little things

Quiet – the book…

| Mairead

2910c

(Solitude)

I’m reading a really interesting book at the moment. It’s called Quiet by Susan Cain. There’s also a TED talk. She writes about extroverts and introverts and thinks the extrovert personality type has an unfair advantage. The extrovert is seen as the ideal type, which can mean those of us who favour the introvert way of being can seem odd. Cain suggests the world needs introverts to be introverts. Although the words introvert and extrovert are not new to me, it is new to hear that it’s perfectly acceptable, in fact necessary (for an introvert) to be an introvert. No one told me.

2910b

(Old weather-beaten wall)

Cain explains that extroverts are energised when they’re with large groups of people – they love parties, they dislike solitude. Wait a minute… they love parties? And they refuel their energy when surrounded by lots of people. I didn’t know that was even a possibility. While introverts prefer solitude and get energised in nature or alone and they like to chat with one person at a time. Turns out the introverts often push themselves to be more extrovert so that they can fit in or get things done….. like give dinner parties or talk to a committee or whatever. But it is a very tiring activity for introverts to behave in an extroverted way and they need to refuel with space and solitude.

2910a

(Old wood)

I used to be very shy as a child and I remember when I went to college at seventeen making a decision, from that day forward I would be outgoing. It was easy, no one knew me from my previous school and I was good at pretending. So I watched outgoing people and copied them. I enjoyed it and since there were only four girls in a class of eighty I got a lot of attention! I was rewarded well for my efforts, but it was very tiring. I often used to wonder why I didn’t like parties, I thought there was something wrong with me.

2910e

(Old hearts)

It’s okay to love solitude. Mairead.

Potato Soup Time

| Mairead

2410a

(The stained recipe page)

I’m making soup. I love making soup. I love how it tastes, how it smells and I even like looking at it. It’s potato soup (it’s always potato soup) well, there’s also thyme in it but the main ingredient is potato. I’ve been making it for about fifteen years. Well, no, I mean, I’ve been repeating the soup making procedure for the past fifteen years, not, it’s taking fifteen years to make some soup. But… also, I mean it’s taken fifteen years to make this soup.

2410c

(One of my second-hand French tea towels –  beautiful shadows! Into the soup too!)

When my little boy was in primary school sometimes I would make the potato soup early, just before driving down to collect him. When he got into the car he would know that I had made it. How? He’d smell it on my clothes!! Now I know this might not please everyone but I loved it. You see, he loved the soup and he was happy when I smelled of soup because he’d soon be having soup! And I loved that I could do something so simple and have that impact.

2410d

(Snow from 2010 – into the soup too! It started snowing in my sister’s town in Canada today – oops)

So that and everything else I’ve experienced in those fifteen years goes into the soup I’m making today. Even though I use the same (stained) recipe book (I can never keep a recipe in my head…) and stick to the same basic recipe, the soup is filled with much more than the list of ingredients. It’s filled with the stories, the lessons, the happy days, the sad days, the angry days, the embarrassing days that I’ve experienced, because all those things are part of me now and they’re here as I make the soup. They’re in my arms as I dice the onions. They’re in my hand, full of thyme –  bigger and nicer because now I grow it. There in my choice of real butter, for a time it was olive oil, before that it was coconut oil. They’re in my back as I wonder about the weight of the saucepan, because a few years ago I longed to feel what my grandmother must have felt using a giant saucepan on a solid fuel cooker to make soup for her six children.

2410e

(Love, love, love stitches, especially if they’re HUGE – into the soup too!)

The soup we’re going to have today for dinner owes its magnificence to the complete picture of the person who makes it, warts and all. Mairead.

Fearlessness in Baby Steps

| Mairead

2310f

(French window)

Ok….. so, I’m supposed to be practicing (from the dictionary: the actual application or use of an idea, belief, or method as opposed to theories about such application or use) my fearlessness this week. I was figuring that might include some standing up on a soapbox or knocking on people’s doors or listening to a lot of criticism. It turned out to be a lot simpler than that. (Thankfully.)

2310a

(French gate)

But before fearlessness there came little drops of sunshine. I have no idea who reads my words, unless they tell me. So I don’t know if the person who sent me this beautiful Ted talk about creativity read my last post. Or the person who met me for coffee…. Or the two people who gave me massages… Or the person who listened without asking me anything… Or the person who sent me a text to tell me she was doing lots more creative things since talking to me… Or the person who told me she was thinking of me… Or the person who sent me a link to hens (yes hens)… Maybe their kindness was a coincidence, but this week I got a heap of kindness. And the best bit? No one encouraged me. No one told me it was easy. No one told me to just do it. No one told me not to do it. No one pointed out that I didn’t know how to follow my dream… The silence was beautiful, thank you 🙂

2310g

(French garage doors)

And in the silence there was the first fearlessness – listening to myself. You might be surprised to learn that the one who thinks I should be doing things better… is me. Funny that. (Well, no not that funny, really.) Yep, there’s no group of protestors with banners outside my door calling TRY HARDER IN THERE! The protest is inside. This might be a good time to silence the protest inside my head.

