just hanging around

I rediscovered the library recently. Part of my efforts to spend less. If I borrow books I supposedly will not need to buy them. To date I have reborrowed and reborrowed until I can reborrow no more, hungrily scanned a chapter or two, scribbled random notes and, in the interests of possession, wanted to buy around half of my borrowings. Mixed success there I would say.

Today a book was due, one I was particularly reluctant to give up but had to, since I had reached the outer limits of loan extension. I returned it and picked up the book I had on hold. Tasmania might be small and cut off from the rest of the world, but believe me, the State Library is awesome. I can find any library book in any tiny library anywhere in the state, put a hold on it, and three days later it turns up in my local library ready to be collected. Fantastic. Not so fantastic that I am 65th in line to borrow Margaret Atwood's The Year of the Flood, but you know, I'll get there eventually... I mean, I've moved up one place already.

So while I am waiting, waiting I decided I should prepare myself by reading Oryx and Crake. To be honest, I don't know much about either story, but I like Margaret Atwood (try The Blind Assassin) and with 65 people waiting The Year of the Flood must be good, and Oryx and Crake is apparently the first part of the story, so it makes sense to read it first and get things the right way around.

Book duly in hand, along with Girligami and a title pitched at helping me live green, I set off on the long walk home, weaving my way through my favourite luscious parks as I went. Passing through Princes Square I felt myself rather overwhelmed with longing to sit and linger under the trees and read a book, but I reminded myself I did not have time and kept on goi...

What? Don't have time?

Ha. It is for this very reason I quit my job - to have time to sit in the park and read. So I did. I pulled out my book, sat on a bench between the fountain and flower beds, and read.

Not for long, because one wouldn't want to, you know, enjoy things too much, or let the guard down, or forget that life wasn't meant to be easy. But enough to laugh and feel happy and be in the moment.

And the book was rather fine as well. I'm looking forward to it.

oh the restraint

Barbara Kingsolver has a new book out. I love Barbara Kingsolver and I want that book. In the interests of sustainability however, I am trying to reduce spending and consume less. So I checked out the local library, and hey presto, they have a copy or three in their catalogue. It was too much to expect it to be sitting on the shelf - oh no, that would not happen to the latest Kingsolver tome - so I placed a hold on it. Two weeks later I was beginning to worry I might have left it too late to go and collect it, so I ducked in today to check on it's progress.

Ho hum, more people in Tasmania like Barbara Kingsolver than I gave them credit for. I'm eighth in line, and with a three week borrowing period, that amounts to at least a three month wait.

'Three months,' I screeched (quietly, because it was a library), 'I shall have to buy it. Today.'

Then I remembered my commitment to a new way of living (aided by the remembrance that in four weeks I shall be almost penniless), tightened my belt and borrowed 'The Unknown Terrorist' by Richard Flanagan instead (and 'Making Money from Craft' in order to avoid being quite so penniless) .

The restraint, the restraint! (Then again I've read mixed reviews of 'The Lacuna' so maybe it's a good thing I saved my money) For now I'm shocked silly by Flanagan's take on Jesus as a terrorist, but my curiosity is piqued and I must read on.

when i loved myself enough...

A couple of years ago I bought a little book entitled 'When I loved myself enough' by Kim McMillen. It's a collection of the author's reflections and musings on life and herself in the midst of life, and I thought it could be useful in any future counselling practice I might have. Of course we all need a little counselling from time to time, and the other day I pulled the book off the shelf to see if there was anything relevant to my situation.

When I loved myself enough I started eating organically grown food (except for those occasional fruit pies of course). Hmmm, yes I understand this, I identify, I am eating more and more organic foods myself.

When I loved myself enough I started treating myself to a massage at least once a month. Well I did plan to have massages more often after that beautiful massage last September, but somehow I still haven't got around to it. Is it a little too indulgent anyway?

When I loved myself enough I began listening to the wisdom of my body. It speaks so clearly through its fatigue, sensitivities, aversions and hungers. We're on to something here. I ignored the wisdom of my body for most of 2008 and I am living with the almost burned out results. In 2009 my goal is to look after myself better, to nurture the bruised spirit, to feed the aching places. That means positioning a guard around my borders, being deliberate in what I choose to do or not do, being kind to myself and engaging in a little healthy protectivism. Ah yes, Kim McMillen has some things to say here too. When I loved myself enough I felt compelled to slow down - way down. And that has made all the difference.

I'm not personally good at the slow thing. I read a book on it last year, I know the benefits, might even know how to slow down, but I still struggle to do it. Life has so much to offer. So many delights call me to indulge, participate, enjoy. I have so much I want to do with my time! To slow down will mean a hefty effort to just. say. no. When I loved myself enough I learned to say no when I want to and yes when I want to. The trouble is I rarely want to say no!

I suppose there would be little benefit in making new year aims and resolutions if they were never tested - what would be the point, where is the challenge in a goal that is little more than a garden stroll? And so the testing came.

I have been invited to consider being a media representative for an upcoming event. What a thrill! Cecily in front of the cameras (is my hair OK?)! Oh so enticing. Of course there was more to this than the mere stroking of my over grown ego - I believe passionately in the cause, I dream of making a difference on this issue, I want to contribute to the better good of the world. All good reasons to say yes. Yes. YES!

Until I remembered my commitment to look after myself. Then I noticed the tension tightening up my stomach, the increased tossing and turning as sleep evaded me and I puzzled over how to fit this in around my other undertakings. Could I say yes and remain true to my promise to guard the ragged edges?

In the end I said no, but it was hard. Such an opportunity! What doors might it have opened? Will I be offered the chance again? At the same time, I feel peace and strength. I feel content I made the right decision for this stage of my life. There will be other opportunities - maybe not the same, but they will come. There will be other moments. For now, focus on healing. Hold onto the more calm, relaxed me.

