After all the hurly-burly and disruption of moving to live in a new town, I was very pleased to create this little painting, ready for an Art Competition in Palmerston North. The inspiration has come from the window of the old house next door, African Violets and Tulips from our new home, and an imaginary small person. The art works for the Competition were on display in Square Edge, Palmerston North during August, 2024.
There are some things that come into your home and never leave!
Where did these lively little critters come from - and where will they go? They’ve been in our toy-cupboard for about 45 years. And how did these much-played-with puzzles follow us around from house to house, and stay intact with only one piece missing?
I would never describe myself as a hoarder. But I do collect and keep stuff! Sometimes because its precious or cute or someone in the family might want it one day. But actually I honestly think I really just like hanging on to stuff because I HATE throwing things away.
However, we’ve come to the stage in our lives where we need to downsize. We no longer have the time or inclination to care for our lovely property and our ageing selves have changing needs. Besides there are countless cartons and boxes in the wardrobes and the garage that really do need to be sorted and if we don’t do them now, later someone else will have to do it. But I really don’t want anything thrown away!
So over the past few months I’ve been de-cluttering, clearing out and passing things on. Smurfs, jigsaw puzzles, books, clothes, shoes, lego, china, linen, tramping sticks, a sofa, paints and inks, picture frames, outdoor furniture, a large storage unit, a chair, a cupboard, and excess gardening equipment - and that’s just for starters! Its all gone to The Sallies Store, The Red Cross Book Shop, onto ‘Marketplace’ or left on the berm in front of our house (from where its usually picked up within a few hours.)
And a tiny little bit of scrappy stuff that no one would want has been thrown away.
This all takes me to consider the way we accumulate stuff and what we do when we’ve finished with it. There’s the necessary and important stuff that is essential for a good life. But there’s also unnecessary and unimportant stuff that just we use (or play with) for a while and then it gets lost in a bottom-less space in the garage or toy cupboard or the cupboard above the wardrobe. I have kept stuff that is no longer needed or useful, just because I don’t want to throw it away.
So one result of de-cluttering, clearing out and passing on is my thought that from now on (and I hope its for a good few years yet!) I will buy mostly what’s essential - and some things that are just ‘good to have’ - but, when I’m buying it I’ll think about where it might end up when we’ve finished with it. Is it of sufficient durability that it can be handed on so someone else to use, or might it only last a season with us, and then end up - horrors of horrors - being thrown away. Which takes me to the approach of Marie Kondo when it comes to getting rid of stuff. She wrote in her book, The Life-changing Magic of Tidying Up …“keep only those things that speak to the heart, and discard items that no longer spark joy”. The word “discard'“ brings me to Julia Butterfly Hill - the American environmental activist, best know for living on a platform in a 200 foot-tall, approximately 1000 year-old California Redwood tree for 738 days (Dec 1997 - Dec 1999). Julia said, “ when we say we will throw something away, where is ‘away’?” *
*Julia Butterfly Hill decided to do the “tree sit” when the Pacific Lumber Company announced a new ‘clear-cutting’ initiative. “‘Clear-cutting’ is an extreme logging method in which resilient natural forests are harvested and replaced with man-made tree plantations that do not replicate the ecosystem services of a healthy forest,” according to the environmental non-profit organisation Sierra Club. Julia and her supporters ultimately reached an agreement with the Company to preserve the California Redwood and other similar ones.
Markets! What wonderful places for meeting people.
At the Artisan Market in June this year I met Deb. Deb is hugely talented, warmly enthusiastic and highly energetic. She was looking for a book to use as the basis for a Children’s Holiday Programme in the school holidays in July. She saw “Ngā Kura Huna ā-Nuku” on my stall and immediately decided to make the story into a drama production.
“I see this has a lot of different characters - Maisie, Whaea Mere, the Father, microbes, snails, worms, butterflies, Maisie’s friends. It has a lovely story with a happy ending …….this is just what I’m looking for!” she said.
Deb and I had a couple of meetings and, the next week, she was into three days of rehearsing culminating in a production at the end of the third day. The high-spirited and totally enthusiastic girls joined Deb in a lively production.
There were butterflies, tomato plants, microbes, a dog, ducks, Whaea Mere, Maisie, Tama and Lily, dancing and singing and…..ta da! ….. compost!
