100 Day Project - Day One

So many metaphors for a life: a journey, a tapestry, a garden, a roller-coaster ride, a painting, a jigsaw puzzle, or even (if you are Forrest Gump) a box of chocolates, to name but a few I can relate to. For me, most of the best offer something that’s consciously created and actively embarked upon; something that’s emergent, something that evolves, and something that holds at least a few surprises.

I’ve always found that spirals, journeys, mosaics, and collages work well for me.

Since my teens I’ve embraced spirals as a metaphor for time. Time that embodies the past, present and future all at once, multi-dimensional, and can be explored in several directions through mindful presence, dreaming and reflection. Time that allows us to experience the echo of a thing; an experience, a lesson, a person. An echo. Repetition, not the original but sometimes so loudly heard or keenly experienced that it can even feel like we are moving through the same terrain, although we never are. We never truly travel through the same place twice – either because we’re viewing it from a fractionally different perspective in time, or we are different since we were last there, or both. And spirals, because in my own experience there’s nothing perfectly linear about anything long-term we do that's worth doing, especially life – even if it has a clear beginning and end.

Spirals of course are also a version of pervasive organic fractals – an expanding and evolving symmetry. Beautiful!

Journeys, although sometimes they can feel like a cliché, are the ultimate metaphor for someone who is at an archetypal level, first & foremost, an explorer. I am.

Mosaics and collages? I find it appealing that something ultimately meaningful can emerge from pieces of broken, torn and sometimes even discarded bits. Sometimes the appeal lies in the similarities, sometimes in juxtapositions, sometimes in the pieces themselves, sometimes in the spaces between. They can contain contradictions, create cohesion, be simple or complex but there’s no doubt they were made, piece by piece. They emerge, they evolve and while there’s interest and texture in the close-up view – where one has to work to create them – it’s only really when we step back that their full beauty and significance can be seen. For me, it’s a profound creative process.

And all of this? Why the musing? It’s the impulse and inspiration behind my 100DayProject. As sustained creative endeavours go, for me, it’s a long one. So, I’m approaching it like life – as a journey, a mosaic, a collage. Sometimes I’ll be collecting materials, sometimes I’ll have my nose pressed up to the surface as I place the pieces, sometimes I’ll step back and have a look at the whole. Always, I’ll be dancing around that spiral.

Fifty by fifty

I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it. 

I want to have lived the width of it as well.

Diane Ackerman

This year I reach my half-century milestone.

I haven't really watched its coming with anything more than vague amazement because I remember clearly as a teen thinking I would never reach it. But here it is... on the doorstep rather than the horizon.

I wondered a few years ago whether I would even want to mark its coming as anything more than any other turn in the wheel, but as it's drawn nearer I see that it's an opportunity - like any birthday, new calendar year, new season, new moon, new day, new moment - to reflect and respond to where I am at and where I may go next. Also, on how I will move from here to there. The why, how and what of those moves are all important to me. And, it is a milestone. Half of a century. Several people I've known did not made it this far so I feel that alone is reason to take pause. Surely a moment worthy of celebrating, to gather the learnings and consider the road ahead?

In general, I think I'm okay with it. I'm healthy and I'm thankful for that. Like many people who observe the impact on our bodies, I'm conscious that things are shifting and not always in ways that I enjoy the look and feel of. And not always in ways that project the vitality I feel and may be perceived at first glance, or are congruent with that. On the outside I'm greyer every day (the hair that I have left) and I am getting undeniably and rapidly wrinklier. I don't love it. I really don't love it. I don't hate it either though.

There is some challenge in dealing with how it manifests physically and perceptually in a world that seems to worship youthfulness (and this is a whole soapbox rant I will spare anyone here!) but I also can't remember a time when I've inhabited this skin more comfortably, more authentically, since I was a very young child. I do not feel fully realised but I do feel in flow towards realisation; in a state of perpetual motion that is both stretching and fulfilling simultaneously. And truly, I can't imagine ever 'getting there', even if I live another fifty years. For me, it really is about the journey that offers.

I've always said that I'd like to live without regret and, right here, at this milestone moment, I have no major regrets. Some choices perhaps that with hindsight, I might have approached differently but no real 'turn back the clock' desires.

