Something to Celebrate

Today is the first anniversary of this blog, which means it also a year since leaving teaching and starting writing. This blog started out as an exploration of what it means to live the good life. I don’t think it has veered too much off course, but I have been surprised by how it has reflected my own inner-life, rather than pure reflections on philosophical ideas and psychology.

This whole process has been a cycle of starting new things, learning new skills and then starting over again. Writing, reading, editing and making amendments feels very much like taking one step forwards and then two steps back. I am reminded of an earlier post when I wrote about how the first steps of a child are celebrated. * Often those first faltering steps are followed by stumbles and a fall. This year I have taken my first proper steps into writing. There have been moments of delight in sensing that I am making progress and moving forwards but there have been times of stumbles and falls. I am learning to pick myself up again and to use the steps taken as motivation to keep going.

A number of people have asked me how I can be self-motivated and keep on writing. I feel the expectation to say something wise and profound. The truth is I am finding it much like someone describes eating an elephant – manageable one bite at a time! Sometimes I am fed up of eating elephant and sometimes I am overwhelmed by the size of it. I recognise though that this time is a gift. I do not want to look back at my life and wonder ‘what if’ so I find things that enable me to keep going. One of them seems an unlikely motivator, but it works for me. There is a post-it on my desk that simply says ‘It’s always too soon to quit.’ I do not know what the outcome of all this writing will be, that is something that is out of my control but my response to whether I write is within my control – so it’s always too soon to quit!

This anniversary is an opportunity to look back, to reflect upon the highs and lows, the mistakes and lessons learned. It is also a chance to look forward, to set new goals and ideas into motion. Here in the present, is an opportunity to celebrate and be grateful.

I am grateful for this amazing gift of time and space to write. I owe this to the generosity and unwavering support of my husband, who was and still is willing to support me in giving up a paid full-time job to embark upon this writing adventure. I am grateful to you, the readers. Thank you for travelling this journey with me. For those of you who have commented, whether it is on the posts or in real life, I really appreciate you getting involved! Thank you to those who have spoken words of encouragement and belief in me – you are worth more than a million post-its! Thank you to my giraffe-otter friend – your proof-reading skills, advice and encouragement are priceless.

Although there is no call (yet) from the publisher, tonight we will celebrate. We have so much to be thankful for. And the little steps are worth celebrating just as much as the big ones. 

What small steps could you celebrate at the moment?

What helps you stay motivated?

What are you thankful for today?

*Elementary, my dear Watson

Dear Diary

When I was at secondary school my best friend kept a diary. There were times she shared parts of it with me. I felt honoured but I was also a little envious. Envious that she had the self-discipline to write everyday and that she felt free enough to share her thoughts on the pages. I have tried to keep a diary a number of times but I never found it easy to write something everyday and somehow it was disappointing not to be consistent.

There are famous diaries, ones to be read and that it is another thing I find daunting about it – either it is honest and an outpouring (my favoured approach) or it has to be written in a way that it can be read and is therefore censored. These were the only two approaches in my young mind.

As I embarked upon my year of writing, I read a lot of advice about writing everyday and I guess the obvious way of doing this, if you don’t have a writing project on the go, is to write a diary.

My diary writing has not taken the form of recording the events of the day but instead has become a record of books and articles I have read and my response to these. I’ve also made notes of observations, ideas and some reflections. Occasionally there is a more emotional outpouring which has proven to be rather cathartic but there is no sense that I have a record of my days for the last year.

Holidays have become times for keeping a diary. We’ve found it a fun way to remember activities we have enjoyed and the people we have met. Sometimes it has been a shared activity. This then is a diary for jogging the memory not for recording emotions and feelings. The entries have been read again, causing laughter and memories of things unwritten.

I used to think that a diary needed to be a prose account of the day. I would be nervous about starting new writing book, scared that I would mess it up. This year I forced myself to choose from beautiful notebooks I had been given and just begin.

It is a recommended practice in helping achieve wellbeing. It gives the opportunity to vent and address problems. It provides a record, allowing you to win arguments concerning forgetfulness! Life is so often busy and frantic that having a time and a place to stop and reflect is precious.

I have found it helpful to ignore what I perceive to be the rules of writing a diary and have enjoyed the freedom this has given me. I have discovered the freedom to doodle, add quotations, write thoughts that are not complete sentences and pour out occasional streams of emotion.

