Creative people hate rules but take risks…

Posted on September 14, 2014 by Heathermargaret

Recently I read a list of attributes about people who identify themselves as creative. Not sure if it was a creative person who wrote this or someone who observes and watches the so-called creative folk…anyway this is the list:

  • Easily bored
  • Risk takers
  • Colour outside the line
  • Think with the heart
  • Make lots of mistakes
  • Hate the rules
  • Work independently
  • Change their mind a lot
  • Have a reputation for eccentricity
  • Dream big

Now whilst I’m not taking this list too seriously, I have been thinking it over and frankly it niggles me somewhat…yes, actually makes me a bit envious that some people can operate with such licence and all in the name of creativity. So in order for groups in our society to behave as above there is a group who have to do the reverse…isn’t that how it goes? Otherwise who would be taking responsibility for getting things done whilst the creatives are off being bored and changing their minds?

I have big dreams also but for some reason reality gets in the way of acting on the dream/s or is it maybe that I use reality as an excuse for not acting? You know, it’s safer to complain that there is never time or always others to consider…imagine if (and this is where I get cold feet) I threw responsibility to the wind and embarked on a wild project, a dangerous journey or even a way of life that held unknown consequences…and then if I didn’t pull it off…? It’s not worth thinking about…! So you see I’m not much of a risk taker, sometimes I’m all talk but when it really counts I hide behind responsibility.

Yes, responsibility I think, is a function that is difficult to discard once it’s inherited and well practised. Envy rides high along side this state, envious of others without the need to be or feel the need to ‘do the right thing’ or ‘get it right’ or make sure those wretched ducks are always lined up…

So why then do I get so worked up when I see others thinking freely, making mistakes and walking away, not following through because another a more ‘interesting thing’ happens along? I guess it’s because for every truly creative person who floats between the rules and changes their mind at whim (and gets away with it) there are ten other responsible people who pick up the pieces, keep the ‘normal boring things ‘ that keep our world functioning, happening. Sometimes it also gets tiring and boring being a responsible person, there is a lot expected from RP’s…so my drift is this.

I suspect, that at times there or people who relate and identify the above list for ‘creative people’ as a bit of a cop out…as if being creative is ranked as a higher order human condition which automatically excuses and privileges some people to behave outside the square, whilst most of us have to conform and keep the world functioning…

Maybe I’m being too harsh on our creative friends and colleagues or maybe I’m just plain jealous that I have to remain responsible (self-inflicted of course) and write a few lists to tick off from time to time. Of course one of the reasons for sticking to the rules (not the creative rules) is that if I don’t I feel incredibly guilty and anxious…so could it be that if I didn’t carry guilt and didn’t operate with a fair degree of anxiety? I would happily be a person who lives by the creative list rules…oops not rules, creative people hate rules?

So, now that I’ve sorted that for myself I’m about to embark on being less anxious (not sure how? but…) and I’m about to ban guilt from my thinking (now that will be extremely difficult) and existence for a week, just to see how it feels…Then it seems I will be free to be a creative list person. I may or may not check my emails for a week, I have several functions and meetings to attend, I’ll just might miss one or two, see how I feel on the day as I might be thinking about a bigger more interesting issue. Now, of course I might change my mind about all of this so don’t expect me to do any of what I say…I’ll just wait until I feel like I want to act on something, you know, ‘think with the heart’…already I feel a surge of creativeness…watch out, who knows what might come of this new state of mind…

Almost relaxed (just a tad anxious, don’t want to fall of this blooming book shelf…) eyes straight ahead, thinking outside the square, creative risk taking…(how long do I have to keep this up?) Think I liked the old rules better…!

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‘Busy’…a boring excuse or a necessary diversion?

Posted on August 26, 2014 by Heathermargaret

My sister wants to know why I haven’t posted any blogs this month. I’m sort of wondering that myself and to be honest I want to say that I’ve been busy (my sister will laugh when she reads this…we always laugh when people, mostly ourselves, say they are busy…!). But, I’ve been sort of busy in a practical sense, I guess! I’ve been pre-occupied with writer’s groups and committees (unless you have been part of a writer’s committee don’t scoff…), renovating a small flat in Melbourne, unwell friends and politics (not that I’ve done much to change anything). I’ve also turned my thinking to trying to make sense (make readable perhaps) of my novel which is now in about sixth draft. So, you see I have plenty of excuses (always handy to have a list of excuses at the ready) for not writing blogs this month.

