Pushing past fear

I'd like to talk to you for a moment about fear.  I don't mean fear experienced as terror or a phobia; I want to talk about more everyday fear that goes unrecognised, sneaking into our minds and hearts as procrastination, perfectionism, and self-reproach.



What started this morning as a dig through my fabric stash became a full-on frustrated guilt binge as I was forced to confront the mountain of my good intentions gone to waste.  I own so much fabric that it is truly unreasonable, because all that gorgeousness is doing no one any good packed away unused.  One find in particular pushed me over the edge from "should" to action: the simple Anna Maria Horner voile pictured above.  I bought it years ago with the express intention of creating this simple dress for myself, just perfect for Australian summers that were my reality at the time.  The fabric I found is washed and even cut into four strips, and thus it remained, packed away out of sight.  Seeing it today, I remembered how reluctant I was to start it, waiting until I had more time, until I understood sewing better, knew better seaming, had any idea how to sew voile as opposed to quilting cotton.  Exactly when did I think I might magically be granted more time and experience without working to make that happen (and probably stumbling along the way)?

It was fear, plain and simple.
Fear of making a mistake, but who doesn't make those?
Fear of wasting the material, as if its current state is anything less than waste.
Fear of it not turning out perfectly, which is crazy because I am not a professional seamstress.

Recognizing that fear for what it is made action obvious.  Not wanting to waste another minute*, I marched right out of the basement and started to work, complete with French seams that I have never tried before.  What's the worst that can happen?  Surely whatever I do will be better than this lovely material languishing in a box in the basement.  Even if it comes out a mess, I might learn something.  It's a small thing, but it is time to move on from fear.

If the notion of fear holding you back resonates with you but you aren't sure where to start, I highly recommend the Buddhism for Mothers series of books by Sarah Napthali.  Another regular dose of mindfulness can be found on Zen Habits.  This month, he is running a self-compassion module in the Sea Change program.  Warmest wishes to you.

*and yes, I know it's all well and good to say so while you actually have a minute to spare…and which mothers among us have that?  Choosing to conquer this today meant my to-do list went neglected.  Tough luck.  It's one day.  Attacking this fear head on while the motivation was fresh felt worth it.

Meditation through dinner prep

Yesterday afternoon, I was feeling awfully run down.  I had been hit by the Allergy Bus.  Actually, the Allergy Bus ran me over, backed up and did it again.  All that sneezing, sniffling and gravelly scratching in my eyes and throat left me seriously tired and cranky.  I knew I needed to reset my mood, but there was dinner to be prepared.  I washed and peeled carrots for a favorite salad to serve alongside our curry.  Although I have made this over a dozen times, always taking the easy route and grating them up in the food processor*, last night found me carefully cutting five carrots into matchsticks.  I have never bothered to devote so much time to prep, but there was unexpected pay-off.  The careful attention required by this precise cutting worked as a meditation.  I gave it my full attention, and the grouchiness slumped away.

Also, the salad was awesome.  Good food always helps!



*Honestly, the salad is perfectly delicious grated, just in case you wondered.

Hello, friends!

A couple of weeks ago, I was trolling Blogland and found a course entitled "How to Grow Your Blog."  My first reaction was to jump on that to truly validate the time and effort I spend here, but a split-second later, my mind told me very firmly that I simply wasn't interested, that blogging wasn't really my thing anymore and isn't journaling for myself so much nicer.  Well, I listened to that voice, and I have been journaling every day since.  I was once an avid journal writer, and I truly felt the benefits.  I used to say I wasn't really sure how I felt or thought about something until I had written it down.  Then, years ago, we had a very hard year, and I didn't want to sit with my thoughts for a single extra minute.  In that year, journaling was abandoned.

It was time to return.

Once again, I am feeling the benefits.  On the days I don't journal, I feel less centred and more overwhelmed.  I hope that the journaling habit is back to stay.  With that in place, I felt ready to return here too.  I have missed you.

Did you have a nice weekend?

This was the easel in my big girl's class on Friday, asking the kids to name a nice thing they notice about their moms.  My favorite (which I hope is big enough for you to read) says, "She is noisy in the morning." Awesome.

Mother's Day can be very fraught, I know.  For those of us who are blessed with children we desired and felt ready for, the day can be a day of treats and indulgence (if we are lucky).  For others, it can be a white hot mess.  Challenging relationships with mothers. Longing for mothers.  Loss of mothers.  Challenging relationships with children.  Longing for children.  Loss of children.  Infertility, secondary infertility, miscarriage, adoption strain, the IVF roller coaster...  Women of the world, we hear you. We all have mothers.  Many of us would like to be mothers.  Many of us are blessed to be mothers.   On Mother's Day, let us offer up our love and support to the women in our lives who need it.  We all deserve it.

