the value of reading without distraction

WHILE WE WERE away recently, I was interested to read an article by Johann Hari in the i newspaper.  He was talking about the value of reading, in particular reading a physical paper book, and how it 'gives you the capacity for deep, linear concentration'.  It wasn't a tirade against the Internet but rather a plea for balance, and the value of reading without distraction.

Because most of the time, we are distracted.

'If you read a book with your laptop thrumming at the other side of the room, it can feel like trying to read in the middle of a busy party, where everyone is shouting to each other. To read, you need to slow down. You need mental silence except for the words. That's getting harder to find.'

- Johann Hari (article here)

He quoted a fair amount from David Ulin's book The Lost Art of Reading - Why Books Matter in a Distracted Time.  I've not read this book, but I want to, and have wanted to since I read about it previously, in another article.

I thrive on variety and communication in many ways.  But sometimes it can become so much the norm that I forget how to withdraw into a quiet place and feel contented doing so.  It's so easy, in a free five minutes or a quick coffee break to check emails, Twitter or Facebook. The article was well-timed for me - my deliberate withdrawal during our break from all these things helped me regain the ability for quiet focus, curled up reading a book without buzz - whether actual physical buzz or simply the buzzing in my head.

I've tried to continue it on returning home - taking care to use my break periods as times where I don't switch on the computer but instead sit down with a book or indeed another task or hobby which requires quiet depth of concentration, instead of constant multitasking and busy-ness.  Of course, often in these 'breaks' previously I have blogged - which may mean my number of entries may decrease or be less in depth - so be it.  Also I feel more able to write in a focused way and I want to prioritise that as my activity.

(Had an idea for a novel while away - am unusually besotted with it and have already written two chapters.  Usually I cringe at my own fiction writing but I appear, finally, to have found my voice.  It feels extraordinarily releasing.)

So I appreciate the art of reading and the depth of concentration it offers - also other things that require me to be alone with myself. We're not as good at being alone with ourselves as we used to be, it seems - it's not just about reading, is it?  But it is a good example.

'Reading is an act of resistance in a landscape of distraction.'

- David Ulin

Book and keyboard images from stock.xchng

hidden lives and unhistoric acts

It fills me with a mixture of hope and of quiet sadness that we so often do not recognise the value of others and the good they do in our world. We do not note the small acts of ordinary kindness, so keen are we to vaunt the exploits of the famous and the infamous, so eager to either praise or mock extravagant gestures. Our lives are steered gently by those who love us, rebuke us, protect us - even when we do not see it.  George Eliot puts it in just the right tone of voice:

...for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs. - George Eliot, from Middlemarch

why I love Google Street View

Yesterday's trip went well.  I did indeed head library/cafewards initially - spilling out some words in my well weathered notebook, and having a quick peruse in the library itself before heading off for my 'appointment'. It was great talking to the two pregnancy centre workers - I find on-the-scene research really makes a subject come alive, and gives me the opportunity to meet new people too - we got on very well and I went away very glad to have made contact with such lovely people.

Of course all this entailed knowing where I was going. It was in fact on a bus route of one I already take frequently - it just went beyond the point where I usually got off. This is the classic problem I have always had with buses - knowing where to get off. You may know where it is on a map, but guessing it from the seat of a bus is quite another thing. This is why I love Google Street View. I get an advance glimpse of where I'm heading - not merely of road names on a map but the pizza places, shops, pedestrian crossings that all act as markers. I could tell, for example, that if I passed McDonald's I had gone too far - I'd need to get off at the next stop and backtrack.

And I need more than one marker. There is more than one set of traffic lights or traffic islands on a journey.  I need several backups - things that put the scene in context, let me know where I am in relation to my goal - and in relation to the other markers.


Uh oh.  Analogy approaching.

Sometimes we only use one marker in our patterns of thought and interpretation. We hurtle down the road thinking we're going in the right direction - aha!  Metaphorical weeping willow on right!  But we forget to look at the other markers which define the context, put things in a different light, show us another, better approach. Plus we forget that different people use different markers - different associations, memories, worldviews (street views?!). We can't understand why we've landed at such a different place.

