Holgas

Great post by Danny Gregory - very very funny.

Posie Gets Cozy

going the grannie-along - that is crocheting one of those traditional blankets with squares. Her colour selection is utterly delicious.

Deidre is back!

Who is Deidre? My double... I've never met her but first came across her a few years ago when someone ran down the street shouting 'Deidre ! Deidre!' and seemed puzzled that a) I was reluctant to stop and b) when I did stop that I was not actually Deidre. Well today I was early for an appointment so sat in the window of a cafe on South Clerk St. A bus pulled up the lights and an Asian woman banged and waved her arms at me and mouthed 'See you next Wednesday' and I mouthed back and shrugged my shoulders 'I've no idea who you are '. Yes I did look around the cafe to check that there wasn't someone right behind me cheerfully reciprocating - but no I was the only one in it. My conclusion ... Deidre is back ! and she's meeting someone on Wednesday. I'll keep you posted.

This may be an image of the inside of my head at the moment. A morass of things shifting about with no clear picture.

Magnum the photographers collective

now has a blog

the lights on Manley Beach

Victorian terraced house Surrey Hills Sydney

Knitting again

or at least sewing up a bunch of squares I'd made of this pattern to make a baby blanket for the new niece. I'd began to suffer a 'fear of finishing' - do other knitters have this problem? So I invited L to an impromptu Stitch and Bitch to get over it. We laid out the squares on my kitchen table. Rearranging them to get the best effect. Got out out needle and thread and ate cake and got to work. L left before it was finished but I did the last few seams while watching TV. I have to say it looks pretty damn good. I took it to my mom today to transport to niece and she will crochet a border tonight. I've taken a photo and hope it comes out because 'eat your heart out Kaffe Fassett!'

~~~~

Made me wonder if there are any other situations where asking for someone to do something alongside you would help? Quilting and sewing bees are traditional. But what about taxathons? Swapping gardening. I've had a friend report swapping about to help out in decluttering. I'm sure there are creative situations which could be helped out as well especially the fear of starting. Sometimes it helps to phone someone or email and say 'I'm starting X - wish me luck' and then to check in again afterwards.

Lunar Eclipse

I did go out adventuring and saw it over Portobello. I sat perched for a while on a groin watching it. Very red over the city. I took a few photos but I'm pretty sure they won't come out.

However it was wonderful sitting there listening to the surf pound the beach. Like an eternal heartbeat, then in the distance the lighthouses in the dark, the lights in Fife, the flares from Grangemouth.

Just before I left to get the bus I had a 'can I be bothered moment'. However I stood quite a while waiting for a bus (I didn't time things quite right). As I stood there I thought I saw a cat cross the road. It was actually a fox. He/she passed less than 4 foot away from me and trotted across the Links into the dark. I would have missed all that if I'd not roused myself.

moon eclipse tonight?

One of my students told me about it yesterday so I'm hoping that it will be clear enough to see it tonight. Apparently it should occur abou 10.45.

The State Theatre Sydney where I got my lomo repaired when I was staying there.

Keri Smith is doing one creative thing a day for a month. Check it out at her blog.

one is an aunt!

9.40am yesterday. I've googled for info about being a good aunt and they internet failed to provide me with any guidance though I did find a blog for 'Aunt Mary.'

caffineated art

Expresso Art via Megnut

Felicia C Sullivan

I just came across her blog via Alex.

Habit breaking

One of the problems I find is that I get in a rut. Its very easy to do. Suddenly one realises that you're making the same 4 recipes over and over again. You see the same friends over and over again. You travel the same routes and life seems 'blah'.

I'm deliberately trying to change my habits. Somethings are small change my seat, move around the room. Somethings big - change my thought habits 'maybe it will work out'.

On Friday I got a different buses to and from work. I sat on the top deck - I normally sit at the bottom. I got a totally new perspective on the journey. I was able to look down into the woods, get new vistas. On the journey home I was 'entertained' by a delightful conversation by two young women - one complaining about being thrown out of her flat, consuming some compensation money on drugs, more complaining about being sent back to jail, and finally how she would just get some more money by stealing it. I'm beginning to understand how people become more right wing as they grow older. I'm also remembering while I usually sit on the lower deck! The upper deck used to be the smoking section of the bus. This was stopped in Edinburgh about 10 years ago but still has this residual air of being the undesirable part of the bus with the undesirable inhabitants....

Meanwhile go here Little Birds crafty blog via Andrea Scher.

Arvon Foundation has a new programme out. Fantastic courses for beginner writers also poetry, biography, crime, lit novel, sci fi, cookery, screenwriting (Film, TV , Radio) playwriting, and all in gorgeous places. Generous bursaries for those in need.

HKhandknit a great shop in Bruntsfield Edinburgh for the knitter.

I live most days now in a world of dessert, rewards and rest first, during and after.

Robyn Posin

Yes this is what I'm working towards. I'm off to walk on the beach then I'll come back and tackle some of the things I have to do.

found it !

Sensory world of colour

I've realised recenly I've been caught up in language, explaining things, writing things and planning things rather than experincing life.

I had a discussion about a work project where the subject of colour came up and I launched into a description of one of Anne Redpath's paintings of an orange chair - unfortuantly I can't find a reproduction of it but the combination of black/pink/acidy yellow is amazing enough here.

I've got to get out of my head.

karmageddon

Cool to be kind: Spreading a little happiness

Published: 21 February 2007 The Independent

The boy in the hooded top sizes me up. "Wanker!" he says. "Perv!" shouts his mate. "Paedo!" laughs another. I look deep into their adolescent eyes, and deliver my pre-scripted reply: "Are you sure you don't just need a good hug?" Apparently, they don't. The boys disappear into the Oxford Street crowds, and I carry on walking up the pavement, holding a large sign that offers sympathetic hugs to any Monday afternoon shoppers who might "really need it".

To most passers-by in this part of central London, I must look like another lonely oddball going about his daily business. But most passers-by would be wrong. Despite the "hug me" sign and plastic smile, I do not crave love and affection; instead I'm a slightly embarrassed investigative reporter taking part in a serious social experiment.

Today is Ash Wednesday, when western Christians celebrate the start of Lent. In keeping with tradition, millions of Britons will forego one of life's treats (chocolate, alcohol, sweets, etc) for 40 days and 40 nights.
This year though, things are different. Reasoning, rightly, that most resolutions add nothing to the sum of human happiness, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams, has launched a campaign to rebrand Lent. Its name is, "Love Life, Live Lent".

The principle behind his brainchild is simple. Instead of giving something up, Anglicans are encouraged to spend time each day being "generous to yourself, your neighbours, and the world". Like good boy scouts, followers must do one good deed each day.

To help them, the Church of England has published a book of "simple actions" that followers can perform during Lent, and invited churchgoers to sign up for text message alerts, in which they will be contacted with one act of kindness to perform each day between now and Easter.

It will provide a religious take on an intriguing international trend. In recent years, in different corners of the globe, several movements have sprung up inviting followers to combat the selfishness of modern life by doing nice things to random strangers.
Today, I want in on the act. In one 24-hour period, I shall attempt to carry out all 40 of the church's acts of kindness. With luck, it will make a small difference to the daily life of a handful of complete strangers, and provide me with a warm glow.

Yet it may also help answer some big questions. Are random acts of kindness an enduring human trait? Can we find time to perform them in the hurly-burly of modern life? Will those on the receiving end really care?
First, I must walk up Oxford Street carrying a silly sign. You see, one of the 40 "actions" I must perform is to "hug someone who needs it". A few minutes later, I find my man. Mutu works near Oxford Circus Tube station, holding up a sign pointing towards a golf sale. He's cold, bored, and he earns minimum wage. If anyone needs a hug, it is Mutu. And after a bit of talking, he agrees.

I hold tight, share some love, and ask him to smile for a camera. Then I offer him some fruit. He accepts, which is helpful, because it allows me to "give someone an apple", number 14 on the list. That's two acts of kindness down, 38 to go.

If you put your mind to it, carrying out acts of kindness can start as soon as you wake up. You can be kind to people in different parts of the country, or on the other side of the world, or even be kind to the planet itself, without leaving your home.

So I "turn off the tap when I clean my teeth", drink an ethical coffee (I've been instructed to "buy a Fairtrade product") having only "filled the kettle with the water I need". I forego a bacon sandwich in favour of muesli, since this is an opportunity to "have a meat-free day".

In keeping with the Archbishop of Canterbury's sandal-wearing public image, many of his "simple actions" are aimed at combating climate-change, or otherwise helping the environment. This Lent, he advises Anglicans to "put on a jumper and turn down the heat in your house", and to "buy a low-energy lightbulb". Oh, and "don't leave the TV or hi-fi on standby".

I do all of the above in a jiffy. Yet however helpful or nice, or eco-friendly these small domestic acts are, they are really just a warm-up act for the main event of being randomly kind to strangers.

That very important task involves leaving the house and heading off into our capital city, a journey during which I tick off number seven - "give up my place to someone who is in a rush". Modern commuter-train etiquette is a tricky subject - the comedian Jimmy Carr never gives up his seat since (he says) it's better to see four pregnant women standing than one fat girl sitting down in tears - but we get there in the end.

I hurry to Oxfam on Marylebone High Street, because I'm looking to "give a friend a good book or CD", and quickly get very lucky. They're selling a Kim Wilde cassette for 49p, the greatest Bee Gees album ever (The Very Best of the Bee Gees) for £2.99, and EastEnders' Mike Reid's groundbreaking autobiography T'rific for £4.50.

All told, it's bashed into the till for £7.98. I wince. "Could we do a deal?" I ask. Libam, the volunteer behind the counter, isn't sure. "Since I'm buying three of them, how about we call it £10." He pauses. "OK, OK," I say. "I'll give £12, but that's my final offer."

Libam agrees. "Thank you very much," he says, not handing me any change. "Not at all," I reply. I've just managed to "buy something at the local charity shop, and reverse haggle". Another tick.

Next, it's off to Leicester Square, to "plant some seeds where the flowers will be seen". I also draft a quick note to Westminster council, informing it of what I've just done. I'd been asked to "visit a park and then write to the council to tell them what you think".

Next I manage (illegally) to "feed the birds" in Trafalgar Square. I also visit a phone box to make a call to "find out about blood or organ donation" and "leave a £1 coin where someone will find it", just above the receiver. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Finally, I find some half-price daffodils in Waitrose and give a bunch to a local flower-seller. The recipient of the attempt to "purchase a buy-one-get-one-free and give the free one away" is called Chris and comes from Eastern Europe, so our brief encounter also constitutes "having a conversation with someone from a different culture".

Like most good ideas, the "Love Life, Live Lent" campaign began life in a pub. Five years ago, the comedian Danny Wallace founded an organisation known as the Karma Army, which now boasts several thousand members. Its purpose is to carry out one random act of kindness each Friday.