2310e

(French church door)

And in that (at least partial) silence there was the second fearlessness. Anytime I’ve encouraged others to practice fearlessness (or any other new behaviour) I’ve known it needs to be done in baby steps. And it needs to include gentleness as you would towards a baby taking their first steps. Loudly shouting at the baby to GET UP OFF THAT FLOOR AND WALK, NOW! rarely brings success. This was a good time to practice the baby-step theory.

2310h

(French hiding door)

So, my itsy, bitsy, baby step happened quietly, gently at a small table in a pretty little coffee shop. I sat with an old friend (she’s not old, she’s… ah, you know what I mean) who definitely didn’t read my post and I haltingly (at first) began to tell her about my hopes and dreams for getting other people to connect to their creativity and to their peace… and no one died… and she understood… and then we talked about something else.

Brene Browne

(And my favourite sister sent me this photo-quote… It’s Brené Brown who is also running a creativity course… with Oprah! Creativity is very in…..)

I’m grand, how are you? Mairead.

Heavy Rain brings Cheerful Scones

| Mairead

1610a

(22 raindrops (or thereabouts) in a row… )

It was a very dark morning full of heavy rain when I woke up. So I lay there listening to the sound of water hitting the window, the roof and the cat. It was surprisingly pleasant (well not the cat bit but he stopped being unpleasant when I let him in.) My memory might be faulty but I think we haven’t had very many heavy rain storms this year. I was enjoyed this one.

1610b

(This flowering shrub has been cheering me all through the summer, looks like it’s happy continuing into the autumn)

It got me thinking about all the things I connect with heavy rain (I mean the nice things I connect with heavy rain.) Being in bed, nice and warm. Staying home, warm and dry. Darkness in the daytime reminding me of the tunnel of trees. Scones and butter. Raindrop sounds. Comfortable shoes. Scones. It was the scones that finally got me out of bed but I completely forgot about them.

1610c

(Pretty edges on the leaves)

By lunchtime it was still dark and raining and I was starting to feel tired and I don’t mind telling you, a bit grumpy. I was talking to myself in a less than kind or helpful way. Like I thought that would encourage me… I worked on my art journal and even began the process of painting one of my tea towels (it takes a few days.) But yet I continued to feel a bit heavy and very slow and not very accepting of this state.

1610g

(More raindrops)

Then I remembered the scones and I was all excited again. Unfortunately, I was in the middle of eating the last egg in the fridge at the time… Still… it is possible to make scones without eggs, which reminds me of the other nice thing about heavy rain – hens.

Heavy rain produces worms and sometimes scones, Mairead.

The Apron of Focus.

| Mairead

1410a

(My ceramic apron)

It’s been a really beautiful day here today in Greystones – sunshine, blue shies and little fluffy clouds. I’m still working on my wall painting, but I sense there’s a strong possibility it won’t in fact take five months to complete. I seem focused in a way that has not been my experience in the past. I think my creativity work is effecting even this little project.

1410c

(Paper aprons)

When I started my art, craft and design course last year one of the tools we had to supply was an apron. Fair enough, I had lots of aprons for cooking so I used one of them. But although I had lots of aprons to use while cooking I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t use them while cooking. Don’t know why. So I was surprised by how much fun it was to wear them for crafting. Yep – fun. I know – weird.

1410b

(Painted crepe paper apron)

Then when we went to France I brought along my favourite apron (you do have a favourite apron, don’t you?) It was natural, crafting was now connected to wearing an apron. Over there putting my apron on seemed to draw me towards the trestle table and work (by work I mean play… with direction!) In the afternoons I kept the apron on for writing the blog post.

1410d

(Apron Strings)

Now I think there was a connection between wearing an apron and getting things done. Wearing an apron became an anchor (a strong response to an external trigger) to focussed creative work. And the anchor is still working. Because… the wall painting (I’ve been wearing an apron again and also painting-clothes – wall painting is extremely splatter-y) is definitely getting done.

 1410e

(And a fuzzy picture of my other ceramic apron)

It was only as I searched for pictures for this blog post that I remembered all the ways aprons inspired my crafting in the past year. I’ve been making aprons in one form or another all this time not realising they were also making me 🙂

I like that, Mairead.

If you only had one… What would you do… With that day?

| Mairead

0910d(Cute (Little gazebo in the walled garden in Marley Park)

I have lots of old magazines. I brought three with me to France to use in my collages and montages. I didn’t really think three would be enough, which reminds me of the glue and how enough that was… Anyway, it turned out three was more than enough and I’ve decided not to break into my big magazine stash until I really, really need to. Maybe keep them for my course (details here!)