My life is filled with people who care about me and who I love deeply. When I get to the end of this journey, I know it is the enriching quality of the relationships I've had and have that will be most meaningful to me. As they are now. In this, as in most things, I value quality over quantity but I feel I have an abundance of wonderful individuals who are in my posse. I look at the people who've taken me to their hearts and I am thankful. So thankful.

I also love the work I do. Although it's often not easy and there still feels like a way to go to achieve the levels of workload that would be a sweetspot between being actively engaged and overly committed, I count myself very fortunate to spend most days working with and supporting amazing people in incredible places on interesting and meaningful stuff. I'm challenged and stretched and that keeps me growing and evolving too, both personally and professionally. In fact, I can hardly distinguish between the personal and professional now (nor do I want to) and that is no small thing. I was striving and struggling to find that sort of integration for so long and although it brings challenges of its own, I wouldn't want it any other way. I'm not sure how long I will do this, like this, but for now, it suits me well and again, I am thankful to have found it.

This is not to say that there are not things that peeve and pester me daily in the world at large; thing that hurt and upset me and even things that outrage me. I am not ignoring the impact or importance of these but, really, I feel so overwhelmingly fortunate.

So, given all that, what lies ahead? Towards the end of last year and around my birthday, I went through my usual ritual of reflection. This is a sense-and-respond exercise, which includes looking at my rolling 'life list' to remove the things I've done (or changed my mind about wanting to do!) and adding things that I've decided need to be on it. Normally it's fairly randomly arranged and, as things come and go, it evolves quite organically but this time I considered how I might prioritise some of the things on it so that they help me mark this year.

Which is how I've come up with my 50by50 list. Some things were already on the list and some have been added for this year specifically. I will not be sharing the whole list here or subjecting everyone to a blow-by-blow account of how it plays out. #50 on the list though is, "Document this process – keep a journal of the 50by50 journey" and one of the places I will do some of that is here. I've missed spending time in this, one of my happy places in the virtual world and so it seems like a good incentive to start showing up here again more regularly.

I will not be tackling the list in any particular order and some things may combine in execution. I can see, for example, how #13 "Take JG (my mother) somewhere on her bucket list" and #15 "Go to at least three places in the UK that I haven’t been to yet." might overlap.

This week I started to take action on #19 on the list too, "Buy a lottery ticket at least once a month." The reason for this new inclusion is twofold:

I know firsthand what a profound impact the lottery funding makes for the great community projects (in the UK and abroad) that some of the money raised goes to support and I like that. In the last financial year this one funding organisation alone redistributed over £1 billion to projects with a social mission and they only have responsibility for 40% of the money raised by the National Lottery for good causes. Agencies that specialise in funding art, cultural and sporting projects redistribute the other 60% between them. I donate to several other causes more directly on a monthly basis but this is now going to be one of them.

The second reason for this choice is that I want to consciously invite some elements of chance and random luck into my life. This feels like one small, safe and fun way to do that. If I happen to win enough to buy a tiny island in the equatorial zone (or even go on holiday there this year) that would be fine too. I would bear it. And I would share it. I bought two tickets this week, one for the National lottery (to be drawn tonight) and one for the Euromillions lottery (drawn on Wednesday). I won £34.90. My nett winnings to-date, £30.90. The Costa Rica/Bora Bora fund is already looking much healthier!

The list includes several other things - large and small in scale - that I will pursue over the year. The one I'm going to start tackling today is #25 "Read at least 10 new books from countries other than the UK, SA or USA". I'm not limiting this to non-English-language writers but it has been a long time since I've read much in translation and, last year, not one that I am aware of. Needs to be rectified. I like the difference in perspective, style and sensibility that writers from other countries bring to their work and therefore, to my world.

Today I am going to start compiling the list and put out feelers for recommendations so, if anyone has anything to suggest, please feel free. All ideas most welcome.

As for the rest... watch this space!

At work, rest and play...

To the art of working well a civilised race would add the art of playing well.

George Santayana

Books and hearts and flowers...

... a few of my favourite things.

SanFran Sunshine

I heart it!

When in...

... San Francisco

Between then and now...

Work, work and work
Under the Concorde
Salted caramel 'sandcastles' to celebrate summer
Sore feet & solitary reflection
Favourite cities with big hearts
Flying and more flying
Colour and variety
Embracing the skinny
Brief intervals of special connection...