Wallace chronicled the birth of his movement in the book Join Me!, and has given the CoE permission to use some of his suggested charitable acts - known as "Good Fridays" - in its literature for the current project.
"We tend to brush kindness under the carpet, or lose our nerve, or worry people might think we're odd if we go up to a stranger and do something nice," Wallace tells me. "But everyone wins from kindness. The person being kind gets a buzz from it, as much as the person on the receiving end benefits.

"It's win-win. There's so much cynicism, but what you realise is that there's much more fun to be had in being nice to people."

With this in mind, I walk to Borough Market to "use local shops rather than supermarkets". In Neal's Yard Dairy, I grab some stilton, and ask the assistant to let me pay for the girl behind me, thus managing to "buy something for someone anonymously".

Then, having gazed longingly at butchers' vans being unloaded (meat is still verboten) it's off to nearby Southwark Cathedral, where I can tick off the requirement to "find an open church and pay it a visit", and also to "spend some time in silence".

In the coffee shop, I meet the magnificently named Reverend Tina Turner, the vicar of St Christopher's in Croydon, south London. She takes me back into the cathedral to "light a candle and pray for someone", before agreeing to "read St John's Gospel, chapter 19" to me. It's a harrowing, slightly gory passage covering the trial and persecution of Jesus.

To clear our heads, we "go for a walk with friends in the neighbourhood", allowing me to "pick up litter", and quiz Ms Turner on some of my misgivings about the random acts of kindness the church has suggested.
Is it not dangerous for the church to suggest that "having a TV-free day" (as I am) or giving up meat for 24 hours is always a good thing? Doesn't this suggest that watching telly is immoral? Or that hamburgers are the food of the Devil?

"I don't think it's about moral versus immoral," she responds. "It's about doing something different from what you'd normally do, and asking yourself why don't I do this more often?

"The traditional purpose of giving things up in Lent is to help self-examination and penitence. The idea is to give something up so you can focus on God. But it's become watered-down: you have the self-denial, but not the other side of the coin - self-examination. The kindness campaign is about focusing on the other side of that coin."

As we say our goodbyes, a case in point. Outside a local coffee shop, I spot a man in his fifties enjoying a drink. I ask whether I can sit next to him, explaining that it would be nice to "have a conversation with someone from a different generation". He agrees. His name is John.

John is house-hunting, since bailiffs are attempting to evict him from his current dwelling. The landlord failed to keep up payments on his mortgage. "Fortunately, my wife works at the Belgian embassy so we've been able to claim diplomatic immunity," he says. "They can't turf us out. But I don't want to stay there for ever, so here I am."
John is already a devotee of random acts of kindness. He tries to do one every day, and says it makes him feel great. "Even if it's a miserable old cow in the post office, if you can make her smile when you're paying for a stamp, you've done something worthwhile. I've been doing it for years, but I don't think of it as a random act of kindness. I think of it as being human."

And in a way, he has a point.

Today, British churchgoers will be texted with the first of their 40 instructions, and it will be to "make someone laugh". I begin my search for laughter by ticking off another instruction: "go to a party". John Bird, founder of The Big Issue, has invited friends to the Halcyon Gallery in Mayfair, to launch an exhibition by Robert Lenkiewicz.

The event offers a chance to "say something nice about someone behind their back" and "make a drink for a friend or colleague" (or at least pour one). It also allows John to share his favourite joke with me: "There's a new Liverpudlian version of Silence of the Lambs coming out... it's called "Shut Up, Youse".

If anyone understands kindness, it ought to be Bird, whose homelessness charity is underpinned by the generosity of Big Issue readers and donors. "An act of kindness is a kind of encapsulation of humanity," he says. "If you are nice to an animal, you are expressing humanity. If you are nice to a person, you are also expressing humanity. When someone asked Plato what the purpose of life is, he replied that it's love. And kindness is just one step removed from love.

"It's a universal thing, too. Even in the darkest days of Rwanda or the Holocaust there's always little acts of kindness. It's funny, but people do these little things. You can never be paid for it. There's never a motive. It's just something you do."

To Bird and other believers, random acts of kindness affirm our existence. Some, like the decision to "ring a loved one" (my mum, on the way home) or "do a chore for someone" (dishes for my flatmate, when I get there) are things we do every day.

Others, like the moth I later liberate in an effort to "help a bug out of the house rather than squash it", or the cream tea I forewent earlier, in order to "miss a meal and pray instead", are things most people would class as a one-off.

Yet doing all of them, and thinking about why (I must "now write to someone [the Rev Tina] and thank them") teach us that modern life doesn't have to be all miserable, unfriendly, and selfish. And it's rather uplifting.

The clock passes 1am before I reach the end of the list of kindness. I have just tried to "bake something and share it" (wrong flour makes it inedible), and now only one task remains: "phone someone to say goodnight".
Feeling a warm glow of self-satisfaction (though I can't tell whether it's from simply finishing the list, or actually helping people), I call Mutu, the billboard man I hugged earlier in the day, and leave a message.
Sadly, he never replies. Kind I may be, but deep down I suspect that he probably thinks I'm completely mad.

Who else is spreading the joy?
Small Kindness Movement
www.kindness.jp/english/
The Small Kindness Movement was born in Japan in the 1960s, "while the Japanese society was undergoing rapid post-war development [and] young people were missing their ideals and purposes of life, their energy [being] poured into student movements". A Professor Kaya instead urged people to be kind, "so that it will become the habit of our society".
World Kindness Movement

http://www.worldkindness.org.sg/
The Singapore-based WKM, which is funded by the government, was formed in 1997 and established a World Kindness Day (13 November).Activities include a Courtesy Campaign, which suggests good manners for every situation.

Bright Smile Movement
http://www.smilekorea.org/
The South Korean BSM's website says: "Korea also have suffered from invasions more than 930 through 5,000 years' history, ruled under Japan, war between same people, division, dictatorship, IMF, etc. Our nation was the one of most unfortunate people in the world. But Korean have overcome tribulations with smile keeping hope. We want to share the power... of creating smile."

Extreme Kindness Crew
http://www.extremekindness.com/
Formed in 2001 in the wake of 9/11, this foursome have clocked up 50,180 acts of kindness - from giving out free fruit, to massaging strangers, tiling roofs and breaking in wild horses - and have also staged kindness "protests".

Chloe's Peace Brigade
www.matthew7.org/view/?pageID=316629
"Welcome, everyone, to our groovy gravy Peace Brigade booklet sort of thing," begins Chloe's teenage treatise on why we should all smile, pay compliments to our enemies and clean our rooms, first posted online last September. "Just because we're not adults doesn't mean we can't help change the world," she continues, before suggesting a page full of kindness tips for teens.

The Scary Guy, aka 'the new face of love'
http://www.thescaryguy.com/
The intro on Scary Guy's website announces: "I've got one mission and one mission only, the total elimination of hate, violence and prejudice. Worldwide." This American biker's anti-bullying school tours have been greeted rapturously.

Free Hugs Guy
http://www.freehugscampaign.org/
The Australian known as Juan Mann ("one man") began by holding up a placard offering "free hugs" in Sydney and became a global phenomenon after a friend posted a video of Juan on YouTube. "It's a way to make people smile," he says.

UK Kindness organisations:
The Karma Army (http://www.join-me.co.uk/)
British organisers of Karmageddon, an annual London festival of RaoK (random acts of kindness).
Kindness Scotland (http://www.kindnesscotland.co.uk/)
Scottish members of the WKM. The organisation runs, among other activities, the Kind Kids Scheme.
Campaign for Courtesy (http://www.campaignforcourtesy.org/)
Formerly the Polite Society, it has themed campaigns each year, for example "politeness in sport".
Act Against Bullying (http://www.actagainstbullying.com/)
This member of the UK Kindness Movement has initiated "B Decent for a Day", with the strapline, "it's cool to be kind".
Kate Burt

Ebb and Flow

I was surfing last night and Loobylu is taking a blogging break. However after a long hiatus Michael Nobbs is back. Welcome back Michael!

Real Men Knit

In haste... TOO MUCH

I woke up quite early but the morning ran away with me. A long discussion with my flatmate, two pots of coffee and re-reading Eric Maisel's Coaching the Artist Within. I ordered it last week and picked it up from my favourite indpendent bookshop last thursday. I read it on the train to Glasgow and ping ping ping! lots of sudden shifts of opinion (self opinion) about creative projects started to go off in my head. Perhaps I'm just in the right place to be taking it in. But its good - all good. Eric is a very very wise teacher not afraid to tell a student just what they want to hear and don't want to hear. I'm willing to listen now.

In the meanwhile as I go through my to do list written on scrap of orange paper. Please think about TOO MUCH - what is just TOO MUCH?

I had a terrible terrible day last week. A I'm sitting on the bus and I'm nearly crying kind of Day. I rescued the day. Partly by actually picking up Eric's book, having lovely lunch, meeting a friend. Then this weekend I had a whole series of more treats which ameliorated the no good day. Nice soap hunting, stamps to write to people, searching for Green Jasmine Tea at the Chinese supermarket (£1.10!) and luscious trips with a friend to Glasgow and then to see a film last night with another friend. Somewhere along the line a small snarky voice piped up. 'Isn't this too self indugent? Too much Fun?' Yes I may have had TOO MUCH FUN. But I also dug myself out of a hole, got an idea for a creative project ( a fun creative project) and reconnected with a whole section of my life which has been in abeyance (networking but fun). In reality amongst the fun I've done stuff which can be construed as 'work' or 'productive' but in reality I would not have done if I had just rejected the too much activities. Instead of working of course I would have been in a miserable unproductive heap.

What is 'Too Much' for you?

What would really happen if you had 'Too Much' for yourself?

Try it

The results might surprise you....

due to my inabilty to spell

... I've failed to direct you to my friend Rhiannon's website before...

Top 10 Dalai Lama Tips

from Lifehacker.org

Handmade Books

One of my students Kirsty O'Connor is offering classes in Edinburgh at her studio at Patriothall, Stockbridge in making your own books. Class starts 27th February for the afternoon one and March 1st for the evening one (both 6 weeks long). Contact her on 669 5408 or email on kirstyoconnor@phonecoop.coop In addition there s a one day workshop on sunday 18th March 10-4pm.

"We are not automatic lovers of self, others, world, or God. Love does not just happen. We are not love machines, puppets on the strings of a deity called 'love.' Love is a choice--not simply, or necessarily, a rational choice, but rather a willingness to be present to others without pretense or guile. Love is a conversion to humanity--a willingness to participate with others in the healing of a broken world and broken lives. Love is the choice to experience life as a member of the human family, a partner in the dance of life, rather than as an alien in the world or as a deity above the world, aloof and apart from human flesh." --Carter Heyward, Passion for Justice

from Jennifer Louden's Self Care Minder 14th February 2006

'Love Yourself Day'

In the same way we can create objects, things, art we can create the kind of world we want one step at a time. I want a world were we value ourselves and the friendships we have so I created my own 'Day'. Its worth thinking about what you can do to make things the way you would like them to be.

