circle and yellow and love

I am running behind on my August break 2013 and somehow doing three days at once feels OK

Day 2 was Circles

 

Day 3 was Yellow

This was an amazing and inspiring morning

when I heard one of my favourite people speak.

 

 

Day 4 was Love

 

Yesterday, I spent the day with two friends from University. We met 35 years ago and through various changes in our lives lost touch 15 years ago. It was wonderful to be reunited again. The blessing of such friendships is that time falls away and it was as if we had been meeting for lunch every week for the last 15 years....Love enduring friendships.

 

 

 



Almost 30 years ago

It was the 9th September 1983, a cool day in southern France. I had arrived in the old town of Carcassone and checked into the Youth Hostel. Cooking my food in the communal kitchen I met two German girls; Britta and Christina. They invited me to eat with them. I was so pleased to have company as I was travelling through Europe on my own. In every new town, I would strike up a friendship, find company to explore and share meals. I was always thrilled to meet people with whom I could connect and feel close.

I really like these two young women "despite the age difference" I write in my diary.

In the morning, they were shocked to find that their car had been broken into and their belongings stolen. It was a sad and emotional time. I offered to help. At the police station, I found that my school girl French was actually helpful. In my diary, I wrote ""the morning was spent with a pleasant policeman and I find I know more French than I realise".

After the drama and their loss, the girls decide to head back to Hamburg and I plan to visit them when I reach northern Germany.

Three weeks later, I am in Hamburg, staying with Britta and Christina first in Hamburg and then travelling through Denmark to the island of Suld and back to Hamburg until I make the journey to London on 8th October. As the boat pulls away from the dock, I wrote "I feel tears in my eyes and I wonder if we will meet again. I am sure I will see Britta. I feel a very strong link with her and I am sure we will meet again."

We spent a little over two weeks in each others company. Over the years, Britta and I have kept in touch. First it was letters and photos and cards and more recently emails. Sometimes, we lost touch when one of us moved house or changed contacts but then we found each other again.

My only son was born in July 1990 and her only son was born in October 1990.

Our travels to Europe and hers to Australia have never coincided until this year.

Three days ago we met up and she came to stay at our house. It is as if we have known each other all our lives. We have been living on opposite sides of the world and yet we have had similar experiences at different times of our lives. How is it that when you (re)meet a true connection, it is as if time melts.

We have connected, reconnected and now feel so sure of our friendship and that it will continue.

It seems amazing that a chance encounter in a youth hostel, the friendship they proffered to my aloneness, the support I offered in the crisis, has blossomed into a friendship that has stood the test of time and lasted for 30 years.

Christina, Britta and me Oct 1983

Solitude and connection

Solo walk Oct 2012

I am yearning for space and solitude. Yet this week has given me anything but.
I am an introvert. Someone once explained that the difference between an introvert and an extrovert is where they get their energy. For me, I recharge my batteries, get my best ideas and untangle my knots of emotional complications, quietly, mostly alone, inside my head.

I have read that solitude is the best gift that a creative can give themselves.

In the last week, I have been submersed in people; lots of lovely energised and beautiful people. On the weekend, I spent the time with my oldest friends; the four of us became close friends in boarding school over 40 years ago. Four women living in different towns, living different lives and joined by love and a history of connection.

Then when I returned, my cousin and her husband arrived from England to stay. We have known each other over 50 years. Distance and time compresses when we see each other again.

So there it was, in one week, my only opportunity for solitude was during two four and a half hour drives in the country. Both times, it was just me and my thoughts and so much bubbled to the surface. Ideas dying to blossom.

Strangely, in my world of introversion, the idea I keep bumping into in my quest for creativity is the importance of connection.

When I was about 19, I had an idea that I wanted to write a book of stories about the beautiful connections that I had had with different people. I found "the proposal" with a list of names and possible stories the other day. The book was to be about that moment when you feel you have made an intense contact with another. It was to be a collection of stories about people interacting and feeling connected. Connection and the mystery of how it happens, is still a source of wonderment to me.

In May, this year we were in Zagreb, Croatia. Walking down the street, we saw a sign to "The Museum of Broken Relationships". As Croatia had experienced civil war in the early 90s we assumed that this was a poor translation of a title for a war museum. Imagine our surprise when we found that it was a museum where people submitted items with stories about the pain, grief and disappointment of losing someone they love: there were photos, letters and significant objects, all with stories; from people jilted at the altar, from children separated in refugee camp, from those experiencing the loss of parents and lovers through illness and death.

