Hello,
It's the slackest 'blogger' ever, me. Remember me, I've posted a bunch of stuff sparodically since the start of the year, made sweeping statements about posting daily (who was I trying to fool?) and have been off air for months now.... nah, I don't either : )
I have exciting news - I have a new, fabulous job! What's fabulous about it? Well it isn't the swanky offices, I actually work in a windowless room - it is the people, the attitude, the potential I see there that has me all 'hot and bothered' (metaphorically speaking) about being a worker bee in a small business.
It isn't that we're on the cutting edge of a cure for cancer or a way to save the whales, the forests, and the earth (all things worth saving!), nope, that's not it either - basically we're in the rag trade, albiet with a swimmingly sporty twist.
What I love about it is that the admin skills I've honed over the past 25+ years - an organised mind, eagle eye for detail, passion for orderliness and deadlines being met, the ability to think outside the square, speak my mind, type like the wind, challenge the status quo, offer support, and engage with people in my patented 'charm and disarm' style is WELCOMED and embraced and enjoyed and celebrated!
I love it. I was saying to my boss today how much I'm enjoying the job, how happy I am to be the girl answering the phone who has potential to contribute a truckload to the company's growth and ethos and how good it is to feel that I'm working for people who actually want more than a phone answering drongo.
YIPPEEE...........
So I'm a bit happy and I decided to share that happiness here. Perhaps nobody will read it, but that won't diminish my joy at being in a job that motivates me to do much more than 9 - 5.
Nettie x
Wednesday, 23 May 2012
Thursday, 8 March 2012
Just let it marinate.... hard to do in an instant world
Hey there,
See, I'm hopeless at the discipline of writing... but as a wise friend, with impeccably white tennis shoes, once encouraged me (thanks Duncan Mok) that I should write when I feel like I've got something to say, however often that happens - or not.
Last week I tried to write something about the Australian Senate's inquiry into forced adoption's final report (geez, that's catchy) but I couldn't - it was too fresh, too horrifying, too... new. I hadn't let it marinate.
That got me thinking about how hard it is just to do ONE THING - even now, you're probably reading this at work, with something else on your screen, or with the TV on, or on your phone on the train... or something else going on. Heck, the tv is on right now, while I'm writing.
So anyway, I'm not sure that I have any half formed thoughts about the Senate report into forced adoption just yet, but I am not the angry (there's an understatement), flustered, horrified, sad, ashamed (for the process) girl I was last week. At least, they aren't my uppermost reactions.
I could hardly breathe when I first read some of that report, let alone commit my initial responses to a blog. In fact, the report's currently out of sight in my trusty IKEA ottoman.
If you want to check it out, you can find it here Senate report into forced adoption February 2012
The point? Maybe there isn't one yet - and that's okay. Things take time, and even though 48 hours ago nobody knew what the heck Kony 2012 was and now everyone seems to - the problem isn't solved and won't be in the next 24 hours, days or weeks.
I do want to post about my responses to the report. I think I am uniquely positioned to respond to it, and I also think that my responses could be insightful, even helpful, to those of you who know someone who's adopted, or have some kind of connection to this 'social policy' that was so prevalent in our not-too-distant past. And I definitely think that processing my responses here will help me wade through how I feel.
Not yet though, I'm still marinating.
Cheers,
Annette
See, I'm hopeless at the discipline of writing... but as a wise friend, with impeccably white tennis shoes, once encouraged me (thanks Duncan Mok) that I should write when I feel like I've got something to say, however often that happens - or not.
Last week I tried to write something about the Australian Senate's inquiry into forced adoption's final report (geez, that's catchy) but I couldn't - it was too fresh, too horrifying, too... new. I hadn't let it marinate.
That got me thinking about how hard it is just to do ONE THING - even now, you're probably reading this at work, with something else on your screen, or with the TV on, or on your phone on the train... or something else going on. Heck, the tv is on right now, while I'm writing.
So anyway, I'm not sure that I have any half formed thoughts about the Senate report into forced adoption just yet, but I am not the angry (there's an understatement), flustered, horrified, sad, ashamed (for the process) girl I was last week. At least, they aren't my uppermost reactions.
I could hardly breathe when I first read some of that report, let alone commit my initial responses to a blog. In fact, the report's currently out of sight in my trusty IKEA ottoman.