~~~~~~~~
Post from last year - today will make my own chocolate cake...

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Promise to marry yourself and never leave yourself.Buy yourself flowers.Buy your own chocolates (perferably truffles from Plasir Du Chocolat)Do what you wanna do don't wait until you have someone to go with whether to the shops, cinema, theatre, or the Trans Siberian Express (and if you do end up with a partner who doesnt want to go on the Trans Siberian Express and you do for heavens sake GO alone if needs be)Write a to do list - burn it make instead a list of your deepest desires and keep it close much worse to forget them than renewing the insurance.Promise yourself to not to agree to social activities you don't want to do. Make inventive excuses if you can't just say no. If you still can't say no investing in an assertiveness training course probably will be more help to you than a box of chocolates anyway.Adorn yourself with clothes that you love not just made do with.Have a massage if you've never had one.Invest in all your relationships, yes phone/email/write your funny cousin, hell send your friends valentines.Take the day off, leave work early, sit in a cafe with a coffee and watch the world go by.add your own in comments please
Posted by m at 9:12 PM

3 comments:
hendrix said...
Luxuriate in a hot bath. Add perfumes, bubbles, candles, rose petals, rubber ducks if you like...and then when its time to get out -leave it for someone else to clean.Set yourself a budget. Now go spend it on brand new art supplies. Not the ones that you need.The ones that you want. Buy some frivolous knickers and wear them to dance round the house in.Make a tape. Remember how you did it when you were a teenager? Do it now. Put on every single song that makes you want to dance. Now play it. Constantly.
9:24 AM
rs said...
Treat yourself to a CD by someone that you haven't heard before -Buy a cake from a very posh cake shop. ( Heart shaped if possible ! - Plaisir du Chocolat can oblige with this one too )Plan a little trip for sometime soon and enjoying deciding where you'll go and what you'll do.Write little notes and leave them under people's windscreen wipers/ plant pots .Smile at everyone today. You'll feel good and people will wonder what your secret is .Oh ,and if your thing is the transiberian railway, take supplies of EVERYTHING. Siberians think that this is a crazy thing to do for fun !
12:48 PM
m said...
I thought the soft class of Siberian Railway had a standard baboska (sp) in the corner of carriage to take care of that stuff?

