I’m trying to restart my daily writing habit. It’s not an easy task once I’ve let it slide. It’s tougher to start at 2 in the afternoon after a morning of busyness. My mind has had at least 6 hours to be corrupted by useless and sometimes bad thoughts. But I can’t give up so quickly. It’s September, a new month, a new beginning. I can pretend I’m going back to school. I have to clean off my slate and sharpen my pencils. I have to muster up some curiosity and pep like the young person that I’m not.
Young I may not be but I can observe and learn from them. There’s a daycare two houses down. Last year they visited our garden and we visited theirs. The little ones were quite eager to show me what they got, taking my hand and tugging me along. They were all so curious about all the plants we had, showing such verbal and facial delight. I’ve learned a couple of lessons from these young tots. 1. Never be afraid to express delight, however you may or can. I know that it had made me so happy to witness it. 2. Don’t be afraid to share what you got. I was so happy to be taken by the hand to see their little tomatoes. They were sharing and not showing off.
Further up the street is a high school. I get to learn from bigger kids- teenagers. Their enthusiasm is not quite so outfront and obvious. They’re more sober/somber as they stroll by our house enroute to learning. Quite often they have things in their ears or looking at a phone in their hands. I’m not sure yet what I can learn from them except not to do as they do.
So ends this first day of school. It’s a good start. I’m happy that I could start with a middle and now the end.
This morning the jukebox in my head was playing I am a sloth, I am a tortoise so I thought it was ok to skip the gym. My body felt like hell. It brought back fresh memories of my work days, especially 12 hour day shifts when I couldn’t say no, I don’t feel like going to work. So now, when I could, why wouldn’t I?
Mornings can be my best and worst of times. Best when the sun is shining and I am full of vim and vinegar. Those days seem rare. I am more like a happy tortoise, inching my way through life. Somehow I do get things done though. And then there are days like today when I feel like hiding and languishing away. I cannot as I start my acrylic painting class today.
I say to myself, Why the hell am I doing this in January? It’s cold and I have this heavy bag to lug around. I must love it for this is the 3rd January of art classes. Now I am back from class. While I can’t say I had fun, it was ok. Learning always exhaust me but I am revived by a cuppa and some raisin sourdough toast. Landscape is not my forte. I could not understand why the instructor chose the reference photos that she did. They did nothing to excite me. But when we got done, some of our paintings did excite me. They came alive.
I have lots to learn and to experiment. Being an in-person class, I learn from the other students as well as the instructor. I was fascinated by the young woman next to me. She fills her page with lots of paint. At first glance it looks like a hell of a mess. But when she is done, the painting looked like a Van gogh. It reminded me of Starry, Starry Night. I on the other hand, paints sparingly. Mine paintings look a bit naked. Well, it is the first class. I can learn to be more heavy handed and daring in time.
first painting on woodunfinished on watercolour paper
Guess what I did this morning? Last week I started making sourdough bread again. It was so successful I’m making Tuesdays a sourdough bake day. Not to waste a hot oven I decided to do my regular whole wheat loaves, too. I made the dough the day before so it would be ready this morning. My idea was to bag the dough and put it in the fridge overnight. I had previous experience of knowing that the dough still rises in the fridge. I thought putting it in a ziplock bag plus fastening it with elastic should contain it. Wrong! The expanding dough broke the elastic and was trying to ooze out of the bag. So I squished it down and tied it up and put it in the freezer overnight.
Nature calling at 3:30 am got me out of bed. I remembered my dough and got it out on the counter. It was thawed when I got up at 7. I did give it some time proofing in the oven. And then some time on the counter. But it was a BIG ball of dough, slow to warm. I decided to put them into 6 loaf pans. They sat for an hour while the sourdough was baking. My raisin sourdough came out just perfect. It slid out without a hitch onto the rack.
I can’t say the same for the whole wheat loaves. They are smaller and denser than normal. But they are not terrible. We usually toast them anyways. They will be equally filling. It was not a failure either. I am learning about chilling and freezing dough. I shall try some different tactics next time. It’s nice to be able to make bread over a couple of days.
This sourdough was half white and half whole wheat flour. It stands up better. The white was wetter and looser, harder to handle. I will try some spelt flour next time. There’s much to experiment and learn. So ends day 16 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I missed yesterday. I was tired. It’s good to take a rest. It’s not I must, only I must not miss two days in a row.