If you want to check it out, you can find it here Senate report into forced adoption February 2012
The point? Maybe there isn't one yet - and that's okay. Things take time, and even though 48 hours ago nobody knew what the heck Kony 2012 was and now everyone seems to - the problem isn't solved and won't be in the next 24 hours, days or weeks.
I do want to post about my responses to the report. I think I am uniquely positioned to respond to it, and I also think that my responses could be insightful, even helpful, to those of you who know someone who's adopted, or have some kind of connection to this 'social policy' that was so prevalent in our not-too-distant past. And I definitely think that processing my responses here will help me wade through how I feel.
Not yet though, I'm still marinating.
Cheers,
Annette
Friday, 13 January 2012
Beauty in brokenness
Tonight I'm reminded how much fragility we have just beneath the surface. Sometimes we're aware of it, other times we're blissfully (or not) ignorant of it.
Lately I've been watching a couple of shows on Foxtel that I'm deeply moved by (I know, TV right?) - about addicts struggling with their recovery and about a father and daughter trying to reconcile their relationship after decades of mistrust and separation.
The full range of human frailty is laid bare - wreckless confidence, denial, despair, anger, love, the deep wounds and bruises from childhood, hope, mistrust, the bonds formed by people in the lifeboat together, the power of the mind in helping or hindering someone's recovery.... it's probably 'reality tv' to some, mere entertainment, particularly when the people struggling are those a lot of society (stupidly) holds up as those who 'have it all' because they are, or were once, famous or notorious.
But before we fold our arms and declare them losers, idiots, whatever - it pays to remember that we are all, just one breath, one bad decision, away from ending up in entirely the same predicament. Perhaps not as addicts, but as people facing their fragility, dealing with the broken pieces that we've maybe managed to keep hidden or crazy-glued together for a season.... I think, eventually, we all come undone (to differing degrees).
How we come back from that is as mysterious as it is unique to each of us. I once held incredibly strong beliefs about how a formula of A + B + C always equalled healing. I don't believe those things anymore, but my belief in healing hasn't gone out with the bathwater. No way.
What I think I will always believe, is that recovery from addiction or selfishness or wounds that nobody but those closest to us know about, or whatever plagues us - is that it is impossible to recover in isolation.
We need others. You do, I do. We NEED others.
And we need ourselves, to know ourselves deeply, and with compassion.
As much as that sometimes drives me to the brink, as someone who is often too proud to ask for help (an issue not helped by the nature of my wounds) it is absolutely inconceivable to me that any person can become whole or even begin that process without somebody's arms to fall into when they have nothing left in the tank.
My deepest hope is that every person has someone they can call on in those times. They may be someone in your life for just that season, a complete stranger, or someone you have the gift of long term relationship with. They may be the person you least expect, or want, to come undone in the presence of.
And somehow, in what I can only describe as a profound and utterly mysterious process, there is beauty in that broken place. True beauty. The act of allowing yourself to be embraced by another human being, who is also frail, imperfect, likely to misunderstand or hurt you - that's courageous.
Anyone who is willing to reach out for that kind of help deserves immense respect and admiration.
So, though this may seem a 'heavy' entry, I write from a place of being deeply moved by the intense beauty I see in the midst of the messiness of dealing with our human frailty.
Sitting with people who acknowledge their frailties, whether that's an AA or recovery group, an intimate group of friends willing to unmask themselves (how rare), a counsellor's office, in a family, wherever that freedom is found - that's a place where you and I should take off our shoes - that is what I call holy ground.
Do you see the potential for beauty in your brokenness? I hope so.
Lately I've been watching a couple of shows on Foxtel that I'm deeply moved by (I know, TV right?) - about addicts struggling with their recovery and about a father and daughter trying to reconcile their relationship after decades of mistrust and separation.
The full range of human frailty is laid bare - wreckless confidence, denial, despair, anger, love, the deep wounds and bruises from childhood, hope, mistrust, the bonds formed by people in the lifeboat together, the power of the mind in helping or hindering someone's recovery.... it's probably 'reality tv' to some, mere entertainment, particularly when the people struggling are those a lot of society (stupidly) holds up as those who 'have it all' because they are, or were once, famous or notorious.
But before we fold our arms and declare them losers, idiots, whatever - it pays to remember that we are all, just one breath, one bad decision, away from ending up in entirely the same predicament. Perhaps not as addicts, but as people facing their fragility, dealing with the broken pieces that we've maybe managed to keep hidden or crazy-glued together for a season.... I think, eventually, we all come undone (to differing degrees).