There’s an increasing flurry in the number of markets recently - or is that a ‘medley of markets’. I’ve set up my stall at about half-a -dozen over the past two years - a novice beside local veteran stall-holders who have been setting up stalls and selling their wares for a decades. I’m very much an apprentice salesperson in the lineage of traders throughout history.
Sunshine helps at an outside Market. Here’s the hugely successful Whanganui Traders Market which offers a wide variety of home-made or locally-grown delights. Set on the banks of the Whanganui River, each Saturday morning, it attracts a lively crowd of those who come to buy weekly organic groceries, favourite coffee and home-baked delicacies or to browse among the endless stalls of books, plants and crafty temptations.
At the recent Artizan Makete, in Palmerston North, I was sitting at my stall of children’s books, greeting cards and children’s t-shirts, thinking about how a “Market” is different to shopping in the local supermarket or mall. One difference is that, generally speaking, people who come to a Market are scanning in a casual and leisurely way. They move slowly as they pass, scanning the stalls -sometimes pausing when a trinket or object catches their eye. But, unless they are coming specifically to buy from a regular stall, they are generally enjoying the pleasure of browsing. As a stall-holder I’ve learned to be ready to engage with the browser - or not. If they catch my eye, I’ll smile and say hi. And take my lead from their behaviour to see if they want to talk more, or move on. Some browsers don’t make eye contact - so I don’t push it!
I’ve come to realise that being at the Market is as much about the experience of relating to each other as it is the buying or selling. When somebody asked me recently how many books I’d sold, I found myself reflecting that the number of sales I’d had wasn’t the main criteria for a successful day. Selling goods is only part of the experience. To engage with the browser and with the other stall-holders is as important as making a sale. And - perhaps unlike in other shopping experiences - there isn’t the same competition between the stall-holders. There is likely to be a joint delight when someone makes a sale. Indeed, often, stall-holders buy from each other’s stalls,
We have been. exchanging our wares since very early times. Historically, we depended on each other to supply that which we couldn’t individually grow, make or breed - garden produce, crops, birds, animals, clothing, building materials… the inter-dependence of our trading was implicit. We weren’t competing with each other - those who had were providing for those who had not. I’m guessing there was a great deal of trust involved in the transaction. Trust that the goods were genuine, healthy, strong and durable. There was value placed on a product that was “built to last”. Conversely, the growth of mass-produced goods, which were built for a “quick turnover’ and to be replaced regularly, and often manufactured in other countries, produced a new style of trading. There was no personal relationship between the maker and the buyer. The trading experience became less important than the object of the trade and how much you could save in the purchase. Goods became “comsumables” - not the product of a satisfactory trade between the maker and the buyer. The move to ‘online trader’ accentuated the lack of personal exchange. The maker and buyer relationship was even more removed from the experience. Only recently has there been an awareness of and concern about the shocking conditions in some of the factories where people work to produce our commodities and the scant remuneration they receive. The idea of an equal exchange, of a rewarding relationship, of a respectful acknowledgement of each needing the other is non-existent. We have come so far from the traditional human activity of buying and selling.
I’ve been thinking about the connection between holidays and ‘holy days’. (A little history lesson follows). The word ‘holiday’ was first used in the 1500s replacing the earlier word “haliday” which was recorded before the 1200s. Earlier, about 950, the word was “haligdaeg” and meant ‘holy day, consecrated day, religious anniversary, Sabbath’. In the 1400s the meaning of ‘haligdaeg” was both “religious festival” and “day of exemption from labour and recreation”.
In my mother’s childhood, religion was taken very seriously. In her Presbyterian household, there was no play or work on Sundays (apart from tasks such as essential cooking and cleaning) and all household members had to spend the day in quiet activity. No noisy activity or games such as cards (associated with gambling) were allowed.
Fast forward to the present day when we have ‘holidays’ which are generally accepted as a period of recreational time usually spent away from work, school, and, sometimes, home. The word has changed in meaning, both in terms of it being a ‘consecrated or religious’ day, and of it being ‘a day of exemption from labour and recreation.’
We have come a long way from a time of strict observance of Sunday as the ‘holy day’ - an observance which originated in the Christian Bible-story about God ‘making the world in six days and resting on the seventh.’ I remember when Sunday sport and Sunday shopping was introduced and there was much concern expressed about the effect of these changes on our lives. Many more changes followed - to where we are now, generally unaware of Sunday being any different to any other day of the week, unless you attend Church, which is generally on a Sunday.
