Archive for being present

Dispatches from Rocky Pool

July 1, 2009 · Filed under The Big Lap, being present, environment, voluntary simplicity

Rocky Pool WARNING:  gritty details ahead. 
P felt that information about my period was “too much information.”  But I’ve decided that these issues are in fact the essence of the trip.  Is this the difference between travelling and a holiday?  When you have a holiday, you have paid – generally in advance – so that these issues have already been resolved.  Someone else miraculously produces a flushing toilet in a third world country.  When you’re “travelling” this can be the main focus:  Where are we sleeping tonight?  How will we wash?  Will there be a toilet?  So anyway, these issues came to a head at Rocky Pool for me, when a man spotted me doing number 2s in a ditch.  NOT a happy camper.   I then overcame a bout of diarhoea by will-power alone.  That night I was battling the end of my head cold, diarhoea, an incipient cold sore and thrush.  My suburban body was not coping with the rapid deterioration in my living conditions.  I sat outside on an upturned bucket, looking at the stars, and surprisingly, it was all worth it.  I teared up the sky was so beautiful.  What must it have been like to have lived when myth and legend alone explained such a nightly wonder?  Awe-some.
 
As it happened, in my hour of need we met a great older couple, who spend most of the year prospecting and living the simple life.  Their ablution system is worth reporting.  They have a shower tent (an item I previously discounted as unnecessary…. before I realised that free camp sites are actually populated) and in the tent they have a toilet seat and a bucket with a lid.  They wee into the bucket, which is emptied as required, and they poo into plastic bags – which are tied off and disposed of at the next bin – like a doggy bag!  Ingenious!  I must confess some slight concerns about the public health aspect, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  As a shower, they have a Napisan container with holes drilled in the bottom.  You heat up your water, half fill it and hold it over your head.  You then shampoo and soap, and then another half container rinses you off.  Ron even made me one!  (He carries a drill with him, which I thought was amazing until P told me that we also have a drill with us….. oh.)  And I can report from the frontline that this is a very effective shower.  We have added “shower tent” to our list of “things to buy next time we get to a town with shops.”
Rocky Pool
 

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Dispatches from Cliff Head

June 2, 2009 · Filed under The Big Lap, being present

Indian Ocean25 km south of Dongara.  Found this fab free camp spot courtesy of a book provided by Uncle R & Aunty G.  So good in fact, we are about to stay our third night while we wait for Geraldton to re-open for business.  We didn’t really bring enough water with us (cutting down on weight due to lack of trailer brakes) so ekeing out an existence.

A private spot, under shady trees overlooking the Indian Ocean.  Dolphins and blue wrens.  The boys are having a “boys own” adventure.  P built them a tyre swing from salvaged stuff and they are having a great time with rope, sticks and seaweed mounds.  T & P went for a dinghy ride with the man in the caravan down the track.  I knew we were on holiday when we were all playing Ludo… and afterwards I noticed it was only 10am.  Total bliss – until I spotted the tick scurrying up J’s neck.  Eek.  At least it wasn’t a croc, my main fear.  I’m thinking about going Brazilian for the rest of the trip.

All adult conversations begin with “I think next time we…

* travel around Australia

* buy a camper

* set up the camper

* cook a meal

* wash the dishes…….. “

We’re not good at being in the present, but project to some perfect future where camping is easy and hassle-free.  I’ll let you know if we attain that nirvana.

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A little death

May 5, 2009 · Filed under The Big Lap, being present, relationships

I am experiencing a mini version of being handed a death sentence.  Now that I am going away for 12 months, I am *really* appreciating my life here at home.  Go figure.  Not that I don’t always feel lucky in this life, but the things I often take for granted – friends, extended family, neighbours, social gatherings, snug home, weekly routines - suddenly loom large as such amazing gifts of fortune that only a fool would leave.  What have I got to be dissatisfied about?  Why *am* I actually going?

If I *was* given a death sentence, the last thing on my “to do” list would be travel.  I’d be parking myself right here and soaking up every last morsel of this normal life. 

Crazy stuff.  Or crazy me.