... On balance, good.

Looking and leaping

This little guy came to live with me a few years ago. Just after my husband left me. I remember at the time thinking that my emotional and material state was just as precarious.  I felt almost completely untethered and terrified by what the future held. That he was balanced there, on the edge of his little precipice but not falling, was a sign of how close to the edge I was myself. And the fact that I hadn't fallen into the abyss yet either was something to cling to. A sign to just hold on... with my toes if necessary. Not to fall.

Over the years he has come to signify the move away from that state. A steady progress from dangling to standing. I would look at him, perched on top of my fridge, and it would remind me that I was doing okay, compared to that. I liked seeing him there.

Now, I find that he's signalling something slightly different again...

I'm standing on the brink of yet another huge life-shift, this one of my own choosing. And although my state is, again, every bit as precarious, it's strange how different I feel about it this time. Terrified? Yes. Not too strong a statement to say that in those two to four o'clock in the morning hours I'm scared witless. It's risky. It may fail. I may fail. I may fall instead of fly. I have no guarantees, no safety net, and no-one to blame but myself if it all goes horribly wrong. The scaredycat in me is large and loud.

It's too late now to step back though. I am standing with one foot out over the edge and the momentum of actions already taken, carrying me forward into the space. And... I am certain that from this place, where I am now, holding on by my toes is not good enough or the right thing to do. I probably definitely could have done with a bit more time to build my wings but I don't have more time. And if I really want to change my lifestyle, my life, I need to be prepared to let go of solid ground for a while. If I hadn't taken the opportunity now, I might never have carved out the space, gathered the energy or worked up the courage again. I have to leap.

So here I go... I am hoping there'll be some thermal updrafts to help support my initial free-fall, and that the lightness of my heart when I think of what I'm leaving behind will help me float some... Of course I'm going to be making some inflight adjustments and I'll be flapping my wings hard too. I know it will be difficult and I am sure I'll get tired and just want to give up sometimes. But I won't. This little man, poised on the edge, stepping with purpose into the space, will be a reminder to me once more, not to give up. In a different way though.

I've moved him from the fridge into my work space. He sits on the windowsill here and when I look at him now he makes me think not of falling or holding on, but of letting go... of trusting the heart and head combination that has steered me here. Of looking and leaping.

As of the 18th of September 2012 I am, officially, self-employed.


P.S. Just as an aside... the rock he's standing on is a piece from my Home, and yesterday was my lovely Aunt Leila's Birthday. I didn't plan it that way - the date - but after I'd written this, those two things occurred to me and I think that they too are significant. A reminder of my deep and supportive roots and relationships. I tell you... I'm seeing signs everywhere. Supportive, affirmative signs. I know it's my mind filtering the universe for what I want to see. But, at this point, I'm going with it being a good thing.

Thankfulness, every day - Fourteen

Is it just me that finds it harder and harder not to want to go to bed when it's already been dark for a couple of hours, even if that makes it 7pm? 

I'm certain I must have been, or am evolving towards, a life form designed to hibernate through the long dark nights. Especially after a very hard day at work all I can think of is warming up and then lying down with a book before drifting off to sleep as soon as possible after I walk through my front door. Usually things that need doing get in the way and I manage to stay up for several hours but every minute I'm thinking of how soon I can stop, have a relaxing bath and crawl under my duvet. Often insomnia strikes and I am left staring at the ceiling or pacing the floor but that doesn't take away the desire to sleep. I have never been a natural night owl.

Every now and again though I find that the combination of cold crisp air, bright lights and the buzz of shadowy people rushing past (in this case on their way to the shops, theatres or restaurants in the area) have such a vibrancy that I am re-energised by them and arrive home not wanting to curl up and sleep but to dance or paint or write into the small hours. Tonight was one of those. So I did.

What struck me as I pottered around at 2am is how I lucky I am to be able to do this. To do whatever I want, whether it's going to bed or not going to bed. I'm grateful for that.

Of course, now that it's nearly time to get ready and start the day, all I want to do is sleep...

Thankfulness, every day - Five

If anyone asks me what my ideal living environment is, my first choice is not a city. And yet, I find myself living (and not for the first time) in the deepest heart of a very big city. 