I am having an almost perfect day. I started the morning at 7 with kettle on the stove for a cup of tea. Then I got out the sourdough loaf that was chilling in the fridge. I dusted the inside of the cast iron Dutch oven with cornstarch before transferring the dough into it. Next, I scored the loaf, covered the Dutch oven and put it on top of my cast iron pizza pan. It all goes into the oven set at 450℉ for 55 minutes. That’s right. I started everything cold. No preheating anything. Saves energy and it turned out great. By 8 it was done and so was our breakfast.
The pizza pan underneath the Dutch oven somehow prevents the bread from sticking. The loaf came out pretty slick and allowed to chill. It made for a healthy tasty afternoon snack. It is my most successful sourdough. It is my first white flour loaf. Next one I try will be half white/half brown.
Baking bread is a wonderful to start the morning. The chill of the morning is warmed by the oven and aroma of bread baking. It was a perfect setting to receive my first online class titled: From First Among Equals to Elected Dictator: A Political History of. Canada, 1867- Present. Instructor: Dr. Jason Zorbas. Dr. Zorbas is an awesome lecturer. His classes are always filled. It is an in-person one as well as being on-line. On-line is a good option for me. I don’t have to run to catch a bus to the university. Parking on campus is difficult. I am finding, to my surprise, that Canadian history is très interesting.
I suppose now is not a good time to read a book about addiction, depression and things that go bump in the night. But the In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts came available on my Libby app and I couldn’t help myself. I am already hooked after a few pages. You could say that my passion is understanding our human-ness, what makes us tick and what doesn’t. In my next life, if I remember, I will choose something in psychology for a profession. In the now I am continuing my journey as a self-help junkie.
My saving grace has always been my thirst for knowledge and the belief that there is something we can do. I guess you can call that optimism. But it wasn’t till I was in my 40s before I realized that before I change my circumstances, I have to change my behavior/actions. I cannot just sit back, yearn and yearn and not do anything different. It would be like howling at the moon. That knowledge sat for quite awhile before I could put that into action. I am not a fast mover. I am the tortoise.
We know from the story of the story of the tortoise and the hare, the tortoise does get somewhere. And I have made some miles. In these early days of September, I am recognizing and understanding my symptoms of SAD. I understand and am a little kinder to myself. I try to be more active, be outdoors and in natural light more. It helps to have a plan for the day. Writing helps. Looking through my art journals gave me a shot of pleasure. I will have to bring out my paints, pens and brushes again. Then there’s my cross stitch kits and knitting. Knitting is very soothing, very much like tapping on the keyboard.
November 21. Another new day and blank page. I am feeling better and not so broken. I’m heading towards copacethic. Sometimes it takes falling off the wall like Humpty Dumpty, breaking before I could see where I was going. I’m happy to say that I didn’t need all the king’s horses and men to put me back together again. I’m moving cautiously, not wanting to fall into the same hole again. I’m learning from Portia Nelson’s poem.
Chapter I
I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost… I am hopeless. It isn’t my fault. It takes forever to find a way out.
Chapter II
I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again. I can’t believe I am in this same place. But it isn’t my fault. It still takes a long time to get out.
Chapter III
I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it there. I still fall in… it’s a habit… but, my eyes are open. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately.
Chapter IV
I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.
Chapter V
I walk down another street.
I am not ambitious today. I skipped today’s exercise class to rest and put myself back together. We don’t have to keep busy. It’s ok to stop and just hang out. I haven’t languish for ever so long. I’ve lost my knack for it. I’ve been busy all day but it’s at a good pace, not rushing anywhere or striving to accomplish. I’m keeping things simple. I’m liking my new look on WordPress. I would like to figure out how to get the word count back. However, I am satisfied to let that rest for now.
Day 26 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. 6 more posts to write. I hope for no writer’s block or stumbling and falling off my keyboard till after they’re all written. Let me start by offering my 3 gratitude for the day.
I’m grateful for another beautiful sunny day. The greenhouse got up to a high of 21.4℃ in the afternoon. There’s hope of the baby bitter melons maturing. I harvested 4 small ones to give my mother. It’s enough for a meal for her and my father.