According to the data gathered at the 2018 census, 48.2 % of the adult population had no religion, compared with 29.6 in the 2001 census. (This only factors in those who filled in the census form, but it does seem to indicate a growing trend.). Does this suggest that we as a society are becoming less interested in all that is considered ‘holy’ or ‘sacred’? Or does it indicate a growing number of people who are uninterested in ‘organised religion’? We may never know - as there are so many different understandings of ‘holy’ , ‘sacred’, ‘divine’. Changes in observing periods of religious significance are evident around us. Hanukkah, Holi, Diwali are some of the significant periods recognised in our communities. Of greater significance both in terms of understanding and also recognising our tangata whenua (people of the land), Matariki is becoming increasingly understood as relevant and essential in contributing to richness of our community.. I notice I’m having more conversations with (non-religious) people who acknowledge a connection with something other than that which is human, visible and tangible. They give ‘it’ various names - “Universe”… Spirit”… “Energy”,… “Mystery”. Maybe some of the 48.2 % who have no religious affiliation still see the place for the sacred and divine in our lives. And I sense a growing conviction that everyday is a holy day.
THIS used to be a “neatly mown” lawn in our backyard …. but it hasn’t had the sharp blades of a mower slicing through it for about two years. And now it’s an ever-changing wilderness of plants - fruit trees, grasses, “weeds” and vegetables. I love the idea of letting some of our neat and tidy backyards grow back into their natural, free state providing a rich environment for creatures of all sizes both above and below the surface.
And there’s something about this kind of freedom that is relevant to our everyday lives. Much is accomplished within the predictability of a tidy living space and organised daily routine. But if we linger too often and too long inside our tidy and predictable environments, we might miss out on much that is spontaneous and free.
When I think of different expressions of ourselves, I remember one of my teachers from long ago saying “Discipline is the dancer’s freedom”. We need structure and discipline at times and we also benefit from being able to let go and ‘let it flow’. Order, structure and discipline have their place but if we are going to experience more potential than we ever imagined, we might risk stepping outside the known and familiar - face into the inevitable unknown and unseen risks - and experience something which may have unexpected benefits for ourselves and others.
I love the mixture of order and structure (neatly mown places) and the wild abandonment in the garden. Rather like the “quiet” spaces in a piece of music or art, the tidy orderliness of the garden accentuates the abandoned beauty of the wildness. And, perhaps most importantly of all, the wild profusion of green plants provides a rich supply of living organisms which create another urgently-needed carbon sink for our tired planet.
*Let it go. Let it out. Let it all unravel.
Let if free and it can be
A path on which to travel.
~ Michael Leunig ~ artist, philosopher, social commentator, spiritual pioneer
There it will be displayed for many minutes to come.
Sounds like I’m advocating for a ‘not-so-fast-message’?
Yes! Here are some options. (I’m spending more than a few minutes creating more cards and getting them online for you so you have more choices.)
You’ll find more on my website (https://www.janetbradbury.co.nz)
Australian writer and illustrator, Michael Leunig, comments on life. He has been doing so for more than fifty years and he calls himself “one of Australia’s most ancient moth-eaten cartoonists.”
His lively and slightly bizarre cartoons appeal to me! In a complex and confounding world he draws my attention to innocence and simplicity, reminding me of the myriad versions of all that is sacred and holy.
When I’m tipping too far towards despondency and sadness about injustice, self-absorption, violence and greed, his writings and drawings remind me to look for all that inspires and cheers me, re-kindling lightness, gratitude and a sense of wonder. Thank you Michael - for being there, for keeping your focus on all that reflects ‘sanity, beauty, kindness and care’ and sharing it in your unique way!
Puhoi General Store
I recently received an email from a woman asking if I would send a copy of “The Secrets in the Soil / Ngā Kura Huna ā-Nuku” to her at the Puhoi General Store. I was immediately curious. When I went searching for Puhoi I found it north of Silverdale on the road to Warkworth. The website said: “for all your general grocery needs, plus great coffee and fish and chips visit the Village Store”. Reading about the Puhoi General Store took me down memory lane to another place at another time. Another General Store that definitely didn’t sell fish and chips.