I need to know what markers are there to tell me when to get off the bus. But I need to practise spotting them in life too - whether when reading the written word, listening to a conversation or a quiet confidence, understanding that there is usually more than one point of reference. If I forget to look for others, I usually misunderstand - I get off at the wrong stop and can't work out why.

accept the one whose pancakes are terrible

"One person’s pancake making skills allow them to eat perfect pancakes, but another, whose skills are weak, eats only goo."  

Romans 14:2 NEV (New Exasperated Version)

My confession for Shrove Tuesday - I am terrible at making pancakes. Whatever tactics I try, whatever recipes I follow, I end up with...goo. To some, I realise, this will be incomprehensible.  

What!! Can't even make a simple pancake?!

Hey, watch that 'even' - I can make a very nice sponge cake and a lovely casserole, among plenty of other things.  It's just a problem I have with making pancakes (and yes, omelettes also reduce me to blubbering ineptitude).

As I sit here eating my goo covered in sugar and lemon I plead suggest you do not begin any comments with the words: 'Oh, why don't you try...' and 'but if you only did this...'  

Trust me, I will not be trying for another year. 

And if you find yourself typing 'What!  You can't make pancakes?!', please delete and rephrase. My goo is punishment enough. You have been warned begged. (If you're desperate to cure my pancake making skills, I suggest you wait until January 2012 at the earliest.)

But it reminds me every year, as I sweat and mutter, finally thinking - ah!  I know how to solve this now!  - only to find I've run out of batter (and yes sometimes the batter is the problem, but not always - I vary in my terribleness), it reminds me that for all the things that many people find easy, someone somewhere will find them hard.

What comes easily to me can be horribly difficult to someone else, and vice versa. We are so quick to say 'but it's so easy!!' when confronted with a struggle over something that we simply do not find difficult. But in reality, our judgement is what comes too easily, our impatience over what we could do so much better ourselves - which is not something we will often admit.  

Saying 'but it's so easy' in these circumstances is not encouragement, it's a dismissal of a genuine problem.

Saying 'but it's so easy' to someone who is struggling deeply can be placing a huge stumbling block in their way.

So each time I make my attempt at a pancake - a basic, unexotic pancake - I'm reminded that there are those with far deeper problems than this. Problems that we are often in danger of dismissing as 'easily' overcome - when for that person, they seem impossible. We need to encourage them in the same way as we would cheer someone running a marathon - recognising, not devaluing, the sheer effort involved.


Image taken from BBC Good Food Website - no way was I showing you my goo

life...

‘Life is an intoxicant no amount of mundane inebriants – faster, deeper, more alluring, more captivating – can possibly equal. The problem is that for life to become its own exhilarant, we must learn to live it consciously, to live it deeply, to live it to the brim, beyond the visible to the meaningful.’ 

- Joan Chittister

image: mine

the tendency to slide...

Battling weariness these past couple of days.  As I write this, the anti virus software has decided to run a full system scan, which I've minimised.  It's running in the background, slowing things down.  Perhaps I am running a full system scan.  Now there's a thought.  I hope it finishes soon and manages to fix any problems!

Unfortunately this has resulted in some brain fog, and a limited ability to write.  This morning I was at the eye clinic at the hospital, which sucked out most of the morning and pretty much all of my energy with it.  I think these appointments will soon come to an end however - they'll be making up my new glasses soon and have decided my eyes are doing very well.  The orthoptist did her usual here-there-everywhere tests to work my eyes as hard as possible; apparently the results were very satisfactory.  My eyes naturally want to slide inwards; we're trying to train them to hold themselves straight, without surgical intervention.


This is aided by the prism in my glasses, but I've also been doing exercises to strengthen the muscles of my eyes, which make them do what they don't want to - go the other way.  It reminds me in a very physical sense of the hard work required to reverse a habit.