Wishing you a smooth start to your week!

Christmas tree bokeh

Today was one of the most ridiculous days, start to finish.  So many things didn't go according to plan, so many sassy mouths and surly attitudes (and from not kids!)...it makes me want to look forward to the end of this "season of loving togetherness and giving" so people will calm down about twelve notches.

And then, I paused at the end of this long, crazy day.  I remembered how many of the bloggers I enjoy have paused to take a bokeh snap of their Christmas trees, so in that moment I decided to do the same.



So beautiful.  I felt the stress melt away.
Amateur photography as a metaphor?
Stop fussing about all those details.  Let the focus shift and blur.
All those worries and strains and rudeness issues other people are having don't have to be my problem. This season can be as it is intended to be, if only we just pause and remember.

Dawn chorus

It's summertime in Australia. The days are long. The sky is well-lit by 5am. But before the sun come the birds. The dawn chorus.

If you happen to wake at 4am (or worse, your small child does), good luck getting back to sleep when the birds are so very clearly awake and ready for the day.

This morning, it was the Australian ravens. I've always had a dread of crows. There is something very Edgar Allen Poe about them (strange harbingers of death), and they make me uncomfortable. But Australian ravens...they are simply harbingers of sloth.

Have you ever heard them? "WAH! WAH! Waaaaaaaaaawwwwwww...."

They remind me of (incredibly loud) toys that mimic the cow noise when you flip them upside down, the long drawn out "waaaaaaawwwwww" fading to nothingness as the air leaks out.

And they were at it in vast numbers outside my window at 4am today.

I'll take another cup of tea, please.

You tell me

Do you think the ban in that headline refers to the pants?

Lessons from NaBloPoMo

For the month of November, I posted on this blog nearly every day for National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo). I viewed it as an experiment. I wasn't sure what I wanted from this blog. I had been using it mainly as a record of projects and a little space to share whatever, whenever I was so inclined. I wasn't communicating much of importance. I've often toyed with the idea of a regular blog on a specific topic (I even bought a domain name but haven't posted there yet). I wanted to see how I felt about posting every day. Here is what I've realized:

• I enjoy writing.
• I enjoy communicating.
• I'd like to make a personal commitment to explore other formats to see where that takes me. I used to journal almost daily but I haven't done much at all in recent years. Maybe a month of journaling every day?
• Blogging everyday as a communication medium made me aware of other communications in my life that are lacking. Being an expat with a 12+ hour time difference between me and friends and family means communication has dwindled over recent years. I miss quality communication with people I know (or knew) well. Maybe a month of letter writing every day (or every other day)?
• I still feel restrained as I approach the blog. As a friend pointed out, writing a blog is almost like entering politics. You are a private person in a public forum, and you open yourself to all kinds of feedback and criticism. I think I would feel more quality communication with some give-and-take, but I hold so much of myself back for privacy concerns that the quality of communication is affected. Perhaps a more focused topic (like my specific but as-yet-unspecified domain-name-idea) would give me flow?
• And what about attempting that age-old paper format, book writing? Hmmm...

So, where does this leave us?

First and foremost, thank you for visiting this space! With the thousands of blogs out there, I know you have other places you could be and I appreciate your stopping by! Please leave a note and say hi!

I'm going to keep blogging here, though perhaps not every day.

I do actually enjoy the record-keeping purpose for all my creating. I'm relatively new to sewing and knitting, and I have loved cooking and photography for many years already. Those adventures are nice to share and record, even if I do it just for me. If someone else enjoys it too, fantastic! I have learned so much from other creative blogs that if I can give a little of that back, I'm happy!

As for those other project ideas, I'll keep you posted. I think I need to get through the Christmas season before I try to commit to another daily to-do.

In addition to NaBloPoMo...

I uploaded photos and 30-word-or-less captions for habit. I was so tickled each time they selected my photos out of the flickr pool to share on the blog that I'm wondering if I should develop my photography again. It has been a dormant passion for a while now, so it feels great to have that enthusiasm reignited. I'm not sure where that will take me, but another experiment is in order. Tempted to try a calendar sale before the end of the year, but would anyone be interested? I have tulips in Holland, European cities, small moments with children... There are some gorgeous images in my 10,000+ photo library. But calendars can be so personal. Perhaps photo stationery (postcards, notecards)?