Between the ages of four and seven years (over sixty years ago) I lived in Hinuera, a rural village at the foothills of the Kaimai Range. Our farm cattle-stop and gate opened onto the main road beside the railway line and locomotive steam engines regularly hissed and roared along the railway-line on the boundary of our farm on their way to and from Matamata and Hamilton. Looking east from our gate, toward the Kaimai Hills , you could see the Hinuera Dairy Factory, and over the railway line in the other direction, were the Church, the Hinuera Primary School and The General Store. The General Store was a large wooden building. The cool, dark, interior was full of mysterious objects and was both slightly thrilling and scary to me as a five-year-old. The building was full of the aroma of spices, leather, tea , rubber and hay. Stacked beside each other around the walls were large wooden chests of flour and sugar; tall sacks of wheat, rice and oats; large square tins of biscuits; bins of sweets; long rolls of fabric; oil-skin coats, gum-boots, garden tools and leather harnesses for horses. Strange objects dangled on huge iron hooks which hung from the rafters and there were cupboards and cabinets and shelves stacked full of saucepans, towels, sheets, blankets, rope, nappies, umbrellas, candles, books, boots, hats, underwear, skeins of wool, and a tall, glass-fronted, locked medicine cupboard held a fascinating array of bottles, tins and packets.
I remember following my mother up to the high wooden counter where she ordered her flour, sugar, tea, and other groceries. The Store Keeper weighed each item on huge metal scales, ladled them into strong brown paper bags and tied them with string. Other goods were parcelled up in brown paper also, and fastened with string . The string was cut, using enormous scissors, from a large spool hanging on the wall. My mother paid cash for the groceries and the Store Keeper took the notes and pressed the metal levers on the large Cash Register . The cash drawer sprang open. He put the notes under a lever in a drawer, found the change and counted it out as he handed it to her. The Store-keeper wore a long, white apron which reached the floor and he was very clever with his parcel wrapping and money-counting. There were a couple of cats asleep on the counter - their night-job was to keep the rats and mice from nibbling holes in the sacks of rice and wheat.
In one corner of the store was the Post Office where the Post Mistress sat behind a counter. She had the very important job of being in charge of letters and parcels being posted or picked up, toll calls being made, or telegrams being received from far-away places.
The General Store was a hub for the community. Mothers met and talked about who was sick, who was having a baby, who had died and who was on the flower roster for Sunday Service at the church. The fathers talked about the weather, their cows, bulls and hay-making, who had the latest tractor, and sometimes they muttered about the Government. Us children followed the adults around, uninvolved in the conversations, but hoping somebody would offer a boiled sweet if we were well-behaved. In today’s conversations about the duopoly of the Supermarkets, its good to know there are still General Stores and local mini-markets around the country which meet the ‘general grocery needs’ of their community, offer a place for folk to meet and yarn about those things that matter - and in some cases, even provide coffee and fish and chips.
In the past two months, since “The Secrets in the Soil / Ngā Kura Huna ā-Nuku” was printed, she has been requested from folk all around Aotearoa N.Z. And there have been a wonderful range of bouquets sent to me. I include here some from my whanau. From two nieces describing their children’s response, and one niece who was so inspired she began building a compost. And my sister-in-law describing her grandson’s response to the book.
First niece: “The books arrived this morning. They are just wonderful - the children and I loved them. Information is perfect. I absolutely loved the illustrations, I particularly loved the expressions on the chooks’ faces …it was great to lose myself in the illustrations”.
Second niece: “As soon as the beautiful books arrived Amy sat and browsed the entire book and Sam sat up to draw just like you do! Here they are (photo) both getting back to drawing. Thank you for the inspiration.”
Sister-in-law: “I enjoyed reading the book to Jimmy. He was very interested and interacted throughout. He even helped me with the Maori translation and described the contents of his father’s compost heap!”
Third neice: “I am following the instructions at the back of the book. You’ve inspired me! Will send a photo shortly - have to clear a space in the garden first.”
This photo arrived soon after…!
Requests and comments continue to arrive. Given the subject of the book is the microbes in the soil, it’s not surprising that I’m being sent a lot of bouquets of flowers!
In these particular times of uncertainty and unknowns I notice that I am attracted to people who help me keep a balance in my life, by reminding me to look on the light-side. These people often have a wide perspective of the world. They bring a view of what is going on in the present into a perspective that includes our history and our place on the planet. They also frequently have a quirky and irreverent sense of humour. An example of this is from our lovely, local bookstore which displayed this notice this week.
