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Sunday, January 30, 2011

A postcard


Sorry it has been so long since my last entry. I have just returned from a blissful holiday. Consider this a belated postcard!

A few things I did on my holiday that I don't do usually (or visa versa)...

  1. Read entire books. I love to read books, but I rarely finish them. It's really silly. I just get overwhelmed with the choices available to me (as a result of my rampant spending on The Book Depository) and continually start new books, leaving others by the wayside. Before I left for my holiday, I had six books on the go. It was refreshing to settle down with just one, consume it wholly, and take the time to contemplate its meaning. 
  2. Stayed offline. Okay, okay. I kept in touch with my twitter feed and Instapaper-ed countless articles and blog posts to read when I got home. But I didn't browse, I didn't toggle, I didn't surf, I didn't email. And it didn't kill me. Far from it.
  3. Wrote by hand. When I am home, I use my laptop to write. Everything. But for the week I was away, I just hand-wrote, like old days. And it was nice, to get into the flow of things. 
  4. Early mornings. Actually, I had been waking up early prior to the holiday. But with a struggle. Three "snooze" buttons. Forcing my eyes open, reluctantly. But when there is a beach at your doorstep (I took the picture above from my room), getting up for a run at 6am is incredibly inviting. And so my daily inner struggle was vanquished. 
  5. Long evening meals. My dinners are often quick. Or lonesome. Or both. I live in a house (actually, two houses) full of people, but we are all on different schedules or diets, so we rarely eat as a unit. On holiday, however, we were all free from those commitments and resolutions. We ate on the veranda, engaged in flowing conversation and slowly ate our three courses in the evening summer breeze. 
  6. Acting on a whim, without hesitation. Usually, I painstakingly plan my days. I write lists of "things to do", and schedule my days around them. (I won't give an example of those lists because the life of a university student during university break is embarrassingly cruisey. I didn't really need a holiday!) Whimsy is a much more fun, instinctual way to do things.

These are all little things but they made such a difference to my vitality and the pleasure I took in the everyday... It just shows how, in my day-to-day life, I tend to let things slip by, and fail to live in the moment, to be wholly present. It only takes small changes to make life more delightful.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Become a thousand winds


Let me preface this confession by saying that it is a little embarrassing for me to admit. Although apparently, as I have discovered by talking to other people, I am not alone, so I don't feel too bizarre.

Sometimes I think about my own funeral.

Not in a morbid way. Just in a contemplative way. As in, for instance, if I die (when I die), how will people remember me? Who have I touched throughout my lifetime? Who will be affected by my death? What will be my legacy? (Okay, maybe it is a little morbid.)

Of course, I cannot know any of those things for sure. All I do know is that I would like somebody to read this poem at my funeral. I don't mind who, probably a friend. It was written in 1932 by first-time poet Mary Elizabeth Frye, on a brown paper shopping bag, to comfort her friend, a Jewish refugee, who had been unable to weep at her mother's grave in Nazi Germany. It is beautiful and gentle and soothing: everything I would love for my last words to encapsulate. 

Monday, January 17, 2011

Blue Valentine


New Year's Eve marked my 7th anniversary with my lovely boyfriend Andy (together, not married). A lot of people ask me how we have sustained our loving relationship throughout that time. Not that we're special (7 years isn't such a long time in the scheme of things, after all) but since we're only 21, it is a little unusual for people our age to have been together for so long. I usually meet their questions with a shrug, a smile and silence, because there is really no definitive answer to their question, and it is a fairly private one at that. But today I thought that I would share my "secrets" to a happy, loving relationship (or, to put it more succinctly, "observations"). Please keep in mind that these words come with a waiver: all relationships are different, every single one, and there are no universal "rules" to reeling in a man or a woman and keeping them forever. Not in my book, anyway. 

So, here goes... 
  1. I have gradually come to the conclusion that love has nothing to do with the art of seduction. Love is not about ensnaring somebody and wooing them into submission, flaunting your best self in order to persuade somebody to care for you. It's not about beautiful presents, fancy dinners, sexy lingerie or mix-tapes. To be sure, those are all nice and they may be constructive in the beginning stages of a relationship (it's been so long since I've been there that I'm really no expert) but there comes a time when, inevitably, the games get too exhausting and the façade falls away. 
  2. When I talk about love, by the way, I mean real, living, breathing, gritty love. Grounded, full, heartfelt, everyday love. And that love is not about courtship. It is about choices. I know that doesn't sound as romantic as being swept off your feet and love at first sight and the spark and all that but when you see it, when you experience it for yourself, you will cherish it even more (because it is real). Love is about making a commitment, each and every day, to love the one you love. Both of you making a pledge, said or unsaid, to love each other with your whole hearts and to love every part of each other (the good and the bad, the virtues and the flaws, the beauty and the rolls), even if you don't particularly like all of those things. 