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Having a Party

April 16, 2009 · Filed under being present, cooking, parenting, relationships, spirituality, voluntary simplicity

OR: How to fast-track your divorce

What are the dynamics of preparing for a home-based entertainment that trigger intense feelings of antipathy to one’s spouse?  After about 17 years of this partnership, I thought I had this licked.  But no.  How depressing.  So for those that suffer from the same phenomenon, I offer the following tips:

For men:

1)  Work tirelessly to manifest the vision of the lady of the house.  TIP:  Ask a lot of clarifying questions so that all details of the vision are understood by you.  Do *not* improvise.

2)  Take the kids out.

For women:

1)  Start preparing at least two weeks in advance with long meditation sessions.  A lifetime would be best.

2)  Find your sense of humour.  Hold onto it.

These insights are belatedly triggered by hosting a birthday party for T’s sixth birthday, consisting of ourselves and three other families.  As P noted afterwards, I could not have been more stressed if I had been hosting the G20 summit.   The source of my stress was J, who woke up early, was then tired but unable to fall asleep, and wanted to spend the day having boobie.  This was not conducive to cleaning, food preparation, birthday cake baking, or pinata completion.  My carefully compiled “to-do” list sat balefully on the kitchen bench.  And was later inadvertently thrown into the bin…. leading to an apocalyptic explosion from me, before it was re-discovered.

Expectations breed frustrations.  I’m so far from being the zen mama I aspire to be.  Worse, I am revealed as someone with a value system that prioritises “house proud”.   I really want to move on from this.

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A day with the family

April 8, 2009 · Filed under being present, relationships

Every now and then, I take my dad to visit his sister and brother-in-law.  My Aunty S and Uncle R.  Now in their eighties, I think they are my favourite relations.   Despite encroaching frailty and the general perils of old age, they continue to engage with the world, and are very appreciative of my sporadic efforts to keep in touch. 

The event itself requires a mammoth effort from me.  Taking my 2 & 6 year old out with my demented father to have lunch with two frail relatives is like my most intense test of mindfulness ever.   As always, my dad greets me like a saviour when I arrive to take him out, and then spends the entire event commenting on what a long day it has been and aren’t we ready to go home now?  This is before we have even got to the restaurant located in the grounds of the retirement estate where S & R live.  Dad is like a cat on hot coals every time the kids blink.  His two other contributions to the conversation are “He has something in his mouth!”  Directed at J, who does have something in his mouth – his tongue.  And “Where are we?”  It’s pretty sweet as S & R diligently try to explain the details of where we are every time he asks – like he’s actually going to get it.   They don’t see him very often, so haven’t got into the swing of short clear anxiety-reducing answers.  Dad fiddles with his denture the whole time – needing help to keep putting it back in.  S’s face accurately reflects my own feelings.  Like – just leave it IN!!!!

I know this restaurant doesn’t serve anything my kids will eat – with the exception of chips – so I’ve brought along packed lunches - which T refuses to eat, despite claims of being hungry.  Evidence of my love for S & R is that I allow them to present the kids with Easter chocolate.  (The irony being I had scheduled this lunch to avoid the Easter egg hunt with my homeschool group)  So J, who is quite susceptible to a sugar load, starts to get an attack of the crazies, racing around and pulling the restaurant curtains.   This gives me a chance to practice my parenting gear shifts, as my other child, T, continues to complain in a loud voice about how bored he is…. despite the array of puzzles and books I have brought along.  In between times I try to keep the conversational ball rolling, assisted by my props – old photos I have brought along for the occasion (one of the advantages of having done all this sorting.)  I only drop stuff out of my overflowing basket twice.

By the time I get the kids back in the car after taking dad back in where he lives  – the last of eight efforts getting in & out of the car - I am suitably exhausted and shovelling the last of the kids’ chocolate into my face.  Phew.  Did *anyone* have fun?  It *seems* like the right thing to do, regardless.

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Just like riding a bike mum

April 7, 2009 · Filed under being present, parenting

Every year we have a family holiday on Rottnest Island.    There’s so many things to love about Rottnest.  One is the lack of vehicles, and that everyone rides bikes.  Last year T learnt to ride without training wheels at Rottnest.