There are times for all of us I suspect, when we fall away from the orderly and managed tasks to other less visible productive work…In the last month I’ve loitered at famous brand fabric and manchester  stores, chosen materials and covered at least ten cushions. These cushions are my own creation. I only use old (but very clean so don’t panic!) cushions. I sew them by machine and then finish by hand, they take ages but I absolutely love the process, nothing gives me more satisfaction than turning something old into something new and wonderful.  I have also knitted a wrap in multi coloured wool that I absolutely love…it does leave wool fibres over all of my other clothes and it slips a bit off my shoulders from time to time which results in endless tugging actions but the process of knitting this piece of warmth was heaven.

So you are getting the drift by now (I hope) and I haven’t even gone into lengthy explanations about writing groups and my novel, let alone politics… So what is it from time to time that allows distractions to take over and intervene in the life of a blogger?

Okay, I’ve given this some thought and I think that we have times when we need to re-fuel or simply have nothing of significance to say…it’s not that there is nothing to say but a matter of feeling the urge to comment on something that is important enough. About re-fueling…sometimes I have to take time out to be reflective and I think that’s what the cushion making does for me…the power of hands-on creation allows for a grounding experience that drives another process…thinking about life in a humble and meaningful way. There is another consequence of making and creating, at least for me there is…and this is the calm and stillness that accompanies the simple pleasure of making things.

And so, you might well be asking, what’s this got to do with not writing a blog and making excuses of being too busy? Well, I think it has a lot to do with needing to be in the right space to write. When I’m sewing tiny hand stitches or knitting beautiful yarn my mind is concentrated on a tactile and creative experience…colour, precision, evenness, smooth, rough, shape and of course appearance. This process is mostly driven by my sense of visual creativity.

When I write, particularly my blog writing, I concentrate on ideas, issues, rational and emotive reasoning and understanding. I tend to be driven by a passion for the ideas or notions within, hence intellectual creativity replaces visual creativity (or at least an attempt to do so).  As I ponder these two processes that I freely float between, I sometimes wonder if they compliment each other or in fact just get in the way of excelling or even doing moderately well within one of the paradigms?

So back to the initial question. Do we use business as an excuse to avoid or divert us from some tasks from time to time? I think we probably do but I also think that behind the avoidance there is often a real need to re-group, step back and re-fuel. Finding fulfilling ways to do this I suspect, can be very therapeutic. I’m off to stitch a cushion…

IMG_0752

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Crime writing…not for wimps

Posted on July 8, 2014 by Heathermargaret

win-free-lime-crime-lipstick-glamour-magazine-uk-300x253Over the week-end my local writers group, ‘Ballarat Writers Inc.’ held a festival of women’s crime writing with the fabulous ‘Sisters in Crime’. And what a rousing and fantastic time we had. We were treated to an amazing line up of talent, skill and knowledge from these published authors. They were a feisty group of super intelligent women.

I always think of ‘crime writing’ as a tough and strategic craft. I have no head for it, except I do like reading it. One thing’s for sure though, I wouldn’t know where to start if I had to write crime fiction. It seems to me that there’s a place in my psyche where I can’t quite go, a scared, whimpering place. So, even if I braved up and decided to start writing a crime novel, I think this is how it would sort of go…

…I would probably have my victim talk sensibly to the vicious murderer as he pulls a rope tight against her thin neck. He would hesitate as he hears her words of calm, then back away and suddenly collapse to the floor in a sobbing heap and beg forgiveness. His journey would then be to discover why he almost committed murder…that would be five hundred words into the first chapter…no murder, no plot, just a broken, sad person. I would have to invent a full psychological story for this sobbing wreck at my victim’s feet… I could never let him murder her… You see, I’m such a wimp.

So, you might be able to understand why I was so impressed by the brave, laughing, down to earth, ‘say it how it is’ bunch of women at our Festival at the week-end. These woman intrigued me and had me thinking about how they managed to write about life’s tough issues, the grimy, grisly, revolting stuff, and yet, not only stay in tact but laugh, joke and appear so grounded?