Making a habit of it

I've been participating in the open month over at habit, and I'm delighting in the ritual. Participating has made me take the time each day to capture small moments on camera and in words. With a single image and 30 words or less, I am required to make just a few minutes each day to pause, reflect and record. A beautiful habit indeed.

This week:

7 November

I woke to the sound of something shattering. A sad accident. Wildness that would not cease...until it did. They colored and sang together, and the day was renewed.

8 November

They say it is the worst allergy season on record. It must be a banner year for Kleenex.

9 November

Too cautious to join in, too enraptured to sit down.

10 November

Not much about this day worked out the way I planned, but it was a good day nonetheless.

11 November

We decided to turn Pupil Free Day into our own personal holiday.

Mamas always know

Last night when I did my usual checks on the girls before going up to bed, I paused longer in my big girl's room. We had a powerful heatwave recently that prompted us to change to summer quilts, but cool air has come back at night. I asked Hubby if he thought she would be warm enough. He thought she would. A few minutes later, I asked him if he thought I shouldn't give her a warmer blanket. He said he thought she would be fine.

She was in our room at 3:45am, telling us she was too cold.

Why did I ask twice?

Clearly, somehow, I already knew.

So often, I do this. I know, but I ask, not just Hubby but others as well. I'm not sure why I don't put more faith in my intuition, but perhaps it's time I did.

7 billion people

The global population is estimated to have reached 7 billion on Monday. This is astounding, particularly when you consider that it is estimated to have reached 6 billion people only in 1999. That's another billion people in just 12 years! Wow.

Instead of trying to pin down which country is home to the 7 billion human, all babies born on October 31st are being referred to as "a 7 billionth baby". I listen to the BBC Global News podcast, but I'm behind on my days so this afternoon I was listening to the Monday report. Of all places on the planet, the reporter interviewed proud new first-time parents here in Perth, Australia.

Picture a BBC reporter, trying to convey a sense of wonder about this historic moment as well as concern about overpopulation and limited resources while interviewing two hormone-addled, euphoric and overwhelmed first-time parents fresh from the birthing room in an affluent, secure, lightly populated, beautifully scenic city. I found the interview endearing and mildly hilarious.

A few excerpts:

If it's possible to put into words, what's on your mind now?

I'm very tired. Very, very tired because I went into labor. I haven't slept for 48 hours.

What about the whole idea of this being a 7 billionth baby?

Well, I only found out that a couple of days ago, and...yeah, I guess it's, there's a lot of people in the world. Special.

Do you feel positive now about her coming into a world of 7 billion people?

Yeah, I do. I don't think...I think it's just evolution. I feel very positive. I've always said the glass is half-full anyway. You know, you've got to have an opportunity to be a mum.

And Dad, your thoughts on this point?

It's very emotional. And very happy. It's amazing. Yeah, that there's nothing and then it's just there. Yeah.

And your view on her being a 7 billionth person?

I think it's great! It's really brilliant, yeah, it's great! I like being alive and I think it's good that she can be alive and experience life. It's a beautiful world! Yeah, everything's good!

Despite all the global socio-economic and developmental implications, who could say they are wrong?

Houseguest prep

I have (almost) completely emptied out the sewing room for purpose of guest room creation. I vacuumed and dusted it top to bottom. I lugged mattresses in there and set them up as a big bed. Now, I'm out of steam.
Is it wrong to leave all the shifted stuff piled in the hallway?

The sand beneath my toes

I'm so glad I asked you not to hold me to great productivity, because my genius Monday and Tuesday gave way on Wednesday with the gritty feel of sand under my feet on my freshly-mopped floor. I worked like a madwoman all day Tuesday (all day! 6am-bedtime!), and first thing Wednesday morning, I walked through a little sandpile where my daughter had taken off her shoes from school and deposited part of the playground on the tiles.

Housekeeping with children in the home is like shoveling snow during a blizzard.

And it's about as rewarding.

I am sorry to say I was completely useless for the rest of the day. I kinda enjoyed it too. The breakfast dishes were still sitting around on the counter when Hubby came home. Oh, the shame. And oh, the spiral! By the time night fell, I had worked myself into a right funk about the pointlessness of my days, of how all the work I do doesn't matter to ANYONE, the children won't eat the food I cook SO WHY BOTHER, etc. (crazed look intensifying, volume increasing, Hubby's eyebrows raising...). Then, I scooted off to yoga despite my desire to curl up and sulk and had a full-blown attack of claustrophobia (complete with unstoppable tears) during an intense breathing exercise. Oh my.

Time to hit the reset button.

