Once we have a physical space to go to, it is time to work on our attitudes. The best thing to do is to just stop worrying and be cheerful.
That is what we are often told. My experience has been that this is not as simple as it sounds. Because it isn't that simple, is it?
I recently did an online questionnaire that assesses personality type that asked me to put 4 given states in order that best describe me. The one you put on the top was the one most like you. The one on the bottom was the one least like you. I did not feel particularly affiliated with any of the set that was given so I asked my husband to help. One of them was ‘cheerful’. One by one my husband suggested that I was more likely the other one than ‘cheerful’ and finally ‘cheerful’ made it to the bottom of the pile. Least like me.
Of course, I had to ask my husband if he thought me not cheerful. Like every man who has just walked into his wife’s trap he smiled politely, threw up his hands and said he wasn’t going to play anymore. Upon further pressuring, he finally came up with the one perfect thing: “Cheerful people can be kind of annoying, can’t they?” For a guy who doesn’t say much, he knows how to get out of a sticky situation.
My doubts about whether I was a cheerful sort came on the heels of watching a very pregnant woman in the cafeteria-style restaurant at IKEA the other night. The place was packed and it was getting late for our kids to be eating their dinner so I was a little nervous about navigating these circumstances in public. However, we had things to do in the city and needed a reasonably inexpensive, somewhat healthy and kid-friendly place to eat.
For us, getting to the restaurant is always a feat in itself. You have to get past the ball room and explain that we need to get food in us first. Then we have to make it through the maze of furniture and people pushing carts along the blue arrows on the floor. I am always certain we will lose or maim our children on this journey. Next we have to wait in line with the other children pouring out of their skins from fatigue and hunger. When it is our turn, we make the plea that we get the BLUE plate for the boy and the PINK plate for the girl.
So somehow, having presumably worked through the same obstacles as us, this woman with a belly out to yonder is managing to sit peacefully in her chair while her two small children are eating and playing next to her. She is chatting with her husband and smiling calmly and genuinely at least once a minute. She gets up 3 separate times to get a utensil at the other side of the cafeteria, a cup of water, a napkin. I don’t know about you folks, but when I was that pregnant I was getting people to fetch me things. And I certainly would never have braved that environment with my two young ones at my side. CERTAINLY NOT WITH A SMILE.
But here was this woman, finding a way to put on a pleasant face and enjoy her meal at the centre of all the chaos. We can never really know what is going on with other people. Maybe this woman was just having a particularly great day. But somehow I think there is more to it than that. I think she has figured out how to master her attitude.
I don’t think that we should aim to be one of those bouncing, smiling positive, cheerful people 100% of the time. Let's admit it, they are kind of annoying, aren't they? I think that variety is the spice of life. And when we experience lows, we are so much better able to appreciate the highs.
But there is one thing I think we can do to make our lives easier (and be more pleasant to be around). We must figure out a way to sit amongst unruliness and find calm anyway. If a pregnant person with two small children can do it at 7pm in the IKEA cafeteria then so can I! Our meditation and yoga teachers all say the same thing. That it takes practice, regular practice to learn how to experience peace in the face of disorder.
It is certain that we can’t keep bad things at bay in our lives. Terrible things will happen, sometimes all in the same day, month or year. We have to cope. We have to survive them. Some of these things are small on the grand scheme of things. Some of them are total life-changers. Either way, we need to practice responding with the only thing we can control – our reaction to it.
That day in IKEA, I decided to practice smiling once a minute while my husband and I chatted in between coaxing our children to finish their meatballs and mashed potatoes. You know, I don’t care much for phony, but the smiling really worked. I felt happier, more calm. The chaos did not go away. But I didn’t feel like I was being taken away with it.
Perhaps this is also a lesson about seeing someone in a store one day that has something that you admire. Observe for a few minutes. Mimic, repeat where effective.
I am going to set up a regular meditation schedule for myself. Is there time to do it? Not if I keep up the construction, cleaning, chores and tasks I have in mind for myself this fall. Will I do it anyway? You bet.
I think it is joy that we seek, much more than cheer. And if we can’t find a quiet place when the world spins around us, we distance ourself from our inner inherent joy. There are times for cheer and times for sadness. But inherent joy is something we can cultivate through any of it.