This year he really needed a bigger bike.  We decided to buy him a new bike for his sixth birthday.  His actual birthday would be while we were away, so in our (lack of) wisdom we decided that we would buy the bike the day before we left.   As it happened, just as we were about to head off to the bike shop that evening, J crashed and burned, so I stayed home with J and P & T went off on the bike-buying mission. 

On their return I was astonished to be confronted with the ENORMOUS bike they had chosen.  And suitably appalled to be told that T hadn’t actually tried to ride it at the shop.  T took it out the front and couldn’t ride it, as he was too scared.  Disaster.  I was able to smugly tell myself how this would never have happened if *I* had been at the bike shop.

T then pulled me into the lounge where I was able to practise my active listening skills, while with teary eyes T disclosed all the difficulties presented by the purchase of the new bike.  Eventually T decided that he would take his old bike to Rottnest the next day.  The next day dawned, and T told me he had decided to take his new bike.  OK.  I was concerned that the holiday was doomed, but off we went.

We got to Rottnest, and within 2 minutes, T was riding his new bike!  What a legend!  He looked like a tiny stick insect stretched over it, but he was doing it! 

“Look Mum!  I’m riding my new bike amazingly well!”

“Look Mum!  I’m strong and steady!”

I’m looking darling.  You are amazing.

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The Path of Service

February 24, 2009 · Filed under being present, parenting, relationships, society, spirituality

This has come up a few times for me recently.  A wise friend posed the question:  “Why is it that having a child can be the absolute focus of someone’s life, but then when they are asked to care for the child and play on the mat with them for hours at a time, they scurry to find excuses not to?”  She answered:  “To do it,  forces you to face your demons.”

I then came across this vignette from Ghandi’s life.  He went to live in a village to serve the people as best he could.  When queried as to whether his motives were purely humanitarian he responded “I am here to serve no one else but myself, to find my own self-realisation through the service of these village folk.” 

The path of service is an ancient and honourable one, but little valued in the west.  We are affluent enough to avoid our demons, so to speak, and are baffled by others on this path.   A foster mother was in the news recently.   In her care she had three children, all of whom suffered from a condition preventing them from mental development beyond the age of eight weeks.  The children were well looked after.  Based on one psychologist’s report she was diagnosed as having “carer’s syndrome”.  That is, she was gaining identity and self-fulfilment through her role as the carer of these children.  This is obviously dangerous, as the children were summarily removed from her care, and last heard she was fighting to get them back through the courts.  

Well, on that basis, Ghandi, Mother Theresa, other humanitarians or indeed any stay-at-home parent suffer from “carer’s syndrome” and should be immediately stopped from their activities.  To care for someone you live with is indeed a path full of demons.   I know, as I tried and failed with my dad.  The frustrations and resentments rise up to stare you in the face, and you continually wrestle with your personal limitations and frailties.  Many carers end up with depression, and many mothers end up with post-natal depression, and I wonder if this is not further evidence of the lack of understanding and support for this path.

The same issues arise in full time parenting, though in my own case I find surrendering to the needs of my children far easier than surrendering to the needs of my father.  I’m not sure why this is.  Perhaps because with children you generally get a sense of progress, and that particular tasks become no longer required (eg toileting.)  That’s not to say that I am anywhere near enlightenment yet.   I still have days of generally stomping around being resentful of “all I have to do”, and then catching myself as having created the bad feelings all on my own… that day is really no different from the joyful day prior, or the unknown one to come, it’s just my “put-upon” attitude that is ruining it.   Being with my children pretty much all the time is my choice, my pleasure, my cross.  I do it for them because I think it is the right thing,  but ultimately I do it for myself.  I’m the one who is searching for self-realisation through my service to them.   I’m the one who gains identity and self-fulfillment through this process.  I don’t end up “living through my kids”.  I end up living my own best life.

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Co-sleeping

February 8, 2009 · Filed under The Big Lap, being present, parenting, relationships

T is now five and a half, and I have slept beside him every night of his life.  J is now two, and since his arrival he has slept on my other side.  In the “holy triangle” of attachment parenting, co-sleeping seems to be the last thing to go.  I no longer sling either of my boys on a regular basis, and only J is still breastfeeding.  