I am filled with wonder and happiness when I experience strong connection yet it is at times of disconnection, loss and grief that we appreciate what we once had. So much to write about, so much to explore.

So it seems, 

• I need solitude so that I can allow my inspiration to emerge and yet
• I crave connection where my vulnerability and fearfulness can be held and
• I feel so out-of-kilter when I am consumed by my sense of disconnection.

A walk in the sun Oct 2012

The things that trigger

On Thursday night, I spent time with 4 dear friends. We are part of a tribe of 7 women. We call ourselves, Baubo. We came together in 1978 as part of a street theatre troupe called Caravan.

In 1992, after a reunion workshop of the whole troupe, we 7 formed a small women's support group and have been meeting together every few months for the last 20 years.

I absolutely love these women. And they know me and my insecurities so well. We have been through so much together; marriage, child rearing, grand-children, separation /divorce, therapy, health struggles and life challenges.

I also adore being part of this group. We have a ritual that we follow every time that we meet.  Each of us is given dedicated space. A space we fill with just ourself. In that space, we speak about what is happening right now in our lives; our loves, our fears, our celebrations, our disappointments. We share our feelings. We are held and nurtured. We are accepted for whatever decision we are making. We can choose to just be heard. We can choose to get advice. Whatever we ask for is honoured by the group.

And yet, while this sounds wonderful and perfect and safe and the dream that each and everyone of us wants from a friendship group, things still can go awry.

Sometimes, when individuals speak in the group or respond to our contribution, it triggers stuff in us. This time, I left the group angry and unhappy which is  rare for me in this situation. 

I rang one of the group yesterday to try and unravel what happened to set off this chain reaction. Through the course of the conversation, it became so clear.

An action, a tone of voice, a simple off-hand remark can trigger a huge reaction in me. So it isn't about the other person or other people, it is all about ME.

So I decided to write a list of what triggers stuff in me. I am sure I need to add to this as things bubble to the surface, but here is what I thought of today.

1. Feeling vulnerable. This is a big one for me. Vulnerability can set off binge-eating, depression and anger. Some of things that make me feel vulnerable

• Trying new stuff like art, blogging, writing
• Fear of failure especially at new stuff
• Exposing my true but sometimes scary feelings
• Being confronted by my health problems and staring reality in the face
• Going public where it is just me and my stuff
• Being alone in certain situations; like a social situation or home alone for several days

2. Feeling criticised. Sometimes this is real and sometimes this is implied. I can  accept genuine feedback when I am in a space to learn but some criticism sets off negative feelings. The criticisms that I struggle with

• Being told what to do when I haven't asked for help
• Being compared to someone else
• Sometimes it is the absence of praise when I show / do my stuff (yikes)
• Sometimes it is simply when I don't feel heard

3. Feeling invisible. This is also a huge issue for me and I sometimes wonder if it is why I am overweight. This can happen

• In a shop where someone else gets served out of turn, before me
• Where someone talks over the top of me
• When I feel left out in a group, or I feel ignored

This week I am going to pay attention to what triggers me. Maybe I'll be updating this post with my new learning..

Northern Territory seeds, Aboriginal women's fertility beads, September 2011

Joys of friendship

I have just spent three days in the company of one of my dearest friends. I have known Lou for 43 years. We met at boarding school, in 1969, year six; we were 10 years old.

She lives in the country now, on a small farm, 7 hours drive from my home town, Sydney.

As soon as we see each other, absence, time and distance melt. It is as if we are always together. In each other's company, we are walking together, in step, sharing a rhythm borne of familiarity.

This weekend we are quilting, walking and talking. Side by side we work on different patch working projects, sharing ideas, fabrics, space. It is gentle and it is easy.

There are lots of opportunities for a natter over tea. We share our stories; our frustrations, our hurts, our dreams, our parents, our children & our friends. Slowly we sift through our lives, lifting, lightening and settling.

My heart is filled, nourished by the friendship of sisterhood, soothed by empathy and sprinkled with oodles of common sense.

Every time, I visit Lou, I leave again feeling well cared for and my inner being is rested and rejuvenated by being in her love and care again.





The birds in Lou's garden, Oct 2012