Ordinary Venice.

After my observation on the blog yesterday that I was not noticing the beauty all around me I decided to start paying attention. My mission: To pay attention and notice the ordinary. Here in Venice even the ordinary is different so that wasn’t too difficult. As has become our habit, Denis and I set off on our fifteen minute bus ride to the city before breakfast. We arrived around nine o’clock. This was useful because a lot of ordinary things happen around nine in the morning.

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(Breakfast)

But first we were going to have breakfast. This was a much cooler day and rain was forecast and believe it or not we were looking forward to rain! When we got off the bus Denis (who was also on “ordinary stuff” patrol) noticed a pathway we hadn’t seen before so we took it. There were fewer people walking this route but there seemed to be more boats. We stopped at the first cafe and ordered coffee and pastries (not exactly high fibre but very yummy.) And that’s when ordinary Venice started to happen.

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(Taxi!)

The delivery boats. I know I’ve mentioned this again and again but… everything, every thing coming into this city comes in on a boat and get to its destination on a handcart. Three delivery boats had passed before I had wrangled the camera out of its bag. But I got DHL. Well of course DHL deliver to Venice!

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(DHL… Excellence. Simply Delivered… to Venice. On the lookout for UPS)

We took 351 pictures yesterday and they are all of ordinary things. Here’s a taste of ordinary Venice…

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(The milkman)

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(The laundry)

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(The builders)

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(The ambulance)

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(The bin men)

By lunchtime I was exhausted! Noticing the ordinary is work. It’s everywhere. It’s constant. It put my senses to work. When my senses are at work… with what’s happening right now in front of me my brain can’t be making up stories about the scary things that might happen in the future or the annoying things that did happen in the past… But it’s a bit of work and maybe I’d much rather be numb or bored or talking to myself about scary stuff…. Nah, here’s some more ordinary Venice….

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(Someone had a blocked drain…)

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(Bottle cap art – lots and lots of ordinary plastic bottle caps)

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(A bus/boat stop dock…. there are lots of these in Venice)

We’re off to Florence today…. might be hot…. might be busy…. might be fun… might be terrible… or it might be amazingly ordinary right in front of my eyes, Mairead.

Good Morning!

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(We went to Dublin on Saturday and saw some socks)

Good morning (no it’s not Sunday afternoon…) I’m sitting looking out the window as the sun is breaking through from behind a cloud – lots of bright rays, like the way my seven-year old self used to draw the sun (well I still doodle it that way…)

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(We nearly hired Dublin Bikes)

I probably should run out and get a picture for you but it’s quite nice just sitting here looking t it and dropping my head occasionally to write a line. Our cat Fred is sitting on the desk beside me looking at the sun too or maybe he’s looking at the birds.

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(We walked on the cobblestones)

A plane went by, very high up above the sun’s cloud and I am wondering about the people in it. It’s very hard from down here beside the cat in front of the cloud to imagine more than one hundred people sitting up there in the sky….. possibly having their breakfast. Then it’s very difficult to imagine the life of anyone else as I sit here in my life with the cat and the cloud. Even when I do imagine that life I know it’s only from my point of view. And the details are made up of my experience of a slightly similar situation.

Now Fred is looking at me and I’m wondering about his life…. probably time to get up, Mairead.

My dark January.

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(From winter in Cashel 2010)

It’s January. For me that’s the time of year when my energy is at its lowest. When the winter has been long enough and I want some spring….. now! I want it now like my two-year old self wanted chocolate…. but Spring’s not ready yet. So I have to practice patience.

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(Spider art)

I thought this year it would be different. I am occupied and preoccupied by my course and I thought that would help me forget it was still winter. It hasn’t. Instead it’s shown up further “issues”. When I’m lacking patience with winter I also lack patience with everything else I meet. I am lacking patience with the accounts (my old foe), with my latest assignments, with housework, with bills, with Denis, with myself.

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(The lovely side of winter)

I had forgotten it all started with January and I was thinking, “these blasted accounts again”, “how can I ever get this history of art done?”, “when does housework finish?”….. but these are not the problem. In fact there is no problem, I just miss the light. I miss getting up after sunrise and having dinner before sunset, I want more time with the light. So I must choose… between making problems out of normal life and accepting the season called winter.

I want to choose to accept winter…. how hard can it be? Mairead.

What’s Christmas?

