forte et faible
A month ago, in a fairly typical-for-me flurry of cleaning out our garage preparing for a hard waste collection, I came across this poem dated October 2002.
It was given to me by a special teacher of mine, as I finished school at 16 years of age. Reading these long forgotten words again at 39, I was touched by how well she knew me. Fortunately, through some typical-for-me sleuthing, I have reconnected with her, and hope to meet in the new year. How special that reunion will be.
As my eldest completed year 1, and had his own special moments of connection with his class teacher as well as his retiring principal, I’ve been reflecting on how important my education has been to me. Not just in what I’ve learnt, but in the relationships I’ve made, and the homes I’ve found in the various teaching temples along the way.
Through turbulent family life, school (and being good at it) saved me. My books, my ability, and my relationships with teachers who cared about my learning, and by consequence, about me, were a secure base. Of course, it isn’t particularly wise to hinge self-esteem on ability but for a (somewhat lengthy!) point in time, it is a method of survival, of sorts.
Starting the education process again, as a parent this time, I am acutely aware of the treasured relationships that may be found along the way for my sons. My eldest seems to agree; he spent the first day of the summer holidays grieving the end of his relationship with his grade 1 teacher, and I so hope he is lucky enough to experience much more of the same in the future.
Finally, seven (no more, nor less) self-reflections on the year. Unordered.
I still start and stop things all the time.
I return to what I love. Writing has always been a way of returning home. (The joy at hearing my son say it’s his favourite subject!) If I’m not writing, I (should) pause to wonder what I’m avoiding getting close to. Often, doggedly pursuing to do lists and being consumed by the pressing reality of parenting can be an excuse to avoid difficult feelings and dilemmas. Perhaps that resonates? Whether it’s a conversation with a friend, journaling, or sitting on a therapist’s couch, a pause to connect within is a gift to the soul.
I want to consume less, and create more.
A walnut negroni is a great drink, and it is not worth getting het up at the Dan Murphy’s attendant who may suggest that the specialty liqueur required is ‘too ethnic’ for the location of said Dan Murphy’s shop. Don’t ask him what he means. Order it online.
Romance novels are underrated and there are plenty of contemporary, witty writers to be enjoyed. Recommendations welcome.
It is very doable to consume less in the form of fashion; I can love it and yet buy less, and purchase more second hand. Highly recommend Indyx to approach your existing wardrobe with a playful hand.
Everything feels better outside. Always and forever, the end.
