Oranges and Sunshine

July 11, 2011April 10, 2012 | Mairead

(Does that look safe to you?)

We’re going to the movies tonight. To the Mermaid Theatre. Every Monday night it turns into a cinema. The movie is called Oranges and Sunshine. I’ve read the book and couldn’t put it down. It’s about a woman who discovered by accident that little children from Britain were sent to Australian orphanages in the 1940’s, after the second world war. Their parents thought their children had been adopted by families in Britain. The children had been told their parents were dead. She found it difficult to get information but little by little she discovered the details were far worse than anyone realised. It’s a true story.

(More patterns)

Just in case you want to see it, I’ll say no more…. Except, the bit that was by accident is very interesting. She was working as a social worker and she had clients who were adopted and had found or were in the process of finding, or beginning the process of finding, their birth parents. She felt they needed a support group, so she set one up. And it hadn’t been running long when a series of events led to her uncovering the story that’s in the movie.

(Liam brought us a very nice cake box and there was cake in it!)

Anyway, what I find interesting is, this woman didn’t plan to do some great big thing. She was doing her own little thing. Not that setting up a support group is little, it was very helpful to the people in the group. But she ended up being helpful to far greater numbers of people. And if she hadn’t done that first thing……

(No pictures please! How do I convince people they really DO want their picture taken?)

So I was thinking…. there’s probably some small thing calling out to all of us. Some little thing that we’d like to do but we haven’t got the time. Or maybe we think it might be selfish to do it. Or it could be considered a bit silly. But what if doing that little thing could accidentally lead us to uncovering an amazing story…. our story? That’s a nice idea.

Just one small thing, Mairead.

Start at the end…

July 7, 2011April 11, 2012 | Mairead

(Like a bird on the wire……)

I was reading the book Do the Work by Steven Pressfield while we were on holidays and I’ve been thinking about it again today. The part I’m remembering is the bit about Start with the End. We do something similar in Success Teams.

(Big stones turn into little ones….)

The idea is, you ask yourself what you want to be true at the end of a project. So let’s say the project was… the printing I was doing yesterday. What do I want to be true at the end? At the end I want a hand printed piece of material that could be hung on the wall. That’s the external reason. But there’s also an internal reason.

(The stream flows to the sea…..)

So I ask the question – what’s it all about? What is it about this finished project that grabs me? What is it that makes me glow, or sparkle or shine or sing! That’s when the internal reason appears. For my printing project…… I wanted to create repeating patterns. I wanted to use paint because I love the way it starts like a blob and then flows. I love the way you can roll it onto a piece of wood and the wood becomes wet with the paint. I love that pressing the painted block onto the cotton material leaves an impression……. And then repeating it makes a pattern and I sigh…. that’s it.

(And the waves roll in and out… )

Going into this much detail with the ending makes a lasting impression on your unconscious, so that it’s almost as if the project was already done….. and it was… in the future! And that draws you towards it… compels you towards it. Imagine if the thing you wanted was drawing you towards it? It would become possible. The thing you want is possible….. how cool is that? Then, you can take the first step…..

The end, Mairead.

Making an Impression

July 6, 2011April 11, 2012 | Mairead

(Melting blue ice cream paint)

The rain is bucket-ing down outside but I’m a happy bunny. I’ve been spending time making material. Well… not exactly making material, printing onto material is a more accurate description. It involves plain white cotton and fabric paint and a little paint roller and wooden blocks. The blocks have a pattern etched onto them. First I pour the paint onto a plastic receptacle, (a Chinese takeaway lid!) then roll the roller in the paint. Next I apply the roller to the wooden block and then press the block onto the cotton material.

(Rolling the roller in the paint)

So… sounds harmless enough doesn’t it? Not really that engrossing? But to me it is completely engrossing. Let me explain it…. more slowly this time.

(Rolling the paint onto the wooden block)

I have a lot of crafting books. Books about patchwork, card-making, knitting, crochet, book-binding (yes, really!), sewing projects and hand printing…. are all sitting on my book shelves. So, from time to time I pick one up and start to turn the pages. Very soon something shifts in me and a kind of glow begins to flow. I become inspired. It could be anything, a colour, a shape, a pattern… sigh, patterns. A few months ago when I was looking through a book called Hand Printing by Lena Corwin, the glow began to flow and I wanted to print on fabric. In this case it was the patterns, repeating across the page that got me.

