I am grateful for friendships. In all the various forms we find them. Often in the most unexpected of places. I am grateful for the comfort I derive in the sharing and the caring. I can only hope my friends feel the same. I am here. Always. And I thank you for being there. The knowledge that you will always be there no matter what, is comforting.
I was very grateful today that I arrived at the surf club early for my walk. I had time to watch this gorgeous chocolate labrador. Guide dog in training. He sat on this bench alertly watching after his trainer who went in for a swim. He never moved. His gaze never wavered. How committed he was. How committed his trainer was. What a gift to someone he will be. What a gift to me today to just sit and watch and learn.
I am finding this all quite interesting. People’s genuine curiousity, amazement, wierded outness, desire to share and even the complete silence. Actually the complete silence from some is particularly interesting. It takes some doing to put yourself out there. And I don’t mean by blogging. I mean by being honest. And the question on some people’s minds it seems, is why would you. Which has to make me consider. Why am I doing this? Honestly, I was, am, a spoilt brat. With so much to be grateful for, but not honestly seeing it. Why, why not, why me, why not me, why here, why him, why them, why now. A favourite quote of mine ‘be still. cease your relentless partcipation’ comes to mind. I know I do that. Especially before. Kept myself ever so busy doing ever so important things with ever so important people so I wouldn’t have to spend too much time with me. Now I am in this wonderful place with this wonderful opportunity to simply celebrate what is. And still I so often think about what I haven’t got, not what I have. What is with that. I am a spoilt brat. So, the grateful stuff is my being still for a moment. The other stuff is me experimenting and not being anonymous anymore. Honesty is good. Sharing is therapeutic. Not trying to be clever is essential.
Today I am grateful for my friend Jo. Not only for inviting an efrican into her home for Australia Day but mostly for getting me. She mocks me, she laughs at me, she teases me, she doesn’t let me take myself too seriously. Most importantly she doesn’t make me feel different. And one day, she’ll be grateful to me for teaching her to say fuck off the way I do.
I am grateful that there were two cars between me and the little maroon number who sneaked into the gap left for cars coming and going from prep at pickup today. Grateful because it gave me time to practice my patience and tolerance and compassion and not blast my horn at them. I am sure they had a good reason.
I think the rot might have set in. This morning was the second morning this week that I dashed across the road to the bakery. I must add I am extremely grateful to be living directly across the road from a bakery. Urban bliss. Well, Noosa urban bliss. The point is not the dash to the bakery, but the fact that I did it without having applied my dermalogica treatment foundation, followed by a light sprinkling of clinique translucent powder, followed by a generous application of max factor, I kid you not, mascara, followed by a gentle swirl of mac lipstick. And in my lorna jane gear wearing my havaiana thongs (slip slops for my SA friends, not my g-string, but that was on too, luckily hidden from sight) not my nike trainers and with my slept in hair hanging loose, not artfully scraped back to look like no effort went into it. I never ever do this. Even if I am meeting a friend for a 5am walk along the river, I will get up at 4am to ensure I am ready to meet the world. So, even when you look at my makeup free face, just know it took me some effort to look this unmade up. I am loving the fact that some little thing has clicked. I will always make a little effort but I won’t care so much if I don’t.
I told a friend about my blog today. I saw her think about it a bit. Then she asked, isn’t it odd to have your life exposed for others to see. I responded with it’s me who’s doing the exposing. It’s my choice to share. I suppose it is a bit confronting for some, but for some reason I’ve always been comfortable exposing myself. And any comments about advertising agency parties as a reply to this post will be ignored. By exposing I mean being generous in my response to questions. Definitely over generous. I’m not really sure why. Maybe I’m just self absorbed. I’m hoping it’s because I have nothing to hide.
I am so grateful today that I have access to skype, which for a moment brought my brother into my lounge. I feel so guilty that he is carrying the load of being the only sibling in town whilst my dad is needing our support. Seeing and sharing his frustration and hearing his chuckles made it so much easier to bear.
I am grateful both girls had a good first day back at school today. Neither were anxious, but am fearful the free spirit that is Jem is going to be affected by a teacher not so fondly referred to by her ex students as the screamer. But there is hope. Jem says she’s nice. And has decided she will not listen to everyone else. Who is the real teacher here?
This should probably have been filed under the grateful posts 365 category, post entitled eight. If only you read these posts in order and as I intended them. It starts at ahemmm and then follows by category, by day, some under stuff, a few under why and grateful posts daily under grateful posts 365. And no I am not a control freak. And maybe I do take myself a little too seriously. And yes I am learning to let go. Or perhaps I am being let go. On the way to school today for the start of year 10 for her, Kate said today is the first ever start of a new school year that she has not felt in the slightest bit anxious. Not one butterfly. This might not seem remarkable but to those who know us well, Kate has the distinguishing characteristic of having cried every single day on being left at school from the start of Grade 000 until midway through Grade 2. (That’s like two years of kindy, one year of prep, year 1 and year 2) Since then every change has resulted in significant anxiety usually heralded by sleepless nights and sore tummies and a very supportive mother yelling at her to pull herself together. That would be me, but in my defense, I lost my patience in the fifth year. So, I am not sure if it is simply age, or a combination of factors. One of them definitely being a harsh exposure to change (change her mother unwittingly had protected her from) and finding herself flourishing in a new world with new rules. A gentle caring less competitive self affirming world. Or maybe it’s just cos her mother has become less of a stressed out, I have to get to work, what am I wearing, hurry up I’m going to be late, fuck the traffic is a nightmare, lock all the doors, don’t answer my phone it could be Assie (my very senior client who has become a very dear friend) I’m trying to do everything and show everyone how fabulous I am, person. It has all become a little gentler, which is helping me to let go. A little.
grace and dignity 