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

The beauty of the well

"She waited for the train to pass. Then she said, "I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while."
— Haruki Murakami (Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman)

I have not been writing much lately. Predominantly because, in the face of floods ravaging Queensland, everything I have to say is trivial. Including this. But I had to say something, so I didn't feel completely and utterly useless (which, of course, I am). So here it is. 

The floods have had me fixated. My television screen and twitter feed have been providing me with incredibly heartbreaking stories of human loss and survival, making me realise just how vulnerable humankind is to nature... as well as how adept we have become at banding together to strike back at whatever nature throws at us. Particularly, I think, Australians. Particularly country-dwelling Australians. 

Australian TV stations have been wonderful (especially ABC and Sky), broadcasting almost 24/7. Inevitably, the same stories have screened over and over again, making my heart hurt. Stories of loss, dread, homelessness, frustration and helplessness. I don't mind the repetition at all, because I have been examining these stories like a couch-ridden detective, trying to fathom the real pain in these victims' souls, the deadening fear in the pit of their stomachs, the extent of which is not revealed in their voices or on their faces. They are trying to be strong, to be optimistic, to play down their tragedy because they know that so many others are in the same boat, so to speak, or have experienced even more misfortune. (As one man says on Sky News: "It's cool... Well, it's not cool, just could be worse.") In Haruki's words, I am attempting to peer down into the depths of the well. Trying to decipher the debris floating to the surface, to find the humanity behind the sound-bites and the glare of the cameras. 

Thursday, January 6, 2011

A visual life

Scott Schumann, aka The Sartorialist, posted this documentary on his blog yesterday.


The Sartorialist was the first blog to seduce me, to draw me into its world. There are countless street-style blogs around these days but I think Scott's mastery sets him above the rest... His eye for distinctive style emerged as a breath of fresh air for the fashion world, capturing anonymous people with such beauty and attention to detail, against the backdrop of some of the dreamiest cities in the world.

This short film documents the a day in the life of the "man behind the camera", illustrating how Scott fused his innate love of style, the burgeoning blogosphere, his talent for photography and the imminent democratisation of fashion to create a virtual landmark - or, as Scott so eloquently puts it, a digital park bench

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

A new year

I have had a "new year, new start" kind of post floating around in my head for a few days, but I was finding it difficult to frame it in a way that wasn't utterly clichéd and, let's face it, generic. Thankfully, the delightful Sarah Wilson supplied me with the lovely idea of new year's intentions, as opposed to resolutions, which she envisaged as a more gentle, flowing way of approaching a fresh start for self-improvement. I think Sarah's slant suits me perfectly. So I'm rolling with it and, as such, my intentions for 2011 are to:

  • work towards wholeness, not perfection (relaxing into myself, rather than striving to eradicate what I perceive to be my flaws and weaknesses)
  • engage in the “everyday” flow of life
  • and, similarly, to follow through.

More specifically, I want to explore the limits of my potential (or, the potential that life holds for me), with gentleness and poise.

That is the crux of it, but there are other things I would like to work on. Like taking joy in the little things, leaning into life, letting go (of fear and outcomes), being truthful (with myself and others) and, as Oprah says, living life on purpose.

When it comes to tangible things, I hope to focus upon writing - this blog, a novel and maybe a screenplay (just for fun), reading books, being engaged with the lives of my friends and family, spending time in the sun, cooking and eating good food, waking up early, experiencing new things, having fun. Travelling somewhere beautiful. Loving the one I love.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Six words



A couple of days ago Gretchen Rubin, one of my favourite happiness gurus, proposed that we, as part of a new year reflection, distil what we know about happiness into six succinct words.

My six words were inspired by an Oprah show I watched not long ago (totally lame, I know), featuring Jane Fonda. To tell the truth, I know next to nothing about Jane's seemingly lucrative career, but I don't think you need to be a fan to recognise the wisdom in the words she shared that day, on finding happiness and contentment as she gets older.

Jane: “It’s a toxic desire to try to be perfect. I realised later in life that the challenge is not to be perfect. It’s to be whole.”
Oprah: “Wouldn’t it be amazing if everybody… was able to make the shift to not have your life be about being successful or getting ahead? What if our entire culture rested on, ‘How do I become more whole?’”
Jane: “It would be a completely different world. You can’t be trying to be perfect and be whole. You have to know what’s wrong and say: ‘It’s okay. It’s all right.’”

And so, my six words evolved into:

Wholeness, not perfection, ignites my happiness.

For me, the difference between perfection and wholeness is the difference between myth and reality. Between striving and arriving.
 
 
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