The other bit of thinking that has entertained me over the last forty-eight hours is about writing from the perspective of a particular genre. Let alone the gender perspective that I could go on and on about…but I won’t, well not for long, I promise. We all know (don’t we?) that women have been long-suffering in their quest for recognition as writers compared to men. For centuries women have not been taken seriously in the writing field, nothing new, it’s occurred in all sectors and professions and still does in some ways. Now I don’t want to turn this into a rant about how badly women are treated in the arts because I actually don’t think that would be helpful.

So back to writing in a particular genre. Does one start out to do so or does this happen along the way. How difficult is it to swap between genre’s after initial success. Recently, I heard a well-known published woman author speak to this issue. A crime fiction writer but not exclusively, the women spoke of the struggle to find publishers when she changes between genre. Rather than a book series or follow ups from a popular novel this author, it appears, follows her own intuition and direction which may or may not be crime writing when starting a new piece of work. This she indicates, makes her publishing life more difficult. It seems publishers box writers into categories and so they become very influential in what a writer actually writes. That is, unless the writer decides to take the risk of not complying, then I guess they suffer the disadvantages. And, the consequences can be to find another publisher…and we all know how hard it is on that journey…!

On the other hand I guess, writing in a style or in territory that a writer has previously explored and written perhaps makes for work that is polished and has depth…of course some might argue that it can become forced and formulated. I am posing questions in dangerous territory now because I really know very little about genre writing. But a couple of days ago, when listening to these women who appear to have such a strong committment and success in the area of crime writing, I came away with more questions than answers.

I guess that when people begin to write they gravitate to a natural space and focus that fits with their experience and psychological framework. Some people write what they know  and understand well whilst others writers perhaps, write to discover what they want to know and understand. So I guess that writing in a particular genre may not necessarily be a conscious choice at all.  So I wonder if some of the conditions that are necessary to write well within a particular framework may depend on the authors pre-disposed personality and life conditioning? Why is it that one person writes predominately from a historical perspective whilst someone else might write romance or crime?

And so, back to my sobbing prospective murderer. …This forty nine-year old has never had a chance in life…he changed schools ten times in five years, his mother died on his ninth birthday and his alcoholic father neglected him and his three siblings…the welfare stepped in and the abuse was perpetual…

Now I could engage with this story and possibly develop it. What I had to do however was take this narrative out of the suspense and action space and move it to a platform that I could deal with. There would have been little chance of me letting him kill the victim and then establishing a story around it. And yet, I suspect that if I could have created a murder scene then maybe I would be on my way to being able to write crime fiction…don’t hold your breath.

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Passion and compassion…it starts with me

Posted on June 28, 2014 by Heathermargaret

I’ve been thinking a lot about having passion for a cause or an idea. It’s not always easy to have a clear understanding of where our ideas and philosophies lie, hence being able to form clear and rational notions of what we stand for and support. I guess this is a wide and ranging topic that we all from time to time think about but leave in the too hard basket. I know I do sometimes.

Lately however, I have tried to stay with the identification of personal ideals and understand what they mean for me, my family, friends and people in the wider community. As an older Australian with most of my work life behind me rather than ahead, I am very thankful for the opportunities that I had to get educated (as a mature aged student) and to be employed in the field that I was trained in.  My journey, whilst I worked hard and hopefully usefully was a matter of perseverance, development and good employment opportunities rather than funding and job cuts as so often seen in today’s climate. The threats that face certain sectors and the ambivalence around long-term employment were not factors that I had to deal with. I was lucky (perhaps one of the last of the ‘lucky country’ participants…) compared with many workers currently faced with lack of job security and possible family instability as a result.

And so, I worry a lot for our children and their families, especially if they work in sectors of job change (are there any sectors not effected?) or funding cuts. I worry for older people who have not been able to provide adequately for themselves in later life and I worry for individuals with disability or illness that has impacted their ability to work and accumulate financial independence for housing and basic day-to-day living needs.

As a society we have a strange way of appreciating that everyone is equal and that opportunities to health, education and housing should be fair and reasonable. Sometimes we do our best to enable that our own family members are doing okay but beyond that the task becomes too hard…or so it seems.

