Solid ground

Getting your footing is a double edged sword. It is a beginning and an end. A life raft & a trap. It is a welcome reprieve from running in shifting sand, the earth crumbling beneath you, keeping you moving constantly searching out something firmer, safer. Ironically, as soon as we feel solid ground beneath our weary feet and calm breathing replaces our panicked panting we begin to move again. Even if we are taking a well trodden path there is no telling when the earth beneath our feet will give way again. Or else we stay here too long, clinging to the relative safety until the wind and weather erodes our rock and the earth shifts beneath us yet again.

For the longest part of my teenage years I never wanted the house in the suburbs, the husband or the kids. The prospect of my life revolving around nappy changes, bills and constant compromising of my wants and needs crushed my burgeoning spirit. Yet here I am. The perfect lesson of ‘you become what you most fear’. But I’m happy none the less. Proof that when you release your judgements you can learn to love anything.

I took a few Big risks around 19-20, they blew a massive hole in my life plan – the solid ground gave way to shifting sand. I found safe ground when the first risk paid off with a solid career in banking. I ran head long into shifting sand when I moved interstate, abandoning my career, to begin life with my boyfriend of 4 months (my second risk). I found solid ground again and really enjoyed our time in self imposed exile together. Since then the earth has fallen away and I have ran to and from solid ground many times.

Something I know for sure is that if you get too comfortable somewhere your rock will turn to sand and force you to move on, to grow.

I feel like I have been on solid ground for a little while now and I am feeling the gentle warning tremors on the earth readying itself to move. In the past I have been the one to run into the next challenge. From the outside looking in I’m told it appears fearless (or stupid). In reality it is a compulsion to grow & develop.

This time I find myself wanting to cling to now; to watch my son at this beautiful age forever, to live by the beach, to continue to have family as our focus as we quietly build the foundations of our lives. But alas, the winds of change are rustling in the leaves. I don’t know what they will bring.

Letting Go

I have spent the past week with my family, and it has got me thinking about letting go. Letting go can be hard. Letting go can be easy. Letting go can become a habit – if you’re game. If you’re not, letting go can be utterly terrifying.

My grandmother is getting older; in fact she just celebrated her 86^th birthday. I baked, of course. She is fast approaching, or recently passed, (depending on who you speak to) the point of safely living alone at home. On some level I think she knows it. She is afraid of losing her independence and what that might mean. Her fear comes across as nastiness.

I can understand her fear and her denial. What becomes of us when we cease to be what we value? What are we when our intelligence is failing and outdated; our peers deceased; our looks long faded; our family self sufficient and our contribution to the world are knitted blankets donated to charity?

How do we come to terms with letting go of our prime, our status, our jobs, our friends and our independence? What can stand the test of time and remain ours regardless of our phase in life? The only thing that I come up with is love.

Love. Love of ourselves. Love for those around us. Love for something greater perhaps. Love of the taste of a sweet strawberry. Love of the feeling of the sun on our skin. Love of the sight of a rose in full bloom. Love of the smell of fresh bread baking.

I see too much of my grandmother in me. I don’t want to have to fight so hard. To cling so tightly to my independence. To fear what it means to lose it. The alternative, for what I can see, is to focus on love and to let go of other temporary titles. I wonder what will be my final hurdle? What will I perhaps be clinging to in my old age? Will it be my partner, work, my children, responsibility, intelligence or independence? If I am lucky perhaps I will enjoy the simple pleasures of my twilight years instead of mourning the loss of my former glories. IF along the way I develop a saintly disposition and grace.

What will you be clinging to in 60 years?

My past

Today I walked past my past and it didn’t recognise me. My past had long beautifully straightened hair, wore a business suit and sported a gorgeous leather briefcase. My past is still close to the friends of my youth, has the job I thought I wanted and the man of her dreams. My past is blissfully happy without me.

Have you ever had a ‘Sliding Doors’ moment where it is clear that without even knowing it you had taken a fork in the road? Have you ever wondered what life might have been like, if you had made different decisions?

The truth is that your decisions shaped who you are and who you are shaped your decisions. Had you chosen the other fork you may have been more, or less, happy than you are now. But you wouldn’t be you. Not the you you are today, anyway. You made the best decisions you could with the information and resources available and in the process you created your life.

My past looks like I had expected it to look, it is exactly where I had imagined it would be. I, on the other hand, am very far from where I thought I would be and I am a very different person to the one I thought I would grow up to be. I am glad I took another road to the one my 17 year old self had selected for me. My new road has shaped me.