Dogged

I just did 3/4 of my washing up, cleaned my bathroom sink and scrubbed the dimples on my shower floor with cream cleanser and an old toothbrush and put my shower curtain into the washing machine.

Pretty dull huh?

Actually when I started I felt very overwhelmed by the state of the house so I did a flylady and promised to do it just 15 mins at a time. 45 mins later the place is looking like less of a wreck. I read somewhere that action is better than hope. And certainly contemplating and hoping that my flat would get in order wasn't getting me anywhere and in fact hoping I'd do something about it 'tomorrow' wasn't doing me any good and in fact the mess was bringing me down.

So I just did it.

I didn't wait for the prefect moment to do housework.

I didn't wait to be inspired to do it.

I didn't go out and buy any special 'tools' to do it.

I didn't buy a manual.

I just did it.

Then I did it a bit more.

And surprised myself - after 15 mins more than half of the washing up was done. And when the timer went off while I was scrubbing the shower dimples I carried on to 'finish the job'.

I think that people don't want to know that a lot of creative work depends on doggedness. A stick with it ness. It is more important to keep putting ones foot forward and keeping going rather than relying on 'inspiration' or 'the perfect moment'.

For example when I made my first film my producer and I were turned down by the first choice of camera person I had in mind. It took us 6 months to find a replacement. Yes 6 months. For 6 months I would turn up at his flat and we phoned every contact we had and didn't have until we got a break. Imagine if I'd only put in a month of phoning and then had stopped? I would not have a film.

21 ways to be creative

from Christine Kane's blog - well worth exploring

"Creativity isn’t a big deal. It’s like our breath. It’s just a part of who we are. Some of us don’t realize this. People who say, “Oh, I’m not creative,” or “I don’t have a creative bone in my body,” sound to me like they’re trying to convince themselves of something, rather than telling themselves the truth. They make the idea of creativity a BIG DEAL because then it will stay safely at arm’s length out of reach and require nothing of them.
Again, creativity isn’t a big deal. It’s not an event. It doesn’t so much happen, as it is allowed. It comes out slowly.
When I found my dog, she had been badly abused. I was walking in the countryside, and she was watching me from a mound of dirt in an old church yard where she had been dumped. She started to follow me. If I turned around, she’d stop. If I tried to walk towards her, she’d tuck her tail under her butt and walk away from me. But if I moved along on my own way, she’d follow me. She eventually got closer and closer, and ultimately she followed me home.
This is how I experience creativity. Anytime I try to turn around and catch it, it turns away. It’s not about willing it. It rarely takes to announcements like, “Today I’m going to be creative! I’m going to write a whole song!”
In my experience, it’s a process. It is slow. Creativity is a way of being, and though it can’t be forced, it can be cultivated and allowed. It happens when I’m already open and my mind is receptive and quiet. There’s almost a joyful laziness to it. Kind of a “Hmm, well, what if I tried this?Ķ?”
There is definitely a happiness to it. A deep happiness and peace. My theory is that when we cling to our vices, when we do unhealthy things that we adamantly say we deserve, what we’re really trying to do is give ourselves what we keep denying ourselves - a fully creative and artful life. Once we start allowing more creativity in, we might find some of those old habits and “vices” just fall away. After all, they are not a substitute for the real thing.
So, if you’re opening up to a more artful and creative life, know that it’s not something to push. It’s something to allow and live. Here are 21 Ways to be more creative, and subsequently, more happy!
1 - Stop watching television
Or better yet, get rid of the damn thing. Any time I teach writing or creativity, this is one of the biggies. TV is a mind-killer. It numbs you. It fills you with emotionally-charged images and over-simplified solutions. It dulls you. Turn it off. Even if this idea scares you, turn it off.
2 - Take a 20-minute walk everyday
It’s easy to become driven about exercise. You go to the Y. You go running. You think that a 20-minute walk isn’t productive or worth much. Take a 20-minute walk and allow the world to just be. Watch things. Stop and smell things. Notice birds. Let the world unfold and show itself to you.
3 - Write with pen & paper (or pencil and paper)
Keep a journal. Do morning pages. Write in long-hand. Typing on a keypad into a computer doesn’t always open up that tactile sense-loving part of us that loves to create.
I can sometimes get weirdly happy just hearing the sound the pen makes scribbling on paper. I also love it when the paper is thin, and my pen makes indents so it feels sort of Braille-y, and the paper makes a snappy sound when I turn the page.
4 - Write songs to your pets
At the first women’s retreat I ever facilitated, (at a college campus in St. Louis) a group of women sat on the floor one night in the dorm and sang each other the songs we’d written to our various pets. It was hysterical. The more we sat there, the more women came and sat down with us.
I’ve written many songs to my dog. Greatest hits include “Mom’s Little Girl,” “She Is Going to Be a Very Clean Girl,” (a bathtub song) and “She is Unbelievably Cute.” Of course, there’s also the “Good Morning Song.” My cats each have their own songs too. I actually make myself laugh as I’m creating them because my animals look so truly unimpressed with me.
It’s easy to do because you can do it anywhere - while you drive to work, while you make dinner, while you lie on the couch with them?Ķ
5 - Dance around the House
Put on old disco (Earth, Wind, and Fire, baby!), or new Madonna, or swing. Put it on loud. Dance around your house while you make dinner. Or start the day shakin’ your groove thang.
6 - Walk in the rain
I haven’t owned an umbrella in about 10 years. I love the rain. I love walking in it. I wrote the song Everything Green after I hiked in the mountains in the pouring rain. I was journaling about how alive everything was, and I wrote “It was all just rain and mud and wild and green.” That’s how I got my CD title. Walking in the rain can be a happy thing. (Use an umbrella if you want. Rain on umbrellas makes a good sound.)
7 - Make a collage
Magazines. Some Yes Paste. A scrapbook page and lots of crayons and paints and stickers. (And thou.) This isn’t a vision board. It doesn’t have a purpose. It’s just for fun and beauty and making something. I love collaging. I’m not great at it. But I’ve gotten better and better at laying out the page and learning what colors and shapes I love. I always feel more alive when I do one.
8 - Make a list of things you love
My song Loving Hands (on my first CD) was born out of a journal exercise I did where I just wrote a long list of all the things I love. That song remains one of my most requested songs. I had so much fun thinking of things that delight me in the world. Finding feathers, finding pennies, the sound of big flags flapping in the wind, the smell of my cat’s fur when she’s been out in the snow (she smells like a big box of wool mittens). I remember reading it to a friend of mine who just sat there smiling and nodding his head. Even though this was years ago, I still remember how much fun I had making that list.
9 - Write 10 postcards
Go pick out some really cool postcards, and then go to a cafe? somewhere, and order your Genmaicha Tea (Okay, get yourself a Latte if you want) and write postcards to friends and family.
10 - Get up early and watch the sun rise
11 - Listen to music you’ve never listened to before.
After I saw the movie Tortilla Soup, I downloaded a bunch of Latin music from iTunes. One of my favorite nights in my memory this year was a hot rainy night thick with humidity. My husband and I opened up all the windows and doors. We pressure cooked (I love our pressure cooker) some black beans, shared a froo-froo mixed drink and made a fantastic dinner while all of my new Latin and Tejano music was cranked up. It was one of those really happy nights, partly because I loved discovering new music.
12 - Eat with your hands
Be a kid again. Make a meal and put the silverware back into the drawers. Eat with your hands. Have some friends over for a silverwareless dinner.
13 - Be quiet
Light a few candles after dark and just sit. Don’t meditate if you don’t want to. Just sit quietly and listen. Watch the candles. Allow for more silence in your life.
We are a noisy people. I hear people say they can’t stand silence. But it is in silence where we can hear the voice of our creativity. Maybe not at first. But it will come.
Drive with no music on. Make dinner in silence. Pay attention to your hands as you slice the veggies. Just be quiet.
14 - Take a nap
15 - Take photos. Real photos. Not digital photos.
My favorite camera is a Pentax K1000. It’s completely manual, and it’s how I learned to take pictures. I’m not very good. When I first moved to Asheville, I used to walk around town on Sundays (the whole town was closed up then) and take pictures of all the buildings. These photos are now a treasure to me because nothing is the same anymore. (Every building has been bought, remodeled and now is filled with stores that sell trickly fountains, Buddahs, and things that smell grassy.)
Take pictures of anything. And have fun in the old method of actually getting your film developed and the excitement of flipping through photos you haven’t seen yet.
16 - Make an event out of watching the full moon come up
One of the things I love about my husband is that he’s always looking for the perfect place to watch the full moon come up. He’ll make an event out of it. We pile in the car and go to this one field or to a bench on the college campus and sit and watch the moon rise.
17 - Read poetry aloud
Poetry is meant to be read aloud. The words and phrases will tilt your brain and open doors like you never thought they would. My favorites: Mary Oliver, e.e. cummings, Rumi, Pablo Neruda, Sharon Olds, Barbara Brooks, and Alicia Suskin Ostriker. There are lots of collections of poetry if you don’t want to pick just one.
18 - Go see a play or live music or live anything
Get out of the house and experience creativity. Avoid mega-blockbuster-Hollywood movies whose trailers begin with the deep gravelly voice saying, “IN A WORLD?” (And then bombs go off and Mel Gibson appears)
Live performance is an exchange. As an audience member you get to participate. I know this because I perform. Every night is different. Everything is about the audience. You receive so much more energy from live shows. Go see the symphony, even the small local symphony. See a play. See some improv. There is so much life on a stage, so many improvisational moments, so much about authenticity. You can’t help but take it in.
19 - Visit a gallery
See another artist’s creation. The downtown of any city is bound to have some great galleries. You don’t have to buy anything. Just experience the artistry of someone gifted in glass blowing or pottery or woodwork.
20 - Write a letter
When was the last time you wrote a letter? I just got a long letter from one of the women who participated in my last retreat. It was funny. And it was fun to read. And I kept thinking, “Damn. It’s been too long since I’ve experienced this.” Every time I write a letter, I feel clearer and happier. Not only is it more fun to make something for someone else, it’s also just a way to get out of yourself.
21 - Stop watching television
This is an important one. It bears repeating. There are so many better things you can do than watch American Idol?"