Our reflexes want to react in one way, but we want them to behave differently.  We need things to help us change, but we also need to make an effort to re-train ourselves.  Re-training can be painful and difficult.  But it makes a difference.  We are less likely to slide into our old routines.

I've realised my eyes are stronger for it.  They are less likely to look inwards, more likely to look straight  ahead.

Just as they should.


Glasses image from stock.xchng

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advent beginnings

In many ways, I am a broken record.  I learn something, go round again, forget or ignore the thing that I've learned, and have to re-learn all over again.  It's a tumbling cycle I frequently inhabit and experience.

I admire those who are more disciplined than I am.  My discipline disintegrates very easily.  Just yesterday I was pondering how easy it is for me to squeeze God out of my life.  Not in simply acknowledging him, but in choosing actively to seek him, to encounter him.  We seem to exist in a mindset where we fuel up, jump in and only pull over when the tank is completely empty and wonder why we're making  alarming noises.

So often my prayers are mere hiccups, rather than focused attempts to communicate meaningfully.  My bible reading is as-and-when, trying do it quickly before the next thing comes along.  I would never say it in words, but my actions whisper that perhaps I consider these things mere duties and chores to be ticked off a list.  In reality, they sustain me and inspire me.  I need them.

How can I expect to produce meaningful output when I neglect to grab hold of meaningful input?  For a stream to flow, it needs a source and a goal.  Otherwise all you get is a stagnant pool, and wonder why you don't find it tremendously inspiring.

Today is Advent Sunday - the beginning of the church year.  And Advent is a wonderful tool - introducing a new kind of cycle, putting aside the broken record and re-tuning into the depth and purpose we have been offered.  A depth and purpose we frequently forget.

Perhaps you're like me.  Perhaps your days run away with you, buried in pointless worry or trivia.

Perhaps we could grasp this sense of beginning, immerse ourselves in the time of waiting and re-orientate ourselves.  To change our habits, for so often the cycles we suffer from are habitual cycles.   Following the star that beckons in our hearts, leading us towards a king who became a servant.

And then, with all our hearts, worship him.

image from stock.xchng

The Middle

Still writing, but the words are harder now - the second week has lost the novelty of the first, but now I'm entrenched in that overwhelming part of novel writing which is The Middle.The Middle is the hardest bit to push through. The momentum of The Beginning has sputtered and died, and the force towards The End has yet to kick in.

Sometimes I think I live my life stuck in The Middle.

We tend to autopilot through our days and when the autopilot freezes up we clench our fists and panic. The joys of The Middle!

The Middle is the real test. The test of determination, of character, of what we are made of. The Middle is what makes us, moulds us but above all shows us who we really are.

The Middle is where we have been journeying for a while. We cannot yet see the end, and the miles stretch out before us. Sometimes, we get a little travel sick. And that's okay.

When we're in The Middle, we need to reach out and beyond ourselves. To find a strength beyond ourselves, to recognise the companions who aid us, who teach us.

The Middle is invaluable, because without it there can be no ending. The Middle can offer us so much.

Lord, save me not from the journey, but go with me and before me. Beginning, Middle and End.

intolerant...

image from Stock.xchng

From a recent food intolerance test* I've taken, it looks like I'm intolerant to cow's milk and yeast (and, somewhat randomly, cashews!).  I know these tests are not clinically proven but I've heard a lot of positive anecdotal evidence, so I felt it was worth a try - at least it gives me a chance to test it out by making significant dietary changes.

And significant is what they are.  Suddenly everything needs to be dairy free, which takes out anything derived from cow's milk - obviously cream, cheese, ice cream, chocolate...but there's a lot of food which contains cow's milk or its derivatives, in various sauces, soups and many 'store cupboard' ingredients.  And yeast, of course, does not merely mean taking out bread and marmite.  Do you realise how many foods contain yeast or yeast extract?  Over half of the foods in our cupboard and fridge are suddenly a no-no on yeast alone.  And when it comes to finding things that are dairy and yeast free - well, therein lies the real challenge.