So, this is where my passion comes in. I get upset when I hear of good people doing it hard. I get upset when I hear of people with addictions and mental health issues not having the services and supports any decent society would and should supply. I get very upset when I hear stories about pensioners who can’t afford to pay for adequate heating and necessities. And, I get very angry when I see some sectors of our society ignoring the plight of others around them.

So, why do we look after ourselves and then not give concern to others who may be struggling. Why do we turn a blind eye or even worse, why do we condemn or blame those less fortunate than ourselves. Of course if we where to be sympathetic and develop a sense of understanding then I guess we would have to do something. And, it’s the doing something that most of us shy away from.

Even politically, we assess the newly announced policies by our Federal Government with an eye to how these changes might affect us or change the way we live. Once convinced that perhaps it could be worse or that we can live with it we go about our daily lives and dismiss the problem. But what about the people who’s lives are greatly challenged by government changes? What happens to them as we put our own heads further into the sandpit?

Well it seems to me that as a society we demonstrate a lack passion for general humanitarian causes and compassion for the less fortunate for what ever reason. What does it take for some folk to realise that humanity is about all people?  Is humanity also in the too hard basket? Does it take the occurrence of hardship on ourselves or a family member to somehow awaken in us a sense of compassion and understanding? I hope not…

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Amazing kids…

Posted on June 21, 2014 by Heathermargaret

I have just read a couple of amazing emails written (to their grandparents who are overseas) by a six and a half-year old and nine-year old. Articulate, precise and full of genuine engagement and fun, these emails (not so long ago, would have been sent in a letter or card) are the correspondence of young children living in a world with the advantage of knowledge, a stimulating environment and family security.

So why is it that some kids flourish and leap ahead of developmental and educational expectations whilst some little ones struggle to learn basic reading and writing skills? Of course the answer to this dilemma is complex and varied and I’m rather foolish to be thinking that I can even pose the question let alone go close to writing about it…but I’ll have stab at it…

And yet, there are children almost the same age (as the children that wrote the emails) who struggle to form a sentence let alone write a clever and witty email. These children lack the stimulation and perhaps the encouragement needed in order to find a voice and confidence that many children with opportunity are privy to. It’s not always this clear because we know that kids who experience trauma, abuse and insecurity have giant challenges to the way they learn. So, what happens to these strugglers?

It’s fair to say these kids feel unworthy, not up to the task, they worry and put energy into strategies to camouflage their problems or difficulties rather than focus on progressive learning. Then at a later date it’s not unusual to see some of these children seeking out activities that fulfill the self-image that’s been projected on to them as young children. Unpopular, slow, dumb, awkward and not worthy. Except that these kids are sometimes very clever, perceptive and intuitive. Sometimes these particular skills are labelled ‘street smart’. When behind the ‘eight ball’ these perceptive abilities are all some kids have. They are highly tuned to the environment around them, it’s called survival.

I know of a young child who doubts his own ability to learn to write well and to learn word recognition like some of the other children in his grade. Already there are signs that he views himself as not so clever, not so able and incompetent. And yet, his antenna for signs of disharmony within his environment is highly tuned and he is hyper-vigilant. He watches with the eye of one beyond his years, unlike the trusting naivety of a child who is protected from the harshness and inappropriate behaviour of dysfunctional adults.

Of course, there are some young children who have developmental delays that prevent the steady and quick uptake of learning but hopefully these young one’s are identified early enough for specialist interventions to make a difference. I only mention this group of children to make a clear distinction to the group of kids who I believe fall within the general range of ability but who struggle. Now I’m not an educationalist, I’m a family therapist and my comments come from an understanding of family conditions and situations that are usually necessary for children to do okay enough in school and life.

So, what does this tell us…I think is tells us that some kids bring baggage with them as they enter education. They arrive at school after already having had five or six years of tumultuous living… As a consequence they have been taught (unconsciously) to seek instant gratification as this helps to alleviate anxiety; not to trust or engage too closely because you never know when trust will be broken; to encourage attention in any form as a way to cover up inadequacies and to remain hyper-vigilant at all times because these kids have learned to be on guard, safety isn’t always guaranteed…

It must be very difficult for children who engage in the above behaviours to relax and concentrate well at school when they unconsciously carry a range of survival skills in their back packs.  Are these the pre-conditions for young children to learn and flourish? I think not. It actually means that some youngsters have to make up a lot of ground, some are resilient and manage to overcome the difficulties and become amazing in their own right, some kids don’t…

Back to the young children who wrote the wonderful emails to their grandparents…what a delight to see children exploring in word, concept and with such confidence. It’s a reminder to me just how amazing kids can be when the right conditions prevail and are given encouragement to thrive.