Thank god for coffee and buns. Am having both at the moment - the greyness of the day is getting to me.

£1.15 for real coffee at Lidles and apparently £1 at Ikea...

Wandering around craft blogs instead of doing the washing up. Found this MOO - which looks great and might even push me to sign up for flicker. I love the idea of minicards of my photos.

If you want to indulge in craft blog surfing try Loobylu's links.

I'm just back from the Science of Sleep a free screening. Not sure quite what I think. I'm just impressed that I got out of the house for 11am.

Yesterday in Glasgow. Its been a long time since I've been through. No more shop at CCA! It rained as usual.

I'm going to warm myself up and then head for the shops.

Bespangled by Angels

Yesterday I had breakfast in North London with the friend I was staying with. She left the cafe early due to an appointment with the 'nit nurse' so I stayed on. Two women came to share my table one pushing a pink pram with the cutest baby in a pink jumpsuit. I do wish I'd taken a photo.

Other London highlights include:-

Seeing my best friend's feature film at a press screening in Soho.

Visiting Liberty's and soaking up all the yummy goodness - furry chandaliers being a particular highlight.

A late and slow and yummy lunch with best friend at Mildreds.

Being prevented from seeing the Pet Shop Boys videos at the Portrait Gallery due to two middle aged women crowding around the monitor. My other best friend telling me about an embarrasing encouter with Neil Tennant in the ICA with one British Friend and one German Friend accompanying her. The British Friend hissed 'That's Neil Tennant' and the German Friend said, in a very Loud Voice 'Who is Neil Tennant?' (I can't write in the German accent)

Early lunch at Verde - Jeanette Winterson's shop/cafe in Spitalfields. Its almost perfect but needs a fat cat to sleep in a window.

Foyles bookshop has a very nice Jazz cafe with almost reasonable London prices (Charing Cross Road).

Seeing the Indica Gallery in Soho and seeing a mention of it in this essay about YES.

British Library has wonderfully cheap lockers (£1 returnable) 3 excellent free exhibitions. London in maps, the permanent collection (South Polar Times, Magana Carta anyone?) and one on Migrant magazine.

However loved this quote from the small William Blake exhibit.

"He witnessed visions form an early age - he once saw a tree in Peckham filled with angels 'bespangling every bough like stars' - and in his working life wrestled with new ways to portray his complex ideas about the power of imagination, the nature of religion and the shape of society."

@~@~@~@~@

Something else I noticed on this visit to London. Strange moments of care. Often when I come to London I'm struck by anomie, the disconnectedness of it all, but this time I saw French schoolgirls giving up their seat to an elderly woman, people giving directions, and I didn't not feel as pressed and josseled as I normally do.

Train late yesterday - the hail started at Berwick upon Tweed. I could not see it but heard it on the train.

Remember You Are Beautiful

Collecting colour

I've been taking loads of photos in London. Leaning against walls and loading the Holga with more film. I do do hope that some of them come out. The colours of London are quite different from Edinburgh.

Oooh quick ! Wait! I said to my friend at lunchtime. Deep pink top, orange seat behing and a shocking pink tomato sauce bottle in front of her. I had to take a photo.

Full moon

I went to see Blackbook tonight but it was sold out, so saw The Queen for a second time instead. Walked down Princes St inbetween the 'friday night people' forgetting that most people are celebrating this night because its the end of the work week. It doesn't quite have the same aura when you are a freelancer.

Hummm beautiful moon. I keep trying to take photos of it and it mostly doesn't work.

Bought rather squandered £30 on film medium format for London trip tomorrow. Long chat in Jessops with the man at the counter. I waved my Lomo at him (I also wanted 'ordinary' film) and he said he'd had one way back when they 'only' cost £25. I countered that way back then £25 was probably worth a lot more!

Back late Wednesday.

When will you arrive at the best possible moment? When will you have the perfect opportunity? When will you know without doubt, that you are doing the right thing for the right reason in the right way? Never! If you ever do experience such confidence, you should mistrust it. It is probably born of euphoria, not wisdom. Always, there will be an argument in favour and an argument against. Always, there will be an element of risk. Today's risk, though, is one that is worth taking.

Jonathan Cainer for Virgoes

Good timing! A work situation may have unravelled. And I'm thinking what bad timing . Perhaps in its badtimingness is its realness and something better will come of it. A risk worth taking.

How to be a freelance journalist

from Bad Language blog.

Highlanders Too

My friend Stuart's film is being shown at the Dundee Contempoary Arts Centre. Their website isn't very uptodate but will be on sometime Friday 2nd Feb. His short 10 min film is about being gay in the Highlands. Described by The List as “worth staying in and standing up your hot date for!”

3 questions to find your passion

If I didn't care what anyone thought I would....


If I knew my parents would never find out I'd....


If I could be sure I'd do it right, I would.....


from Martha Beck

stuff

Seeing feathery old lady hats at The Rusty Zip - I can just see one of my cats chasing those. One looked like peacock feathers had been used. I resisted

This book

Stumbling into the Fine Art Library after many years. Reading a wonderful book on Fortuny and refinding Selvage magazine which mentioned Teddies Sans Frontieres or Teddies for Tragedies which my mom knits for.

Ok its a picture of an Australian landmark - hence its squiffness.

More images here.

Alan Wilson has a new photography blog Stare

Craft is radical

"In this age of corporate-driven mass-production, the act of an individual making a useful thing is radical. The act of buying a useful thing made by an individual is radical. It is akin to living off the grid: trading outside the big box.
Craft is to shopping what slow food is to restaurants. Buying high-quality things that needn’t be replaced over time but instead may be passed on to future generations is not only old-fashioned, it is also worldchanging. Craft is slow retail, slow consumption. "

More from World Changing

Strategies, guidelines and rules of connecting

This is from NotSalmon (Karen Salmonsen's website) newsletter.

