How to Celebrate

One of the things I love about Germany, and this applies to most of Europe, is the centuries-old traditions they have to mark the beginning of things, the end of things, the middle of things, etc.

For example, recently in Bavaria, they have just finished Fasching, their name for 'Carnival'.  The reason for Fasching was explained in our German class - in German, obviously.  Hence I didn't understand much of it.  Since then I've picked up a bit more. Carnival is a 'big thing' in the north, especially Cologne, where they use huge floats to make political statements to protest about events of the previous year. (2016 must have provided them with a hell of a lot of material.)  It's less of a big thing down south, but people still dress up as police and blue-haired princesses and blast rowdy music from stages in the city centres while dancing in what appears to be auditions for Eurovision. In the Black Forest region, they wear wooden masks representing Voodoo priests and witches, and then get confetti thrown at them to 'drive them out': this apparently represents driving away winter, the darkness, and all the 'bad things' to make room for the light of spring and all things good.  In Bavaria, the word 'Fasching' comes from the medieval word 'vaschnc' which in modern German means 'Fastnacht' or the 'fasting night'.  This fasting begins immediately after Fasching and is known to the rest of us as Lent.  Shrove Tuesday is the culmination of the festivities, and at 11.11am on the 11th of the 11th month the Fasching Prince and Princess were selected to reign over the 'crazy season' which officially begins on 7th January.  There are Fasching balls for every society or guild, such as the Washer-women's Ball, the Carnival in Rio, and the Schabernackt, as well as endless office parties.  Fasching doughnuts are sold by the dozen.  During this period 'anything goes' and it is said that the birthrate rockets from the 'women's day' which begins the festivities.  Well, I wouldn't know about that.

How shall we respond?

With everything that is going on in the world right now, like many others I've been finding it hard not to feel overwhelmed.  I've found myself trying to distance myself from the news, unfollow Facebook posts that lead me into demoralising discussions with people who hold the polar opposite viewpoint to mine, or tempt me to read conversations by strangers across the world who are closed to everything and everyone who does not see the world in exactly the same way that they do.  Then I start to feel bad about my non-engagement. I mean, how is anything to change in the world if we don't engage with unpleasant, disturbing and disagreeable people and situations?  How would women have ever gained the vote? Or Europe been saved from Hitler in World War II? Or precious drinking water protected from the Dakota Access Pipeline due to the actions of the Standing Rock Sioux?

Cultural Diversity

I have made some new friends, from my intensive language class.  It's a good way to make the transition into a new country, that's for sure.  I love the cultural diversity.  Classes consist of up to twelve students and in mine there was me, the only native English speaker, a Brazilian, two Romanians, two French, an Italian, Portugese, Filippino, Thai, Russian and a guy from New York.  Of all those, some of us are meeting outside classes for meals on a semi-regular basis.  I am particularly good friends with the Brazilian, French, and Russian students.  They all speak fluent English which is both lucky and unlucky for me.  Occasionally, when our teacher was away, we would join another class where there was a Columbian, Palestinian, and several Italians.  Occasionally we talk about customs in our respective countries; festivals, laws, and similarities and differences between languages. 

In Unexpected Places

The other night I watched 'Wasteland'.  It was one of those films which, especially once you know it's a documentary, feels a bit like having to eat all your vegetables before leaving the table.  I make myself watch 'educational' documentaries' quite regularly, not purely for the sake of my edification, but because I know that if it's about something I'm interested in - however mildly - I will usually be glad that I did.  It's also a bit like doing daily exercise in the rain. You always feel better for it afterwards but it's not much fun at the time.

Valentine for a Crane

'All cranes engage in dancing, which includes various behaviours such as bowing, jumping, running, stick or grass tossing, and wing flapping. Dancing can occur at any age and is commonly associated with courtship.' Wikipedia

How wonderful is this:

There is a remote village in Rajasthan, India, where the Jain monks feed millions of small cranes that migrate there every year. 