Kids-Show-2014

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Do I have to be sad to write?

Posted on June 9, 2014 by Heathermargaret

Diary imageSometimes I think that the only time I see life in clear perspective is when I’m sad or ‘doing it tough’. When I’m happy and carefree there seems to be little to write about. Perhaps it’s because when a person is in a state of  ‘everything is okay enough’…why spoil the picnic…? There are times when some circumstances are hard to fathom and create worry or concern. For me there is solace in writing, a clarity and comfort that isn’t always present in other means of explaining or expressing angst and worry.

Recently, I had a conversation with a small group of women about women’s lives and writing diaries and memoirs. Some of the group said they wrote in their diaries when they were going through difficult times, others said they would never write about personal troubles. The conversation then moved to ‘what to do with dairies?’ Should they be left for others to read or are they only a tool for the writer…most thought they should be destroyed, preferably before the demise of the writer.  Just as well all people don’t think this way. How many wonderful stories and discoveries have been told as a result of finding a diary in the attic or in an old trunk in the shed? On the other hand I guess, there have been a few distressing and concerning finds as well.

I want to take this to another level. As I said when opening this topic, I write with clarity (self perceived) and honesty when seemingly under stress or worry. I also feel that I understand or can relate to other people who have personal issues or difficulties as a result of dealing with my own concerns honestly (and privately). Writing has helped me do this. It’s a process that’s taken a while but being honest about what’s happening and it’s impact is very self-regulating. So, I guess I will shred my diaries and essays when the time comes (not that anyone has a good handle on that…) but at the moment I occasionally re-read them and consider them precious.

Most of the honest writing that I do and have done (and I’m not talking about blogs, short stories and novel-writing) is when I’m struggling with issues that seem unresolvable or at the least particularly worrying. I know when my Mother was dying I wrote often…about her and about the lovely small things that meant so much to me. I remember writing about my Mother’s cardigans and how she loved new ones, splendid in their pastel and beautiful colours.  Writing about my Mother’s cardigans had not a lot to do with the garments themselves but the person who was fading and entering the last phase of her life…the writing at the time was about grief.

And then, when my adult children strike hard times and are vulnerable, I resort to my private world of expression. Words are comforting and somehow help. Perhaps it’s just like having a good conversation with a well trusted friend, writing about feelings can free up the internal responses to grief, worry, sadness and a range of other emotions that hold us to ransom on occasions.  There is something therapeutic about writing down our concerns and trying to make sense of them, it’s actually having to confront our irrationality and fear and then moving to the next level. Writing makes it less possible, I believe, to be swept along by irrational worry and angst…mostly anyway!

And so, why is it easier to write when I’m sad, worried or fearful? Why can’t I write when I’m less challenged? Maybe for some people the process of writing is about the need to understand, to free oneself of the disenfranchised feeling of hopelessness and to find a place that is calming and comforting. To externalize the problem and to be honest about concerns and worry is sometimes soothing.  Of course, feeling soothed does not necessarily mean the problem is solved but maybe it paves a path towards acceptance and a clearer understanding of a situation. So what happens to the need to write about personal issues when life is less problematic? Simply, I suspect there is less psychological need to deal with or figure out the serious and difficult issues in life when all feels well or managed at the time.

So to answer my own question. No, I don’t have to be sad to write but it’s easier to write about life issues when I can relate and empathise with others from having written honestly about my own life. Anyway, I think that’s how it goes…

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‘Sunshine on Leith’ it feels so good…

Posted on May 24, 2014 by Heathermargaret

Want to watch a feel-good, beautiful and straight-forward movie?  Then you might want to see ‘Sunshine on Leith’. Yesterday we went to see a film, just something pleasant to do in the late afternoon. My husband chose the film, I had vaguely heard about this release and had not really read the reviews. The treat was all ahead of us…

I loved this contemporary Scottish film from the very start. Instantly I was there, in magnificent Edinburgh, Scotland, a place I have to agree to being very fond of and strongly identifying with. Never before had I heard the Scottish accent come through so strongly in song but there it was before me and very real. The music had me toe-tapping, the story had me crying and laughing but most of all it made me feel good.