"All things being equal, people like to do business with theirfriends. All things being not quite so equal, people STILL wantto do business with their friends."...so says Jeffrey Gitomer, author of "The Little Black Book ofConnections."
In his book, Gitomer lists "17. 5 strategies, guidelines andrules of connecting." Here are a few of my faves to ponder:

1. Project your self-image in a way that breeds confidence. Everything from your hair to your shoes sends a message.

2. Your ability to look someone in the eye as you speak is a telltale sign of both self-respect and truthful speaking. Make eye contact.

3. No connection is made without some form of risk. Dare yourself. Take the risk to make the connection.

4. The less you focus on your motive to meet someone, the more likely it is that your connection will be successful. Drop your agenda. Focus on connecting - not extracting.

5. Take a genuine interest in people before you ask them to take a genuine interest in you.

6. The sooner you find something in common with the other person, the sooner barriers will vanish.

7. Your projected image is what mostly determines your ability to make a real connection.

8. Provide a value-exchange. Give if you want to receive.

9. Staying in touch is more important than making the initial connection.

10. Be authentic: Talk real, act real, be real, and you will find others will do the same in return.

My emphasis.

One of the exercises I give to my students is to take plastic bag empty it out on the table and ask them to choose 5 postcards they like and to write to 5 people they would love to hear from. 'This is stupid' I heard one muttering the last time I did it. But at the same time that we would like to recieve from the world support for our creative projects, money, connections, inspiration we have to give back to the world and one of the ways is making unexpected and uncalled for connecting. Its not exactly 'networking' but connecting covers it better. The more we are connected to ourselves and to other people - its like we have plugged ourselves into the universal flow.

Danny Gregory on the Artist's Way

I'm fairly certain that you will find that when you give yourself permission to be creative, your life will change. You will either leave or transform your job. You will open yourself up to new people. You will develop new relationships. You will find that serendipity plays a very active role in your life. You will worry less and appreciate the universe more. You may not lose weight but you'll enjoy food more. Your body may not look better but your taste in clothing will improve. You may not become wealthier but money will matter less. You may not improve your health but each day will matter more.

More discussion here.

Artist's Way Courses starting soon

12 week course based on the best selling book of the same name by Julia Cameron.

The Artist's Way provides a pathway to acessing your authentic creativity or rediscovering it if you feel it has been lost. It works on the principles of having fun, accessing pleasure, doable actions, dreaming BIG with the support of likeminded people. It helps you to become the 'artist of your own life'.

Intro sessions are £5 (try before your buy!)

Glasgow Thursday 15th February 2007 6-8pm at Adelaides 209 Bath St
Edinburgh Friday 9th February 2007 608pm at Buddafield Blackfriars St

Call 0131 555 2636 for more info or to book a place. Email creativevoyage at hotmail dot com.

When is enough enough?

When you have done your best and can do no more without personal injury, breeching the bounds of ethics, harming others, or resorting to illegal activities.

When it is clear that a hope, a dream, an expectation, or a vision is not going to happen.

When some plan is not working now, and will not work in the future, without doing harm to others, lying, cheating, or fiddling the figures.
When the cost of some enterprise, in terms of hours worked, people harmed, relationships ruined, or principles and values compromised, exceeds any possible benefit in anything but monetary terms.

When continuing in the same direction will destroy any civilized standards of workplace action.

When the only outcome is more money, more status, more power, or more responsibility—and you cannot spend the money, wield the power, handle the status and responsibility, or live your life, without destroying who you are and the values you want to live by.

From Slow Leadership

Happy Now?

(I've copied this from The Independent as their articles go paid access pretty quickly and I thought what was written so important)