The village is called Khichan.  The annual bird migration began with about a hundred cranes in 1970s, when a local couple began feeding pigeons.  Other villagers joined in and by 2014 there are now over 20,000 demoiselle cranes that visit from August to March each year.

Curiosity and 'Rising Strong'

I recently read Brene Brown's 'Rising Strong'.  I have always enjoyed her writing, but I got more from this book than from any of her others.  In particular, there were a few pages on curiosity, which resonate with me not only because of my previous blogpost on the subject.  I quote at length from her book here:

'Choosing to be curious is choosing to be vulnerable because it requires us to surrender to uncertainty.  It wasn't always a choice; we were born curious.  But over time, we learnt that curiosity, like vulnerability, can lead to hurt.  As a result, we turn to self-protecting - choosing certainty over curiosity, armor [sic] over vulnerability, and knowing over learning.  But shutting down comes with a price - a price we rarely consider when we'refocused on finding our way out of pain.

Thriving in the Wilderness

I have always been fascinated by the art of survival without electricity, shops, buildings, or any of our modern-day comforts.  I'm not sure why.  Perhaps this harks back to happy childhood memories of being in the New Zealand mountains for weeks or months at a time with no power or plumbing or nearby supply centre, and regularly tramping in the bush for days on end in all weathers and terrains while my father did his fieldwork, cooking on open fires with a billy, sleeping under the stars.  My brother became a passionate speliologist (caver) and would disappear underground for days or weeks underground, exploring new cavern systems.  My mother would join my father on his field trips even when we were babies, washing nappies in the creek and then hanging them out to dry on a rope attached to the tent, and dangle my brother by a backpack over a high waterfall to keep him occupied for hours when he was about one year old. Meanwhile, I have become an indoor writer with an indoor job in a country that is so overpopulated it is almost impossible to be alone, anywhere.

When Life Takes Over

 I was struck by something recently, when talking to a colleague at work.  She was discouraged and demoralised by her job, and due to management decisions far beyond her control had ended up in a position where she could not leave her job despite it becoming untenable in almost every way.  Extremely demanding but not highly paid work, it did at least cover the mortgage, but was now creating far more stress than being able to pay the mortgage was relieving.

She was not the only one put in this position, with no end in sight and seemingly no way out.  But as I listened to her, a person usually cheerful and reluctant to complain, I couldn't help consider her deteriorating physical and mental state and wonder at what point Life would take over and dictate its own path out of the mess.

Curiouser and curiouser

Curiosity.

This is a quality that humans possess to a greater or lesser degree.  I seem to possess it to a greater degree.  I'm increasingly glad about that as I age.  Curiosity was fostered in me as a child, and is something which is easily overlooked in 'personal qualities which we value most'.

Sinking

We all have different tolerance levels to stress.  We also all have different triggers.  What sets off one person will pass another by like a cloud across the sky. 

My particular triggers are always to do with emotion.  So, this past week has been particularly hard for me.  Things happened at work, people got upset, I found myself in the middle of it all, and when my feelings are churning around inside me I find my eating and sleeping and concentration are altered too, and consequently my ability to continue to deal effectively with whatever the situation demands.   If it drags on for days or even weeks, the stress can become unmanageable.

Books with a Difference #4: Circuses

Both these books are about circuses.  I am not a huge fan of circuses, but they can certainly lend an air of the whimsical and outlandish to a story that wants to be a bit different.  Which is precisely what is achieved in these two interesting books.

Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

This book was discovered by my New Zealand friend, who gave it to me for Christmas one year, knowing full well what I would think of it.  She was right.  I loved it. However, I do feel this is a book you will either love or hate.  Rather like marmite.

The Sun is Inside You

How quickly I forget the summer.  We are officially only halfway through it, but the last weeks have been filled with intermittent rain and grey cloud, and the last three days have seen persistent heavy showers with leaden skies and frigid temperatures.  Only in the UK.

But what amazes me is how, when the sun is out, and the days balmy and evenings light and long, I always think to myself, 'Well, this will keep me going for weeks, for months, for the whole of winter.'  And it never does.  It usually keeps me going for about three days.