Now dare I say, this film may be critiqued by clever film buffs and the super intelligent precious people of the world as being a tad ordinary…but that’s what I loved about this film. It was about ordinary people in Edinburgh leading ordinary lives. However, there is something very beautiful about putting a suburban story to music and depicting the issues and emotions of a modern-day family. Young men at war, unforeseen relationship difficulties, love and illness are played out in a way that relates to many families across the world today.

I have to admit the Scottish flavour won me, I left the theatre feeling elated and happy and to use an old saying about this film, it simply ‘warmed the cockles of my heart’.

british-beret

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Okay, I’m angry now…the wink did it!

Posted on May 21, 2014 by Heathermargaret

I’ve tried my best to contain my concern over the current political situation, mainly the Australian Abbott Government and its seemingly arrogant lack of empathy and understanding toward some sections of our community. Shameful notions like ‘the age of entitlement is over’, who was so entitled anyway? Single mothers living on welfare and struggling to buy bread and milk for their kids or maybe it was the twenty-six year-old who lost his job and is now (soon not to be) on new start allowance…great existance and so, so, entitled Mr Abbott…!

Or maybe it’s the university students who are so entitled (yes tertiary education is a wonderful gift and it should be available for all to access) but a student from a poor or struggling family is not living in the cupped hands of entitlement just because they have found their way to university (often they just manage to sustain themselves during their time as a student). Oh no, My Abbott says, make them pay more when they qualify, no more entitlements. Of course students from wealthier families have it easier, more support and even assistance to pay back their education debt. It’s called opportunity Mr Abbott…opportunity if you are wealthy, and have good support networks, if you have been to private schools and already have special priveledges…that’s what I actually call entitlement.

And so, over the last week I’ve held my tongue…looking for a mature and sensible way to oppose some of the notions put forward by the Liberal Government that seem to attack the most vulnerable people in our communities. These policies come from a position that clearly sits outside any realistic view or understanding of how difficult it is for some people to exist in today’s world. It’s not the fault of individual people when they find themselves unemployed, sick or elderly without enough means to get by, it’s the fault of the greedy economic strategists who promote individualistic ideals.

And so, this morning as I listened to ABC talk back, I quietly congratulated the people who had enough fortitude to ring in and confront our current Prime Minister with their outrage and disappointment. I can’t recall ever hearing such anger directed toward an Australian Prime Minister…I guess there are times when enough is enough…I thought in my naive thinking, surely Mr Abbott himself must have been shaken and perhaps even went away pondering his own version of political wisdom…

Oh, but this was not to be. This evening as I watched (on television) part of the radio interview that I listened to this morning, I was amazed to see Mr Abbott mocking a caller by winking and making light of her story. The caller, a sixty plus pensioner with several serious health issues tried to explain how she was struggling on the aged pension and had to supplement her pension by working on an adult sex line. That was when Mr Abbott winked at the presenter and smirked…This is a man who holds the top parliamentary position in the land…and yes, he mocked her…and I suspect he didn’t understand nor did he attempt to understand, a smidgin of what she was so upset about….

So that’s why I’m angry, really angry!

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Shetland Ponies and those memories…

Posted on May 19, 2014 by Heathermargaret

Yesterday, I drove past a paddock with several Shetland ponies grazing in the sunshine. Their Shetland_pony_-_frontstumpy little legs firmly on the ground, rounded tummies and their thick, oversized manes created a picture of quaint beauty. They almost betray the horse name, it’s as of they should have a name all to themselves. Horses are tall and strong and are prone to prancing and galloping, they hold the viewer at bay but often in awe. Whereas, Shetland ponies tend to conjure up a very different reaction, people want to approach them, pat them and talk to them as if they are children or some type of novelty to be petted and admired. Well, maybe not…

When we were kids, my sister and I had a Shetland pony. We lived on a very small farm and were delighted when ‘Cuddles’ arrived after much nagging about ‘why can’t we have  a horse’. Neither I or my younger sister could ride, I was about ten and my sister was six at the time. ‘Cuddles’ a pre-loved pony (he came to us from another owner), wasn’t all his name built him up to be. He was prone to be snappy, and couldn’t be trusted to always stand still whilst a small person climbed on his back. He was stubborn with a mind of his own and he made it quite clear that he wasn’t much interested in a couple of kids who clearly didn’t know the first thing about horses or riding.