As a nation, we are more affluent than ever. Yet, strangely, we only seem to be getting gloomier and more pessimistic. William Leith takes a personal journey to the heart of our collective darkness
Published: 21 January 2007
It was the week before Christmas. I should have been happy. The people around me should have been happy. We were safe, we had enough to eat and drink, homes to go to. More than this - we were affluent, we were on holiday. We were in the middle of a cycle of feasting and partying. In two days' time, we would eat a meal that had taken several days to prepare, and toast each other with fancy drinks.
I was walking through a shopping mall. Everybody around me was doing the same thing - buying gifts for their friends, their family. I can't remember when, exactly, but at a certain point, I had a thought I've had about a million times lately.
None of this is making us happy.
People were standing outside shops, laden down with heavy bags, and they were snapping at each other. Or they waited in queues, restless and tormented, barking instructions into their mobile phones.
I heard the word "No!" a lot of times.
And: "For fuck's sake!"
And: "What were you thinking?"
And: "You cannot buy that!"
I was looking for gifts myself. I felt pressed. I had the sense that all of us, all the shoppers, were trawling a huge Aladdin's cave for something it could not provide. We were all looking for (omega) something that was not available. I noticed the way people were searching: there was something familiar about it. Then I realised: we were rushing around with the anxiety of people who have lost something. Where was it? Where was the thing we were looking for? We were hurried, harried, self-blaming, desperate.
And it occurred to me that, in the past few days, several people had asked me the same thing: "How is it going?"
They were asking about shopping.
We would look at each other, and shrug. The talk was of struggle, of hours put in, unexpected lucky breaks and reverses. There was a sharp sense of competition, of winning and losing. Here we were, affluent people involved in leisure activities, taking time out to be kind to each other. But it did not feel good. It didn't even feel like leisure.
What was it like, exactly?
It was like work.
We were buying hard, in the same way that, days earlier, we'd been working hard in order to achieve an acceptable level of buying.
Something was getting out of control.
Walking through the mall, picking up and discarding objects, I began to think about the way we live now. Christmas was an intense expression of it, certainly, but it happened all year round. I thought about the thing we were looking for, the thing we couldn't find.
What, exactly, was it?
I went to Starbucks. For the millionth time, I thought about happiness in the modern world. I also thought about Starbucks - how I love the place, and also how it makes me deeply uneasy. I once interviewed Howard Schultz, the chairman and founder of Starbucks, who told me: "The environment that we create has given people a respite for themselves, or a sense of gathering and community with people at a time in their lives when there's no human connection."
I drank my coffee. I thought, not for the first time, that Starbucks makes us uneasy because it tells us something important about the world we live in; it tells us that we need Starbucks.
Would it be trite to say that what we've lost is our ability to be happy? Perhaps it would. But here's something I've heard a lot lately: as a society, we are getting sadder. According to a recent poll, conducted by YouGov, only 11 per cent of us think Britain will be a better place in five years' time. On the other hand, 53 per cent think it will be worse.
And: less than quarter of us are optimistic about Britain's prospects in 2007; 58 per cent say they are not.
And: just 7 per cent thought last year was a good one, as far as the country is concerned; in contrast 55 per cent thought it was a bad one.
The headline of one newspaper report about the poll was: "Britain in Gloom".
These are the words I keep hearing: bad, worse, pessimistic. And also: crime, divorce, alcoholism. And also: self-harm, drug addiction, Prozac, bingeing. And this doesn't just apply to Britain, but to the rest of the Western world, too. In his book The Noonday Demon, a study of depression, Andrew Solomon tells us that one in every 10 Americans is taking Prozac, or similar drugs, to treat their depression. He says that while 10 per cent of Americans are likely to suffer major depression, about half will experience some symptoms.
"Diagnosis is on the up," he tells us, "but that does not explain the scale of this problem."
Solomon, himself a depressive, says that people are getting depressed earlier in their lives, too. The typical age is now 26. A review of his book called it "a key text for a generation that has depression at its core" .
Solomon sums up our situation starkly, with four words: "Things are getting worse."
As the economist Richard Layard points out in his book Happiness: "In many ways life is better than 50 years ago: we have unprecedented wealth, better health, and nicer jobs. Yet we are not happier."
Layard tells us about the social indicators for happiness. Crime, which fell from its all-time high point in Victorian England to a low around the First World War, remained steady until we started to become more prosperous around 1950. Then it went up hugely. The same goes for alcohol. Consumption fell in the first part of the last century, and remained steady until until we started to become more prosperous around 1950. Then it, too, shot up.
Another thing I keep hearing is that we are gloomy, not in spite of our prosperity, but somehow because of it. As Layard says, "What is worrying is that depression has actually increased as incomes have risen."
Which reminds me of a brilliant book I read by the economist Clive Hamilton, called Growth Fetish, in which he analysed data from a survey prepared for the Merck Family Fund in 1995. Here, Americans were asked about their quality of life in the consumer society. The report said: "They believe materialism, greed and selfishness increasingly dominate American life, crowding out a more meaningful set of values centred on family, responsibility, and community."
Hamilton said: "The richest people in the world are saying that they are miserable, that it's not worth it, and, most disturbingly of all, that the process of getting rich causes the problems."
Worse, there was no escape. They were getting sucked into the system. " They can see that materialism is corroding society and themselves," wrote Hamilton, "but they are too fearful to change their behaviour in any significant way."
We're rich. We're unhappy because we can't deal with being rich. We know this. And yet we can't escape - we feel trapped in the system. How bad is that? Solomon says: "The climbing rates of depression are without question the consequence of modernity."
Or, as Oliver James writes in his 1997 book Britain on the Couch: "Put crudely, advanced capitalism makes money out of misery and dissatisfaction, as if it were encouraging us to fill up the psychic void with material goods. "
Or, to put it even more crudely, as James does in his new book Affluenza: " Cards on the table, I contend that most emotional distress is best understood as a rational response to sick societies."
I tried to think of my own personal spectrum of happiness and misery. I remembered moments, afternoons, longer periods.
The happy memories were defined in moments; the misery in months.
I remember a particularly happy moment: waking up, at (omega) the age of about 15, in my bed in a dormitory, and realising that it was the last day of term, that I wouldn't wake up in a dormitory for months to come. Everything around me seemed pleasant and sunny, even the menial tasks I had to perform. Folding blankets and emptying lockers seemed to be exciting.
And I remember a period, just before this, when I told myself that I would be happy on a particular day, because, on that day, a quarter of the term would be over, and a quarter was a perceptible chunk. And then the day came along, and I was happier than I had been. I told myself to raise my spirits, and I did. But it was nothing like the feeling on that last morning.
I can think of an exceptionally happy moment from my childhood. I went with some friends to fish for mackerel at the end of a pier; it was the middle of the summer holidays. I was, I think, 12. Being part of this group of boys meant a lot to me. Up to this point, I had caught very few fish; the thought of catching a mackerel was beyond exciting. It would, I felt, also bond me to the group.
We arrived at the pier. A few yards away, bubbling on the surface, was a shoal of mackerel. We set up our rods in a ham-fisted frenzy of excitement. By the time I was ready, the shoal had disappeared. I stood at the end of the pier and cast my line out repeatedly, catching nothing. But every time I pulled my line out of the water, the disappointment that I had caught nothing was replaced by an even greater excitement that I might catch something with the next cast.
At one point, one of my friends tapped me on the shoulder and said he thought we ought to pack up and go.
I was shocked.
I said, "What, already?"
I wondered why anybody would want to leave after just 20 minutes' fishing.
"Well, we've been here nearly three hours," he said.
Later, I remember thinking I'd never had such a radical misperception of time. Later still, I understood that those three hours were some of the happiest I'd ever spent. A couple of years after this, I became so efficient at catching mackerel that I sold them to the neighbours. This was fun, and mildly lucrative, but in the end there were too many to sell. Before long, everybody's parents' freezer seemed to be full, and fishing began to lose its edge.
And I can think of an example of happiness from adult life - after years of overeating, of wanting something that food could not give me, but not understanding this fact, I started eating better and exercising more, and one day I went on the longest walk of my life, 25 miles, with my girlfriend, and when we stopped, feeling tired, creaky, actually in pain, we had a meal and checked into a hotel, where I lay on the bed and passed out without taking my clothes off, even my shoes, and when I woke up the next morning I thought of the exact moment of passing out - possibly, I thought, the happiest moment of my life.
Just a fleeting moment, before I passed out.
A year later, when my son was born, I was elated, and the elation felt turbocharged - I was shot upwards, had almost forgotten who I was.
Then the doctor told me there were complications.
He said, "He's a fighter, though."
He said, "If anybody can pull through, it's him."
Three days after this, my son did pull through. Another doctor said the words: "He will survive."
I started crying.
Later, I left the ward, and walked through the corridors of the hospital. I'd never seen such wonderful corridors. The linoleum floors looked superb. The bloodstain outside the door of the A&E department looked good, too.
It was the happiest I'd been.
As Richard Layard says, happiness is, in a Darwinian sense, our primary motivating force. And this explains everything. That's why it's fleeting. If it wasn't fleeting, our ancestors wouldn't have been motivated to do the things they needed to do, in order to survive. If you're happy, you don't want things to change. If you're less than happy, you do. Imagine a Stone Age tribe after a successful hunt. They are lazing around the fire, full of venison. Soon, one guy will become anxious; he will want to start planning the next hunt. This guy, the one whose happiness is the most fleeting, will become the leader. He will pass on his genes.
A capacity to experience happiness fleetingly, then, must be adaptive, in the same way that a capacity to store fat is adaptive.
These characteristics, of course, become problematic during a period of abundance. What happens to somebody who always wants more, when there is always more to be had? He gets fat or depressed. In a modern capitalist society, he becomes a patsy for advertisers. He keeps on buying things, thinking that material wealth, the owning of possessions, must be the answer to his problems.
And pretty soon, he has more problems. Pretty soon, he knows that whatever he's doing isn't working. So he loses his sense of purpose. Common misery, which might have been a motivating force, turns to depression.
What happens? He goes to the shopping mall, and rummages through the objects on sale, discarding them. He is not satisfied. He becomes angry and bitter, laden down with shopping bags. He barks into his mobile phone. He knows what the problem is, but he feels trapped. He is me and you; he is everybody we know.
As Andrew Solomon says, sometimes, and with increasing frequency, somebody will fall off the edge - existential misery will become major depression. Nobody knows why, in the same way that nobody knows why a combination of weather fronts sometimes produce a tornado, and sometimes don't. Our brain chemistry is fragile. As the psychopharmacologist William Potter says, " It's like a weather system."
And the modern world, it seems, is changing the weather inside our heads.
The important thing about happiness and misery is that we need them both; they define each other. In order to survive, our ancestors would have needed a balance of both states of mind - a capacity for elation, but not too much complacency. The elation serves as a reward; the end of the elation signals a spur to action. This is how the mind should be. The trouble, when it starts, is environmental.
In a world of abundance, when everybody has what they need, something strange happens. They begin to want what (omega) they don't have. The psychological forces which motivated their ancestors to survive are still in place. Envy appears. If somebody else has more than they do, they want it, too, even if they have more than enough. In wealthy societies, people exist on the "hedonic treadmill" - they want something, then, having got it, they get used to it. They want more. They want their neighbours to have less.
A Russian folk-tale, cited by Layard, goes like this: A peasant is poor; his neighbour has a cow. When God asks how he can help, the poorer guy says, " Kill the cow!" Now think how this might affect wealthy people. Well, we know how it affected Ashley Cole: at Arsenal, he was offered £55,000 a week, but he felt it wasn't enough. He wanted £60,000. Upon learning that the Vice-Chairman David Dein would not offer the larger amount, Cole wrote, " I was so incensed. I was trembling with anger. I couldn't believe what I'd heard." But was this just about money? I imagine that if nobody at Arsenal had earned more than £55,000, Cole might have stayed.
Misery, for me, was various things. School - years of worry, loneliness, and trouble, with some great moments, such as when a guy ran at me, downhill, trying to kick me up the arse, and I stepped and turned, very balletic, and somehow caught hold of his outstretched foot, and conveyed him past me, an unbelievably lucky thing. Other things that made me miserable: bad relationships. Poverty. Carrying around a general sense of failure. Hypochondria - the belief that I was dying from a terrible disease. And trying to compensate for these things by bingeing on food, drink, and drugs.
My most miserable moments happened when I was also wealthiest. Suddenly, I could have what I wanted. The trouble was, of course, that I didn't know what that was.
I was suffering what the sociologist Barry Schwartz calls "the paradox of choice" - when you have a huge range of options, you become consumed by a fear of disappointment. Wealthy, unhappy, and in a difficult relationship, I found myself snorting cocaine - once a month, then once a week, and, before I knew it, every day.
I had fallen into addiction. And addiction, I believe, is a near-perfect model for modern capitalism and the unhappiness it spreads. As Andrew Solomon puts it: "Feeling the wish to repeat something because it is pleasurable is not quite the same as feeling the need to repeat something because being without it is intolerable."
This, of course, is exactly what happens in an affluent society. In order to maintain economic growth, people who have what they need must be made to feel that, in actual fact, they don't. They must be made to feel anxious, empty, unfulfilled. They must be made to buy new things, not because having them is pleasurable, but because not having them is intolerable. For economic growth to be healthy, mental health must be rocky - the ideal consumer is the person who looks at what he's got and sees nothing worth having.
And this, in turn, means that the products that succeed in the Darwinian marketplace are things with built-in obsolescence, things you want more of, that don't satisfy you - high-carb snacks that make you hungry, fashion items that go out of fashion as soon as you buy them, pornography, cosmetic surgery, sugar and cocaine.
When you snort coke, you become the perfect consumer. Having more makes you want more; wanting more makes you want more. As a product, coke never works, because consuming it feels like an index of loss. As a product, coke works brilliantly, because consuming it feels like an index of loss. As you continue to snort, the coke you've had becomes your enemy, reminding you that the coke that's to come will never be enough.
I realised, at one point, as my white powder was beginning to run out, as I thought of the intolerable, sleepless hours ahead, that this was, more or less, a perfect example of unhappiness - I had made myself want more than I could ever have. Misery was thus guaranteed. The answer, it occurred to me, was simple.
The answer was: don't want so much.
Want less.
But I knew that already.
Things do not look good for the future of happiness. In Affluenza, Oliver James looks at what he calls Selfish Capitalism - our system - and sees it as a virus. We have a free market, we promote the idea that economic growth is good, that wealth makes you happy, that possessions free you. And this system is infectious - it makes people depressed, and competitive, and bitter, and depressed. People aren't quite so depressed in countries such as China, because they're at the start of the cycle - the honeymoon period.
It's just like the honeymoon period of an addiction.
You do something because it feels good; you don't realise that, pretty soon, you'll be doing it because it feels intolerable not to do it.
No, things do not look good.
The system is out of control. Richard Layard makes an interesting point. According to survey data, people would rather be richer than their neighbours than earn more money and be poorer than their neighbours. Happiness, they feel, is not linked to actual wealth, but to the feeling of being superior. When it comes to leisure, though, people are not rivalrous. " There is thus a tendency," writes Layard, "to sacrifice too much leisure in order to increase income."
Which is partly why the system is out of control. We're working like maniacs to compete with each other, and it's not working. We want too much; the economy depends on it. We should want less. Another folktale tells us about an unhappy man who doesn't have enough to eat or drink. Also, his tiny house is too crowded. He goes for advice to the village elder, who tells him to take a goat into his house for a week, and come back in 10 days. The man, of course, is overjoyed by this time: the goat has gone.
The answer: want less.
But that's not likely, is it, on a global scale? As far as happiness goes, things will have to get a lot worse before they get better.
These were the things I was thinking in the shopping mall. It was the week before Christmas. I should have been happy. The people around me should have been happy. We were safe, we had enough to eat and drink, homes to go to. More than this. We were affluent. And we were on holiday. s
William Leith is the author of 'The Hungry Years' (Bloomsbury, £7.99) a memoir of overconsumption