0910b

(… and nice door…)

So yesterday I was paging through one of the three – an Image magazine from 2010 – and I was selecting colours and pictures and I stopped at a page with a photograph of the fashion designer Paul Costelloe. He was smiling, surrounded by lovely models. The headline of the page said “if I only had one day…” and the text was full of the things Paul Costelloe would do on his perfect day. You’re probably way ahead of me in terms of what he wanted… It was simple things, like cycling in his scruffy jeans and eating fluffy potatoes!

0910a

(… and strange carving….)

Something made me stop on this page. When that happens usually I start thinking about it but my time spent in France putting my attention on big picture thinking (creativity) has had an effect. So, I got out my tools and started to play with the page. I tore it out and roughed it up a bit with paint, ink and sandpaper. Only then did I notice his hands… In the picture he’s clapping, as they do at the end of the runway when all the models have modelled a new collection and everyone is clapping the designer and the designer is clapping too. So his hands were up and I could see the palm of one hand. There was a long jagged cut running down his thumb to his palm which was covered in plasters. He must have hurt his hand.

Medlars

(…and a Medlar tree  – thanks to the Happy Pear for the name)

It turns out I had some preconceived notions about this man and they fell away as I looked at his hand…The story I was believing was about a famous man with loads of money, who could do anything he wanted and he had it easier than me… And now? Now I was making up a new story about him… about a man who worked hard, his job caused him some pain, in fact it might not be easy, it’s possible he found it hard to drop everything and do some things I take for granted. Sure, he still had money but now I was wondering what my perfect day might hold, because simple things like scruffy jeans and fluffy potatoes are well within my price range.

So… what would you do with your perfect day? Mairead.

Where do all the clothes come from?

| Mairead

0810b

(We had no idea there was a lovely walled garden in Marley Park, about 30 minutes from home)

Right so we’re back where we started, everything’s the same but nothing’s the same. And my most pressing question is… where did all the clothes come from? I spent the weekend washing and drying the clothes we brought to France. Lots of clothes. Plenty for a month of warm, little chilly, warm again (in other words, mixed) weather. But as these clothes were washing and drying there was still a wardrobe full of other clothes that we had not taken to France. Somehow we had survived without them. Somehow we didn’t need them. Then what are they for? Why are they lurking in our cupboards? If I packed them up and put them in the attic for a few months would we even notice? Probably not.

0810a

(…with a fountain)

But I’m not going to do that. I already have a ton of other distractions to fill my time, de-cluttering will have to wait until my schedule allows…. ah and therein lies a problem. I need a schedule…. a schedule that allows for stuff that can’t be ignored and yet gives the important stuff (creating stuff) high priority. A schedule that notices when I am tired and insists on rest. That notices when I am spending too much time wandering around having great ideas and not enough time implementing the previous great ideas and insists (gently) on focus. Complaining bit in next paragraph, skip if you’re having a nice day and/o you have real problems and don’t need to hear my “problems”….

0810d

(… and hens! And a cockerel…)

It was so easy when I was away….

  • Grocery shopping only once a week.
  • Lovely coffee and croissants.
  • Waking in the countryside.
  • Nowhere I needed to be.
  • Able to ignore notices from Revenue.
  • In fact able to ignore all the post – what post?

0810g

(… and pigeon houses…)

Ok I’m back… I need a schedule… hang on I just realised something. I can have all (almost) of those things I’m lamenting. Right? Ok you’ll have to read the previous paragraph after all… First, I can go grocery shopping once a week – we’ll call that Eat the Fridge. Second, the coffee won’t be a problem until we run out of the supplies we brought back (probably a month)  – we’ll call this Cold Brew at Home. Third, walking – just walk – we’ll call this Just Walking. Fourth, where do I need to be? Probably not as many places as I think…. We’ll call this Staying Home. I could so ignore Revenue but we’d probably have to call it Paying the fine. So instead I could open the post once a week? We’ll call this Friday feels like the best day for post. Sorted – no problems.

0810e

(… and flowers)

I feel better now, oh hang on what about all the clothes? Mairead.

My bottle of Glue…

| Mairead

0110a

(There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light get’s in – Leonard Cohen.)

I bought a bottle of glue before we left Ireland. It’s almost empty. It has been the best glue I have ever used. Not that it’s much different from any other glue I’ve used but it’s been here with me through every creative effort, every insight every page of my journals. In a way you could say it’s really stuck by me – too obvious? Even so, it has. That glue kept me focussed on the thing I wanted to be doing.