There are some things that I don't have as a result: a garden or outside space to call my own (not even a teeny tiny balcony in my current apartment); more than an hour or two a night when I can't hear the distant hum of traffic, being able to look up and see big sky and distant horizons, finding somewhere outside that I can safely be alone.... 

Oh, there are lots of things I don't love about it. 

But, there are easily as many reasons (and more) that I do: great places to eat, shop and enjoy the arts, all within walking distance; layers of palpable history laid down in the variety of architectural styles; easy access to travel routes that link me to anywhere in the country (and countryside) and many places across the world; heavy groceries delivered to my door and people-watching opportunities at every turn.... Lots of things that add comfort and colour to my everyday.

Being a short walk or cab ride away from my front door, from wherever I am in the city center, is also one of the things I love about city living.  This evening I walked home in ten minutes after meeting a friend for a post-work drink and natter, and as I closed the door behind me and sank into the peace and solitude of my home, I was very thankful that I had no further to go.

Oh joy...

...two months to the day since I took up residence in my new apartment and I am finally reconnected - internet installation complete and working. After a few false starts on this, which have tested my patience with service providers sorely, I arrived home from a trip to Northern Ireland for work this week and there it was - at last. What a pleasure!

It's been interesting and challenging to observe myself in this disconnected state - it's probably not a bad thing but I've missed my webmail, skype, blogging space and other online connections to friends and family. Very much. Social networking sites (and a myriad of others) are strictly off-limits at work so apart from the occasional opportunity to go online via roving wi-fi, I've been away for much longer than felt comfortable, even for me with my need to occasionally go into hermit mode. Add to this that I've been experiencing a number of transitions at home and at work and was also ill for a while, times when it's very comforting to have support, it emphasised for me how much I value and rely on these long-distance relationships and the media that facilitates them. My world has felt that bit smaller and the world that much bigger at the same time.

But here we are, I'm back. And it was so lovely when I was able to check in briefly to find that people had been by and left thoughtful comments and messages as always - like coming home to find flowers placed on my doorstep.... Thank you! I'm very conscious that I've not been returning the favour but I hope it won't be held against me as it's not been through lack of wanting to. I very much look forward now to visiting all my blogging friends in their spaces and catching up on what everyone's been up to. 

There's been lots of travel for work going on in past couple of months but as a result of having to be up there either side of a weekend, I did spend a lovely few days recently with some friends up in Northumberland, taking in some gorgeous beaches, stately homes and gardens, cathedrals, and village markets. It was so nice to actually pause long enough to look around and enjoy some of the region that I'm usually just rushing through en route to elsewhere and I'll share some of that beautiful part of the country over the next little while.

I've also had a very special visitor for the past two weeks in the shape of my lovely mother, who came to take care of me and provide her unique brand of company, care and comfort - the perfect mix of unconditional love, gentle but firm support and the best cups of tea on the planet. And there have been some exciting plans coming together for a special event in September that I'll be travelling to a tropical island to attend and lend a hand with. Very exciting. More to follow as time progresses... 

Otherwise, really just here to savour being back in my lovely little online room where, no matter what's going on in the real world, the peonies are flowering in the sunshine outside and the company is always good. Oh joy!

♥

P.S. a few people remarked on the kaleidoscope pictures below and a couple wondered how I took them. It was just one of those try-it-and-see-what-happens things really. I put the lens of my camera against the eyepiece of one of my little kaleidoscopes, pointed them both towards the light at the window and clicked, turned the kaleidoscope and clicked again.... I had no idea what might come out, if anything, but what you see below is what happened and, like some of you, I was really pleased with them - so pretty and exactly right for the thought and feeling I was trying to capture that day. I know purists don't put much stock in this approach but I'm not a purist. I just click and see if I've caught what I was hoping for. It's not a very technical or necessarily very skilled way of doing things but it works for me *smile* That's one of the things I love about living in a digital age - in the days of expensive processing of film, I would probably not have risked firing off a few shots that might not have worked at all but there's nothing to lose from experimenting now and I really enjoy that, don't you?

Plan B - more room, inside and out

more room by rachel awes

I recently came across (as one does sometimes when browsing randomly) a new-to-me blog called All I did was Listen, the lovely online space of Rachel Awes. I was immediately entranced by Rachel's whimsical drawings and heart-rich musings - each and every one beautiful and special. The drawing above particularly struck a chord with me and as soon as Rachel opened her Etsy shop, I had to order one. It so reflects where I am right now - ready to make more room, inside and out.

