grief Archives

transcending

Getting through

January 6, 2013

When I walk with my little old Maltese dog, the southerly wind is often blowing and she trots along very strongly into the wind, enjoying her walk, ears pinned back and getting through.

The end of 2012 has felt something like that for me. It’s been very quiet here on the blog for a while; no posting, no writing. It was very busy at work and elsewhere at the end of last year and hard to get space and time to think and write. The introvert in me finds it challenging to get time and space to recharge between all the events and busyness.

And it’s a difficult time of the year. My brother died tragically 5 years ago now at the end of November. Since that time it’s generally been a time of getting through in many ways, but it’s always hard in the lead up to Christmas as we seem to quietly relive aspects of those terrible days for much of November and December. It was also my brother’s birthday in December as well so you think of what could have been.

Christmas has never been the same and there always seems to be a sharp contrast between happiness, family and appreciation, and sadness, loss, and the gaps left by those we loved and love still, but who have left us. There’s a sense of pieces missing and a constant tinge of sadness. I suppose it is like that for many. There have been moments of just losing it in between it all, the familiar waves of grief coming back again but it’s always quietly, when on my own and no one is looking as it has mostly always been.

So it’s been a matter of getting through, ears pinned back through the busyness and events. Sometimes I am aware that I deliberately keep myself busy. There are times I enjoy, especially the precious time with my family and the end of year appreciation and camaraderie with work colleagues, but I am always glad when the busy times are over and I can look forward to the start of another year. I love relaxing after Christmas and into the new year with time and space to read and reflect, watch the cricket, go to the beach, take some walks and generally wind down.

I’m also taking solace in the words from a little book, ‘Be Happy: 170 ways to transform your day‘ by Australian author Patrick Lindsay. A gift from a dear friend at Christmas, it’s a gorgeous book with simple reflections and quotes “to inspire you to find the best in yourself and the world around you”. My eyes went straight to:

Be happy…

Put the past behind you

You can’t change it,

so don’t wear it like a chain.

Understand it.

Learn from it.

Turn the experience into a positive.

Use it to look ahead.

This has become my purpose, my raison d’etre and is why this blog is called ‘Transcending’. Sometimes though this may be as simple as just getting through a day, a week, a month, a year. I try not to beat myself up too much when I need some time just to reflect and remember, to just pin my ears back and get through and when I cannot write or blog as much as I might like to.

But it is good to be reminded also to look ahead and not get caught up in the past especially what cannot be changed.

I’m looking forward now to what 2013 will bring. It’s something of a tabula rasa at this time, a wide open space on which to inscribe and I’m starting to plan and prepare for what it might bring. I look forward to travelling with you this year into what our mutual journeys might uncover and contribute. I hope your year is full of positives and light.

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creativity love, loss & longing transcending

Rebooting

July 16, 2012

Restart and reboot yourself

You’re free to go…

Shout for joy if you get the chance

Password, you, enter here, right now’

from ‘Unknown Caller’, U2

It was a small, old, blue, beach cottage, up the coast, hidden in trees, shells everywhere suggesting a time to be spent collecting yourself. The cottage even had a name, ‘Chill-out’, written in shells and hanging on the lounge room wall.

There were magazines, books, TV, DVDs, day beds. There was no network connection, no phone line, no internet. You could hear the roar of the sea’s thunder from the back room open out onto the air.

It was also across the road from where my parents used to live for some 15 years, before they moved back to the city about eight years ago. Since then, my brother and father have died, and I was bringing my mother back to where she lived before all this, back to happy places and old friends. My aunty also was with us; she lost her husband six weeks before my dad died. We had all come to visit and stay in this little town for most of our lives. And so we returned, and lots of thoughts came along with us, of people we loved who had also loved this place and who came here to recharge and unwind.