Still, I like to have something I can do.  For someone who has suffered from chronic fatigue for over half of her life, and the last few years the delight of 'chronic headaches', the idea of something I can actually tackle comes as something of a relief.  I'm not going to assume it's going to solve everything - I know for me at least it's more complex than that - but it might help.

I can do something practical to help myself, based on something specific.  Which is something of a novelty.

Of course, this means that I am doing lots of reading around food intolerance.  I'm having a phone consultation with a nutritionist next week.  Allergy UK have sent me some useful links. Interestingly, I've read in a few places that you often crave the very thing to which you are intolerant (there's a sentence trying too hard not to end with a preposition!).

This led me, as usual, to reflect more widely.  How often do we long for the very things that are least helpful or healthy?  Do we crave that which we cannot tolerate - be it physically, mentally or spiritually?  What addictions or bad habits are we unwilling to forgo?

It rather disputes the philosophy that 'everything is good for you, if it doesn't kill you,' and 'if it feels good, do it'.

What we desire is not always right or even good for us.  It's reflected in so many patterns of our lives, yet we are usually unwilling to admit it.



*The York Test.  There are cheaper alternatives, but it was the one recommended and used by friends. They also provided services which were not available from other test centres.  I've found them prompt, efficient and helpful so far.

recognising the melody

I've said it before, but I love Beethoven's "Moonlight" sonata. When visiting my parents recently I was delighted to find they had an adapted, easy version for playing on the piano.

I'm pretty useless at piano playing. When I say this, people seem to think I'm showing some false modesty - presumably due to all those who say they are useless when they are anything but useless.  Usually they can play twenty times better than me. Please note: there's a difference between not being able to play as opposed to not playing as well as you'd like. Claiming the former when you are actually the latter causes problems for us who are genuine strugglers.  After some to-and-froing - 'I bet you can play really', 'no, really I can't' (several times) I have to explain that I barely got further than grade 1 and even then never took any exams.  The piano can lie shut for months.  We have a piano because someone else didn't want it, not because I am any good at playing it.  I hope to play it. In order to learn an easy piece I have to play it over and over and over...and still make mistakes.

Nevertheless, in spite of my clumsiness, the fumblings, the wrong notes, the elongated notes of the right hand because I'm trying to think what to do with my left...I can still recognise Moonlight, and that makes me smile.

Is there an analogy here that needs unpacking?

Frequently in our lives we hit wrong notes.  We make mistakes.  We mess it all up in our attempts to be clever or because we're being inattentive.  We neglect to practise and then wonder why we can't play the tune.  But the tune is still there.   We are in the constant process of transformation. Sometimes we can think we are doing so well, and then something disastrous happens and we lose our thread completely.  Every day we begin again, with a sigh of relief that his mercies are 'new every morning'.

Every now and then, amid the stumbling and the fumbling, the over confidence and the giving up we recognise something - God's melody in our lives.  We can't yet play it perfectly, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try.  For that spine tingling moment when the bit we get wrong most of the time we manage to play right.  For the times when we realise - there is some improvement there.

But always and always recognising grace.  That God still wants to hear our music, even if we haven't quite 'got it' yet.  Our fumbling attempts at loving and worshipping and living are all part of the transformation.

Don't stop playing.  One day you'll be part of the biggest orchestra ever known.




Image from stock.xcng

the lonely lighthouse

This lighthouse, we were informed on holiday, is about to fall into the sea.  It waits, fate undecided, as the waves steadily eat the shoreline.

There's something strange about something so solid, and so (formerly) functional being so transient.  Lighthouses have the important role of flashing out a warning, of being a signpost on a dark, dangerous night.  Yet the coast can become so eroded that the lighthouse itself becomes the thing in danger.

I wonder, are there lighthouses in our lives?  Things that we use to correct our course? Things that warn us when we are going wrong?  Have we forgotten what they are there for?

What parts of our lives, our values, our sense of who we are, have become eroded?  If we don't pay attention, the lighthouse starts to teeter dangerously.  The lines we thought we'd never cross become more plausible, less worrisome.  We disregard the flashing light and it fades into obscurity.