Firstly, the outside space: A confluence of lucky factors means that I will be moving into a new apartment towards the end of April. I'm very excited about this as it will be the start of a new phase for me and I'll no longer be sharing my living space with anyone at all. My current housemate and I have had a great innings and I've enjoyed living here but I'm ready, willing, and now able to enjoy a place entirely to myself. I know that moving house is considered quite a stressful experience but I'm actually looking forward to packing up and then unpacking and settling in to my new space. It will be fun. An adventure. I've moved many, many, many times in my life so this is not an upheaval that fazes me but somehow this feels so different. Not having to consider anyone's needs or tastes but my own. At all. It will be the first time in more than twenty years that this has been the case and I'm incredibly energised at the thought. Terribly selfish I know, but true. It may not be forever, it may not even last very long, and that's fine (I like sharing my space too and am always happy to have loved ones to stay) but for now... I can't wait.

It will also provide a great opportunity for me to sift through my belongings and declutter, and I'm looking forward to that too. I've accumulated a lot of stuff considering the tiny space I currently have and I know it could do with a bit of paring down. They're not large items but there are lots of them. I no longer own much furniture (I let most of that go when my husband and I parted ways and my current apartment is let partially furnished so there's been no need to buy any) and I have no real inclination to acquire more now. Ikea will provide the fundamentals and I have some lovely decorative bits that I've collected over years on my travels that will add colour and texture. I envisage a bed, a few floor cushions, piles of books, some pretty personal details, lots of fresh flowers... and not much else. At least to begin with. I see my new style being something along the lines of stripped-back zen minimalism crossed with student make-do chic and bohemian jewel-rich comfort. I quite like the mix.

And on the inside: This process of clearing stuff will be good for this too - more room inside. I intend to take with me only things I love. Things that have good associations. Nothing that reminds me of times or people or states of mind that no longer serve me well or don't make me happy. I don't have much that falls into this category but enough to make this a worthwhile exercise. 

I've held on to things that represent memories I no longer want to carry with me so this juncture is also an opportunity to leave behind some emotional clutter and create more room for good stuff. I'm looking forward to that too. More than anything.

As my travel plans have not worked out the way I'd hoped, I'm intending now to use some of my leave to start this process of sorting and clearing and packing. Perhaps this is one of the good things to come out of having that dream denied right now - the space to move on more quickly than I'd anticipated with another. Plan B unfolds. 

Wishing you a very happy Friday with all the room, inside and out, that your plans require!

♥

Too soon to dream...

...of picnics?

Probably. But I can't help myself. We've had a few hours of sunshine this week and immediately I begin to think about lying under trees, cloud or star gazing, eating delicious food in the fresh air, in the company of friends - heavenly. Without doubt it's one of the main reasons why I'd like to live in a warmer climate again. 

The gorgeous images above are from a blog called Ruffled and they're actually styled as wedding inspiration - exactly the sort of wedding I'd like to have if I ever married again. Exactly. But it would be just as lovely for a casual summer picnic with friends wouldn't it? It actually reminded me of many a picnic I have had with friends... Oh, I do so love a picnic. Have I mentioned that?

I also love wedding blogs: pretty dresses and shoes, love that's almost tangible, gorgeous parties, creative details... what's not to enjoy? Great inspiration for any occasion and every day, not just weddings. My favourite posts are always the real weddings like these from Green Wedding Shoes.

Marie of Blushing and Sweet has highlighted some lovely places to browse (and that purple petticoat and shoes she's posted nearly made me cry with pleasure - perfect for a wedding or a casual picnic I think!). In addition to those she's recommended, another of my favourites is Snippet and Ink. If you feel like losing yourself in dreamy prettiness for a little while... 

I do.

Towards simplicity...

Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.

Leonardo DaVinci

(1452-1519)

Within you there is a stillness and sanctuary to which you can retreat at anytime and be yourself.

Hermann Hesse

(1877-1962)

The trouble with simple living is that, though it can be joyful, rich, and creative, it isn't always simple.

Doris Janzen Longacre

(1940-1979)

Though we travel the world over

to find the beautiful,

we must carry it with us

or we find it not.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

(1803-1882)

With a few flowers in my garden, half a dozen pictures and some books, I live without envy.