0110b

(Green, white and gold – must be time to head home)

But back in week two when it was half-full (or half-empty…) I wondered how I would get some more here in France. I hadn’t seen an art and craft supply shop in the local town or even in the bigger towns we had visited. How would I manage without glue? And not just any glue, this particular magic kind of glue.

0110c

(All that’s left of my glue)

That worrying thought spent a lot of time wandering in and out of my thinking, distracting my focus, interrupting my intention. Should I cut down on my consumption? Should I order some from the internet? Should I ask one of my friends to post me a bottle of glue? I had heard there was a craft supply shop more than two hours drive away, should I go there?

0110d

(Free wind and heat to dry the sheets)

Fortunately, I got bored with the discussion (I was having with my thinking) and completely forgot about how little glue I had left and went back to focussing on what I wanted to be doing. And the glue rewarded my efforts and is still here with me in this last week (second last day…) It won’t be enough for next week but by then I will be able to get some more.

0110e

(Enough flowers for the bees)

And that got me thinking… What if there’s always enough. Enough glue, enough time, enough money, enough energy to do what needs to be done. No more that just enough. But also no less.

Could it be true? And what difference would it make if we believed it was true? Mairead.

Happy Friday – The Art of Coffee

| Mairead

As well as experimenting with art and Just Pudding (formerly know as Bread and Butter Pudding) I am now experimenting with coffee. As I’m on holidays I have been indulging in my coffee joy. That is, one coffee per day on holidays. It’s easy enough to keep off coffee at home because although I always like the smell I don’t always love the taste. But France (and Italy) have amazing coffee that both smells and tastes great. So, on holidays I get coffee every day at a café or bar.

But, if you’ve been following along, you’ll know we are in the middle of the countryside – no café. So our kitchen has had to become the café. Denis was prepared for this… I was not. He brought along a coffee grinder (I kid you not) and a coffee-for-one plunger type thingy called an aeropress. He willingly made me coffee with this for the first two days and then he taught me how to use it myself… but it was such a palaver I was doing his washing up duties just to get him to continue making it for me.

Then I was reading a book called Homeland and the character was talking about cold brew coffee. He made it sound very interesting and I thought I’d give it a go. My resident internet investigator looked up the How to… while I gathered the tools. We were missing some tools so a few days passed before we could begin. But now I can tell you the experiment is well on its way and we are discovering how to make the best cold brew coffee in all of France (because I bet no one else in France is bothering.) I helpfully took pictures so you can experiment along with me if you like.

Here we go….. (Oh by the way, if you start to think that cold brew is also a bit of a palaver… you might be right, but sure I’m having fun!)

1. Buy ground coffee (so much cheaper here)

2. Get a big jug (there was a 2 pint one in our china press)

Coffee 1

3. Fill the jug up to a quarter with the coffee (yes, it’s a lot of coffee – remember I said how cheap the coffee was here?)

Coffee 2

4. Pour water – cold water – into the jug, filling up to top

5. Stir, carefully.

Coffee 3

6. Cover jug with cling film and leave for at least 12 hours in a quiet corner (don’t know if the quiet corner is important but it’s been working for me)

Coffee 4

7. Photography some flowers, do some crafts and go to sleep

8. Come back when more than 12 hours have passed

Coffee 5

9. Take one large bottle (we used one from a jus de pomme (apple not potato) drink)

10. Take one coffee filter holder (we could hardly contain our excitement when we saw one of these in the Hyper U – up until then we were draping the coffee filter over the rim of the bottle)

11. Put one coffee filter (we used size 4 – more excitement when we realised the coffee filter holder was size 4 also) into the coffee filter holder (as you would)

12. Put coffee filter holder on top of bottle (we would have been ecstatic if the coffee filter holder had fit neatly into the bottle, but we made it work….)

Coffee 6

13. Take a roll of masking tape (yes I brought masking tape to France) and tape the coffee filter holder to the bottle

Coffee 9

14. Using a sieve (if you have one bigger than ours, that’s nice for you) pour the jug of coffee and water mixture into the coffee filter (which is in the coffee filter holder on top of the bottle) slowly taking care not to disturb the coffee grinds too much

15. When the sieve gets clogged up, stop to empty it, then continue pouring until there is only coffee grinds in the jug

16. Is there anyone still reading?

Coffee 10

17. Wait until all the water has dripped into your bottle and then put the cap on and put it in the fridge.

18. Clean up.

Coffee 12

19. Have a lovely cup of coffee – by pouring a quarter (or one-third) cup of the liquid from the bottle and adding boiling water – yum. Or you could heat a cup full (strong) in the microwave. Or you could have it on ice, if you like iced coffee (yuck, yuck, splutter, splutter.) If I was on my own here (just saying) the bottle would probably last a week but now Denis has stopped making his plunger stuff and we’re sharing mine.

There you go… hmmm… just nineteen short steps to a lovely cup of coffee… Mairead.