Having no internet was challenging. Life is all so very connected and I realised this past week how dependent on technology I am. Apart from the obvious work reliance on email, I have a strong need for personal connectedness it seems. I read the papers on the net; do sudoku and crosswords; connect with family, colleagues, friends and fellow bloggers and online friends who value creativity, reading and writing as much as I. I read a book and find out more about it online; I connect through Goodreads and find out more about the author. I find out what’s happening in the world through the news in my twitter feed. I research online content to inform my writing and read a huge range of blogs through feedly.

I write a blog, I create content, choosing as my focus ‘Transcending’ and dealing with love, loss and longing, strengthening yourself through reading, music, writing, strategy and productivity, whatever it is that gets you through, takes you up and onwards. I connect with other creative people through this and am keen to progress my blog writing during the week away. I find that without the internet, I can’t connect the parts, do the research, create the images, and even instagram fails to work.

So I take photos on my iphone. I enjoy the company of my family; we eat, we drink, we relax, we walk through a canopy of trees on a boardwalk beside the beach, we read, do sudoku, play scrabble, catch up with our old neighbour, now a sparkling blue-eyed 86 years young. We reminisce, we talk about those not with us any more as the place brings them back into our conversation and our lives.

I take two books to read that week that both turn out to be about the presence of those not there any more in the physical sense. ‘Poet’s Cottage’, by Josephine Pennicott, set in Tasmania, is all about family, ghosts, old houses and their history and the interplay between them. As reviewer, Elizabeth Storrs, comments, ‘If you ever have doubts as to whether ghosts exist, then you should visit Tasmania.’ This is true – I’ve felt this when travelling there, in old houses where you can feel a strong presence of others no longer there. ‘Poet’s Cottage’ was an atmospheric read about the past and its influence on the present.

Then I read Anne Tyler’s ‘The Beginner’s Good-bye‘ in which the main character, Aaron, loses his wife when she is struck down by a tree. He starts to see her again and have conversations with her, never sure if they are real or not. Through this, he begins to re-establish a new and different life.

It was only last night, coming home and reflecting on the week, that I realised my head was fully engaged in reading about the presence of those not there any more, of reflecting and moving on.

When we got home last night, our ipads were not connecting to the wi-fi. To get mine to work, I turned off and rebooted, suggesting to my partner, “Sometimes you just need to restart to make all the connections again.” Even when the words come out of my own mouth, I don’t get it straight away. The universe must think me so slow.

So today with time to reflect on a deeper level and stumbling across the words above from U2’s ‘Unknown Caller’ in one of my notebooks, I finally gather together what the week was about: the opportunity to turn off some of the input, unscramble the data, to recalibrate and reboot, knowing I have the password and the resources to shift up and on to what matters, with the love of those who have left us, still ringing in our memories, somehow cheering us on.

Song lyrics: U2 – UNKNOWN CALLER LYRICS http://www.metrolyrics.com/unknown-caller-lyrics-u2.html#ixzz20kahhYv0, Copied from MetroLyrics.com

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Full review of ‘Poet’s Cottage’ coming soon as part of the Australian Women Writer’s 2012 Reading and Reviewing Challenge.

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love, loss & longing poetry transcending

That you couldn’t feel

June 10, 2012

My younger brother died tragically five years ago this coming November. His death changed the face of my world, and that of many others, forever.

Not. a. day. goes. by.

It’s especially when the sun is shining in a beautiful place where I happen to be, on a day when I have felt the greatest sense of achievement at work, when a song I love is reaching me and making me smile, that I feel his presence.

The beauty and achievement collides with this presence and then the sense of absence comes, keenly and sharply.

I have learnt to live with these moments. I have learnt to learn from them. But still they catch me, not unlike the moment when I found out about his death. The stillest moment of absence against a day of pure sunlight and the greenest of trees. Me sitting there unable to move, still trying to take it in. After all this time, I have learnt that you really never fully can take it in; you just keep trying.