Lope de Vega

(1562-1635)

I am so drawn to warm neutrals and uncluttered simplicity. Not quite minimalism but restrained-natural-luxury (that's my just-coined new style). I find it soothing and beautiful and I dream of a home filled with soft light, natural materials and delicious textures that reflects this peacefulness. I actually need very little to live contentedly, and so I aspire to achieving a much simpler lifestyle. It suits me.

That is, until I see something in hot spicy or deep jewel colours, richly textured and bejewelled. And then the little bowerbird in me comes to life and asks to be treated to what she loves, a little gratuitous-embellished-abundance (my other style of choice). She's such a collector of pretty goodies and I can't always deny her.

They're on almost opposite sides of the spectrum, these two styles, and it's my ongoing mission to strike a balance and successfully meld the two. Ongoing and apparently never-ending.

Right now I'm feeling the need to make a move back towards simple beauty. And methinks a little decluttering's called for. Just a little.

As always, Flickr can be relied upon to provide lovely inspiration...

If it's not too much to ask...

...may I have one of these in my garden too please?

I could be comfy here.

And I have the garden all picked out...

Too much?

A garden of fragrance, please.

I currently live in an apartment without even a balcony, let alone a garden. I'd love to have a garden again. If or when I'm next lucky enough to have a little patch of green space I'm going to fill it with beautifully fragrant flowering plants. In the meantime, I try to have cut flowers that are scented in my home and on my desk at work. They brighten my day. I love the smell of flowers. I love to walk into a room, open a window, or sit on a park bench and catch the scent of a beautiful bloom. 

And like many smells, the fragrance of flowers is incredibly evocative; redolent with emotion, evoking deep and lasting memories of places, people and happenings. 

Unlike the other senses, smell needs no interpreter. The effect is immediate and undiluted by language, thought, or translation.

Diane Ackerman

(1948-)

A Natural History of the Senses

If we do try to describe smells in words, we find it's very hard to do so without referring to how they make us feel - "disgusting", "lovely", "nostalgic"... The smell of flowers generally has very positive associations for me.

These are some of my favourites, and some of the things they remind me of:

• Frangipani - Buddhist temples and shrines; warm night air wrapping me and my sister in the buoyant, carefree spirit of a tropical island interlude; watching sunrise from a beach in Zanzibar on the first day of the new millennium, with all the peace, trust and hope that moment held.
  
• Gardenias - My mother, beautiful in a black dress, younger than I am now; two little girls making "perfume"; reading a book curled up on cushions in a sunspot, in a conservatory.

• Freesias - Being a flower-girl in a yolk-yellow, floral-print lawn dress, with my hair curled and my heart full, at the age of four or five; Easter holidays with my cousins and siblings; affordable cut flower treats bought from a local street stall.
  
• Lily of the Valley - Nana; living in Paris on May Day; Crabtree & Evelyn milled soap, received in a Christmas parcel, posted with stamps of red-breasted Robins and love.

• Iceberg Roses - My great aunt Jess, so worldy, so sophisticated; cut crystal vases on a glass-topped dressing table; lying on the lawn in a historic rose garden, on long summer days, watching cloud animals pass overhead.
  
• Jasmine - My first kiss; spring in Cape Town, a brief but magical season; a high school friend who was murdered but still visits me in my dreams to tell me that he loves me. I still love him too - always will.

• Snowdrops - A dear friend's February Birthday dinner parties where they always appear, and a painting in her welcoming hallway; a walk in the woods wearing borrowed Wellington boots, two sizes too big; a dusting of snow in the Peace Park, last March, numb inside and out.
  
• Madonna Lilies - Living in Harrow-on-the-Hill with six housemates and two cats, fun-filled days in an overgrown garden; pollen on a favourite dress; the cool interior of a church, dressed for a wedding - not mine...
  

Smells are surer than sights or sounds

To make your heart-strings crack

Rudyard Kipling

(1865-1936)

[Flickr credits]

Resolutions... yea or nae?

For me, nae.