(Making an impression)

This week I began the doing part. The cotton material was washed and ironed. I’m ready. I pour the blue paint onto the plastic lid. I love this bit, it looks like melted ice cream. I lift an edge so that the paint flows slowly down the plastic. Then I slowly roll the roller in the paint, until it is completely blue. Then I pick up the wooden block and slowly (important bit) slowly roll the paint covered roller over the block. I see the paint sticking to the wood and when I’ve rolled over and back and sideways, slowly, I put the roller down. Then slowly, I move over to the fabric and holding the wooden block, now blue, I use both hands and press it firmly onto the material. Then slowly, I lift the block away from the material, this feels a bit like lifting your wellington booted foot out of the mud, squelch! And then I look at what I’ve done, and I sigh. I am engrossed.

(Finished)

My friend Ashleigh sent me a quote today, “A wise woman is someone who can find time for herself every day.” I think this probably applies to men too…

Become engrossed, slowly, today, Mairead.

The front of the Westport train goes to Galway

July 3, 2011April 11, 2012 | Mairead

(Comfy throws at my Somatics class)

I was travelling on the 7.30am train from Dublin to Westport, last year. I had brought my crochet needle and wool, a magazine, bottle of filtered water, snacks, a pen and some paper. It’s a three and a half hour journey, I wanted to be prepared! Something you may not know about that Dublin to Westport train is that it goes to Galway too. Well, only the front bit of the train goes to Galway. It’s an efficiency thing, I think. The whole train goes as far as Athlone and then the front bit is unhooked and it goes onto Galway while the back bit goes to Westport. A bit worrisome the first time I travelled on it, but once I realised which bit of the train I needed to be sitting in, it was fine.

(Rua the horse)

Anyway, this time I had spread my things out on the table and was settling into my crochet when the ticket collector came to check my ticket. He also checked the ticket of a male passenger (there was only two of us in the carriage) in a seat on the other side of the aisle from me. It seemed the man was going to Galway, but here he was sitting in the back bit of the train. The bit that was going to Westport! (Are you’re feeling my anxiety here?) Anyway, the ticket man explained that he needed to go to the front of the train and the man nodded. But… he didn’t move……

(Sally the angel and her stars)

The ticket man left to check the passenger’s tickets in the next carriage. I was doing my best to concentrate on my crochet and remain calm (why was I so worried?) when the man for Galway gets my attention by showing me his ticket and pointing to a station we are flying past.

I realise something….. he can’t talk.

I read his ticket, it said Galway (which I knew). I can talk so I assumed I could communicate. But I couldn’t. Not that I didn’t try. I did try…. (remember the problem with trying….?)

(Thierry’s cook books)

First, I spoke very clearly and concisely, saying, “No, you must move to the front of the train for Galway.” He nodded, and smiled, a lot, but he still didn’t move. So I had another idea, I wrote the same message on my notebook and handed it to him. He smiled and nodded again but still didn’t move. I began using hand gestures towards the front of the train. He had a lovely smile…. but he still didn’t move. My message was not being understood. I was starting to feel anxious again. There was still another hour until we arrived in Athlone, there was still time for him to get to the right part of the train. I had to come up with a plan. So I did. I decided I would take him by the arm and guide him to the front of the train just before we arrived in Athlone.

(Poker food….)

But I had a problem…. I had been up since 5am to get this train and I was now starting to feel drowsy. Usually I just doze off at some point but now I couldn’t possibly close my eyes in case I was asleep when we got to Athlone! While I’m contemplating this I look over and the man has fallen asleep! Now we are close to Athlone, I am a nervous wreck and I’ve ripped the crochet five times.

And then the ticket man returns.

(Poker chips)

He patiently wakes the man and tells him it’s time to move to the front of the train and communicates this somehow because the man gets up and follows him…. but not before giving me a big smile, a lovely smile.

And I thought….. there was nothing for me to worry about. I didn’t need to fix anything. All is well. It always was….

All is well, Mairead.

Debugger is not a rude word!

June 28, 2011April 11, 2012 | Mairead

(Old door handle at Sheena’s house)

Last Friday night Denis and I sat on the sofa together and watched a session from the Apple Developers Conference. I was not sitting there because I wanted to watch grown men applaud software – it was Denis’ turn to choose a movie…..

(Avoca in Ashford serves Robins too)

But, you know, after a while it started to get interesting. This particular session was about a new debugger. Yes, that’s a real word (isn’t it great, it sounds rude, but it’s completely legal!). A debugger is a software program that helps programmers to de-bug (take out bugs, errors, faults from) the software they are writing. So if you’ve written a piece of software and it’s not doing what you thought it would be doing you use a debugger. It steps through the lines of code you’ve written and shows you what’s happening, every step of the way. So you can see which line of code caused the problem. Apple have gone to great lengths to add lots of helpful bits to their debugging software, to provide more useful information and to make it even easier to use. And lots of people (well…men) at the conference were very pleased.