Note to self: take care of my lighthouses.

the problem with borrowed answers

It's not just about knowing what you believe.  It's about knowing why you believe it.  If I offer you a rehearsed sentence, a platitude, a ready answer to a difficult question and you come back at me, what happens?  Do I understand the answer I have given?  Is it merely an answer I have borrowed?  Have I been on a journey through the difficult questions in order to find that answer?  Perhaps I should not call it an answer, but a response.  I respond in a certain way because I believe certain things.  But do I know why I believe them?  Are they realities, or just words?

Why are we afraid of difficult questions?  Why are we afraid to admit our own ignorance, struggles, continuing journeys in a messy world?  We know only in part, but how partial is our knowledge? 

Are my answers my own?  Have I looked into the issues myself, or merely relied on secondhand wisdom?  Do I think it my duty to look into the things of God or my need?

We think we can rely on borrowed answers but without knowing the background or the reason they are inadequate.  Life involves getting your hands dirty.  If we offer a borrowed answer, how can we explain it further?  How can we be convincing?

Lately I am coming across these questions in many different places, nudges and niggles.  And the realisation that if we only use borrowed answers, we will be afraid of them.  We will be afraid of them because we can't explain them.  We will be afraid of them because we don't understand them.

They may well be the right answers, or as close as we can get for now.  But we need to know why.

Otherwise, they become merely clever words, toppled at the slightest sign of storms.

me, myself and I

Last week we had the opportunity to go and hear Dallas Willard speak in Swindon (which I mainly equate with Jasper Fforde novels - and yes we did go on a Thursday!)  Talking about 'private religion and public reality' I scribbled manic amounts of notes, which I must type up so that they don't simply end up buried in my notebook.  I'm sure many life changing words are buried in the notebooks of life.

Really enjoyed a bit of deep thinking and reflection, particular in the area of knowledge and faith, and how often Christianity emphasises Commitment and Profession (of faith) over faith based on knowledge - to its detriment.  There's much more to chew over, of course, and if you're really interested, I can go into it in some more detail another time.


Had a neurologist appointment this afternoon over what they call my 'chronic daily headaches'.  Was rather a long wait (an hour and a half in a waiting room on a day as warm as this is an interesting experience), but I got in eventually, and appreciate the time she took over the problem.  (There's always two sides to it, isn't there?)  I've not got much to take away except the suggestion more physio would be helpful (something I knew already but was helpful to be officially supported in that) and taking me off painkillers for now.  Just in case they are perpetuating the headache.  Since I'm not a painkiller fiend I doubt this is so but I willing to give it a try.  I just hope my hip pain doesn't flare up - that's hard to manage without painkillers and I don't relish the prospect.

She (registrar to consultant neurologist) suggested some possible medications which she will also communicate to my doctor.  But I've decided not to go down that route for a while; I've already tried all the usual suspects, and as it is pain management rather than cure I want to try and 'manage' it meds free.  Not that any have worked, anyway!   She also checked all my reflexes and things with her little hammer.  Quite amusing.  Then she started pricking me to check the feeling in my arms and legs.  Lovely.

Preaching a sermon next Sunday so finishing that up, although the bulk is done now.  As long as I don't throw up over the front row from nerves it'll be fine.  Sit in the front row at your own risk.

 I don't get mentally nervous, as I think I've mentioned before.  My heart rate and stomach betray me.  Silly things.  Hissing at my stomach 'what the heck is the matter with you?  I'M FINE!!' does not, alas have much affect.  Ah well.  Never mind!

belief in hope and wonder

As usual my mind is a whirl of thoughts, ducking and diving.  It means of course that one can easily slip away as another draws my attention, but such are the perils of being me.  I have oodles of writing topics tucked in my brain too, of course, all trying to get out of the neck of the bottle, risking jamming it entirely.  At times like this, I have to go and prune a hedge or something.  (We don't have a hedge; plenty of bushes, however, are trying to work on their ambition to become trees.)