I walked past my past today, but it didn’t recognise me.

The power of positivity

It is passé these days to speak of the difference a positive attitude will make to the outcome of any endeavor. It is almost a truism. Everybody knows the difference positivity will make, yet it is the first casualty when things get tough. Perhaps this is why I found Mel Hayde’s message in ‘Terrific Toddlers’ so refreshing.

‘Terrific Toddlers’ is a simple, practical book about a revolutionary concept; that we can teach our toddlers values like kindness, respect, gentleness, patience & compassion. And the assertion that compassionate, gentle, patient toddlers throw less tantrums.

Mel, who has used the philosophies and techniques of ‘Terrific Toddlers’ to raise her own 3 children, offers real-world mum friendly advice. The book is concise (I was able to read it cover to cover whilst my toddler had his afternoon nap) but contains no fluff.

The take away for me was a reminder that my actions are a greater teacher than my words. That my tone, body language and reactions mean as much as my words do. That calm words won’t mask inner frustration and that there is a better way.

This review was completed in conjunction with Connect2Mums, my online family where mums, mumpreneurs and inspirational women meet.

Family

I don’t write about family. Not because there is nothing to write about, but out of respect. My largest lessons to date were borne out of familial situations. Now I find myself in, what I consider to be, a generic family quandary. So I think its passable to write about it.

I was a bit of a rebel growing up. I quite enjoyed rocking the boat and had an opinion about everything. Like every teenager in the history of the universe I felt that I could never live up to the picture of me my family held in their minds. It was far too narrow a box to contain my exuberant spirit. Or so I thought.

In reality the box was not narrow at all. I was simply the family member least aware of how my actions affected my kin and the family dynamic. My oblivious state made their (reasonable) expectations seem soul crushing.

Now the shoe is on the other foot. I am painfully aware of how every-body’s actions (or inaction) affects the other family members, individually and collectively. Including my own.

My Challenge: To have compassion for the spirited individual whilst championing and serving the collective.

You can’t have your cake…

‘You can’t have your cake and eat it too.’

The women of my family are almost famous for this phrase. It speaks to, in our case, a genetic disposition for becoming a martyr. It is used as an excuse to not have what you want, to not shower yourself with the gifts and indulgences you deserve, just in case.

It implies that having cake and eating it are mutually exclusive. Which is not necessarily true.

Let us first look at what it means to ‘have’ your cake. Do we honestly imagine we can keep a cake indefinitely? Surely not. This old proverb speaks to delayed gratification and wisely using what you have, not of our cake eating habits. Wisely using resources, be they love, time, money or luxuries, is timeless advice. What I find hard to swallow is the assumption that ‘having’ something precludes us from using it. I firmly believe the only real value in something is in its use and in sharing it.

Let me explain. As a child did you have clothes that you were never allowed to wear? The really pretty dresses that you Mum was afraid you would destroy if she let you wear them ‘around the house’? How many times did you wear said dress before you outgrew them?

How about the beautiful toy that was placed on a shelf only ever to be looked at incase a child were to break the toy amidst the joy of playing with it.

Do you own fine china? (Another of my little obsessions). Why do we insist on drinking our tea out of thick, cheap mugs when we have exquisite china tea cups? Isn’t their value the sensation of pressing the china to your lips and the feel of the delicate handle between your fingers?

Why do we use the informal lounge while the formal lounge, with the plush chairs and air-conditioning, only collects dust? The same goes for the expensive jewellery we never wear, the amazing bath salts we are saving and the gourmet condiments that sit on the shelf and are never opened.

Unless an item is truly irreplaceable, (in which case it probably belongs in a museum) enjoy it. Multiply the joy by sharing it with others. Make yourself feel special by knowing the value of the indulgence. You honour the intention of the object when it is used in this way too.

So if you aren’t eating your cake, I would challenge that is isn’t really yours to begin with. And if you don’t share the cake with others, then you are missing out; by sharing something you create more of it and multiply the joy.

**This piece was first published in the Online Magazine Connect2Mums.com.ning.au

Jack’s Back

John Farnham just announced another tour. Now I know that there have been varying reactions to this; his biggest fans are elated that his ‘Last Time’ tour wasn’t the last time at all and a former fan is making claims of misrepresentation. It’s all a result of his very short set at sound relief. Which, come to think of it, made me cry.

I’ll set the scene:

Chicken (my baby) is in his highchair eating lunch. Sweet potato spread from his eyebrows to his nappy. Sound relief on the radio. Coldplay and Farnsy performing ‘You’re the voice’.

