A SpeedBlog response from Sarah Farraway
I put the advice 'enjoy every stage of life' in the same basket as 'treat every day as if it's your last'. All sounds good in theory but in reality - not possible, or even desirable.
I mean, who can treat everyday as if it's their last? If I lived my life like that I'd be a lazy bum who never finished school, got a degree (or a job), did the washing up or the grocery shopping. I sort of feel the same about 'enjoy every stage of life'.
I've never been happy with where I was. I have always lived with one foot in the future - daydreaming impatiently for the day to arrive when I will be living exactly the life I want to. Of course, with age I have worked out that day will never arrive and I will always be seeking and wanting more. But is this bad? I don't think so. Some people will think it sounds as though I never enjoy a moment or have any fun. That's not true, I have fun all the time. But the fact that I am never satisfied has given me focus and discipline and I believe is the reason why I have achieved everything I ever set my mind to.
There are downsides of course. I am hideously impatient and I’ve never been able to enjoy a night out as much as my friends (I can only have a good time up to the point where I start thinking about what I’ve got to do the following day….). But I like having a goal to work towards, even if it keeps changing as mine have a tendency to do.
I’m curious to see if having my first baby later this year changes this lifelong aversion to living in the moment. The ever-present needs of a new child and having wanted to be a mother for a long time may conspire to force me to live in the here and now.
But I think it’s just as likely I will start planning for the next baby…or finishing my degree….or buying my dream house, or something……
Sarah is living, working and studying in Sydney with her partner and 3 1/2 children.
Thursday 19 April 2012
Sunday 15 April 2012
The beautiful truth of life's pleasures
A speedblog entry by Ellen Francis.
"Life is what happens when you're busy making plans". So I stopped making them, and got a life. I had been working in the City in a job which was making me short-tempered, deeply cynical and, despite many friends and endless dates, rather lonely. So last January I quit my job, moved onto a Dutch barge moored in a quiet part of Battersea and, to complete the picture of a mid-life crisis, bought a sports car.
"What are your plans?" I was asked. I hadn't a clue, I vaguely just wanted "a year off to think about what I actually want to do".
From the outside my non-working life looks great, but more importantly it also feels great from the inside too. Exactly six months after quitting my job I met a man. And he came with a dog. The absolute highlight of my day is meandering down the river with Daisy on our hour long, sometimes two-hour long, yomp to Battersea Park. I take real joy, heart bursting joy, in this simple activity. I have reconnected in small, but to me life-changing, ways with the physical world around me: the tides make the boat creak, rain sometimes leaks through the roof, a sunny day finds me sitting on deck. I am at Nature's mercy and this has forced me to make another wonderful connection: with the community on my doorstep who answer distressed calls when I spring a leak.
It is now 15 months since I quit my job and I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up (except maybe marry that man who is now my fiance). I am extremely lucky to afford this time off, but my new life has also taught me that it's the little things which make me happy and, like the dog, as long as I am fed, watered, walked and given a little unconditional love each day then all will be well.
So, to answer the speedblog question: the best stage in life is now. Or rather (borrowing nauseatingly from modern faux spiritualism) "the now", being "present" or "in the moment". The best stage in life is the stage when you stop making plans.
"Life is what happens when you're busy making plans". So I stopped making them, and got a life. I had been working in the City in a job which was making me short-tempered, deeply cynical and, despite many friends and endless dates, rather lonely. So last January I quit my job, moved onto a Dutch barge moored in a quiet part of Battersea and, to complete the picture of a mid-life crisis, bought a sports car.
"What are your plans?" I was asked. I hadn't a clue, I vaguely just wanted "a year off to think about what I actually want to do".
From the outside my non-working life looks great, but more importantly it also feels great from the inside too. Exactly six months after quitting my job I met a man. And he came with a dog. The absolute highlight of my day is meandering down the river with Daisy on our hour long, sometimes two-hour long, yomp to Battersea Park. I take real joy, heart bursting joy, in this simple activity. I have reconnected in small, but to me life-changing, ways with the physical world around me: the tides make the boat creak, rain sometimes leaks through the roof, a sunny day finds me sitting on deck. I am at Nature's mercy and this has forced me to make another wonderful connection: with the community on my doorstep who answer distressed calls when I spring a leak.