I gave up on New Year resolutions some years ago. Not because I don't see the start of a new year as an opportunity to reflect on a year gone by and to consider a year to come. Not because I don't like to set goals and challenges and then set out to achieve them. Not because I have nothing that could do with improving or that I don't wish to pursue. But because I found that as soon as a "have to", "must" or "should" is attached to anything on a list for me (even if I am the one to attach it) it becomes a list of chores, and I don't like chores, even if I recognise that they are useful and necessary. And I am very good at avoiding chores. I will do almost anything to avoid doing things on a list like that. Or I tackle them quite unenthusiastically.

And then, when I do I get to the end of the year and I can't tick much off the list, I feel like a failure and I feel guilty for the failure and all the avoidance and procrastination, and I dread creating the next list... And so I create a wimpy set of new resolutions because I don't want to jinx the things that really matter to me by putting them on the list. And I end up with resolutions that don't really motivate me, resolutions I am uncommitted to, resolutions that I want to avoid... You see the cycle.

I broke the cycle by eschewing New Year resolutions of the traditional kind. But you know how I love a list. So I can't pass up the opportunity entirely. And for me it is largely about motivation. And semantics. A slight shift of perspective, of language, and I am able to face a new year with a list of things I wish to achieve, would really like to do, and have some intention to act upon.

And this is a list I review regularly, add to all the time, but don't even pretend I'm going to tick everything off of by the end of the year. It's a life list. And it's a long list. I also like to allow for the things that I don't anticipate, to have room to take advantage of opportunities that arise unexpectedly. To be able to go off-list...

So, my resolutions amount to choosing a value or idea to guide and focus me through the year (this year it was balance) and committing to doing at least one thing off the list or one new thing for every week of the year. Big things - like learning a new skill, replacing a bad habit with a good one, or making a lifestyle change - qualify.  As do little things - like eating something for the first time, finding a new route to work, or doing something fun that I haven't done since I was a child again, like flying a kite.

I don't always manage a full 52 but this way I know that I'll have done at least 50-odd things by the time the next year comes around. And that seems okay. It works for me.

This year I did these things:

• Started Tango again
  
• Ate Staffordshire oatcakes for the first time
  
• Visited four new cities in the UK
  
• Walked on a beach I'd never been to before
• Travelled to Africa meet my baby niece
  
• Took on a new job role
  
• Started a blog
• Completed a course in European film
  
• Started the process of naturalisation
• Saw some Gustav Klimt works I had never seen before
• Tasted pear cider
• Went to the science museum
  
• Met some great new people
• ...

I'll save you the entire boring thing but there are only 37 items checked off my list. Way below par. And I did not achieve balance, or anything like it. I hardly did anything creative, neglected my relationships, laughed too little, read too little, worked too long and too hard most days, surrendered my ability to sleep well, spent the last three months holding on by my fingernails to maintain my schedule, and reached the end of the year exhausted in body and soul. Not only was there a lack of quantity but there was a definite lack of quality. A friend of mine described my state as toxic. And she was right.

It was not a great year for me. I won't be that sorry to bid it farewell this evening.

I don't blame it on the system though. It's worked well for me before and I trust it to work well for me again. I have selected my new guiding word, and I've reviewed my list...

I have faith that 2009 will be better. That I will be better. That's my resolution.

For me, yea.

Are you thinking about your resolutions?

[Flickr credits]

Brief journeys - wintery greens and reds on the canal

I have not moved far from home this weekend.  It's been grey, damp and chilly out and that encourages the hibernation instinct in me.  I've also had work to do. But, in the interest of avoiding cabin fever, I did go for a little wander along the canals earlier today, looking for bits of green and wintery prettiness to combat the grey and cheer me up.

And I stopped for a cup of hot chocolate on my way home.  You can see the restaurant in the picture above - the George, a narrowboat that's been converted into a floating coffee shop.  They serve drinks and light snacks and I find there's something quite appealing about sitting all cosy at water level and enjoying a little refreshment. And they do make a yummy hot chocolate.

Unfortunately, I'm always struck by how little they've done to pretty the place up. There's nice wooden panelling and cute little tables with bentwood chairs. But that's as far as it goes.  It's otherwise quite tacky with grubby plastic flowers and horribly cheap cruet sets, swirly green floral carpets and blue and pink floral curtains... None of it matching or complementary.  And none of it charming, as even some of these things can be in certain surroundings. I took a couple of pictures inside but because I was a bit self-conscious about doing it, they are too blurry to use so I'll try again another day. Maybe then we can imagine how we'd overhaul it if we were commissioned to do so. That would be fun.