Maybe this is why I so cherish my boys at night.  In dim moments of wakefulness, I twitch the cover up over them properly and smooth their hair.  If I wake up before them, I gaze at their beautiful sleeping faces. 

During our lives as co-sleeping parents we have had multiple arrangements and spent a fair bit of money on bedding that at that moment seemed to be the “ideal solution” for everyone to get a good night’s rest.  I had to let go of my expectation that P would sleep with us all the time, and recognise that he really is a light sleeper, and does need “a crypt” that he can retire to.  “The crypt” also doubles as the boudoir.

The reason that co-sleeping is on my mind is the arrival of the camper trailer.  It provides one queen and one smallish double.   The first night the trailer was here, the excitement level was high, so we decided to sleep in it out the front.   But who was sleeping where?  It’s clear that the makers of the trailer envisage that the parents will sleep in the queen, and the kids will share the double.   J stills breastfeeds a couple of times a night, so I would need to actually get up when he woke, and either climb in with him, or carry him to the queen.  This plan sounded reasonable to me, except for one thing.  I don’t want to stop co-sleeping!

Getting to sleep was actually great with the boys.  I could sit on the seat right next to the double where Tom was lying, and breastfeed/sing J to sleep.  Once they were asleep I joined P in the queen.  I had some trouble falling asleep myself, as it seemed different not to be going to sleep next to the boys.  Part way through the night P told me he couldn’t sleep (it was really windy) and was going back into the house.  That strategy has a limited lifespan!  When J woke me by calling out, I found him sitting up in bed (which never happens) freezing cold as he always kicks the covers off, and I wasn’t there to snuggle and adjust his covers.  I grabbed him and took him into the queen with me.  Later T called out for me (normally he would just reach over or snuggle for reassurance) and I called him over to the queen too.  Back to our original positions!  P leaving part way though the night for his crypt, and me and the boys together!

I’m not sure how it will all pan out on the trip, and I don’t need to have a plan.  The most wonderful thing for me is through my journey with attachment parenting I have gone from an intellectual commitment to child led weaning (from the sling, from the breast, from the bed) to an emotional one.  I no longer have any goals in these areas.  I am available for as long as I am needed, and I am the one who inwardly grieves (or even notices!) when the relationship shifts – not my child.

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Questions of Faith

February 8, 2009 · Filed under being present, feminism, society, spirituality

The other night I prematurely outed myself, in general company, as a ‘believer’.  To move from a fence-sitter to someone who believes in God, is, I guess, the definition of a leap of faith. 

Before proceeding further, I should say that formerly I was someone who described their experiences with ’unseen forces’ as “The Universe”, as in, “The Universe smiled on me today.”  I find the traditional language of faith incredibly awkward.  “God”.  “He”.  I’m not comfortable using those words.  In the past when others have used them I have found them non-inclusive.  But that is the language I have inherited, so I move forward with trepidation.

I would (while feeling like a bit of a wanker) loosely describe myself as a spiritual seeker.  I’m intrigued by the ‘meaning of life’.  I’m virtually obsessed by questions on the ethical life.  How am I to live?  What does a ‘good’ life look like?  I value the structure and community that organised religion can offer, while concurrently railing against the flipside of same:  the rigidity; the exclusivity.

Like many in the west, for many years I have been drawn to Eastern spiritual traditions – particularly Buddhism.  My on-going complaints about the barrenness of Western culture I have seen as drawn from a Judeo-Christian tradition.  The focus on the individual; the Calvinist links between ‘hard work’ (economic activity) and godliness; the heirachical structures and obedience to authority figures; systems of external rewards and punishments to motivate the populace; the proselytising (conform!  be like me!).

In contrast, I found Buddhism valuing the interconnectness of all things; valuing stillness and quiet (meditation);  flat structures – anyone can ‘become Buddha’;  a focus on intrinsic, not extrinic rewards; *not* proselytising, and respect and accommodation of alternative world views. 

Ok, I’ve just written that – I’ve convinced myself!

So anyway, here’s the punchline.  Through a variety of mediums, ‘The Universe’ kept sending me the message that I should consider a thankfulness practise.   Specifically, that when something ‘went right’ in my life, I should say  “Thank you God.”  I didn’t have to believe, I just had to do it.  After hearing the message about four times in a fortnight, I finally listened.  Nothing to lose really, so feeling somewhat peculiar, I did it.  And in a very peaceful way, God was there.   Have I freaked you out now? 