I've been working on my first sermon for a while, which should be interesting.  Loving getting into the topic and learning more myself, re-discovering a sense of wonder.  Wonder gives life sizzle and shine. It fuels faith and gives perspective.  It gives us reason to worship.  Let's have more of it.



Keeping my eye on politics, with interest. BBC News 24 is on much more than it used to be.  I still feel positive about the future.  The coalition has the potential of neutralising the extremes of both parties, a thing of balance.  I love the idea of putting national interest above party politics.  We're all weary of the latter.  I know there are those who claim 'it will never work' but I tire of the negativity.   Let's believe in hope, for a while, shall we?  The idea of the 'Big Society' necessitates co-operation  - its weakness and its strength.  We need to start believing in our potential again, our capacity to change and affect change in the world around us.

Am I playing the same old record?  Well, I like it, so - tough.

perspectives

So much depends on perspective. It's amazing the sheer variety of perspectives we have, if you think about it.

Consider: it is a sunny day.

• aha, time to put some washing in machine - a good drying day today.
• ooh! time to hit the beach...
• Groan.  I hate my job.  How is it I am inside during weather like this?
• I wish I could get out of bed and be in the sunshine.
• Another day without rain.  How will the crops grow?  How will we eat?

I could probably have found a better sentence to illustrate my topic, but that was the one that passed through my mind this morning.

So much affects our outlook on life in its multi-facetedness.

Our location, climate, money, provisions, health, family, need, culture.

We are defined and affected by so many things, and each of these alters our perspective.

And sometimes a new awareness will change things completely - we are overhauled, undermined, and suddenly see life with new eyes.

So much depends on perspective.

at the station

When I was in my late teens, I prided myself on being able to pull an analogy out of anything.  I think I even gave a 'life lesson' from a pear, once.  It was a little bit on the silly side so I try and only make meaningful analogies these days!  (Me silly?  Surely not! - cue all my friends cracking up...) Travelling always sets me going though, especially train travel.  I was travelling by train this weekend.  I had my journey all pre-booked, seats reserved, everything.  I got to the station, and they eventually announced my first train was cancelled!  Which of course meant everything went out - I would never make the connections to the next two trains.

It worked out okay.  Despite the delay in the beginning, the 'alternative' route was fine - and actually I got to see bits of countryside I usually don't, as I'm taking a different way.  But of course, I started to ponder...

When it comes to catching or changing trains, when you have made a specific reservation for a certain seat and train and time - one of the worst things that can happen is that the train is cancelled. And when a train gets cancelled, all bookings are off. 

My experience is that once I'm over the frustration and shock - and sheer weariness - I simply change tack.  It needs to be handled differently.  It becomes a matter of catching the best train you can in your circumstance.  It's not the way you planned or the schedule you wanted.  You have to let go of your expectations and take the journey one stage at a time.

There are positives to this - you're not worrying about being late for the next train on your schedule.  It simply no longer applies.  You take each step as it comes.

Now, here I go with the analogy...

When life doesn't fit with our plans, when one change puts the whole thing out of whack, when nothing makes the sense you wanted it to - you are left with trust.  (Quick thinking, advice, and keeping calm are also good ingredients!)

Trust that, although the wait may be much longer than what you bargained for, there will, eventually be another train.  A different train.  It may take you by another route entirely, giving you a view of something you never knew you would see. 

When I was that somewhat silly teenager I wrote a somewhat silly song, but I remember one line: 'The train I'll catch at the station is worth the waiting.'  Sometimes we feel completely left behind.  Sitting in the station when everyone else is boarding trains.

But there's a train coming.

For us.

seasons and storms

The weather keeps dramatically shifting, from gales and squalls and torrential rain, then just as suddenly blows out and blue skies emerge...an hour later the clouds descend again.

It can be difficult to prepare for such extremes - what kind of coat do I need? Waterproof, windproof, warm or light? Which path should I take, and will it be muddy? Do I need thick socks or will my feet get too hot?

