Anita

10 Jan

The Squiggly Line

I’ve been trying to orientate myself in a new year, consumed with a variety of want-tos and ought-tos of modern life. This devolved into much self-pity and an unreasonable desire to stay in 2014 where, while unfulfilled, at least I knew what the deal was.

All of this felt very uncomfortable and without a solution until I sat down and took stock of the things most important to me and values I couldn’t let go of… and realised that they didn’t fit a tidy quarter page summary that I could achieve in five years. My plan was not workable in a tidy, linear progression, and that frustrated the kensington out of me.

Because I love the orderly, and the summarised macro-view. I take it as a personal challenge to draw disparate pieces of information into a clean review and when that doesn’t happen I get a little tetchy.

This epiphany continued, with me realising that goals and hopes for even the next six months are on the surface contradictory – the usual suspects, like autonomy and community, or intentionality and spontaneity. They’re not necessarily mutually exclusive – not by any means – but perhaps requiring a little forethought in how they are processed as complementary. Their nuanced interaction may best be described as Claudia Batten’s squiggly line, the unexpected path with twists and turns moving towards something exciting and wonderful, but not necessarily comparable to any other journey. HalswellQuarry

So we’re heading wholeheartedly into 2015, unsure of where it will lead, but at least aware of desires for quiet and energy, space and solace, hope and challenge. And the parting words I’ll leave to Claudia on how to live with the squiggly path:

“People say ‘how do you do it?’ Well, you just do. You just feel uncomfortable and on your edge the whole time and it’s really, really hard. But the promise of pushing through and solving that — if your mind works that way and you’re motivated by that — means you don’t want to do anything else.”

04 Jan

Hello 2015

Image courtesy of Tales at Sea. Used with permission.

Travel was about going back.

Back to responsibility, back to routine. Back to questions and duties. It was about returning to expectations and leaving behind the assuring presence of those who know me the best.

2014 was a mammoth year for so many, crammed with bigger news than most of us expected in one short 12 months. After the reflections on the year and the rituals of Christmas and ushering in the new year, we make way for Ordinary Time – still a week away in the church calendar – but clearly coming due with everyone and everything returning to their right place; my journey the final part of that family transaction – sights once again on home.

It’s been intense. Another year realising that exponential growth has me and so many of my friends chaffing against out-dated modes of operating and poor excuses for ritual. Put simply, getting older is a funny thing. I need more space, more grace as I navigate the unfamiliar without a map. You need room: to grow and express yourself in your new and exciting season. It’s always like this, but sometimes more so than others.

2015 looms large and scary, a combination of Dissatisfaction’s necessary shift and Fear. How will I achieve what seems so large and far-fetched, but if I don’t attain to it, how will I ever be ok? The big bad step on the plane was just the beginning of a series of steps into the unknowable that will become history oh so soon. Faith is the compass and the instructions to Joshua more pertinent than ever:

Be strong and courageous

Be strong and very courageous

Today might be about going back, but it’s also about going forward. I’m not proud of everything I did in 2014 (or even today). Sometimes I don’t even recognise myself in it all. I’ve made plenty of mistakes – enough to completely write me off, but for the grace of those around me. It leads me to this quote from a poignant blog post

Let’s accept our failure.

And then, standing in the ashes of our failed plans,

let’s ask ourselves this:

What does this now free me to do?

Whether I feel ready or not, it’s time for some changes – some big changes for so many of us in unchartered territory. God be with us all, Brave Ones.

24 Aug

Back to basics

Anything worth doing well is worth doing badly until you get better

It’s been too long since I picked up my guitar. Actual years will show my age, but suffice to say I haven’t played much since airlines stopped allowing water on flights. My guitar became a piece of furniture in the corner – a monument to a simpler time when I could play without fear of critique or the burden of the question ‘do you write songs?’ There was something so confrontational about that question. If I answered yes, would you want to hear them? If I answered no, would you think less of me as a musician? Why did it matter?

The guitar was put in the corner and only whipped out when needed. I had started to play only when required to, only in public – and the secret enjoyment of playing for myself took second place to validation and identity as ‘the muso’. Music became a commodity and at times a chore. I felt bad about no longer playing, and the longer I left it the harder it was – until it became almost foreign to hold it. I had an awkward relationship with my instruments – they helped define me, and yet they restricted me. I played only in public – pulling a stranger out of the case and faking familiarity. The secret artistic outlet suffered. A lot.

I wished that I wanted to play, because then I’d play. In my mind I constantly harked back to being a young musician and playing for hours, with no evaluation – just joy and desire. That had dissipated years before and I sat in regret, without it occurring to me that desire might come after a little persistence and that a creative outlet might lead to some much needed change in my life. For a self disciplined person, I’m a little slow in this area of self-regulation.

So I reached into the dusty case this week and tuned this now unfamiliar instrument. To sit? to stand? to walk around and play? I wanted to feel out the instrument again, examine its nuances and see what a new room did to the acoustics – without fear of critique or even validation. It felt strange at first – forced – and a little inconvenient to my tender fingers. Just a little persistence – you’ve got nothing to lose… Then it became a little primal – a little back to basics. Not a great tone, not a clear strum. Not a polished sound by any means.

But it was all me – and a few lyrics came. Maybe I’ll share them one day. Maybe I’ll even like them. But in a poignant moment, letting the guitar breathe let me breathe again. It’s not about whether it’s world-class or even audience-worthy. It’s cathartic – this permission to play without duty or care. And if it comes to anything grand, that’ll be nice, but it’s not essential. And always, I’ll remember that anything worth doing well is worth doing badly until you get better.

14 Jul

The Company

roadimages Sometimes you take the wrong road and drive up to 30km across a variety of inhospitable metal surfaces, unable to turn back in a less than reliable car, in less than ideal weather.

Sometimes this is metaphorical, sometimes this is literal. This week we’ve already had both.

Today the physical road was a bit of a nail biter, and to distract myself from the sheer terror of getting stuck out of cellphone reception on an awful road, I wrote this blog post in my head.

My summations:

At some point in your life you’ll hit the metaphorical metal road, and more often than not you just have to keep going once you’re on them – turning back is ill-advised. Face the fear and push through it.
Good company ties the whole thing together – whatever the roads, great company is what helps you push through. Friends that are calm and confident (even if a little car sick in the front seat), right through to those who push you to your best when times are rough – make good company and be good company.
Fill up with petrol before the literal rough roads, and make good friends with your mechanic.