I flash back to dancing around the living room with my Mum and sister as a kid to the Whispering Jack album.

Chicken raises his little hands into the air asking to be picked up. Moments later we are dancing around the living room together. He starts singing, remarkably in tune for a little tyke.

A tear rolls down my cheek as I realize it has come full circle. (Or perhaps as I realize that I’m turning into my mother.) I know deep in my bones that I’ll do everything I can to prevent my son every looking at anyone ‘down the barrel of a gun’.

Facebook’s saving grace

It took me forever to embrace Facebook. Now I use it daily, but initially I had no intention of using it. I saw no point in publicly messaging friends I would much rather call or have coffee with. The lure of seeing what old school classmates were doing and voyeuristically peering at their personal photos seemed creepy to me.

But alas, a friend posted the photos of her newborn on Facebook and I had to become a ‘Friend’ to view them. So I manically created a profile planning on deleting it as soon as I had seen her beautiful baby. It didn’t quite pan out that way – I spelt my own name wrong, and couldn’t figure out how to delete the damn profile before my friends found me.

Since that fateful day I have witnessed Facebook bring out the worst in people the way a 50% sale does in shopaholics. We passively view each other lives, post and make comments on the drunken photos, judge people by the size of their friends list and post photos of our engagement rings as profile pictures. Although Facebook can be used for good the lure of the dark side is just so powerful. There are apps that force you to inflict random, often unflattering, polls on your friends in order to view the results of a poll about you.

Despite the darkness interwoven in Facebook we have an uneasy truce. An old photo was posted of me on Facebook. Initially I was mortified. Not just in the ‘OMG I don’t believe I wore that’ way either. This photo was taken from a time when I used to sing country music and line dance every Tuesday night. (I don’t believe I admitted that in a blog)  Worse still was the fact that the other girls in the picture were all more beautiful, skinnier and more talented than me.

Then I actually looked at the picture. I looked at the figures on the screen and not the images as tainted by memory. I glowed with genuine joy, I looked innocent, beautiful and nothing like the chubby girl in my mind. I was flabbergasted. I had never seen myself that way before. Facebook’s saving grace – it reflects you. Good, bad or ugly.

Girlfriends

I had a client a few years back who was in her 70′s. Although her husband had long since past and her children, and grandchildren, lived interstate she enjoyed the richest of family lives. A book club that started some 40 years earlier was still meeting every Tuesday. The women of that club had seen each other through thick and thin. They advised on children’s illnesses, helped out with housework in emergencies, helped pick out mother of the bride outfits and organise coming of age celebrations. These were the women who held her hand at her husband’s funeral.

In our adolescent years our girlfriends keep us going. They are our rock, our companions, fellow explorers of the world and our partners in crime.

As we get older our girlfriends become something different. They are our sounding boards, inspirations (if you are lucky enough to have friends like mine), bringers of chocolate and wine when necessary, ass-kickers when needed, voices of reason, guardian angels, proof readers & loving guides. If you are really lucky your children will call them ‘Auntie so-&-so’.

Life gets busy and we all take different roads. I know I never imagined myself where I am now, and in many ways its is a long, long way from my girlfriends. The blessing is that I have true friends who meet me where I am, forgive me my transgressions and support the best in me.

So a big, no HUGE, shout out to all of Coopers ‘Aunties’ who enrichmy life and now my sons. I am proud to say that I, like my client, enjoy a rich family life.

Lessons from Cooking

I love to cook. It hasn’t always been that way. In the 80′s when I was growing up there were a flood of cookbooks titled “Microwave cookery” and every new microwave came with a cookbook to teach you how to use the new kitchen contraption. Anything that helped, predominately women, to avoid using pots and pans and the subsequent washing up was the future of cooking. So other than occasions at my Nan’s house I didn’t see much cooking go on in my kitchen. Time spent cooking was wasted time that could have been netter spend doing something else. Or so I was taught.

It was a surprise to me when I moved out that I enjoyed the process of selecting produce and cooking a feast. The time spent cooking was pure delight. I decked myself out with good (read expensive) non stick fry pans. There were no shortage of TV advertisements touting the latest ad greatest advances in Teflon which I felt I had no choice but to take advantage of or else ruin my food. When I had a mid-week dinner to get on the table I used the hottest setting the stove had to hasten the cooking time knowing that the food wouldn’t stick to the pan.

Last month I bought myself a good (read quality) stainless steel pan and an enormous (read I can’t wait to cook paella) cast iron pan. I am using lower settings, producing better food and I am yet to burn a dish or stick anything to the pan.