So now I dither around wondering what to do with this piece of information.  I remain extremely wary of “the church” as a force of social control, and am unconvinced that the Bible is more than a poor human attempt to capture something about the life of a great prophet mixed up with a bunch of misunderstood metaphors and more attempts at social control.  Could I be more arrogant?  I could try reading it again.  Hmmm.   Funnily enough, right now I am more inspired to read Nietzsche’s critiques of Christian faith (“In heaven, all the interesting people are missing”)  Is this denial?

Ultimately I am a feminist and a social progressive.   (In my world, God would be too.  And isn’t that the problem with believers in general, that they remake God in their own image?……  and then fight about it.)  Perhaps this is why I was always more comfortable with “The Universe”; a benign, omniscient, intermittently interventionist energy…..  without any baggage…  and certainly not triggering any of mine!  My fixation with the linguistics of faith is interesting.  I’m sure “God” answers to Allah, so why wouldn’t He answer to “The Universe”?  (Sorry to anthropomorphise.) 

I know that the Dalai Lama recommends that Western spiritual seekers should investigate the spiritual offerings of their own culture as an easier path, as you already have a grounding in the beliefs and customs.   True, but some of us are weighed down by the (real or imagined) associations with Christian faith.  

Presumably any real God does not mind being subject to the interrogations of mere mortals.  A suggestion from a friend that during our trip around Australia, I could pop into Sunday services at the local churches along the way, I find appealing.  I can wear my tourist hat in more ways than one.

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Looking for some real life

January 8, 2009 · Filed under being present, parenting, politics, voluntary simplicity

Yesterday playing an imagination game with T, my character (Anthony) suggested to T’s character (Mr Rocket) that we go rock climbing.  Mr Rocket was very enthusiastic and riffed on the idea….. but to my consternation we were then queueing for a ticket in order to climb the rock climbing wall.    When did rock climbing become the rock climbing wall that we were going to buy a ticket for?   Maybe Anthony and Mr Rocket could play a video game of climbing a rock climbing wall.  Then we’ll know that we are truly lost in the matrix.  The faux experience has replaced the real experience.  Do we all feel safer?  I’m starting to feel ripped off.

I’m *SO SICK* of the pre-packaged experience.  Sorry folks, but being guided in a orderly fashion through your carefully constructed “experience” and then exiting via the gift shop is just so *boring*.  I feel like running the wrong way and smashing up the gift shop.  Of course I don’t.  I’m very well behaved.

Everywhere you go now, there is a gift shop, where you can buy items that are identical to the items at the previous giftshop.  Last year we went to the tree top walk in Walpole, and as you come down out of the forest canopy you exit via a ‘building sympathetic to the landscape’ where you can buy a Steve Parish calendar.  Also available at your local post office. 

Maybe I’m getting paranoid but in one just generation, the capitalist machine has become the “creator” of all these experiences that we “consume”, and subsequently our children will only know how to consume experiences but never to create them for themselves.

I was recently introduced to the Wii music game.  I’m baffled.  Is this a 21st century version of a corroborree?  How have they got people to buy a game based on creating music utilising faux instruments while looking at the big screen?  For the same price you could have a couple of second hand real instruments which could actually exit your home theatre.  For free, you could make music with the instruments you already have.  Come on folks, I can stamp my feet and play the spoons….. and I can also harmonise Kum Ba Yah.  Or is that the point – that we would all feel too twee and nervous to try the real thing?   Hmmm.  I hereby refuse to be cowed by the fact that I “can’t sing” and participate in all social and community singing opportunities.  If we all sing Kum Ba Yah loudly and often enough, maybe the matrix will shatter.

We are planning a trip around Australia.   I have a really bad fear that I have been duped by “Tourism Australia” and that the vast untouched wilderness areas they pan around are actually meccas for people, “experiences” and souvenir shops – that have just been removed for the photo shoot.    P has advised me that if I really want to get away from all that, then we’ll need to go to the desert.    Sounds great.

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