Thinking about the need to remember our history (and our place on the planet) I have appreciated a post a friend put on Facebook recently. It was a piece of writing from C.S.Lewis who, in post-second-world-war Britain was speaking to someone who was very anxious about the dangers of the mis-use of the atom bomb which devastated Japan. C.S. Lewis said that throughout history people of every time and place have lived with fear and anxiety as they imagined themselves or those they love, dying or suffering from chronic pain as a result of war, plagues, illness, accidents and trauma. He went on to say, “Do not let us begin to exaggerate the novelty of our situation”. While, of course, there are threats and dangers that we live with today - there have always been. And he advises us to not become overly concerned about these threats and dangers - imagining terrible scenarios does nothing to help us cope with the ordinary every-day stress of our daily lives. C.S. Lewis goes on to say, “The first action is to pull ourselves together - let’s keep focussing on those things that bring pleasure and satisfaction.”
So I would add, while we do all we can to live good lives, let’s make sure we find people who are optimistic and positive and can make us smile. I’m sure our heart-health will benefit.
They say writers should read. And because I was interested in the number of books I’d read, a few years ago I decided to keep a Book Diary. I don’t always remember to keep it up to date, but overall its a good record. I give each book a rating as to how much I appreciated it, or not. I have recorded 70 books so far. (Its good to be reminded as to whether or not I’ve actually read a book, as I forget sometimes!) What I’ve found is that I’m often more interested in HOW the book is written, than what the subject is. So authors attract me more than topics.
I’m always interested in what other people are reading - some of my friends are voracious in their reading appetite! Some time ago I went to a couple of meetings of a local Book-Club but it reminded me too much of unhappy days in an English Class at High School, with set books and set questions to answer! I didn’t continue. I’d describe myself as a free-lance reader. On that note though, I’d love to know what other people read, and I’m sharing some of my favourite books.
My list begins with the book I’m currently reading. The others are in no particular order, but have received 8 or more (out of 10) ticks!
(1) “sand talk” - How Indigenous Thinking Can Save the World” - Tyson Yunkaporta, textpublishing.com.au. 2019. Tyson combines his passion, wisdom and wit with humility and astonishing insight. I shall dip or delve into this book for a long time to come!
(2). “The Light-keepers Wife” -Sarah Anne Johnson
(3) ”All the Light we Cannot See” - Anthony Doer
(4) “Patron Saint of Liars” - Ann Patchett
(5) “The Handmaids Tale” - Margaret Attwood
(6) “The Hidden Life of Trees” - Peter Wohlleben, Black Inc.,(Australia) 2015
(7) “Kiss the Ground” - Josh Tickell
(8). “The Treaty on the Ground” - edited by Rachael Bell & others, Massey University Press, 2017
[I’ve included the publisher and date of the books I’ve bought - the others are borrowed either from the local library or friends]
I love hearing what other people are reading - please contact me on my email: janetmace.bradbury@inspire.net.nz - or Facebook, or leave a comment under this blog………. I look forward to hearing from you!
I have been thinking for some time that I needed to write a post for my website, and this phrase came to mind. I am reminded of how language moves from one place and time to another, gathering new meanings on the journey. One apparent origin of these words comes from the story, in the 1840s, of the North Carolina governor, John Morehead. He was in the middle of an increasingly intense and heated argument with the South Carolina governor, James Hammond. Morehead’s words, timed for their best effect, resulted in lessening the hostilities and restoring goodwill between the two governors. In 1933 the catchphrase acquired new meaning during the liquor prohibition in both North and South Carolina. Railway passengers travelling through North and South Carolina faced “a long time between drinks’ because of the train’s closed bar. (sourced online, Jerry Mills, 2006)
The phrase now usually means a long and tedious wait between notable events. My last blog was written about 8 months ago, following the election in 2020! This could appear to be a long and tedious wait between notable events on this website! However, despite the apparent lack of activity, there has been plenty going on!
Since December 2019, I have been immersed in writing and illustrating another children’s story - this time about soil. “The Secrets in the Soil” is now in her final stages of production. We have done two drafts, and I will meet with Rongo, the talented graphic designer, tomorrow to look at what may well be the final draft, before it goes to the printers.
I am reminded of the process that it takes between having an idea and the eventual appearance of the end product. While it may appear to be a long and tedious wait to those on the outside, there is a multitude of activities unfolding on the inside. Rather like the seed which is planted in the garden, the slumbering inactivity on top of the soil hides a riot of growth and development underneath. I often feel surprised when eventually the new green shoot emerges.