I would thoroughly recommend keeping a diary and doing it your way. You don’t have to wait for the New Year, just find yourself a book and a pen and begin!

 

I started keeping a diary in third grade and, in solidarity with Anne Frank, gave it a name and made it my confidante. To this day, I feel comforted and relieved of loneliness, no matter how foreign my surroundings, if I have a pad and a pen with which to record my experiences. Ariel Levy

The Present: A Gift to Yourself

Holidays are a great opportunity to slow down, to take some time out. It is a chance to try new things and visit new places.

Once at our holiday destination no transport was used. Walking is a great way to slow down and take notice of ordinary life going on around you. Thanks to an app, we discovered that we walked on average about 6km a day. This is far more walking than I would do at home. At first my legs did not like the change, but after a few days the aches were gone and I was enjoying navigating my way around the ancient and modern parts of Edinburgh. I have promised myself that walking is going to be more of a habit now we are home. The distances have not been so significant, but choosing to walk is slowly becoming more of a habit. It has made me more aware of the environment I am travelling in and given me a greater appreciation of my feet and legs!!

Walking is a great way of people-watching in a city and listening into conversation. For fun I decided to listen out for snatches of conversation and record them. The process of slowing down, of listening out and looking around inspires creativity. It increases an awareness of others which in turn develops empathy and compassion.

The choice to be more aware of the present moment is available at any time. It is not just for holidays. Taking a moment to stop and use a different sense is relaxing. Somehow it brings both focus and a sense of appreciation for the more ordinary things in life. It doesn’t require a great deal of time, but choosing to be present, to observe, listen, smell, touch or taste can change our perspective. Moments can be savoured or pass us by. Our choices and attitude determine which will happen more often. If you’re asking yourself when? The answer is now. Stop and be still, just for a moment. What can you hear, see, feel, smell or even taste that makes you glad to be alive right now?

Just for fun, I decided to compile the sentences that I recorded when I was out listening on the streets of Edinburgh. They appear in their sentences exactly how I heard them, but each new line represents a different snippet of conversation. I have imagined a conversation between two people:

You’re looking very fit

What did you do with your bag?

I forget. I don’t know.

It’s got your name on it you prick

Do you want to walk up through the graveyard?

I just don’t want to be seen in public with you

What’s wrong?

I used the baked bean tin with the string to murder someone

Ooh dear

It’s Keith. No one’s going to run me over

I’m sure we can figure it out

A lot of girls do

She swore after the first one that she wouldn’t do it again, but she did

We were talking about strangers

I’ve never asked you what your PHD project is about

I’m only here for three days

Perfect

It’s eight o’clock

I can recommend a show

He doesn’t think he’ll make it through the show without a beer

They’ve been on the road for two months now

Anything interesting happen?

Mushrooms, ham, olives

She knows

Jealous? I just can’t feel like that.

I heard her say that.

She’s got about four GCSE’s

Why is she paid so much?

I agree, it looks bad

We’ll start a revolution.

Full face masks

Oh, is that how it works?

I’m not allowed to tell you why that will be important later

That was amazing

You’ve got to get your timing right

Beautiful Interruptions

We’ve just spent a fortnight in the amazing city of Edinburgh. The city is crowded with tourists, locals, performers and Fringers like us. For me these teeming streets exhale inspiration. Anything is possible. Thousands of people have crafted their shows, ready to entertain, shock and enthral. The creativity seems to ooze out of bodies and buildings, just waiting for bystanders to absorb.

We make a point of travelling down the Royal Mile (even though it can be at a slow and frustrating pace) because there are so many opportunities to chat with strangers. This is not something we generally do back in our home town (although I think we’re getting better) but it is something we look forward to as part of our Fringe Festival experience.

This year we met a girl called Alice, she was performing in two shows and we ended up talking to her for quite a while. We heard about some of her previous Edinburgh experiences, the tour of her show in Australia, her boyfriend and of course the shows she was promoting at the festival. We ended up going to both of her shows and enjoyed them. I happened to bump into her again on our penultimate day in the city. She was delighted to see me and keen to discover what other shows we had enjoyed. She then excitedly shared with me that her boyfriend had proposed and they were now engaged. She then thrust her hand with the ring in my direction. There is something both beautiful and intimate sharing moments like these with complete strangers.

Yeats wrote ‘There are no strangers here, only friends you haven’t yet met.’