How we come back from that is as mysterious as it is unique to each of us. I once held incredibly strong beliefs about how a formula of A + B + C always equalled healing. I don't believe those things anymore, but my belief in healing hasn't gone out with the bathwater. No way.
What I think I will always believe, is that recovery from addiction or selfishness or wounds that nobody but those closest to us know about, or whatever plagues us - is that it is impossible to recover in isolation.
We need others. You do, I do. We NEED others.
And we need ourselves, to know ourselves deeply, and with compassion.
As much as that sometimes drives me to the brink, as someone who is often too proud to ask for help (an issue not helped by the nature of my wounds) it is absolutely inconceivable to me that any person can become whole or even begin that process without somebody's arms to fall into when they have nothing left in the tank.
My deepest hope is that every person has someone they can call on in those times. They may be someone in your life for just that season, a complete stranger, or someone you have the gift of long term relationship with. They may be the person you least expect, or want, to come undone in the presence of.
And somehow, in what I can only describe as a profound and utterly mysterious process, there is beauty in that broken place. True beauty. The act of allowing yourself to be embraced by another human being, who is also frail, imperfect, likely to misunderstand or hurt you - that's courageous.
Anyone who is willing to reach out for that kind of help deserves immense respect and admiration.
So, though this may seem a 'heavy' entry, I write from a place of being deeply moved by the intense beauty I see in the midst of the messiness of dealing with our human frailty.
Sitting with people who acknowledge their frailties, whether that's an AA or recovery group, an intimate group of friends willing to unmask themselves (how rare), a counsellor's office, in a family, wherever that freedom is found - that's a place where you and I should take off our shoes - that is what I call holy ground.
Do you see the potential for beauty in your brokenness? I hope so.
Thursday, 5 January 2012
Today's challenger....
Today I'm feeling challenged by a sometimes problematic quality I possess - my pride.
I reckon if I took a step I truly DO NOT want to take, it may have a positive outcome for me. Then again, it might blow up in my face or have absolutely no positive impact. (It would certainly have a good outcome for me internally, but that isn't enough to make me do it thus far.) The act of wilfully humbling myself is one I have yet to perfect. I really hope I'm not alone in that.
I've been trying to just ignore that little niggle: Goes a bit like this:
Psst, psst hey you, prideful bozo that you sometimes can be, just suck it up and take that step.
Me: Gosh, it's a nice day, I should do some laundry or watch another 4 hours of TV.
PSST, you there, girl that hates to admit she handled something badly, maybe re-assess that situation.
Me: Um, hello, would you mind BUGGERING OFF! No way Jose!
And so it goes, back and forth, increasingly annoyingly.
In a way, I almost hate to admit I was wrong more than I hate being wrong in the first place. Not to myself, that I can swallow (bitter pill that it is), it's just when that requires letting someone else in on my faux pas, ugh, system failure. And when I don't like the person, don't expect them to respond graciously, quadruple ugh, total system self-destruct immminent.
The most annoying thing is that if the little voice speaks up in the midst of a meltdown, I can usually summon the will to make a U-turn and apologise. I actually like it when this happens, as it proves the heart of stone I sometimes possess is not a forgone state of being. I quite like peace with others.
But when my pride manages to keep that little voice quiet initially, and allows the sting of the situation to fade, when it has grown a scab and sunk to the bottom of my consciousness, that's a different thing. Oh, and if I feel 'justified' watch out!
Not sure what I'll do yet. Just wanted to register the inner dialogue. One of the problems with having a genuine desire to be somewhat self-aware is that you can't avoid the bad stuff that lives alongside the good.
Bugger.
I reckon if I took a step I truly DO NOT want to take, it may have a positive outcome for me. Then again, it might blow up in my face or have absolutely no positive impact. (It would certainly have a good outcome for me internally, but that isn't enough to make me do it thus far.) The act of wilfully humbling myself is one I have yet to perfect. I really hope I'm not alone in that.
I've been trying to just ignore that little niggle: Goes a bit like this:
Psst, psst hey you, prideful bozo that you sometimes can be, just suck it up and take that step.
Me: Gosh, it's a nice day, I should do some laundry or watch another 4 hours of TV.
PSST, you there, girl that hates to admit she handled something badly, maybe re-assess that situation.