The image on this blog is the cover of “The Secrets of the Soil”. Maisie and her Dad discover that who lives in the soil makes all the difference to the health and happiness of their tomato plant. Now that there is obvious activity again on this website I’ll post more, over the next weeks, about Maisie, the microbes and the tomato plant. (And let you know how you can buy a book! :) )
I have been very heartened by the results of our election. But not by the success of a particular Party. For me, the most important feature was the number of people who voted for a particular style of government. A style which names and advocates for such values as empathy, respect and inclusiveness. I remember there were, once upon a long ago time, qualities which identified our leaders as ‘statesmen’ (and, it must be noted most of the recognised leaders were men). These ‘statesmen-like’ qualities which resulted in certain types of behaviour and decorum were expected from our leaders. It was, I realise now, the shadows of the British colonial times still lingering in our corridors of power. This time was followed by a time of ‘teenage’ wrestling away from the parental models. The more dignified , “British” manner was replaced by a more casual and colloquial leadership style. However, in spite of the outward changes, the historic adversarial model of governorship continued. This adversarial style of behaviour modelled by our leaders has become more obvious and popular in our communities. When we see and hear oppositional and antagonistic behaviour from our leaders and through our media, it gains legitimacy. So criticism, personal attacks, rudeness, and disrespect has become expected from those who represent us and whom we see as models.In direct contrast, some of the words which I heard from Jacinda Ardern, early in her term as prime-minister were “kindness” and “respect” and “empathy”. These terms were central to my counselling/psychotherapy training and practice, describing the attitude necessary to bring about positive change and healing. And in those places transformational change happened regularly. People - often starved of these experiences - flourished in the atmosphere of non-judgemental, positive regard. I was surprised and pleased to hear these concepts being aired in the public arena as a broader way of communicating and relating to each other. This was a new and very welcome emphasis being heard in the wider community. One where caring relationships were promoted. Diversity was welcomed. Encouragement and cooperation was valued.And those values of kindness, respect and empathy were the fibres which have held our communities together through very difficult, very traumatic times in our country during the past two years. Those values have encouraged us to reach out, care for others and recognise our similarities more than our differences.However during the past months, given the uncertainty and worrying times which lie ahead, I wondered whether people might revert to the ‘old’ ways of relating which we heard so much of during the election campaign. Combative comments, insults, snide comments, ridicule and accusations were in free fall. This negativity has the capacity to pull people in: feeding their fears and igniting their anxiety. Would this ‘old’ style of communicating be successful? Would people’s fears about the unknowns ahead cause them to hunker down, retrench and retreat to their individualistic lives?The good news is that the ‘old’ style didn’t attract enough voters to bring that type of leadership into power.. People voted for a style of leadership that is inclusive and caring and encouraging of our inter-relatedness. I am heartened that we are in a time of positive transformational change.
I set myself a little challenge of writing a poem everyday while travelling to Tauranga (and back). Here they are:
Mountain and sullen skies merge
on the Kaimanawa-Rangipo plateau.
Monotones - grey,
prussian blue,
umber, raw sienna.
The Desert Road - an unwinding black and gold ribbon
over the wild and lonely landscape.
Tussock, rock and stunted raoulia -
this place has its own mood and its own pace.
From the belly of an ancient volcano
arose the great, grey ruffled waters
of an inland sea.
Now, lapping the toes of restless giants.
You were born of an eruption of such magnitude
that those of other continents bore witness.
For now, you are quiet
Taupo-nui-a-tia.
Taupo sparkles.
Cobalt, viridian and rose - fresh from the night rain.
Our favourite cafe is different and has a strange,
oddly irrelevant name.
I don’t like the stodgy scone, but I do love the paper wrapping around the butter.
I give warm feedback.
As in my life - there’s loss
and change - if I compare.
Then we hurl along empty highways
North-east of Taupo.
Cropped paddocks are bereft of trees or animals for miles.
Cloud mountains overhead.
The landscape as quiet as a city park during lock-down.
The gigantic, grey cylinder stand silent. Incongruous.
Another sign of human interference.
Tauranga.
Tightly packed streets twist and curl around each other.
Houses, crammed in, jostle for a view.
Across the grey harbour Mount Maunganui waits, patiently,
littered with piles of ticky-tacky at her feet.
The heavy brow of cloud
Hangs over Taupo - ominous with thunder.
Townsfolk scuttle home.
Long roads wind up and over undulating hills.