So that’s settled. I will find my inner Joyful Girl. Ani Difranco sang in her song with the same title (Joyful Girl): I do it because its the least I can do…I do it because I learned it from you.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Lady's Lair
So now that we are building our space, an area of our home (or elsewhere) where we know we can let our creative selves roam, we need a name for this space. Men have the Man Cave. In it, I am told, are rock star props, posters of women in bikinis, magazines about mechanics etc.
Actually I have no idea what a Man Cave has in it. I imagine it is different for every man. My husband would have his farming magazines, his blackberry and laptop, a good Wendell Berry book and some sugary treats.
But I don’t see women enjoying a Cave-like atmosphere. Ours would have morning sunshine leaking in (and incidentally, our old bedroom attic which is my new allotted creative space - has this in spades). You would go upstairs to it or even outside. Or if it were downstairs there might be flowers, scents, music playing, knitting needles and stacks of gorgeous wool?
Here are some ideas for the name of our hideaway. Lady’s Lair, Dame's Den, Chick Nook. Or is it just the Kitchen for some? Lass' Castle. Estrogen Chamber. How about My Space? Not the internet one, but simply the space that a woman does not attend to the needs of others. It is a safe, uninterrupted place where you have permission to be at home in your self and do whatever you please for a wee few minutes or hours every week.
In my twenties I built a small treehouse in a cedar tree that leaned out over top of a running creek. The creek tumbled through the valley beneath my rented house in the forest. The water flowed year round, even below the ice on the coldest days of winter. The structure was about 10 feet off the ground and 2 of the 3 sides were made of glass. It was insulated with a sealed doorway so that even on the coldest winter nights, I would bring my pillows and duvet(s) and my cat and sleep while listening to the creek trickle below around the silence of the snowy wilderness. It was my little piece of heaven. I would play guitar here, read here, contemplate stuff or just go to be alone.
My point here is that there should be no limits to where this space is. Whatever gets your juices flowing!
I hope you have this already.
Actually I have no idea what a Man Cave has in it. I imagine it is different for every man. My husband would have his farming magazines, his blackberry and laptop, a good Wendell Berry book and some sugary treats.
But I don’t see women enjoying a Cave-like atmosphere. Ours would have morning sunshine leaking in (and incidentally, our old bedroom attic which is my new allotted creative space - has this in spades). You would go upstairs to it or even outside. Or if it were downstairs there might be flowers, scents, music playing, knitting needles and stacks of gorgeous wool?
Here are some ideas for the name of our hideaway. Lady’s Lair, Dame's Den, Chick Nook. Or is it just the Kitchen for some? Lass' Castle. Estrogen Chamber. How about My Space? Not the internet one, but simply the space that a woman does not attend to the needs of others. It is a safe, uninterrupted place where you have permission to be at home in your self and do whatever you please for a wee few minutes or hours every week.
In my twenties I built a small treehouse in a cedar tree that leaned out over top of a running creek. The creek tumbled through the valley beneath my rented house in the forest. The water flowed year round, even below the ice on the coldest days of winter. The structure was about 10 feet off the ground and 2 of the 3 sides were made of glass. It was insulated with a sealed doorway so that even on the coldest winter nights, I would bring my pillows and duvet(s) and my cat and sleep while listening to the creek trickle below around the silence of the snowy wilderness. It was my little piece of heaven. I would play guitar here, read here, contemplate stuff or just go to be alone.
My point here is that there should be no limits to where this space is. Whatever gets your juices flowing!
I hope you have this already.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Space to be Creative
I loved the concept behind Gretchen Ruben’s Happiness Project. That anyone could improve their life with a series of actions. The thought I kept having while reading it, however, is that she says she started in a great and happy place to begin with. She seems able to accomplish anything she sets her mind to. Aside from discovering things she doesn’t prefer, she is not so very good at failing.
I find this hard to relate to. I need someone to show me how to get out from the dark days into a productive and enlightened space. I want examples of people who started small and found unlimited sparkle and shine. I want to know how to move forward when the obstacles set in. I have finally realized that the only person who can do this is me. Gretchen actually does invite people to make their own Happiness Project. So I shall. I am deeply inspired by this idea.