A stranger we have befriended (some might say stalked) since our first visit to the Edinburgh Festival was performing his seventh fringe show. We were thrilled to discover his show had sold out both times we tried to see it. It meant a lot that he arranged to get us in anyway.

The atmosphere and the fact that a number of people are trying to get your attention (to give you their flyers) means it is easy to start up conversations. I know I find this much more difficult back at home. I am convinced that it is worth making the effort locally as these moments shared with strangers will be treasured just as much as the shows we have loved this year.

We’ve been trained to be wary of strangers and to obey public transport etiquette: eyes down, only speak when absolutely necessary. As a result we miss out on little joy moments in our day. These bring happiness to others too. One guy, handing out flyers, would start his patter ‘Hi, how are you?’ when we responded by asking how he was, he was taken aback and said ‘no one normally asks how I am.’

I am as guilty as the next person for rushing through life, particularly on journeys whether it’s walking or on public transport. We’re reminded to stop and smell the roses but there are people out there too; people who would love to be acknowledged and receive a smile. All too often we can feel invisible amongst a sea of faces. When someone smiles or takes the time to say a few words we feel acknowledged and connected. It is the start of community to acknowledge and recognise the people around you. It feels strange that a city has become another home to me. Even though it is 380 miles away and I have never actually lived there, it holds a piece of my heart. I think part of the reason is conversations with strangers. Even though they, like me, may not be locals, our shared experiences in the same location create a temporary community.

So next time you’re out and about or waiting in a queue, try starting a conversation with a stranger. Who knows where it could lead?

Can You Handle the Truth?

Captain Fantastic is a film that explores family, death and the American Dream. I loved this film. One of things that stayed with me was the father’s decision to tell the truth to his kids. There is an uncomfortable scene when he (Ben) and his six kids are having dinner with members of his wife’s family. One of the children asks a difficult question, the other adults answer in clichés and metaphors, but Ben responds with honesty. This is the way he has chosen to parent, with candour, even when it hurts or could be embarrassing.

This goes against the general rules for truth-telling. On the whole we believe we should tell the truth but we also might bend the truth or tell a small white lie to protect others. Clinical Psychologist, Jo Lambe defines a white lie as ‘a lie that if your friend, partner, parent or child found out, they would understand why you told it.’ Sounds reasonable and no doubt we can all think of situations or examples that would fit this definition. Lambe goes on to say ‘a dangerous lie is one we tell to protect ourselves, to stop anyone thinking badly of us.’

This makes it all more complicated.

Truthfulness, honesty and integrity are all highly esteemed by philosophers in all three major ethical theories: utilitarian, virtue and deontological. The first two allow for some caveats. If the consequences of lying lead to a better outcome than if the person told the truth, then the lie is permissible. This allows for the person to draw their own conclusions about the possible consequences of the truth and therefore potentially lie about situations that we would not consider morally ok. For example, by this logic Sally* could lie about the affair she is having because the truth will hurt her husband and their children. However, I am more interested in the less extreme lies we tell. Lies that cover up the disgusting dinner or the boring new boyfriend.

In considering my own lies, if I am honest (?!) the motives are not clear. I do not want to cause any hurt or offence, but underlying this motive is the desire to protect myself. I do not want you to think any less of me. I do not want to damage our relationship. Are these justifiable reasons to lie? Perhaps lying is a lazy form of communication. We cannot be bothered to deal with the issue or circumstance thoroughly and so we take the quickest or ‘easiest’ way out. Ultimately it could be more offensive to you that I choose to lie to you than tell you the truth. It suggests that I think you cannot cope with the truth, that you cannot handle a weaker, selfish me. Instead I have to feed you something that you will find palatable, that will make me look good (or a least not bad) in your eyes.

If we are to rely on our own motivations as a measure for how much truth we should tell, we are on dangerous ground. The lie that potentially protects you from harm, almost certainly does the same for me. The problem is this relies upon me making correct assumptions about you and the information you can handle. In my experience, people are surprising. My assumptions are not a good way of measuring whether or not I should tell a lie to protect someone. I am best at deciding lies that will protect myself. Is there really such a thing as an altruistic lie? Rather than thinking up white lies, perhaps we should become better at how we tell the truth.

* Some names have been changed.

Patience is a virtue!

I have been without my car for the last ten days. A problem I thought would be solved by my friendly RAC man proved too complicated for roadside assistance. It has perplexed the mechanics at my garage too. So I was left changing plans stranded at home during the days.