Me: Um, hello, would you mind BUGGERING OFF! No way Jose!
And so it goes, back and forth, increasingly annoyingly.
In a way, I almost hate to admit I was wrong more than I hate being wrong in the first place. Not to myself, that I can swallow (bitter pill that it is), it's just when that requires letting someone else in on my faux pas, ugh, system failure. And when I don't like the person, don't expect them to respond graciously, quadruple ugh, total system self-destruct immminent.
The most annoying thing is that if the little voice speaks up in the midst of a meltdown, I can usually summon the will to make a U-turn and apologise. I actually like it when this happens, as it proves the heart of stone I sometimes possess is not a forgone state of being. I quite like peace with others.
But when my pride manages to keep that little voice quiet initially, and allows the sting of the situation to fade, when it has grown a scab and sunk to the bottom of my consciousness, that's a different thing. Oh, and if I feel 'justified' watch out!
Not sure what I'll do yet. Just wanted to register the inner dialogue. One of the problems with having a genuine desire to be somewhat self-aware is that you can't avoid the bad stuff that lives alongside the good.
Bugger.
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
Who are the people in your neighbourhood??
Today I'm feeling grateful for my lovely neighbours. I know it's very unusual to know, let alone like, your neighbours but I have the great fortune of living on a large block that means I have neighbours right there, yes, just down the driveway.
In the past three years or so (I'm hopeless with dates) I have had the pleasure to live next door to a gorgeous young mum and her little blonde moppet, and now next to some exceedingly lovely young women who are full of life, kindness and neighbourliness.
One of the best things about living next door to A & M was when little M would run up and down their hallway giggling like only a carefree munchkin can. The sound of her laughter coming through our shared walls always, always made me smile.
Then there was the time that A accidentally locked herself out, and M in, and we rescued her by getting her to crawl through the sliding door in their toilet (a relic from the days when the pan man would visit homes to remove people's umm 'recycling' matter).
They've moved on now, and their 'replacements' are just lovely. I've had home made meals deliverd to my doorstep when I've been feeling ill (did I mention that this paticular neighbour is a chef??) and have shared wine and belly laughs with the newest resident at our lovely spot in suburbia.
So, today I am grateful for good neighbours. Heck, even the boys next door helped me move some furniture with good humour, after I brazenly introduced myself and requested a teensy favour.
If you're feeling a bit isolated, try a smile or a wave when you're next at the letterbox and you see one of your neighbours. It could be the start of something beautiful..... street party, anyone?
A x
In the past three years or so (I'm hopeless with dates) I have had the pleasure to live next door to a gorgeous young mum and her little blonde moppet, and now next to some exceedingly lovely young women who are full of life, kindness and neighbourliness.
One of the best things about living next door to A & M was when little M would run up and down their hallway giggling like only a carefree munchkin can. The sound of her laughter coming through our shared walls always, always made me smile.
Then there was the time that A accidentally locked herself out, and M in, and we rescued her by getting her to crawl through the sliding door in their toilet (a relic from the days when the pan man would visit homes to remove people's umm 'recycling' matter).
They've moved on now, and their 'replacements' are just lovely. I've had home made meals deliverd to my doorstep when I've been feeling ill (did I mention that this paticular neighbour is a chef??) and have shared wine and belly laughs with the newest resident at our lovely spot in suburbia.
So, today I am grateful for good neighbours. Heck, even the boys next door helped me move some furniture with good humour, after I brazenly introduced myself and requested a teensy favour.
If you're feeling a bit isolated, try a smile or a wave when you're next at the letterbox and you see one of your neighbours. It could be the start of something beautiful..... street party, anyone?
A x
Monday, 2 January 2012
"A" & "E"
Today's happiness is brought to you by the letters "A" for aircon and "E" for electricity.
Phew!
Sunday, 1 January 2012
Hello 2012! C'mon get happy.
Well here we are, 2012!!
Did you stay up late revelling or go to bed early? Whatever you did, I hope you enjoyed it and didn't get yourself into trouble, the lasting kind anyway.
New years always seems to bring out the reflexologist in me - not the massage kind, the ponderous kind. I've been thinking about all these 365 day projects - or 364 for leap years - that people do, living like Oprah, the Julie/Julia project, a year of living biblically (I will read that book this year!), and I wonder if I could follow through on any kind of NYD inspired commitment???