Slow down week

damn ! I missed it!

Keri Smith gives a list of ways of being slow. Mine was practing mindfullness while lodger and father tried to work out why the broadband wasn't working. It took nearly 4 hours and its being held together with elastic bands, wool... and the provider promises a new modem on monday.

Gardening

I forgot that gardening, growing things, pottering in soil, is a real experience for many. I love being in my garden but I couldn't call myself a gardner. This year I will get a composter...

Meanwhile You Grow Girl for inspiration.

Bonus link on authenticity Crossroads Dispatches who is writing a blue streak recently.

more on authenticity

I've been thinking about this a lot since I last posted. I've been trying and failing to get upgraded to broadband (this post is still on dialup!)

What else is real and authentic?

The is a slowness, effort and appreciation in it is a theme.

A walk v taking the car. When you walk you can appreciate everything from the strike marks of matches on door ways from the 19th Centuary when walking through the New Town to a dog with cute coat. In a car all you notice is traffic.

A train journey v plane travel. Again you notice that you are travelling and journeying but in a plane it all becomes tied up in the sheer uncomforatbleness of plane travel the herding of passengers between lounges, security.

A meal cooked from scratch v warmed in the microwave. As the ingredients cook there is a culinary alchemy going on. It shows that you have the luxuary and care of yourself to cook a real meal. Bonus if you go to somewhere like River Cottage and use the seasonal recipies then you are also connecting with the seaons and nature.

A letter v an email. Again it marks care and time to connect.

A phone call v a letter or email. A deep hungering to connect. I had a wonderful conversation with a friend who I hadn't spoken to in a few months. After I put the phone down she called back after a minute to thank me for the conversation.

A visit in person. Its my plan this year to make sure that I actually see more of my friends in real life. I plan to start buying tickets and making itineraries as soon as I've got the money. I will be dropping in on friends who live near by more often! Again on Sunday I saw The Last King of Scotland with a friend S who I hadn't seen properly for months... afterwards we were able to connect and discuss and argue and get the low down on his new year in the company of Romanian drag queens. I left his company completely buoyed up and I hope he did too.

Authentic experiences

Its the only way I can describe it. Last night I sunk into the sofa and watched Desperate Housewifes. Afterwards I felt like I'd had a meal packed with artifical additives and E numbers. Not real food at all. What my soul needed was a real uplifting experience. So I left the house about 4.30pm today after teaching. I got the bus to the beach and walked along beside the waves. As I walked the light went, the waves were being blown sideways, the white horses where high, the wind made snakes in the sand and off in the distance I could see the lighthouses twinkle every now and then. The roar was magnificent. I leant against one of the groins and just listened and listened to the elemental eternal noise. I didn't take any photographs it was too dark. After about 30 mins of walking I came back home. I feel that a mass of dust has been cleared off and am determined to not live a second hand life. (Or at least not as much!)

Letting Things Go

... moving forward always means leaving something behind; often something you don’t much want to let go.

An interesting article... and its flipside is that sometimes you need to leap and let things go before you will find out what you actually need. In certain situations we are so beset by our circumstances we can't think our way beyond it and action is the only antidote. For example I've found several times that just leaving a job that was a bad fit for me was the only way to open up space for something new.

Make your own envelopes

out of magazines, wrapping paper etc. Its a great way to recyle. It fun to get something in the post which isn't a boring white envelope.

The Art of Schmoozing

A great posting by Guy Kawasaki.

I've found over the years other things that have helped.

Join groups and volunteer. If you organise or help to organise something you get a natural reason to speak to big wigs and they do remember you. I've been members of several film/video organisations and by being on the board or organising events I did painless networking.

Be open and interested - contacts of the useful kind are all over and are not in the most obvious places.

Get out and about.

Be social. Again if you find most socialsing toecurling be a host. Organise Hallween parties, meet your new cat parties (yes I've done this). Invite everyone. Don't worry the natural drop out rate is always 40% and naturally you have kept your social network up to date.

Canaletto in Edinburgh

There is an exhibition of his works in The Queens Gallery at Holyrood. I managed to see it on the last day. All the works were collected or commissioned by Joseph Smith the British Consol in Venice. Who sounds like an amazing man. His palazzo being a centre for the arts and patronage in the 18th Century.

The picture above is from the National Gallery not the Royal Collections but I had a fantastic time. Able to go within an inch of the pictures and see the amazing detailing. Washing on the roofs! Canaletto was a native of Venice and it seems that his pictures are imbued with the total love he had for his own city.

It was wonderful and inspiring and I want to visit Venice at once.