me what I want?

As I’m writing this I realise I’m assuming she meant marriage as in wedding, bride and groom, confetti, signing the register…But maybe she meant, as I do, a long term, totally committed relationship. That’s a whole other can of worms. Did she think I have never experienced the joys, the wonder, the pleasures, the pain of a relationship with someone I love? As I write that, I find myself getting hostile- how dare she?

How did she know I have never been married? (in the strict sense of the word.) My colleague had never asked me and it had never come up in general conversation. Most people my age, if currently single, have at least one divorce behind them.

What did she think? That I’m so boring no one would ever want to marry me? or so unappealing? or something worse? How dare she even assume that I am heterosexual- she never asked me.

My mother once said, pointedly, on hearing that a cousin had married for the third time: “Well, it just shows anyone can get married, if they really want to.” Did this woman also think that?

I’m not married. I don’t have children. Does this relegate me to that old stereotype of “spinster”?

But there is a much more significant issue here and this is merely an example- an example of the assumptions we make about each other. I’d never had even one “getting-to-know-you” conversations with this woman. Anything she thought she knew about me had come from general, superficial conversations. But she had assumed. Assumed she knew me and assumed a quite intimate knowledge of me. It’s breathtaking in its arrogance.

But we all do it. We don’t bother to find out about the person we work with, or our neighbour and maybe we don’t really know our friends. We all make assumptions.

That remark reminds me to:

never assume;

listen;

discover each person’s unique story;

to “walk a mile in their shoes.”

We aren’t all made of ticky-tacky, and we aren’t all the same.( Song by Malvina Reynolds, made famous by Pete Seeger.) http://youtu.be/ONEYGU_7EqU

katesclippings

ideas that are dear to my heart.

random musings