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(Christmas is warm…)

It’s almost Christmas, just another week and I’ve had very little time to prepare in the usual way, but I’ve had a lot of time to prepare in a different way. The usual way involves copious grocery lists and gift lists and household maintenance lists. It involves long, tiring shopping trips. It involves guilt over un-sent cards and undone tasks. It involves a smattering of anger and a large amount of self-talk (aimed mostly at the injustice of labour division over the happy season!)

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(Christmas is in the attic…)

In drawing class last week we were given a brief for a Christmas Project, it doesn’t have to be completed until after the Christmas holidays… so there’s lots of time to think about it….. The brief was fairly vague (or at least it seemed that way to me) – What changes over Christmas? In order to get a handle on it I began thinking about what Christmas meant to me… before it became a shopping/cooking/cleaning feast.

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(Christmas is a tree… )

I remembered childhood Christmases, running down the stairs with my brother to see what Santa had brought. I remembered my little boy and girl doing the same. I remembered the bedtime stories my mother told. I remembered the crib story. When I began taking down the decorations from the attic I thought… this is where we keep Christmas. I put the lights up on the tree and they worked. When I turned off every other light in the house I remembered… I love how the lights shine in the dark at Christmas.

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(Christmas is mince pies….)

And I remembered what all my preparation was about…. It’s about hope. Hope that all will be well, that all is well. Hope that we will have enough. Hope that there will be joy. What changes over Christmas? At Christmas more people believe their hope will come true.

Right, I have twelve drawings and a ceramic visual statement (don’t ask) to do before the new year, no more thinking for me. Mairead.

The Walking Machine…. another gadget or a guru?

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(Collage)

We have a walking machine, we’ve had it about six months now. Having one doesn’t contribute to good health but using one might… I’ve started using it. It has an added benefit of allowing my mind to drift away and have some interesting non-worrying thoughts. Yesterday I was walking along when something popped into my head about noticing the stuff I do that’s ok.

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(Notice the pretty patterns… instead of the peeling paint)

Usually when the drift away thoughts come into my head they’re in the form of a big picture concept. Like a collage and it takes a little time to look at all the details in the big picture. After that it’s possible to unravel the concept in order to talk about it. I’m unravelling it this morning. In normal life we have the tendency to notice what’s wrong. With the weather, the newspaper article, the dinner, the artwork. Sometimes in our work it’s necessary to notice what’s not right, in order to fix it, make it right. So when we consider ourselves we use the same logic – notice what’s wrong in order to fix it.

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(Notice something beautiful about this picture)

Other people help us in this work – they notice what’s wrong and they tell us! But I’m not so sure this works well… Mark Twain said If you always do what you always did, You’ll always get what you always got!  So it might be useful to try something different. My big picture was… What if I began to notice what was right? What if I ignore (for a certain period of time) what’s wrong and notice what’s right?

What’s right with you? Mairead.

Sunshine, water and an excellent lawnmower.

(Some blue sky)

Yesterday provided a few little challenges for me… or maybe I provided them myself. It was sunny again so I figured this was a perfect opportunity to cut the grass. Two days of rain followed by a day of sunshine caused a grass growth spurt and I could only imagine how much taller it would grow if left unattended. (Maybe that was my first mistake… imagining something bad.) So, I put down my reading and went in search of the lawn mower. It was a petrol one and I’d used one before so I pressed the button in the front three times, moved the safety handle to the main handle and pulled the string. It started first time, excellent. That was the last excellent of the experience.

(This tree is the cat’s favourite scratching post)

Although I did notice that the garden was big, I only noticed it in an appreciative way… what great space and what wonderful possibilities. I didn’t notice it in the square yardage kind of way. I had completed about a tenth of the area when I decide to take a break. Thinking I had been cutting for at least an hour I checked the clock… twenty minutes had passed. Even though that probably indicated the whole job could be finished in three and a half hours and not ten, I still felt disappointed… it would feel like ten hours! This might have been a good time to stop cutting the grass. Instead, I had a big glass of water along with a couple of pages of reading and then returned to the job.

(Seedlings in the greenhouse)

A few more twenty-minute slots (remarkably I always seemed to be ready for a break in twenty-minute slots) and I came across a conundrum. In order to water the plants in the greenhouse there was a garden hose running between it and the outside tap. It ran across the lawn. When I realised it was in my path I wondered what the best possible course of action might be. I wondered would I un-plug the hose and lay it beside the lawn until I had finished cutting. I wondered would I just ignore it – it lay in a shallow groove which could mean it had been in place for previous cuttings. I wondered would I lift the lawn mower over it, like lifting a buggy up over some steps. I wondered all this while continuing to cut the grass. (Notice I didn’t stop to make a decision…. I continued to cut which was also a decision) And before long I was cutting more than the grass. I cut the garden hose. It was spectacular and very wet (the water pressure here is excellent.)