Maybe something simple like taking time every single day to blog about something I appreciate, or have seen or am feeling good about, or am challenged by.
Could I do that? Seems really easy now - I can think of lots of things I'm grateful for. But I'm pretty sure that this year, like most, will bring days where I feel discouraged, lonely, defeated - wow, that's a downer - but you know what I mean.
We all have heard a million theories about happiness and contentment and some of us seem to spend inordinate amounts of time fretting about whether we are happy and fulfilled, or wasting money on get happy quick schemes that may or may not work.
I have an old column from Australian Table (July 2001) blu-taked to my wall. It is '50 ways to get happy'.
What kind of things are on the list? There are the usual suspects - stop complaining (brilliant in its simplicity), go outside, hang around children, and 47 other suggestions that I assume were cobbled together in a brainstorming meeting, pinched from books, wise grandmothers, reflective dads, friends and TV hosts.
So it's a 'nothing new under the sun' kind of thing, but still something that people seem to struggle with. Don't we know what happy is? Does it manifest materially or sneak up on us? No idea really, sorry!
Today I am grateful for the place where I am sitting right now, at my desk/dining table. My immediate surroundings expand my sense of gratitude - the table my laptop is on belonged to my grandmother, who had a fabulously big house that used to fascinate me as a child! The chair I'm sitting on was a bargin surprise find at a Daylesford second-hand barn (yay for Eames reproductions) and a good friend of mine managed to squeeze it and its three buddies into her car with ease. So just by sitting at this table and on this chair, I'm made happy.
It won't always be that easy, but more and more I am determined to see the glass inching past half full and actually overflowing. Not to be too simplistic about it but, bloody hell, I live in the west, even though I don't have a job I get government assistance, I can read and write and think and dance around my loungeroom and... well you get the gist of it.
So happy new year to the three people who will probably read this. I hope that you find something to feel happy about today, and tomorrow, and the next day. Drop me a line and let me know what it is.
Happily,
Annette x
Did you stay up late revelling or go to bed early? Whatever you did, I hope you enjoyed it and didn't get yourself into trouble, the lasting kind anyway.
New years always seems to bring out the reflexologist in me - not the massage kind, the ponderous kind. I've been thinking about all these 365 day projects - or 364 for leap years - that people do, living like Oprah, the Julie/Julia project, a year of living biblically (I will read that book this year!), and I wonder if I could follow through on any kind of NYD inspired commitment???
Maybe something simple like taking time every single day to blog about something I appreciate, or have seen or am feeling good about, or am challenged by.
Could I do that? Seems really easy now - I can think of lots of things I'm grateful for. But I'm pretty sure that this year, like most, will bring days where I feel discouraged, lonely, defeated - wow, that's a downer - but you know what I mean.
We all have heard a million theories about happiness and contentment and some of us seem to spend inordinate amounts of time fretting about whether we are happy and fulfilled, or wasting money on get happy quick schemes that may or may not work.
I have an old column from Australian Table (July 2001) blu-taked to my wall. It is '50 ways to get happy'.
What kind of things are on the list? There are the usual suspects - stop complaining (brilliant in its simplicity), go outside, hang around children, and 47 other suggestions that I assume were cobbled together in a brainstorming meeting, pinched from books, wise grandmothers, reflective dads, friends and TV hosts.
So it's a 'nothing new under the sun' kind of thing, but still something that people seem to struggle with. Don't we know what happy is? Does it manifest materially or sneak up on us? No idea really, sorry!
Today I am grateful for the place where I am sitting right now, at my desk/dining table. My immediate surroundings expand my sense of gratitude - the table my laptop is on belonged to my grandmother, who had a fabulously big house that used to fascinate me as a child! The chair I'm sitting on was a bargin surprise find at a Daylesford second-hand barn (yay for Eames reproductions) and a good friend of mine managed to squeeze it and its three buddies into her car with ease. So just by sitting at this table and on this chair, I'm made happy.
It won't always be that easy, but more and more I am determined to see the glass inching past half full and actually overflowing. Not to be too simplistic about it but, bloody hell, I live in the west, even though I don't have a job I get government assistance, I can read and write and think and dance around my loungeroom and... well you get the gist of it.
So happy new year to the three people who will probably read this. I hope that you find something to feel happy about today, and tomorrow, and the next day. Drop me a line and let me know what it is.
Happily,
Annette x
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)