I do wish someone would wave a magic wand over the décor though. They have so much going for them including a novel location, on a main pedestrian thoroughfare, and it wouldn't take much money or effort to make it lovely.   A few cosmetic changes would do wonders for the ambiance.  And as a result, for their business.  I'm sure of it.

Anyhow, the hot chocolate was reliably tasty, I was one of only three people on the George so it was a peaceful interlude, and there was green prettiness galore on the walk there and back, so I'm happy. But now I have some more homework to do...

I hope you're having a lovely weekend whatever you're up to!

Superficial? Oh yeah!

I spent most of this past weekend in Wales, celebrating the Birthday of a friend with a group of others, eating and drinking well (and a lot!), and laughing (a lot!). There was even a little music-making and singing at one point...  The clocks went back for daylight-saving, which is not great because it heralds the start of winter proper, but what's not to like about an extra hour of sleep after a late night out?  

And then yesterday I met up with another friend and we enjoyed a girly spa day together, another shared Birthday gift. This included several definitely superficial but oh-so relaxing face and body treatments, a delicious lunch, and the opportunity to just hang out, chat in that spiraling way that conversation tends to be with someone close, and to reconnect with ourselves and each other.  A real treat!

I was so excited about heading out on Saturday that I left my camera behind, which is a little infuriating 'cause there were many things that were worthy of capturing. However, being more in the moment is one of the things I am trying to be better at, so I suspect this was the universe's way of reminding me that sometimes it's good to just experience the thing without worrying about recording the thing. And it was good, the way I think weekends are supposed to be... Superficial yes, but also not so much.

I hope you had a lovely one too!

Tarte au chocolat and friends...

...make for a perfect evening when combined.

Many years ago (gosh, it's almost 20 years ago now) I started to work for this man and his brother, Michel. In 2002 they were both awarded an OBE for contributions to British cuisine and were recognised by their peers as the UK's most influential chefs. In 2007 Albert Roux was awarded the AA Hospitality Lifetime Achievement Award.  It would not be exaggerating to say that they started a revolution in British culinary and restaurant traditions.

At about the same time that I joined them, this guy took over the running of their London-based patisserie. Eric was extremely young for the role at the time but his talent was apparently unmistakable to the Roux brothers who are known for fostering the careers of young chefs, many of whom have gone on to become celebrities in their own right. In addition to Eric, Marco Pierre White and Gordon Ramsey are two of these.

My claim to fame is that I enjoyed a daily croissant and many delicious desserts made by the same pâtissier that has since made wedding cakes for Madonna, Claudia Schiffer and Elizabeth Hurley.  Okay, so not the closest association to fame I'll admit but hey, probably as close to A Lister's as I'm likely to get.

I worked with the Roux brothers for five very satisfying years and one of the perks of the job was that we were extremely well fed.   We were encouraged to learn about the food by eating it and one of the most valuable things they gave me is the opportunity to experience and develop an appreciation for fine food. Really fine food.

I also made some very special friends in that time.  Friends who have stayed with me from those very early days - when we were young and carefree, living in London, working hard but enjoying all the city had to offer - to now, when we have almost all moved on to quite different roles and many different places, even different countries. A few are still in catering but several, like myself, have moved into other fields entirely. In addition to our shared history and affection for one another, we still have in common a love of fine food. And whenever we meet, we indulge. 

One of my favourite ever desserts was - and is - Tarte au Chocolat. Made with only the very finest quality dark chocolate, butter and cream, it's a rich and sumptuous dessert. Not too sweet, velvety in texture, but definitely not for the faint-hearted. A tiny sliver is really all that's needed and if balanced with berry fruits, it's sublime.

So last night I was lucky enough to share a meal with friends (always one of my very best ways to spend time, regardless of what's on the menu) and we had a wonderful, relaxed and laughter-filled evening.  And there was tarte au chocolat to round off the dinner. Perfect.

Unfortunately I didn't manage to take a photograph of ours before it was demolished but it looked like almost exactly like this - strawberries, blackberries, redcurrants and all. Delicious.

I wish I could say I'd made this but my culinary skills being what they are, I stuck to pouring the wine. And eating. 

It's about finding what you're good at and honing those skills...