(Great sprinkler… not so great garden hose)

I changed my clothes and then continued to cut the grass but my heart wasn’t in it. I was imagining how the plants in the greenhouse would die because I couldn’t water them. I’d seen two watering cans in the shed but what if they were the special watering cans used only for weed killer, there might be some weedkiller left in them, I couldn’t use them either. I was very glad of the distraction of a phone call from my friend. In a very unsympathetic tone she asked Why would you cut the grass? I’m going back to my Stop Thinking Start Living book, it’s possible I’ve been thinking too much….

Oh for the simple life, living in the country with some cats and some hens…. oh yea, Mairead.

Who let the hens out?

(The girls)

I woke late this morning because I’d had a very disgruntled feline visitor during the night who needed to get outside urgently (at least that’s what I think he was saying) at 3.45am. It may take me a few more days to understand the routine. I’m out of sync with the hens too, I forgot that they won’t lay eggs unless I leave them in their pen until noon but I let them out at seven yesterday morning. When I arrived here on Monday there was a lovely warm brown egg waiting for me. I know I could have bought eggs in Tesco when I was gathering supplies but the thought that I could be eating my own (well.. not exactly my own..) produce was enough to stop me. Now I want to make pancakes so I’m going to need another egg. I have a feeling that the hens like getting out early so I’ll have to be strong and think of pancakes.

(Are these edible?)

When I did wake this morning the sun was shining – yea! I was beginning to think there would be non-stop rain for my entire visit. Last night I was cold enough to light the stove and grey enough to watch the TV. I’m glad to report that I have not been sucked back to TV-land (was there always so many ads?) in fact I think I might be frightened away from it altogether. Between the (bad) nine o clock news and half a scary story about a con man in America I was feeling very nervous climbing the stairs to bed.

(Is there a con man around that corner?)

Fortunately, I’ve been reading Stop Thinking and Start Living by Richard Carlson so I went to bed and slept. Actually that book is very interesting, it talks about how we are constantly thinking and we don’t even realise it. It’s like we’re listening to a radio station in our head. Unfortunately it’s a station full of bad news and cutting remarks… about me (or you – if it’s in your head!) It wouldn’t be so bad if we didn’t continue the thought and add to it, with more bad news or meanness towards ourselves. The solution? Notice the thought and let it go. For example, last night I might have had the thought, it’s very scary being here alone when there are so many con men around. So as soon as I realise I’m thinking this I pause and choose to think of something else, something useful to be thinking while I’m alone. Like, I’ll read my nice book about a woman reading her dead friend’s journal! (It’s called The Unfinished Work of Elizabeth D by Nichole Bernier and I’m really enjoying it.) Thinking is very useful but not when it scares and saddens us.

Think something nice about yourself, Mairead.

We’re Back in Ireland

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(We didn’t take think it was worth the risk)

We’re back on Irish soil again and for a few days it’s been very hot and sunny. Today is rainy but I have high hopes for tomorrow. I also have high hopes for getting back to regular blog posting. Like any habit, it takes a period of time to build and no time at all to break. Fortunately, I really do want to write so I’m at an advantage when it comes to being willing to build the habit. I’m very willing.

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(Last week in Edinburgh)

I’m at a bit of a disadvantage when it comes to actually starting the habit though….. I have a long history of thinking about doing things. Including considering doing things. Then there’s meaning to do things and feeling a bit guilty that I haven’t done them. Followed by downright embarrassed when I’ve completely forgotten to do something and it’s too late to do it then. I feel some of that guilt and embarrassment right now as I ponder my lack of doing and it doesn’t encourage me, no, not one little bit.

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(Right in the centre of the city of Edinburgh there’s a beautiful park)

Fortunately, I’m not going to be putting my attention on the times I didn’t do something, that’ll just get me more of what I don’t want. I’m going to be putting my attention on what I do want – I want to write. Oooh writing. I love to write. It’s just sometimes I forget how much I like it. I forget how it clears my mind and brings me calm. I forget how it makes me feel sparkly inside! I forget how it communicates with me and makes my experiences richer. I forget how it pushes me to complete. To completion, to fulfilment, to creation.

What are you forgetting to do today that makes you feel sparkly inside? Remember! Mairead.