Lesson:  Don’t buy into others pervasive fears even if those fears are accepted or in vogue. If you stick to quality and your values you will always come out on top.

Catching up

Do you feel like you are getting left behind? Like your life is whizzing past faster than you can keep up with? How often do you use the phrase ‘catching up’? We catch up for coffee, catch up on paperwork, catch up with family, catch up on the shows we missed when we were catching up with colleagues for drinks.

The culture of busy-ness and hurrying is a multi-faceted beast. It arises in part out of the information age and the resultant tirade of information and part out of the demise of rites of passage.

The information age, which to 20somethings like myself is the only age we have ever known, bombards us with thousands of media messages each day. This is additional to the work we do, the family responsibilities we have, the Facebook updates and Twitter feeds, the SMSs and calls we get on our mobiles, home lines, work phones and Skype. We do our best to surf the crest of the information (and thus expectation) wave. Some days we go to bed feeling like we failed our loved ones when we declined invitations, left emails unread, status updates unresponded to and messages not returned.

Then we are told, often by coaches like myself, that keeping our head above water isn’t enough. Even if you did accept the invitation, read the emails, respond to the updates and return the messages, did you engage in your world on a meaningful level? Did you connect with loved ones or take calls all the way through dinner? We resolve to do better, but the cycle of bombardment, response and lingering feeling of falling behind is unrelenting. So we try again to ‘catch up’.

In the good ‘ol days there were fewer messages yes, but the days and years were broken up with meaningful rites of passage. Times to celebrate, reflect and connect with those around us; Weddings, Christenings, 21st Birthdays, Sweet Sixteenths, Anniversaries, Kitchen Teas. Yes these events still happen and we mark them with a party but I think they have lost the element of reflection. What once were rites have become invitations and photos we review on Facebook. The wisdom they once held has evaporated.

So if you are tired of running behind your life, catching up here and there only to be overwhelmed again why not try something different. Put away the phones and laptops and have dinner and talk. Have a get together and talk about times past and notice how different you are ‘now’ to ‘then’. Punctuate the merry-go-round with something different. Create memories. Go places. Meet people. Perhaps then the information age ‘pressure’ to connect won’t overwhelm us.

Quarter-Life consolidation

I am sitting on the couch in front of my beloved laptop thinking, desperately thinking of a reason to celebrate. You see I just poured myself a class of bubbly. I wanted a glass of wine to go with my chocolate but there was no open bottle so I settle for a piccolo of Champagne that has been sitting in the fridge since my baby was born. I am drinking it out of the only Champagne flute I own which is oh so tackily decorated with glittery hearts and a big number 18; a memento from my 18^th birthday.

Queue my favorite CD refusing to play. So I’m forced to go and get the only CD’s that don’t live in the garage. An old CD wallet from when I was 18. Maybe 18 is the theme here; except I celebrated my 18^th 7 years ago. I am turning 25.

Yes I am ‘still young’ and yes I am often told I am ‘old for my years’. The essence of it though is that I have made more mistakes and navigated more emotional minefields than some twice my age. Here are my humble observations and lessons hard won from the past quarter century:

1. I feel much better when I sing out loud
2. Less is more
3. I am not defined by my resume, address, job, family, my body or anything else
4. Flaws are beautiful. Curves are sexy
5. You don’t always get what you want; which is great because what we ‘want’ usually isn’t what will make us truly happy
6. Life is too short not to eat chocolate
7. Its not daggy to love old music; ok it is but I don’t care
8. Unless a single look from your man makes you feel secure; he isn’t the one for you
9. Fixing the world isn’t my responsibility. Tending to my corner of it is.
10. Cooking is easy once you know how
11. I always have a choice
12. ‘hating’ isn’t helpful
13. Our parent’s did the best they could; just as I do for my son
14. Friendship is a priceless gift and its worth working for
15. I always have enough money but sometimes I spend it on the wrong things
16. You never see yourself for what you are; that comes with hindsight
17. No-one is a mind reader. If you need it or want it ask!
18. There is no ‘right way’. There is however ‘my way’
19. Experience is truly the best teacher
20. If everybody likes you; you’re probably not really being true to yourself
21. Sometimes the best thing to do is nothing
22. There is a difference between judgment and discernment
23. Fears are tissue paper thin. Once you do it you wonder what you were afraid of
24. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Forgiveness does.
25. Sex is definitely better than chocolate; I don’t care how good the chocolate is

I will probably disagree with many of these in another 25 years and laugh at my youthful naivete. We’ll see.