I recall once, getting a bridle over his head, fastening it and then attempting, very gingerly to haul myself across his bare back. He kicked his short legs in the air and threw me over the other side before I knew what had happened. There were the times when he would accept grass and food bits and act friendly, then as I relaxed he would nip my hand with his oversized teeth. I soon lost interest in ‘Cuddles ‘ or should I say my confidence to manage him was rock bottom. Not so for my younger sister, she was (still is I suspect) the braver sister and she persevered with the cantankerous little creature. I remember when our father drove a small flock of sheep to a property about ten kilometres away for shearing, my little sister rode ‘Cuddles’ all the way, I drove in the car with my mother…

Now it’s not that I don’t like Shetland ponies, I actually do, in fact I would love to own a Shetland pony (a friendly one) but I’ve got memories of a bad-tempered brown pony, shorter than me, whom I was never able to overcome my nervousness over. Maybe I’m one of those people who actually say…I love horses but I don’t like to be too close to them. My mother was one such person, she was petrified of horses as was her own mother…come to think about it, is it any wonder that ‘Cuddles’ had such power over me?

Well anyway back to the stocky little horses. It seems these little creatures have credibility on their side. Originating from the Shetland Isles in Scotland, these small ponies were used in tin and coal mines and pulled peat carts for the crofters. They were considered strong and sturdy and with good temperament for the tasks required. They were renowned for living long lives.

After our move from farm to town living, our stocky little ‘Cuddles’ went to live on a farm not far from our previous property. For many years we would see him grazing in a paddock and were amazed by his longevity. We were adults by the time that old pony died. And I never did learn to ride a horse…

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A familiar place and space…

Posted on May 17, 2014 by Heathermargaret

Ever wonder what makes us feel familiar and attached to particular places? This issue is one that has been swimming around in my head for sometime now. In order to experience somewhere as familiar, probably requires a person to have been away from a particular place and space of knowing for some time. It can be cultural as well as geographical, I suspect.

We all know of people who spend most of their years in a one cultural environment and then re-connect to their country, culture, religion of their birth later in life. I think I understand this bit. I assume that to have an innate understanding of a culture or place and yet not be able to participate and feel really connected must at times have a hollow ring to it. The pull to re-connect must be very strong for some individuals.

Life stage is also a big factor in why some people want to pursue deeper and closer ties to their past. As younger people we are full of developmental tasks to achieve, school, university, jobs, travel, partnering, parenthood, houses, mortgages, achievements and many, many more stressors and joys that come our way. It isn’t perhaps, until we have cleared the deck of some of the above that we start to reflect and think about who we really are and where our places of familiarity are.

Today, as I sometimes do, I returned briefly to my home town to visit the cemetery. The sun shone and the paddocks flanking the road sides were lush and green. I inhaled the essence of a place that I grew up in…try explaining that to someone who thinks there is now such thing as familiar place and space! Whenever I return I have the same reaction despite the fact that many things have changed in my old home town. It’s akin to pulling on an old pair of gloves, they fit and you hardly know they are on your hands…

It’s not that I want to return and live in the place of my birth and childhood, I have a full life outside that familiar space now but I do instantly recognise a comfortable feeling of returning. This space is where I am historically connected, regardless of where I have been and what I have done in the meantime. However, it needs to be acknowledged that for some people, not all early connections and experiences are positive and the feelings of familiarity that I’m referring to often bring distress and personal pain.

I’m fortunate, my place and space has many good memories and feelings. My parents, grandparents and extended family lived mostly in this small town, a town that I now visit for a smell of nostalgia and a calm feeling of wellbeing. And so, to wander in the autumn sun on familiar soil, to see the gum trees glisten in the background is to feel the pull of all things familiar. I don’t have words for the sensation that enters my being when I am there, it’s a sort of knowing and belonging that I never experience anywhere else…

Majorca_unthinnedcanopy

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