Reflecting on this has made me search for the poem that came resonating back in recent days, the quintessential poem that equates such joy and sorrow, such beauty and pain. It is John Keat’s ‘Ode on Melancholy‘ and it captures the feeling of where the saddest feelings so closely align with joy and beauty, as if the extreme counterpoint brings the other into play.

So it is for me: sometimes I go deeper into the sadness as below, feeling it or thinking about what it means; other times, I celebrate the beauty I am experiencing, my achievements or happiness and think of how it relates to my brother, our family, our achievements and our happiness over the years before all the pain and that makes me smile.

That you couldn’t feel the possible beauty

of this sunlit day, beside the harbour,
by the edge of the aquarium,
the sails of yachts lashed with gold
like the promise of the treasure,
of another day, buried, while
the lean bodies of dark fish move past.

That you couldn’t feel the possible beauty
that night, of a small shard of hope,
a tendril of smooth glass to hold
to cut through past midnight,
to something like the chance
to hear again a song you loved.

That you couldn’t feel the possible beauty
of the ordinary flags of another day,
rainbows littered around,
scraps of coloured paper you could
write a life on, strung together
to harmonise the way.

That you couldn’t feel the possible beauty
of this very ordinary day now
finds me sitting by the harbour
as I bathe in the brightest warmth of light:
your absence shouting from the sparkling seas
and speaking from each body fleeting past.

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love, loss & longing transcending writing

First Anniversary of ‘Transcending’

May 3, 2011

Does a blog have a birthday or an anniversary? Following the communicatrix and others, I’ll go with anniversary. In this case, it’s the first anniversary of ‘Transcending’, a significant milestone. So what did I start out to do on May 2 last year? After much research, reading and thinking, I decided that ‘Transcending’ was my theme. And it still is. Sometimes I wonder, for sure, and I still need to do more work to build this theme and this platform; but I know that transcending is it, that it is relevant to so many people and that I need to keep mining it, milking it and keep that vein of possible riches flowing.

It’s been a huge battle at times. I’ve managed nearly a post a week on average and given the demands of my day job, seven weeks’ overseas travel, my daughter’s final year of school, a couple of operations and other dramas, that’s not so bad. I could do better, but it’s an achievement, all taken into account. The main thing is that I kept at it: writing, researching, tuning in and reading to others, synthesising and reflecting.

And as the communicatrix says so eloquently in her sixth anniversary post, it’s really all about writing:

What I’m trying to say, albeit rather clumsily, is that a lot of the time, the reason to write is just that—to write. You can write to promote yourself or write to make money or even write to find yourself but ultimately, you write to write. To be able to keep on writing. To be able to keep on getting better at writing. To be able, god willing, to write long enough that you write well enough to actually say something that will live on after you are no longer there to write.

But even if you don’t, even nobody reads your writing while you are alive and all your writing dies with you, if you are a writer (and maybe even if you are not), you are the better for having written.

Now, write.

That’s an important motivator for me: writing itself, the value of it, the process and the product. It’s what my working life has also been about. I’ve been happy with what I’ve written here and how I’ve found a voice here over the past year. It’s a voice that can do much more and stretch itself out a little now. I do know that the feeling of having written here, once I get through the resistance and work it through, is like birds soaring in the clearest of skies. One of my earliest posts, ‘The value of howling into the wind‘ captures this in a way I am proud of and still has the most hits of all my posts so clearly strikes a chord.

It is also the second anniversary of my father’s death today. His death and my brother’s tragic death in November 2007 are key motivators for this theme: one transcended in many ways in a sometimes difficult life and the other, also an incredible achiever, did not make it through one night. It is for these reasons, and the grief that goes with them, that transcending has become a theme in my life.

It’s why I write about transcending and resilience: working through, rising above, moving beyond, climbing across whatever is difficult or challenging. It’s not so I can look down on anyone else or feel superior in any way; that connotation sometimes worries me. It’s so that I, and you through reading and engaging, can work through, create, connect, be productive, strategise and achieve success in whatever is important: writing, grief, work, blogging, creativity, family contexts, planning and progress. Cut through and move on to the next challenge with the support of all those bloggers and other writers and creatives out there who are similarly focused on their life’s work and next project.