There have been times in life where it has felt like I have moved from one squall to the next. Not just for me, but for many. One lot of weather passes, and another sets in, before you can recover from the first, and prepare yourself for the next. You can find yourself in a completely different situation, needing a whole different set of tools and apparel.

Through times like this, we learn what our 'staples' are - in the sense of those things that are valuable and healthy and essential to keep us going whatever the weather, whatever the terrain.

For me these things include God and faith in him, hope, a sense of perspective. A gentle touch when others hurt. A firm touch when things need to change, or when I myself need a good self-talking to! Keeping my eyes on the light at the other side. All the more difficult when the light may not be visible...yet.

The sense I am not alone, that God is in the darkness with me. The sense that others, too, are dwelling in a similar darkness or storm, and that we can reach out to each other with understanding. The reminder that life is full of seasons.

I went through a very dark, isolated season which lasted at least 2 years, not that long ago. Now, I am aware of a quietness of heart and a renewing of strength. I have known the re-filling of hope. But what has remained with me is an understanding of that darkness and isolation. I may walk the path of hope, but there are so many who grapple with hopelessness.

I've been there. It's dark, and horrible. Your faith gets so thin you think it may break entirely. But you are not the only one. And you are not alone. Take the thread of your faith and entwine it with those of others. We can make it through.

By the grace of God, spring comes.

alive

Sometimes...I am merely searching for words. Anything to capture the colour of living, the breathtaking nature of existence. Sometimes I rise above the here and now, the physical weariness, the aching back from a long day...and I breathe in living.

It is in my ears and eyes, even on my tongue, taste buds tingling at being alive. The momentous nature of it...the incredible ability to touch and to feel...and to think about the touch and the feeling. To ponder aloud and silently the brush that painted today, and still waits to colour tomorrow.

To love.

To breathe.

To be the only person who is me myself.

To be alive.

what inspires you?

Wednesday evenings I have put aside for writing, although I have to say I am getting tired now and the evening has barely started. Perhaps I'm still in British Summer Time - that's probably true.

I've been thinking of the need for inspiration, which led me to the question: what inspires me?

Let's see...

nature sky God friends love animals books quietness laughter anecdotes dreams family children rockpools words colours waterfalls hope creativity art trees light dark thoughts boats earth discussion humour ocean seasons faith doubt touch watermelon photographs birds air travel flowers mountains sight music rivers taste butterflies

I could go on..let's be inspired.

What inspires you?

changing viewpoints

Having moments of real frustration with my headaches, especially as I am so enjoying my writing course. But of course bending over a piece of paper, reading, and looking at a document on the computer all aggravate my head when its in full-on ache mode.

I am seeing the doctor this afternoon; I don't really know what to tell her. However she was going to contact the neurologist for advice so it will be interesting to learn of anymore suggestions. I have my eye appointment at the hospital on Nov 9th, which I'm waiting for impatiently. I'm hoping that by sorting out the prism in my glasses and working out how much help my eyes need to work together, this will at least eliminate one headache factor.

In the meantime, I'm trying to build up my fitness by having short walks everyday and generally being a bit more active. Since my fatigue is not too bad at the moment (yay!) this is more do-able. I think it's worth making myself feel more healthy in other ways. Plus, in one fell swoop, I have signed off cakes, biscuits, chocolate and such like in an attempt to really help my body sort itself out. It sounds drastic, but I know in order to decrease something in my diet, I have to go cold turkey for a while. I've even decreased the amount of bread I eat (hard for someone who adores toast!). When I get the nibbles (I have the nibbles a lot) I put my hand in the fridge and pull out....a bunch of grapes.

Having the writing course seems to have motivated me in so many different ways. My life feels more structured (I've even drawn up a loose weekly timetable), and full of possibilities. Strangely enough, I am so grateful that I did give it up a decade ago...simply so I can take it up now - when I'm so much more aware of who I am. It goes to show, what we think are failures can bear fruit later - and we simply don't see the big picture. So often looking at circumstances in my life from one viewpoint is in fact misleading - as time passes and circumstances shift, suddenly there is a hint of shining purpose.

Even so, I could do without the headaches please!! :)