When this week started off, I thought it was high-time I try to do a project I've had on the back burner for over two years. It is called "A Week in the Life". During that week, I am meant to record everything, every little nitty-gritty detail about our days, what we do, where we go and who we see, what groceries we bought and how much they cost, what we ate, photograph it all, etc. Although our daily routine seems oh-so-routine now, it will be completely different in a year (or 5 or 10...), so it would be fun to have this record. If only I could commit to doing it.

On Monday, I gave it a serious go. By afternoon, my attention wandered and I fell off the wagon.

On Tuesday, I tried again, just as seriously. I did a fabulous job all day long! I cleaned, I baked, I sewed, I mothered like a pro (complete with art projects!), photographing all the while! Watch me go!

On Wednesday, well...did you know sand beneath your toes can cause you to trip and fall off a wagon with a resounding thud? Beware.

In retrospect, I'm sure this attempted project accounts for my impressive productivity. I was recording! Surely this is a "normal" week! I think now perhaps it was a bit too "normal" for me to handle. I went overboard (especially on Tuesday), throwing my week's worth of energy and enthusiasm into the first two days. I wasn't jotting notes; I was writing pages. Losing enthusiasm for my daily grind was inevitable because I was focusing so much on the grind, and I lost a healthy dose of perspective too.

Hubby managed to thwart a total meltdown on Wednesday night just as I was working myself up into a "everything is pointless" frenzy by pointing out that what I do everyday is under- or just un-appreciated because I am always here doing it. That is a gift. What I do everyday is the most important thing I can do. I am here for our family--yes doing the un-fun grind but also just here with my children and my husband, making the life as smooth as I can.

There is no value high enough for that, despite a tantrum or two, even when those tantrums are mine.

Baa Baa Barbaric (?)

The air around my house reeks of animal excrement, and it is not emanating from the garden; it is coming from the nearby port at Fremantle. The stench has gotten so overpowering that I have had to shut all the doors and windows. The weather is hot and moderately humid, the air is still, and the smell is thickly carried from the cargo ship docked in the harbor, loaded with sheep for live export.


Last year, I spotted signs around Perth shouting the slogan:

Baa Baa Barbaric: Stop Live Animal Export

Given the current stench in the air, I am inclined to agree.

Even seeing those ships empty is disturbing, level after level of cage bars, who knows how many deep or across. I don't eat much meat, but when I do, as with all our food, I like to keep the source as local as possible. From what I understand, these sheep are shipped to the Middle East and Indonesia. They can be onboard in tight cages exposed to the elements for up to 3 weeks. The smell has been telling me about their presence in the harbor for at least the past two days. The conditions must be abysmal.

It is difficult to consider this issue in a fully rational way. I try to understand the perspective of the farmers, the importers and exporters...but I can't get past the thought that humanely slaughtered and rapidly frozen meat would be a far better option for import/export. What do I mean by "better"? More humane, healthier, better quality meat...I imagine. I cannot imagine that I would want to eat mutton that comes from a sheep in these live export conditions as opposed to sheep direct from the farm to the local slaughterhouse, shipped frozen to my country far away. I can't imagine the price difference would be the reconciling factor, though I can understand the preference for what appears to be fresh meat, slaughtered by your known local butcher. If the problem is purity, wouldn't it be fairly simple to conduct HALAL certification onsite before slaughter/freezing/shipping? Hmm.

I have lived in the Middle East. I know the food culture involves a lot of lamb, perhaps a lot of mutton, parading as lamb. Perhaps sheep from ships like these. I wonder if the average consumer considers how it got there (or if they even care). Are the sheep shot full of antibiotics to help them survive the journey? Are the majority of the animals in reasonable health after the trip? What is the level of ammonia in the meat? I don't know the answers to these and other questions. I haven't looked into it. I don't plan on becoming an activist, but the smell currently makes the issue hard to ignore. I'm not so sure I should ignore it in the first place.

Any thoughts on the issue of live exports?

After writing this up, I felt I should drive over to Freo and snap some photos of the ship so you could see for yourself. As luck would have it, the ship got underway as I typed. By the time I drove over, the only shots I could get with my little point-and-shoot were from quite a distance (it's the ship furthest to the left).



You can see that the sheep are transported on a cargo ship. What looks containers from this distance are the cages I described. Given the size, you can only guess how many sheep might be onboard.

I'm not trying to start some kind of morality battleground over this, but an open-minded discussion would be most welcome.

Have you considered this issue before?

Do you have some new facts to throw in the file?

Even if this topic is new to you, what are your thoughts?