It is now 15 months since I quit my job and I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up (except maybe marry that man who is now my fiance). I am extremely lucky to afford this time off, but my new life has also taught me that it's the little things which make me happy and, like the dog, as long as I am fed, watered, walked and given a little unconditional love each day then all will be well.
So, to answer the speedblog question: the best stage in life is now. Or rather (borrowing nauseatingly from modern faux spiritualism) "the now", being "present" or "in the moment". The best stage in life is the stage when you stop making plans.
Monday 2 April 2012
Watch a film about the Holocaust and walk through a cemetary - then tell me you've got real problems.
by Katherine Burgdorf.
I have spent the last two years unpacking the boxes of my mind. Many were marked 'fragile' and all of them were woeful. Had they been labelled they would have read something like 'Status', 'Comparison', 'Anger', 'Anticipation', 'Expectations' and 'Deservedness'. One of them was marked 'PMT - This way up you idiot'.
I don't mind telling you it's been something of a chore - like starting a session of Spring cleaning and still being surrounded by mess in Autumn.
But about a month ago I realised I had nothing to worry about. To continue the analogy the only box left was the one with my personality in it. It's not a neat filing case but it's no worse than anyone else's...and it's got loads of room in it. I realised I'd narrowed down the things I'll worry about to four. I told someone this at work and they thought I was crazy. 'Why would you list out the things you're going to worry about?' they said. But they had it wrong. I just meant that if it's not on the following list I'll have to think seriously before getting wound up:
1. my husband's health
2. my sisters and their families, including my sister in law and her family
3. cancer
4. my marriage
If there's a problem with anything to do with that list it's automatically classified as 'All out panic'. If it isn't on that list, like whether my pension is likely to be big enough in 40 year's time, then try not to worry unnecessarily.
Life, as it turns out, is really not so bad for me. So when I ask which phase of my life is the best, it has to be now. I don't own a pair of rose coloured glasses. While I had fun in my 20s what I remember most is vague or not-so-vague anxiety about my place in the world.
People often groan at the way I see the world. I'd be flattered if I really was that different but here are the things I find useful to think about at 33 and one-quarter.
1. When in trouble, ask yourself whether it will matter when you're 80. Instant perspective.
2. Watch documentaries and films about African poverty and the Holocaust. Very few of us have any real problems.
3. We will all be dead very soon. Wander through a cemetery. It's one of the most refreshing things you can do.
4. If you do one thing in life, ditch the sense of righteous expectation. No one owes you anything, no matter how many times your mother said it was all about school grades/kids/marriage/getting on the property ladder. Your life can turn to utter crap in a second, or over years. It might be your fault, it might not.
5. Women: If you regularly feel like you're going to kill a) yourself and/or b) other people I pass on the wonderful recommendation of B vitamins and Evening Primrose Oil. Because while it's galling to be afflicted with PMT (when you righteously expect to be above that kind of thing, see point 4) you cannot argue against hormones without some help.
Of course, my 5 pieces of advice as are useless to you as they are useful to me. If I gave the above advice to my 25-year-old self I'd have nodded wisely, thought I'd got it, and completely ignored it in practice. Success is probably best summarised as getting by as best you can with your silly problems until you die, or cannot live with them any longer. You'll either find a way to change them, or not.
I have spent the last two years unpacking the boxes of my mind. Many were marked 'fragile' and all of them were woeful. Had they been labelled they would have read something like 'Status', 'Comparison', 'Anger', 'Anticipation', 'Expectations' and 'Deservedness'. One of them was marked 'PMT - This way up you idiot'.
I don't mind telling you it's been something of a chore - like starting a session of Spring cleaning and still being surrounded by mess in Autumn.