When I loved myself enough I could say no because I needed to, not just because I wanted to. That surely bodes well for a year of gentle growth.

how slow can she go?

2008 was is my year of going slow. Taking time to smell the roses. Living in the moment. If you've been around here a while, you know that already.

Well that was the plan until February began. I know I'm trapped within time but I don't quite know what happened to the last two weeks of my life. They disappeared. And took every ounce of my increasingly slow and reflective momentum with them. Right now I'm trying to rein in the craziness and get back to taking time to appreciate life and develop the best response to the circumstances I face.

In my efforts to embrace slowness I ordered a book from Amazon called 'In praise of slow' by Carl Honore. Well I thought I ordered it. By the time the various segments of my carved up delivery arrived I discovered that I had in fact not ordered the book and I decided perhaps I would be better off finding a second hand copy locally. Or at least the environment might be better off without yet another book flying across the Atlantic consuming fuel and contributing to climate change.

With this in mind I tootled into one of the numerous second hand bookshops in town and enquired as to whether they might have a copy of 'In praise of slow'. Nope, he'd never heard of the book but it sounded interesting, so he took down the title and the author's name and promised to try and trace a copy for me. All I needed to do was pop in every now and then to check for progress.

Now hang on a minute - that's all good and well and very nice I'm sure, but I want this book right now! I don't want to wait. This service is so slow! The situation is complicated further by his obliging demeanour and our lovely conversation about developing a more reflective, deliberate lifestyle. I feel constrained not to visit any of the other bookshops in search of an alternative copy. And since he snorted so derisively at my mention of Amazon, I dare not return there for my order. (Which, incidentally, may be no quicker than waiting for a copy to be traced within Australia's golden shores, since Amazon seem to have discovered the slowest planes on the face of the earth. Or maybe their boxes are just so big Australian customs hold onto them a little longer just to make sure nothing untoward is about to contaminate our fine citizens)

The long and the short of it is this: if I desire to read a book espousing the benefits of slowing down, would it not be helpful to adopt an attitude of calm patience in the waiting? Does it not fly in the face of the very philosophy I wish to explore (and perhaps adopt) if I run to the next shop or dash for the internet to hastily obtain a copy of the very words that might help me. just. stop?

And so I bide my time, sitting on my feet, twiddling my thumbs, reading all the other books I just bought while I wait.

And wait.

And wait. Until the book arrives in its own good time and I can begin to ponder at leisure the joy of living slowly. Ho hum. This real life lesson might turn out to be more character developing than reading the book itself!

I'll let you know when it arrives.

murphy's law

I'm not a strong believer in Murphy's Law - I'm too much of an optimist really. Besides, it's too deterministic for me. Surely life isn't played out with such black and white predictability that only the worst will happen? Don't we have a role to play in altering destiny and changing the course of history? Isn't it possible that if I choose to act in a particular situation I might be able to prevent the worst from eventuating?

Ah, the hours we could spend debating such philosophical and ethereal questions! But that isn't really the point of this post. The point is, I ran smack bang into Murphy's Law this morning. Right there, as I stood in the shower, that which I had hoped would not happen. Happened.

Not that it was very serious. Just annoying. Just Murphy's Law I suppose.

Several weeks ago (6th of May to be precise) Frank and I ordered a number of books from Amazon. Why we ordered from Amazon I do not know, since I later discovered all the books were available in Australia. I think it had something to do with the buzz of ordering from the online bookstore and the rumour of prices so cheap that even when postage is included it's cheaper than purchasing in Australia. (That little incentive became irrelevant when I accidentally ordered hardcover copies of several books that ended up costing far more than if I'd bought paper backs locally)

Amazon's handy prediction of arrival date suggested we could expect the books any time after 26th May, but possibly as late as 3rd June. Hoh, I thought. That's ridiculous! Postage doesn't take that long - we'll have them in a week or so. But then the days just kept on ticking by. When the 26th arrived without site or sound of a single book I was becoming feverish with anticipation.

Then one day, a knock. The postman with a delivery of books! Yippee!

No such joy - just my texts for next semester, so I returned to my state of watchfulness, listening out for every passing vehicle, imagining the gigantic postman footfall on the front verandah, planning my day around the potential arrival of our books. If I was home in the morning I postponed my shower until after the book might arrive. Of course, then I had to postpone my shower even longer because if they hadn't arrived early in the day, they surely would later.

It was all to no avail, and gradually I resigned myself to the possibility those books just might take until the 3rd June to show up. So this morning I dutifully jumped in the shower early to make the most of the day - and what do you know?! Just as I finished rinsing out my hair and stood to enjoy a moment of water therapy... KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

What to do, what to do?

Jump out of the shower, grab a gown and run dripping to the door? What if the postie took advantage of me in my state of semi-dress?!?

Quietly pretend I was out, collect the card from the letter box and pick up the package later? But then I might not be able to collect it until four in the afternoon! How dreadful.

The dilemma! But somehow the risk of not getting those books immediately was motivation enough to stop the water, jump from the shower, hurriedly towel myself, run my fingers through my hair, yell down the hall that I was coming, grab a gown, fumble with the ties so my bosoms weren't falling out everywhere, stuff my feet into slippers and run desperately for the door. Just as the postman turned away I wrenched the door open and retrieved the package. And he didn't even seem to think it strange that water was running down my legs and my hair was dripping all over the mat! As to my babbling thanks - he turned and ran then!

And so we have our Amazon books and we're starting to slowly devour them. But - Murphy's Law - they came at the worst possible time! I wonder if I'd held off on the shower, would I still be waiting for them to arrive?!