I’m grateful Zoom was working for my online class from our university. We had 2 very interesting speakers on the post pandemic world. One spoke on the politics before, during and now. The other speaker was a nursing faculty. He spoke on nursing education, nursing and the pandemic. I am a retired nurse so it was of special interest. I was in it for over 30 years and retired 9 years ago. I loved my job but I never defined myself as a nurse. Curious. One day I will give it some thought.
I am grateful for my walk this afternoon to the guy’s boat workshop. I haven’t gone for many walks since we’ve lost our dog, Sheba. It was a 20 minute walk along the same route Sheba and I walked many times. I caught a ride home. I think it would be another good daily habit. I greatly enjoyed the exercise, fresh air and scenery along the way.
I’m looking through my list of 21 tiny habits. I think it’s a good habit to do it daily if I can.
I did exercise upon waking. I go through my c.a.r.s daily. I feel, move and sleep the better for it. It takes just minutes in the morning while I wait for the kettle to boil. I like to do a longer version in the evening while watching television.
Discover one thing a month. I discovered Tarot cards from another blogger in the UBC. I’m surprised it’s so interesting. I am reading The New Tarot Handbook by Rachel Pollack now and hope to get my cards soon, like tonight or tomorrow.
I have and tried to throw out one or 2 no longer needed things. I’ve trashed some obsolete photos from my desktop.
I think I’m doing pretty hunky dory for old gal. I’m still plunking away on the piano, making small progress. It is very small progress with the scales in my Brown Scale Book. I’m still working on the first 2 sets of C Major. But I’ve added Lavender’s Blue to my repertoire. It’s helping me make videos and it does help my playing hearing myself. My timing isn’t terrible but I’m too slow and I hesitate.
Beginnings are hard and uncomfortable. Even though I want to start, I do all kinds of evasions, mental and physical. I second guess and doubt myself. Is it a good time to start? I put it off to tomorrow what I can start today. And by now everyone must know the saying, Tomorrow never comes. It is also true that what you don’t use, you lose. I have lost some of my writing muscle. It’s been 7 days since I’ve come to this space. Where once it had been easy to show up every day, now it is difficult to show up even weekly. It is the reason I’ve decided to join in the Ultimate Blog Challenge for October. I want to develop and maintain my discipline muscle. I know it is not October yet. I’m not putting off what I can start today. I’m doing my warmups and stretching for the days ahead.
I’ve always love the sounds and nuances of words. They paint pictures the same way photos paint words for me. Putting the two together in a post is art for me. I love the process. I have not been nurturing the process this past year. Somehow it got lost in this new and bewildering climate I find myself in. I’ve become mindless and lazy. It has been so easy to lose myself in technology and the digital and not think for myself. But I am a curious person by nature and could not stay in my robotic mode. Perhaps September and the autumn colours are the stimulus. Once again I am excited by new things to see and learn. I am back in the school of life.
I’ve been feeling bitchy and grouchy as hell of late. I haven’t been my old positive I can conquer the world self for a long time. Instead, I am quite critical, pessimistic and cynical. I don’t like this version of myself at all. I rather liked my old Pollyanna-ish, I believe in everything and everybody self. But Polly doesn’t live here anymore. There is no way of getting her back. I try not to act out on my inner feelings but to dissipate them on the keyboard. I don’t want to infect my immediate environment with my negativity. If turning off a malfunctioning device works, might it not work for me? In the words of Ann Lamott:
“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.”
I shall unplug my overworking brain and sympathetic system or is it the parasympathetic system as best I can. Just like I can’t handle too many people in my life, I can’t handle alot of activity. I would like to be a party girl because party girls seem to have so much more fun. Alas, I am not built that way. However much I envy all their popularity, glammer and glitter, I hate it. I love alone, quiet and seemingly boring stuff. I love the time here, rhymically tapping out the keys, finding the words and sentences. It has been a long time since I fell in love with a new word though. The last one was copacetic a million years ago. I haven’t used it for the same amount of time. What has happened to me?
