Friday, November 2, 2012

When We Come Apart.

As I write this I'm lying in bed at home. Home, home. My country home. It's been a bit too long. A long winter, as they say. In my case, literally and figuratively.

Sometimes we come apart from ourselves.

Like the end of a thread, nestled against a seam; an accidental pull, a spare length just a tad too long threatens to pull everything apart.

I love this print by Rachel E Foster called "The Kissing Checklist". I have one in Ladyland. It's so simple, so whimsical and most importantly it conjures up so much emotion - vivid memories of first love(s) and frenzied bellies, full of butterflies.

We sometimes need reminders of what to worry about and what not to worry about. What to spend our time doing and what (and who!) to just ignore. To prioritise things that help our warring internal tribes stay together.

Every Friday Facebook is littered with the exclamations of relieved masses about the joy of reaching the end of another week. Half of those then seem to go out and get trolleyed because they were so happy but they then spend the rest of the weekend in the depths of depression for doing so. We've all felt those Sunday evening blues at the prospect of facing another unfulfilling week.

We need to change the cycle. To practise mindfulness, to chase down and pounce on the things that make us joyful. Then keep 'em close. As close as can be. To compartmentalise the grey parts of our lives that bring us down and turn us into those supermarket-zombies. Easy, right?

If I was to mould my reminders into a list it would go something like this:

Play the piano.
Go to bed no later than 10:30pm every night.
Sing loudly in the car along to the radio, iPod, the hum of the engine.
Go camping. As often as possible.
Watch re-runs of The West Wing.
Stop worrying that you'll disappoint people.
Go for very long walks.
Stop offering everything to everybody.
Turn phone to silent when it's not absolutely necessary to have it on.
Write. Anything. Using a pen.
Hit the road, discover new country towns and pillage their op shops.
Stop trying to ensure that every single person you meet will like you.
Go home.

What's on your list?

I recommend giving it some thought with this ol' favourite as your soundtrack.


  1. Really needed this post, you are such a fine writer - I hope you won't mind if I just borrow your list. It's perfect.

  2. Frances. I have been quietly enjoying your blog for sometime now ... I found you via Rohan. I think he has mentioned you in writing once or twice. You cannnot know how timely a post this is for me.

    I have been coming undone. Slowly. Wondering and worrying long and hard about what it is that will stitch me back up again. I've grown increasingly disheartened with the joylessness of daily, routine life. I have wandered zombie-like for months now.

    When I scrolled down and read the first reminder on your list, Play the piano, I cried. I've been lamenting to my partner for sometime now ... let's turn the tellie off and I'll play. Thank you so much for the push.

    And Sarah's right ... you're a fine writer. Much envy of the good kind.


  3. Oh, Deborah. Thankyou for your lovely words, they really do mean an awful lot. And I know exactly where you are at. The hardest thing is that it's actually easier to be a zombie and to disengage from ourselves, and the world. And it's scary when it happens slowly because it then becomes normal. This big, unhappy world has groomed us to also be as such and I've found that by not taking that on it's helped. But it can only be done by changing one thing at a time. Avoiding TV was my first starting point, and I know that was a big thing for Ro too! It's a time-waster and energy sucker. I want to hear how you feel after you start playing piano again too. I just moved recently and my piano has only just been delivered. The joy it has brought has been unbelievable. A game-changer as they say!

    I do hope you pop by from time to time and say hi. One stitch at a time :) It's hard to be different.

  4. Hello there. I found your blog through Vimeo oddly enough! You were listed in the stats for the 'Take This Waltz' video we both posted. I have to say, although it is the strangest place I have found a new BEAUTIFUL blog, it is one of my favourites! I can't tell you how lovely it is to stumble upon something you genuinely like all of. I feel like we're on the same wavelength, and that is really exciting! Can't wait to see more of your thoughts & inspirations. Cheers :)

    1. Hi Amanda, thankyou so much for your beyond lovely words!! And your journey here was indeed a random stumble. How wonderful. I'm trawling through your lovely blog now too!! Here's to mutual inspiration :) Frances x

  5. Fran, I often play this song, and album, to my preps during a rest time. Some continue to stir, but I can see that some students, sometimes, stare into the skylights and I wonder just what they are thinking about.
    Enjoy Home. It's a special place in the world. Lucky us.
    Xx Elle

    1. Aw lovely Elle - it's just one of my favourites. I've just ordered the vinyl to take home to the Bungalow :) I'm so excited to have turned the tables where the city time is the tip of the iceberg while the real stuff is happening in the hills. Even though it will only be for a few months they'll be very special, I can tell! We are so very lucky, especially with such incredible folks we get to call Ma and Pa. Lots of love. xo