It was not so much the inconvenience of not having a car that rankled but the not knowing when or even if I would have the car again. The not knowing and possible outcomes clouded my thinking. The frustration at having to say ‘No’ to people and feeling out of control of that choice led me to realise how losing control in this area of my life was affecting my well-being. I’m sure there were other factors at work too, there always are – it’s never just one thing that goes wrong.

The day my car was returned was a total surprise. There was no proceeding phone call, just a ring on the doorbell and there was my car back on the driveway. There was a great sense of relief (both my husband and I had thought we might have to find a new car) and a sense of childlike excitement. I was surprised at how fun it was to get back behind the wheel. The pleasure was heightened by putting the roof down and turning the music up! Philosophers would argue that this is one of the benefits of patience; having delayed gratification the enjoyment of the end is that much sweeter. I don’t know that I practised patience particularly well. I didn’t have too much choice in the matter, but the waiting definitely renewed my appreciation for driving in general and my car in particular.

In the middle of the not knowing and the disappointment I began to think about what I had been learning during these months of stillness and waiting. I had been trying to listen less to the negative thoughts that would bring a halt to everything and trying to listen more to the positive. I had reached a self-imposed deadline in my writing, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t more to be done. Being at home meant jobs that otherwise would have been delayed, got done.

This change in pace brought a different kind of thinking and for the first time in a while I had a completely new idea, not related to either of the two books I am currently writing, it  was exciting and refreshing to dream about something new for a while. It had become all to easy to forget some of my early thoughts about giving time for creativity when creating narrative and characters have become daily habits.

Being ‘on pause’ has been a recurring theme of this year. It goes against my natural instincts and common sense. It is not a passive inactivity but more a restful quietness that allows for envisioning and inspired ideas to come to the fore.

This week has taught me that there is always room for more. The creative well is deep. Sometimes obstacles and tedious waiting allows for that space and time for new ideas to grow.

Emotional Health Check

Public exams are over. Speaking to an eighteen year old who had sat his last exam this week, he shared his feelings of relief but also worry. He was already thinking about results day; wondering if he could have done more, if he had failed.

I have experienced my own failure this week. The knowledge that nothing had really changed as a result was not as comforting as it should have been. There’s a horrible feeling that comes with failure, that sense of stupidity, of being a fool for thinking you could do better or even for trying in the first place. The feelings triggered memories of failing my driving test (a number of times) and the disappointment I felt seeing my A level results. Neither of which has prevented me from doing anything I wanted to. Those small feelings of defeat this week evoked strong feelings of inadequacy.

It is easy to find motivational quotations to help move on from failure. As a teacher it was fairly regular practise to educate pupils in the short comings of other ‘Greats’ in order to inspire and comfort. Examples like ‘I have not failed 10,000 times. I’ve successfully found 10,000 ways that will work.’ (Thomas Edison)

In order to adopt a positive perspective one must first acknowledge the distortions that failure often brings. Guy Winch, a psychologist, thinks that it is time that we close the gap between our physical and mental health. He makes the point that we spend more time taking care of our teeth than our minds.

When we experience emotional pain like rejection, failure and loneliness we are likely to go into our default setting, which for most of us is a negative place. We start to re-live past hurts and somehow convince ourselves that this current hurt is no surprise; we probably deserve it. Our inner voice is often so negative, if we spoke out loud those thoughts to a friend, they would be shocked. We are mean, hurtful and rude to ourselves in a way we would never be to a friend. One step towards emotional health is speaking to yourself with compassion. Take a step back and see yourself as a friend you care about, what would you say to them?

 

Another common response to emotional pain is rumination – going over and over the situation and dwelling on the consequences and feelings. This can easily spiral downwards and out of control. It is effectively like having a fall and cutting your knee, only to get a knife and start stabbing at it. We would never do this to a physical wound, why do we do it with our emotional ones? Distraction is one way of dealing with over-thinking. Guy Winch reckons just two minutes of distraction is enough but we have to keep making that choice when the negative thoughts come to do something distracting. It takes time and practise.

A quotation that I have found helpful this week is: ‘Failure is an event, not a person. Yesterday ended last night.’ (Zig Ziglar) It has been helpful to separate myself from the process and to acknowledge that event was in the past. Today is a new day, with new opportunities and challenges.