I guess Covid hasn’t helped but I can’t lay the whole blame on it. It brought many changes. Well, it stopped us/me in our tracks. It is certainly making me think of the global world and how we have been living. It’s too big a topic to discuss right here, right now. Maybe I can post some thoughts after I have finished my online course on “Imagining a Post Pandemic World” from the University of Saskatchewan. It’s wonderful how much technology has advanced that I have the option of taking this class without having to catch a bus or find parking if I drive. On the other hand, I believe technology has helped to decrease my attention span. I want things to happen faster and faster. Now I have little patience in sitting through and watching a long instructional/educational video. It’s a Catch-22.
For now I am appreciating the positives of technology. It gives me the ability to sit here and have this conversation. My tapping soothes my brain and I am able to unplug parts of it that are fussing and fretting over the small bugs in my life. I am able to suspend critiquing and passing judgement on myself. Instead my thoughts have been otherwise engaged, even if just for a short while. It’s a good rest.
Once in awhile I take Laurie Wagner’s free mini writing course on Wild Writing. She recites a poem. We listen and then write nonstop for 10 minutes. It’s a good practice. The poem I listened to this morning was Today’s Sermon by Cheryl Dumesnil. The poem, especially the first line ‘is slop buckets knocking against each other‘ really resonated with me. I feel somewhat like a slop bucket carrying everyone’s messy and tragic stories. Sometimes I feel like a mop sopping it up. Yes, I haven’t let go of the things that I should have. I can still hear the words of the neighbour from whom I sought commiseration. I’m still there, not letting go. I was in utter anger and distress at the time.
“Oh, Lily, you are just ripe for her. That’s just what she wants. That’s what she thrives on. I don’t know what I can say but you brought it on yourself. I don’t mind you coming over to visit but don’t bring your drama. This stuff is very hard on me.” A stillness came over me. I guess it was lightbulb moment. I said I was very sorry. She said she believed me.
The strangeness and stillness of the moment stay with me. Why strange? Because this woman have been living in my ‘hood for 20 years. We are in sight of each other but have not spoken or known each other’s names. That is until last year. By then we knew just that much and that was all. She had knocked on our door one day in October, gave us a card and burst into tears. The card was the funeral service for her son a couple of months prior. We did not know him or of him. She did not want to divulge the cause of death. We provided commiseration, hugs and offer of tea. The purpose of the visit was made clear moments later. Could we look after her house and plants when she will be away over Christmas? We gladly did. It was the right thing to do.
Then not long after I received a phone call asking me the name of my ‘ troublesome’ neighbour. She was at the polic station filing a complaint against her. Later, we listened to her long story for over an hour. Then we never heard from her again till late in December with offer of being ‘friends’ on FB. We accepted. Then the day before she was leaving for the Christmas holidays, a text message for me to come over for instructions. It was no small thing what we did for her. We checked her house every day for almost 2 weeks in the cold of winter. She has lots of plants to water all over the house. She just barely got back when I received at text at 11:pm telling me that her daughter had just died. I had not known she had a daughter. I wonder why she need to tell me and so late at night.
I texted condolences the next morning. I did not think it was appropriate for me to bother her at this time about returning the key. I did not have to worry about it for too long. She phoned me, requesting house sitting services again to tend to the tragedy. This time she will be away for 7 days. So how can one refuse in light of this? This was still in the middle of winter. She did thank us through a text message but did not come to retrieve her key as I had requested. I gave her time but in the end I delivered it into her mailbox. I texted her first of course.
I’m writing wildly, without censorship. I am writing wildly for clarity and healing. Obviously I was wrong in the assumption that I could count on her returning comfort and understanding. My drama was only one fold while hers was 3. I’m doing accounting but I am not mad or angry or even disappointed. I am just puzzled by the reception I received from her. She clearly showed me that we all see the same thing so differently. So I thanked her for a lesson learned. After all this tapping and bitching I’ve been doing, I discovered I do like myself. I like being open and vulnerable to others’ cries. I don’t think I am able to tell someone in their hour of distress not to bring their drama along.
I can live with the sound of slop buckets slopping in my head. I can sit with this discomfort, let it slop over onto the page, and or let it splash as art onto an index card. It’s much better not to sit with it. Being a drama queen is not such a bad thing. It’s not some terrible sin. It’s discharging distress. It just might save my life. But the next time someone knocks on my door, I’ll be more discerning. I like to help people but I don’t like being used.
onethousandandtwo 