The pain I've been experiencing in my right arm has this week gone beyond the I’m-going-to-ignore-you stage. Despite the painkillers, I barely slept last night as I tried to get comfortable through the various sensations I was feeling in my arm [and am still feeling as I write this]: tension in the shoulder blade; mild pain in the shoulder; intense pain in the elbow; tightness in the forearm; weakness in the wrist; and tingling in the palm of the hand.
Not good, huh?
At last night council's meeting I could hardly hold my pencil. Bit of a drama when I should have been taking notes for two hours. Today I spoke to my editor and he is arranging an urgent referral to our Occupation Safety and Health adviser for me. Several colleagues have helpfully diagnosed me with a variety of ailments, from displaced vertebra to carpal tunnel syndrome to impending heart attack to RSI-OOS. I'd like to think it was a displaced vertebra - a quick fix - but I think it’s a combination of RSI-OOS and dystonia [writer’s cramp]. I guess I'll know when I see the OSH adviser.
I had a bit of a cry about it this afternoon. What am I going to have to give up or limit? Yoga? Swimming? Work? Cooking? And then I got over it because it could be a lot worse. I’m looking at this as a wake-up call – my body is telling me I need to slow down. For years my body has been holding a lot of tension and I have ignored the warning signs: bad posture, severe dystonia, a dodgy elbow. I never take breaks at work. Some days I come home from work and the tension in my body is so tangible it’s like a physical injury. But still I don’t do anything about it.
Well, now is the time to do something before it gets much worse. Until the arm improves I have to prioritise things. I can’t write my journal every day, as I’m doing now, but I won’t give it up entirely. The knitting of the head wrap, which is coming along so well, will have to be postponed. As will this blog, unfortunately. I won’t give it up completely but I will probably have to take a break or blog less frequently. As for other things, like whether I need to stop swimming [nooooo!], whether physiotherapy or massage will help, and how to improve my posture, hopefully the OSH specialist can advise me on what to do.
But there is internal work to be done, too. I see this problem with my arm as an outward symptom of what is going on inwardly: a lack of care for myself and a lot of mental tension. I am a worrier. I chew on a problem [or a perceived problem] like Teddy with the golf ball he found in the back garden - wasting a lot of time and achieving absolutely nothing. I can fritter away hours worrying about some thing that might happen, or might not. It’s inevitable that such destructive energy will one day manifest itself outwardly.
So back I go to my Yoga mat and my meditation cushion, to breathe through the tension and do some restorative asanas [postures] to stretch out my sore arm and create a little calm in my life. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Creating life
I would love to be a creative person; to have an idea and watch it take shape beneath my hands.
I have often wished I was a brilliant sewer, knitter, artist, photographer, chef, or other crafty-type person. Alas, my natural talents don't seem to lie in that direction. My list of talents is pretty thin! I'm very good [okay, obsessive] at editing and proof-reading, good at organising and writing, and okay at swimming. I'm not very inspiring, am I?!
I was thinking about this last night on my way home from work. And I got to thinking: may be the way I live my life is the way I create. After all, creating is about passion, colour, adventure, joy - all the things I look for in my every day life.
May be I can't whip up a fabulous sartorial creation - but I can enjoy wearing the fabulous sartorial creations made by others. May be I can't cook a cordon bleu meal - but I can potter about in my boyfriend's kitchen and have a great time making a simple meal we both enjoy. May be I can't paint a beautiful picture - but I can articulate the designs in my head to a tattoo artist so he or she can make my skin a work of art.
All these things, in their own small way, are acts of creating.
Any way, I have decided to take the plunge and attempt to create some thing with my own two hands: I'm knitting myself a head wrap. I have no pattern, only an idea in my head ... so it's some thing of an experiment, and it might or might not work.
I'll let you know how I get on when I'm finished ... so check back in about 10 years' time!
I have often wished I was a brilliant sewer, knitter, artist, photographer, chef, or other crafty-type person. Alas, my natural talents don't seem to lie in that direction. My list of talents is pretty thin! I'm very good [okay, obsessive] at editing and proof-reading, good at organising and writing, and okay at swimming. I'm not very inspiring, am I?!
I was thinking about this last night on my way home from work. And I got to thinking: may be the way I live my life is the way I create. After all, creating is about passion, colour, adventure, joy - all the things I look for in my every day life.