(Look! A heart-shaped stone!)

That got me thinking. Wouldn’t it be really helpful if we had a personal debugger. It could be attached to our phones or even better it could fit in our ear….. Then when something we’re not expecting happens, the debugger could replay the scene step by step and we would see what’s gone wrong, and change it.

(Daisies)

So for example: You’re chatting with significant other (could be partner, mother, friend, sibling) and suddenly (or slowly) you realise you are really irritated and you have even begun to say some potentially damaging stuff. What’s more, you’re saying it out loud! The “other” either storms off / says some of their own stuff / starts to sob / looks stunned – take your pick.

(Little kitten legs…. cute)

Wouldn’t it be great at this moment to be able to click the debugger in your ear and find the moment where it all went wrong? Then change that line of code so it wouldn’t go wrong again? We have loads of code in our heads, written by others or written by us for a good reason, at the time, but the time is different now. We are much more intelligent than any computer, so we can debug our own code just by noticing it.

Debug yourself, Mairead.

Raindrops

June 19, 2011April 11, 2012 | Mairead

(Rain on the red flowers in the front garden….)

I was out walking in the rain today. Not really by choice, I had some things I needed to do. I was wearing a raincoat and a hat and a skirt. Sorry men, but a skirt is the most comfortable thing to wear when it’s raining. It doesn’t stick to your legs and when you get into the car you can turn it around and not be sitting on the wet bit…. comfy! So I was dressed to withstand the downpour. But I’m not usually.

(Very wet rain)

I was wondering about that. The fact that I know it rains a lot here and yet I don’t usually go out prepared for rain. Am I crazy? What’s that about? Never mind, the result is I’m wet and miserable and I don’t notice all the lovely things going on around me. Not useful.

(Rain on the things that grow from the big plant….)

How might I improve on this? What if I start acting as if it rains a lot in Ireland – by bringing an umbrella and a hat and a coat and a skirt? Or by wearing the motorbike rain gear all the time? Both those solutions are grand but it’s all a little heavy to carry around in my handbag.

(Rain on the lovely looking leaves….)

There is one other solution. I could let go of resisting the thing that’s already happening and consider getting rained on as a nice enjoyable thing,or just a thing that’s happening. When I get home I could change into the dry skirt and hat and maybe even the coat (in case I’m a little chilly). Less to carry around, nice attitude to be feeling, probably good for health. The great thing is, there’ll be plenty of opportunities to practice letting go of resistance (with all the rain, I mean).

Embrace your rain (whatever it is…), Mairead.

I (almost) like book-keeping!

June 15, 2011April 11, 2012 | Mairead

(Garden chair in dry weather – not as nice as when it’s wet – isn’t rain great?)

Since coming back from holidays, things have been different. Well, nothing has changed, but …. something is different. Take the book-keeping (balancing bank accounts, paying tax etc.)…..

Ever since I started helping Denis with the book-keeping I’ve hated it. Really. Hated it. I think it’s mental….. as in I’m thinking fearful thoughts about it. It’s a physical thing too, because it feels like a heavy weight on my shoulders and another heavy weight in my stomach. Not much fun at all. As the date for sending something, anything, to the tax man draws nearer the weights get heavier. The thoughts get a bit heavier too.

(An old bench in the back garden)

This seems to have the same effect as trying (so they may be related) – everything takes much longer, more mistakes are made and it’s no fun… none… at all.

(The garden shed)

But then last year we found a lovely calm accountant (Hello Clodagh!) and I can ask her questions and she can fix my mistakes and she knows what she’s doing – always useful. So everything was great for a while. No more fear of the tax man. No more worries about mistakes. Someone knew what they were doing. Yet…. there was still something heavy in me.

I still hated the book-keeping.

(I love material, sigh…)

But since coming back, the book-keeping is different. Well…. no it’s not different but the way I think about it is different. In the first week back I heard myself say about it to Denis, “this is easy” (he was too surprised to react). By the second week, it had got a bit harder but something had shifted in me, because I wasn’t so heavy. And this week I find myself wanting to hate the book-keeping but not feeling it! While I still don’t like it, I no longer have the heavy weights and mostly my thoughts about it are hopeful and extraordinarily light.

(The garden gate)

I notice I have a pattern of acting and thinking in a particular way in relation to the book-keeping and I haven’t let that go….. yet. Funny thing is, I’m noticing this pattern in other areas too…… The thing we think of as a problem is only a waving flag. There are no problems only flags, waving at us to wake up!

Wake up, all is well, Mairead.