Just over there the Rangitikei river continues her thousands-year-old passage
through rock canyons.
We glide downhill all the way from Taihape.
Blue skies over Manawatu beckon us home.
As I prepare a new story (this one is about microbes in the soil) I’m reminded of this quote from Rebecca Solnit. There is a preparatory/incubating time whenever something is birthing. In a story’s beginnings, there is much reading research, practice sketches, colour choices, composition trials and gathering of resource pictures. All this goes on in the privacy of my studio; in the wanderings of my mind in the hours of darkness; or in the surprising realisation amidst other seemingly unrelated activity. The beginnings move from an idea to a form - but slowly. Styles are trialled. Ideas noted. Sketches are practiced. Those ideas from the ‘outside’ are coming into the centre.
As the ideas accumulate a natural tension occurs. Have I done enough research? Is there another style, colour, composition I could try? Is this good enough? I’m tempted to keep trialing. Another idea! Another style! Another approach to the story! In the passage from the outside, where the ideas appear in their earliest, elemental form towards the centre, the tension grows.
There is a pace to this movement. Sometimes it flows easily, at other times it stutters and stumbles. I need to watch my step - keeping nimble so the pace fits. And always watching the progress steadily towards the centre where the project will be ready.
Each morning, on my early walk around my neighbourhood, I pass an unusual menagerie of small animals suspended in windows (or hedges) - teddy-bears, panda-bears, dolls, alligators and rabbits greet me as I walk by. I also pass windows with vases of flowers, hand-written notes with “Have a nice day”, or a daily joke or riddle (“I have a pencil with a rubber at both ends - it is pointless”) stuck on the glass. I wave to and greet strangers who also walk (or bike) at this time of day.
I don’t know these arrangers,composers and fellow-walkers, and they don’t know me - but we all have something important in common. We all share a new and unfamiliar change in our lives. We are all in ‘lock-down’. In this strange new imposed existence we are turning on a new axis, at a different speed and for a different reason.
Yet - amidst this unfamiliar human behaviour - a familiar rhythm continues: leaves fall, feijoas hang on the branches, grass grows, the last of summer’s faded roses still bloom, bees and birds go about their business. While so much of our human world seems different and strange, the natural world carries on regardless.
In one of my new-found moments of space and quietness, I found this poem by Danna Faulds who speaks of life when change is thrust upon us:
There is no controlling life. Try corralling a lightning bolt, containing a volcano.
Dam a stream and it will create a new channel. Resist, and the tide will sweep you off your feet.
Allow, and grace will carry you to higher ground.
The only safety lies in letting it all in - the wild and the weak;
fear, fantasies, failures and success.
When loss rips off the doors of your heart, or sadness veils your vision with despair,
practice becomes simply bearing the truth.
In the choice to let go of your known way of being,
the whole world is revealed to your new eyes”
At this time I am reminded that in our brief and unpredictable lives, change is inevitable and necessary. And there remain some constants to give us footholds even as we pick our way across shakey and unstable ground.
- with thanks to C.B., (who suggested this), Margaret Mahey for the rhythm and rhymes, and Quentin Blake for the characters :)
As we progress through this challenging, inconvenient and difficult time it may help to know that there are predictable stages through which we pass.
The Stages of Grief can explain why we feel strange, disorientated, exhausted, and tense. These are all normal reactions to new, disturbing change. Hopefully, if we know the stages are normal, we can be kinder to ourselves and those both inside and outside our bubble. We are all being tested in new ways.
In addition, there are particular stages through which we pass when we are experiencing a crisis. Knowing what happens at each stage can give us some insight into our own, and other people’s out-of-character behaviour. We are all likely to be acting out-of-character ~ that is part of the challenge!
The stages of the Emotional Journey through Crisis are very similar to the Grief Stages (sourced online from Norman Dreger, “The Edge of Risk”, 18.3.20) but are specific to crises such as the Covid19 Crisis we are all experiencing. These stages are as follows:
DENIAL: As in grief, we experience shock and need to minimise the bad news. “It won’t happen to us”, “We’ll be able to continue with our plans”, “It’s impossible for me to stay home for 4 weeks!”
CONTEMPT: We tend to become judgmental of others - we are quick to accuse other people of over-reacting or under-reacting. Some will become hostile to innocent strangers (i.e. supermarket employees). Some will continue behaving in ways that endanger themselves and others in what appear to be selfish and fool-hardy actions.