I have been obsessed with ‘new rooms’ in the past and have recurring dreams about them appearing out of nowhere in my house. In the interest of spending more time creating joy in my life, I have decided to make a space in my home where I can be creative.
What was once our bedroom, the same room that I went into labour with my first child and woke up with her for the first year of her life, will now become ‘the Creativity room’. As we have no basements, only rat and spider-friendly crawl spaces below our 100 year old log cabin, I have began to use this attic-type, knee-walled room as a major storage depot since our new addition was put on. And when I’m in a hurry, I might just have gone to the top of the stairs with a garbage bag full of stuff and flung it into the general middle of the room. It wouldn’t have mattered. There were piles of such bags and boxes already occupying the floor.
Somewhere under those bags and boxes was a guest room bed. But eventually I would drag the mattress into our family room downstairs and advise my guests to steer clear of the mountain of junk up in that room.
Junk be gone! Or at least methodically arranged out of sight.
I have spent a few days in the last month rifling through things and finding much that could be given away. In amongst the mess is the pair of Robeez leather slippers that my little 3-month old girl used to wear. I found my old 4-track cassette recorder. An area rug still taped up that my mother had passed along when she moved 4 years ago. A bag of stuffed animals from my own childhood.
When we purchased this farm, I had the idea in the back of my head that I could resurrect my interest in songwriting and making music if only I had a quiet space to do it. Some expensive microphones and a Mac computer with appropriate software later and I still haven’t found that groove. I wrote one song very early on in our farm years, a love song for the farm, and recorded it with the sound of crickets in the background. That was the last my microphone saw the light of day.
I have decided to dig out my recording equipment. I shall leave it ‘handy’ and see if the mood strikes to do anything with it. I also have an electronic keyboard that the kids are loving! They are loving this new space. Incidentally, I built new bannisters on these stairs which now allows them to go up unassisted, which was never true before.
Today I brought up an old hutch-type book shelf and loaded it with kids puzzles, games and lego on one side and all of my recording equipment on the other. I set up the easel and whiteboard. I brought up my photos and scrapbooking materials along with old National Geographic magazines and calendars and photo agendas filled with beautiful pictures. All headed for the vision board. The room also now houses a dance pad that lights up when you step on it and a stereo to play tunes on. Although I have a great desire to have a room of my own, sharing it with the kids is even more delicious. What I long for most is to be able to work creatively alongside my children.
Over the years I have also been collecting material for a book that I have wanted to write about women in farming over the years. Magazines, journal articles, theses, scavenged books from ebay, internet links all sit waiting for inspiration to strike.
But you know and I know that inspiration needs to be whacked heavily over the head with a cast iron pan. So this is the kind of thing I’ve been doing. Leaving no stones unturned. All because I am so tired of complaining about low energy, feeling bored, unfulfilled, overworked, buried in demands.
One last swing for the week was my attempt at a ‘run’ yesterday. My husband took what we call the bike train that consists of an adult bike, a child’s seat between the handlebars and seat and a tag along for our oldest to ride attached behind. I put on my running shoes and strapped two dogs around my waist and ‘ran’ alongside. If it were not for the dogs you might better have called my gait a slow trot but the 150 pounds of anxious black furry beasts kept me at pace. The kids were in heaven! I managed 5 km of slightly lifted waddle and a 3km walk back home. I felt so proud after that - it had been nearly 5 whole months since I have managed such a thing. It was like pulling teeth to make it happen but boy it felt good once it was done (and during as well!)
I do believe that exercise for me is like free Prozac. If I don’t do it, I feel blue. Period. But I often don’t do it. Because there is always something more important to do. But what is better than kicking your blues in the hiney and telling them to take a bit fat hike? Nothing. So I tried to run. I won’t give up.
Will you join me in this ass-whooping? Let’s not let the dim grey of November get to us, shall we?
Tell me about the space in your home that you use to inspire you. What do you keep in it? How do you ensure that you use it? Are there things you wish you could be doing right now but can’t find a way to make happen?