Like retreats, or spiritual breakthroughs.  How liberated and light I feel, how convinced that this change wrought in me will last forever, how impossible to forget what I have seen or felt or experienced.  Give or take a few days of continual stress at work, conflict with someone, or perhaps a bad cold or stomach bug, and you feel you are back at square one.

The Amazing Ancient Concept of Wu Wei

Perfectionism, which by its very nature includes 'striving', used to be the bane of my life.  I'm not sure why this trait developed in me, but I know that it grew and hardened in me as a result of the school I attended, where expectations of outstanding levels of achievement in every area were the norm.  It coloured every aspect of my life, from the orderly state of my bedroom to my long hours of self-prompted practice on violin and piano until I was note-perfect, not withstanding moments where I would bash the keys in frustration or throw the violin down (on the bed, fortunately).  I was hugely self-critical, much more than I was critical of others, but, as is the case with perfectionists, also hugely dissatisfied with life.  My stories, which to begin with I wrote with great pleasure and abandon from about age seven onwards, became increasingly straight-jacketed by my own expectations of an impeccable finished product.  By the time I was thirteen, I let nobody read my work.  By the time I was fifteen, I had a dozen edits of my latest novel, none completed, each tighter and less able to breathe than the last.  Yes, I ended up with good prose.  I also ended up with dead stories.

The Middle Way

  

We live in a culture that has a real problem with walking the 'middle way'.

A culture that celebrates extreme fashion, extreme behaviour, black-and-white viewpoints and strong opinions - preferably controversial ones.   A culture that hero-worships people who are impossible to live with but by gum, they make great television, radio, and best-selling biographies, which coincidentally also means they rake in the money. A culture that belittles and disregards those who choose not to share what they think, or - God forbid - admit they don't actually have an opinion, the 'fence-sitters' of politics and current events. 

Paradise Found

 

I have just returned from a very special week in France, at my first-ever writers' retreat.

It was a week filled with poetry and prose, interesting conversations with like-minded people, and the kind of atmosphere that is so conducive to being creative.  The setting consisted of everything I love most: creaking verandas overgrown with wild lavender and jasmine; secluded gardens with comfy cushions under rattling aspen trees; a wild mountain stream with a deep pool in which we could swim and paddle; tangled woods; forest-clad mountains; donkeys and chickens and nightjars and thrumming bees - and even a small grass snake. It reminded me of my old paradise, Cobb Valley (A Piece of Heaven), with its sun-baked earth and wild unravelling edges, and the ever-present rumble of the distant waterfall. 

When the Old Life Haunts the New: Poem

What shall I do?

When  I pick up the broom    

            he leaves the room.

When I fuss with kindling he

            runs for the yard.

Then he's back, and we

            hug for a long time.

In his low-to-the-ground chest

            I can hear his heart slowing down.

Viruses (not the electronic sort): Poem

This was me, the last week:

'Viruses are my sister's children

who have come to stay at my place

for the weekend.

They try to get into the cupboards.

They draw with thick crayons

on the back of my throat.

Books with a Difference #3: Cultures

The Paper House, by Carlos Maria Dominguez

This intriguing novella tells a story within a story, of a booklover slowly driven made by his passion, gradually overwhelmed by his 20,000 volumes, and what he did next (no spoiler alert here). 

Books With a Difference #2: Islands

Okay, so here are another couple of books I've read that I think worth mentioning.

The first is The Girl with Glass Feet, by Ali Shaw (winner of the Desmond Elliott Prize)

This has to be one of my favourite books.  Possibly not to everyone's taste, it is a unique blend of magic realism, love story, and painful human relationships which evolve, and then dissolve. 

Books with a Difference #1: Childhood

 

I've decided, from time to time, to review a few books I have read which have made an impression on me for one reason or another.  Many of them have themes that resonate with my own stories; some of them are just plain curiosities.  Usually they will be fiction; occasionally non-fiction.  If you have also read them, or they remind you of something you have read that is similar, or similarly 'different', please comment and let me know.  I'm always looking for more good books!