So what did I say I was going to do here 12 months ago? Here’s my first post:

‘Transcending’ is an exploration of the ways that we rise, overcome, climb across and pass beyond.

It celebrates the extraordinary power of the ordinary self in creativity, writing, in love, in the workplace and in our family contexts, such as our family history and what it means. It is about resilience, grief, love, loss, longing and the resonating shapes and forms we make to deal with this and move on and through. It’s about constructive approaches at work – strategies that cut through, synthesise and provide solutions. And it’s about images, structures, texts and ways of thinking that makes this possible.

This theme resonates and connects for me in all spheres of life and I hope connects and resonates with you also.

Join me in this journey as it unfolds. Some of the areas I hope to explore are:

writing as a way of transcending and moving through

my own creative journey as a writer

poetry and the shapes and structures we find to manage our emotions

music and images as vehicles for experiencing and managing feelings

family history and its stories of how we connect and experience life

constructive leadership behaviours and strategies

reading and reflections on transcending

connections with other writers and thinkers on this theme in all its guises

Reflecting back, it’s still spot on and it’s what I have focussed on. I can do more to hone my platform and that’s a challenge I welcome. I’ve revamped my page recently and it’s whiter and brighter: a new theme, Linen, to usher in a new year. Like my theme, there’s more to learn with the technology but I’ve also loved that learning over the year: learning wordpress, flickr, managing RSS readers, linking, taking photos and everything else that goes with a blog.

It’s been a wonderful journey this past year and I thank all those who have been here with me and visited. I also thank my inspirational guides and leaders in this online space, my seven stars that continue to be guides and fellow travellers in so many ways. I look forward to the next year with a sense of brightness and light. I hope you will join me here also in the shedding of that light.

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blogging creativity love, loss & longing music & images

Beauty and creativity

June 22, 2010

Further to the post of May 19 on my ‘seven stars’ – the blogging writers who have inspired me – I want to celebrate these stars further as I move forward. I acknowledged and celebrated them in that summary post but each deserves a bright and sparkling place of their own here in between other musings and jottings. I wish to acknowledge what they have given me, the windows they open, what is inspiring and what they offer to others. I am already sprinkling this through my posts in various ways, but they deserve more considering what they have given me.

To celebrate beauty, healing and creativity, I encourage you to visit Susannah Conway’s sites:

http://www.susannahconway.com/ In her own words: ‘This is the online home of Susannah Conway, a photographer, writer and creator of the Unravelling e-courses. A self-confessed Polaroid fanatic, she shares insights on her blog while exploring the world through her camera lens.’

http://www.flickr.com/photos/inkonmyfingers/sets/ Susannah’s photographs on flickr

You can also see Susannah talking about her creativity in a video interview, ‘Burning questions with Susannah Conway: beauty that heals’ at Danielle LaPorte’s White Hot Truth.

What Susannah gives me:

Clear open heart, beauty, creativity, something special to take away every time I read and visit, vulnerability, courage, a model for being open and creative and what that can do for other people, someone else talking like I feel about moving through grief, pain and healing, how that happens, what it feels like, creative ways to do this, reflections on light and shadow.

And anyone who takes the most beautiful photographs of her piles of moleskine journals, a box full of old penguin paperbacks she has just found at a garage sale, all the gorgeously titled books in her library sorted by colour and her poloraid camera collection is so very cool in my books and I just swoon with pleasure at the sights.

One of my most treasured posts is ‘Five years’ , a reflection on grief that has travelled now through five years. I connect through music with those I have loved and lost, and this post ends with an invitation to play a Kings of Leon song for Susannah’s partner whom she loved and lost. The song ends up being played loud all around the world by readers, including by me here in Sydney, with many tears shed all over in layers of connection.