I find this hard to relate to. I need someone to show me how to get out from the dark days into a productive and enlightened space. I want examples of people who started small and found unlimited sparkle and shine. I want to know how to move forward when the obstacles set in. I have finally realized that the only person who can do this is me. Gretchen actually does invite people to make their own Happiness Project. So I shall. I am deeply inspired by this idea.
I have been obsessed with ‘new rooms’ in the past and have recurring dreams about them appearing out of nowhere in my house. In the interest of spending more time creating joy in my life, I have decided to make a space in my home where I can be creative.
What was once our bedroom, the same room that I went into labour with my first child and woke up with her for the first year of her life, will now become ‘the Creativity room’. As we have no basements, only rat and spider-friendly crawl spaces below our 100 year old log cabin, I have began to use this attic-type, knee-walled room as a major storage depot since our new addition was put on. And when I’m in a hurry, I might just have gone to the top of the stairs with a garbage bag full of stuff and flung it into the general middle of the room. It wouldn’t have mattered. There were piles of such bags and boxes already occupying the floor.
Somewhere under those bags and boxes was a guest room bed. But eventually I would drag the mattress into our family room downstairs and advise my guests to steer clear of the mountain of junk up in that room.
Junk be gone! Or at least methodically arranged out of sight.
I have spent a few days in the last month rifling through things and finding much that could be given away. In amongst the mess is the pair of Robeez leather slippers that my little 3-month old girl used to wear. I found my old 4-track cassette recorder. An area rug still taped up that my mother had passed along when she moved 4 years ago. A bag of stuffed animals from my own childhood.
When we purchased this farm, I had the idea in the back of my head that I could resurrect my interest in songwriting and making music if only I had a quiet space to do it. Some expensive microphones and a Mac computer with appropriate software later and I still haven’t found that groove. I wrote one song very early on in our farm years, a love song for the farm, and recorded it with the sound of crickets in the background. That was the last my microphone saw the light of day.
I have decided to dig out my recording equipment. I shall leave it ‘handy’ and see if the mood strikes to do anything with it. I also have an electronic keyboard that the kids are loving! They are loving this new space. Incidentally, I built new bannisters on these stairs which now allows them to go up unassisted, which was never true before.
Today I brought up an old hutch-type book shelf and loaded it with kids puzzles, games and lego on one side and all of my recording equipment on the other. I set up the easel and whiteboard. I brought up my photos and scrapbooking materials along with old National Geographic magazines and calendars and photo agendas filled with beautiful pictures. All headed for the vision board. The room also now houses a dance pad that lights up when you step on it and a stereo to play tunes on. Although I have a great desire to have a room of my own, sharing it with the kids is even more delicious. What I long for most is to be able to work creatively alongside my children.
Over the years I have also been collecting material for a book that I have wanted to write about women in farming over the years. Magazines, journal articles, theses, scavenged books from ebay, internet links all sit waiting for inspiration to strike.
But you know and I know that inspiration needs to be whacked heavily over the head with a cast iron pan. So this is the kind of thing I’ve been doing. Leaving no stones unturned. All because I am so tired of complaining about low energy, feeling bored, unfulfilled, overworked, buried in demands.
One last swing for the week was my attempt at a ‘run’ yesterday. My husband took what we call the bike train that consists of an adult bike, a child’s seat between the handlebars and seat and a tag along for our oldest to ride attached behind. I put on my running shoes and strapped two dogs around my waist and ‘ran’ alongside. If it were not for the dogs you might better have called my gait a slow trot but the 150 pounds of anxious black furry beasts kept me at pace. The kids were in heaven! I managed 5 km of slightly lifted waddle and a 3km walk back home. I felt so proud after that - it had been nearly 5 whole months since I have managed such a thing. It was like pulling teeth to make it happen but boy it felt good once it was done (and during as well!)
I do believe that exercise for me is like free Prozac. If I don’t do it, I feel blue. Period. But I often don’t do it. Because there is always something more important to do. But what is better than kicking your blues in the hiney and telling them to take a bit fat hike? Nothing. So I tried to run. I won’t give up.
Will you join me in this ass-whooping? Let’s not let the dim grey of November get to us, shall we?
Tell me about the space in your home that you use to inspire you. What do you keep in it? How do you ensure that you use it? Are there things you wish you could be doing right now but can’t find a way to make happen?
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