But about a month ago I realised I had nothing to worry about. To continue the analogy the only box left was the one with my personality in it. It's not a neat filing case but it's no worse than anyone else's...and it's got loads of room in it. I realised I'd narrowed down the things I'll worry about to four. I told someone this at work and they thought I was crazy. 'Why would you list out the things you're going to worry about?' they said. But they had it wrong. I just meant that if it's not on the following list I'll have to think seriously before getting wound up:
1. my husband's health
2. my sisters and their families, including my sister in law and her family
3. cancer
4. my marriage
If there's a problem with anything to do with that list it's automatically classified as 'All out panic'. If it isn't on that list, like whether my pension is likely to be big enough in 40 year's time, then try not to worry unnecessarily.
Life, as it turns out, is really not so bad for me. So when I ask which phase of my life is the best, it has to be now. I don't own a pair of rose coloured glasses. While I had fun in my 20s what I remember most is vague or not-so-vague anxiety about my place in the world.
People often groan at the way I see the world. I'd be flattered if I really was that different but here are the things I find useful to think about at 33 and one-quarter.
1. When in trouble, ask yourself whether it will matter when you're 80. Instant perspective.
2. Watch documentaries and films about African poverty and the Holocaust. Very few of us have any real problems.
3. We will all be dead very soon. Wander through a cemetery. It's one of the most refreshing things you can do.
4. If you do one thing in life, ditch the sense of righteous expectation. No one owes you anything, no matter how many times your mother said it was all about school grades/kids/marriage/getting on the property ladder. Your life can turn to utter crap in a second, or over years. It might be your fault, it might not.
5. Women: If you regularly feel like you're going to kill a) yourself and/or b) other people I pass on the wonderful recommendation of B vitamins and Evening Primrose Oil. Because while it's galling to be afflicted with PMT (when you righteously expect to be above that kind of thing, see point 4) you cannot argue against hormones without some help.
Of course, my 5 pieces of advice as are useless to you as they are useful to me. If I gave the above advice to my 25-year-old self I'd have nodded wisely, thought I'd got it, and completely ignored it in practice. Success is probably best summarised as getting by as best you can with your silly problems until you die, or cannot live with them any longer. You'll either find a way to change them, or not.
Please Life, Don’t Get Any Better by Gabrielle's Mother
By Margaret Coulton
Further to my daughter’s lovely comments, I thought it would
be interesting to reflect on my weekend as I approach my 63rd birthday.
My weekend started Friday afternoon with babysitting two of my
beautiful grandchildren until 7.30pm, then onto a gig of the daughter of my
dear friend, Cathy. After a few wines, chilling to some great music, a few
dances, some karaoke (I was the best), we went back to Cathy's place for a few digestifs, a little more singing and
dancing and finally to bed at 3am.
Saturday - a beautiful sunny 25 degrees, started with a long
scrumptious breakfast with friends, then we were off to see two more of my
beautiful grandchildren. Patricia, our daughter-in-law’s mother, was kind
enough to provide a beautiful gourmet picnic lunch and a lovely white wine. We
were home by 5pm and enjoyed a quiet night with a few drinks.
Sunday, a beautiful 25 degrees again, a walk on the beach, then
prepared a delicious lamb ragout pappardelle for an early birthday celebratory
lunch with friends and, of course the love of my life, Gazza. Following a few
champagnes, magnificent lunch and a number of wines, as is the norm for our
get-togethers, we partook in a number of extremely riveting discussions,
including: the potential for starting our own reality TV series where we could
give cooking and lifestyle advice; who was going to look the best at Janet's
upcoming 60th birthday party in Hua Hin (Thailiand); appropriate hem lengths
for women of our vintage (I did not agree with the guys that it was six inches
above the knee); droopy boobs (none of us have them); politics (we all agreed
we could run the country far better than our present government); our current
medications; what we will do when we win lotto; and of course, bowel habits.
I must admit, looking after my beautiful granddaughter,
Tilly, that night was quite a challenge at the end of such a weekend!
So what do I think about this stage of my life? Bloody
exhausting!
Published in response to Not The Style Pages' SpeedBlog series
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