BLAME: Others will be blamed for our difficulties. Often the Government will be the target…”they don’t know what they’re doing”…….”they are in chaos”…..”they should have acted a lot sooner” or “they shouldn’t have taken this action.” Other groups of people will be accused of causing the problem. “Those cruise ship passengers shouldn’t have been let into the country”……”the Chinese didn’t tell us how bad it was”….
Unfortunately some people stay in the “Contempt” and “Blame” stages and don’t move on. I have a hunch that if people are generally discontented with their life or are distrustful of others, their characteristic behaviour is amplified in a crisis.. Others, fortunately, do move on.
ADJUSTMENT AND ACCEPTANCE. This is the stage where people adapt to the new situation, regain a sense of relative hopefulness and positivity and find new ways to cope with the concerns, frustrations and challenges.
I believe that most people get to this stage. They are often the ones who remember to consider others (by keeping in contact with others; checking to find out how they are coping; offering practical help; donating to causes; expressing appreciation to those who are the primary workers (health, supermarkets, council workers, police, etc) In other words their focus is often on the well-being of others, as much as it is on themselves.
Fortunately we don’t need to be anyone special to turn our focus towards others. We don’t need special skills or training to have empathy. We just need to remember we are all in this together and we all have a positive contribution to make. Leonard Cohen has something to say about this ‘imperfect offering”…..
“Ring the bells that still can ring,
Forget your perfect offering,
There is a crack in everything -
That’s how the light gets in”
- Leonard Cohen
In the midst of this extra-ordinary global pandemic, which has resulted in such drastic change and uncertainty for us, I have been reminded of people in other times and places who have also been forced, against their will, into unfamiliar and dangerous situations. Victor Frankl (1905 - 1997) was a Jewish psychiatrist and neurologist who was imprisoned in Auschwitz. He reflected deeply on his own experience during that time, and on what he noticed among his fellow-prisoners. And when released at the end of the war, he wrote, among many other scholarly works, the classic, “Man’s Search for Meaning”.
Victor reminds me that, in the societal “lock-down’ which we are now experiencing for the first time in modern history, our behaviour will change.
“An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behaviour”, he writes.
So at this time, during these weeks of isolation and enforcement to ‘stay home’ we will all notice changes in ourselves and those around us. Some of us will be more anxious. Some will become overwhelmed with despair and hopelessness. Others will feel angry. Others will become very energetically focused on problem solving and task-completion. There may be more arguments. Little things may become hugely important. Some will want structure and routines. Others will want to ‘go with the flow’. There will be those who sleep more and those who eat more. And sometimes we will feel and do all of these and more….. this is normal.
Basically, we are all in a state of grief. Any time of CHANGE OR LOSS involves grieving. And we are in an unprecedented time of change and loss. Loss of choice about where and how we spend our days, loss or change of connection with loved ones, loss of predictable income, loss of safety in our local community, loss of certainty about making plans. And many more.
There is a shifting in the usual order of things. Those things which were so central in our daily lives (routines, leisure activities, social gatherings, earning an income) have lost their status. Now, the central things for us are our plans for supermarket shopping, questions about how to reassure and entertain the children, wonderings about how loved ones are coping, realisations that we are limited and confined in our activities and deep concern about the spread of the virus. And the people who were considered so important in our society previously (employers, bank-managers, insurance brokers, travel agents) are now less visible. Some of those who were ‘lower down in the societal rank” previously and are now more significant are our supermarket staff, delivery services, internet technicians, pharmacists and micro-biologists. Everything is topsy-turvy.
In times of stress, we regress. At one level, we all operate as if we are in our original families, reacting as children to the parental authorities around us. Kind, fair parenting results in secure, confident, empathic children. Conversely, anxious, inconsistent or unkind parenting creates the conditions for insecure, fearful children who have trouble sharing with others and learn that their needs won’t be met.
In these strange and unfamiliar times firm, clear and reassuring leadership creates a sense of stability. And when our leaders model empathy and thoughtfulness, this helps to calm our psychological distress.
We are all facing challenging circumstances. And we are forced to find different ways to cope with those challenges. Some commentators say this will be an opportunity to make significant changes in our basic philosophy about what we value. They suggest we might make paradigm shifts in our life goals. Adversity can bring out the best in some of us, and we may have a deeper realisation of how interdependent we all are.
When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves ~
Victor Frankl