May be I can't whip up a fabulous sartorial creation - but I can enjoy wearing the fabulous sartorial creations made by others. May be I can't cook a cordon bleu meal - but I can potter about in my boyfriend's kitchen and have a great time making a simple meal we both enjoy. May be I can't paint a beautiful picture - but I can articulate the designs in my head to a tattoo artist so he or she can make my skin a work of art.
All these things, in their own small way, are acts of creating.
Any way, I have decided to take the plunge and attempt to create some thing with my own two hands: I'm knitting myself a head wrap. I have no pattern, only an idea in my head ... so it's some thing of an experiment, and it might or might not work.
I'll let you know how I get on when I'm finished ... so check back in about 10 years' time!
Saturday, October 24, 2009
350 trees
Meet Tui, my new cabbage tree. His scientific name is Cordyline australis and his Maori name is ti kouka ... or, in Whanganui dialect, komata. He doesn’t look like much, sitting there in his little pot on my desk at work on Friday afternoon. But Tui has the power to change the world.
Tui came to be sitting on my desk - and now on my bench at home - because I was one of 350 Whanganui residents to be given a free native tree on the International Day of Climate Action, October 24. [Actually, it was celebrated a day early in Whanganui.]
Why 350 and why free trees?
The International Day of Climate Action 2009 is being promoted by the number 350. This is the amount of carbon dioxide, measured in parts per million [ppm], that leading climate scientists – including those from NASA and the United Nations – believe is the safe upper limit for Earth's atmosphere. The current level of carbon dioxide is 387ppm.
The 350 organiser for Whanganui, the fabulous John McDonald, told me he came up with the idea of giving away free trees because it seemed a practical way of raising people’s awareness of carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere. To put it in very simplistic terms, trees absorb carbon dioxide and give off oxygen ... so trees are pretty handy for us humans and the planet as a whole.
John also said he hoped people would take their tree home and plant it in their garden and enjoy it ... and whenever they looked at it they would remember where the tree came from and why they were given it. Maybe it would even encourage them to plant more trees.
To find a 350 event in your area, or for more information on the movement, go here [New Zealand] or here [global]. Or you can just go plant some trees.
Oh, and when Tui grows up he will hopefully do his bit for the planet and look like this several-hundred-year-old beauty at Flounder Bay:
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Kindness
Between writing about the car crashes and the mayoral antics and the debt crises and the general murder, mayhem and conflict that is the lot of a regional newspaper reporter, I take a phone call from an elderly couple in Springvale with a remarkable tale to tell.
A complete stranger paid for their groceries at the supermarket.
This couple weren't poor. They weren't buying just bread and milk. They had their week's worth of groceries in the trolley: just under $70. They had never before seen this woman, who they described as blonde and in her 20s. It wasn't a mistake - the woman told the check-out girl she would pay for the couple's groceries. And then she disappeared before the couple even knew what she’d done.
You can read the whole story here.
I can't stop thinking about this. Who is this woman? What motivated her to perform such a remarkable act of kindness? Is this something she does often or was it an impulsive gesture?
The mysterious angel seems to have touched a chord with the community as well. My workmates were talking about her this morning [some of them fairly cynically – but, alas, that’s reporters for you]. I have taken many calls from readers today, who just wanted to tell me they loved the story. Two separate callers told me it had inspired them so much they’d made a donation to the local city mission.
I bet that woman had no idea her simple gesture would have such a ripple effect – but that’s the way kindness often works.
Whoever she is, I’d like to thank her for brightening our city’s day.
A complete stranger paid for their groceries at the supermarket.
This couple weren't poor. They weren't buying just bread and milk. They had their week's worth of groceries in the trolley: just under $70. They had never before seen this woman, who they described as blonde and in her 20s. It wasn't a mistake - the woman told the check-out girl she would pay for the couple's groceries. And then she disappeared before the couple even knew what she’d done.
You can read the whole story here.
I can't stop thinking about this. Who is this woman? What motivated her to perform such a remarkable act of kindness? Is this something she does often or was it an impulsive gesture?
The mysterious angel seems to have touched a chord with the community as well. My workmates were talking about her this morning [some of them fairly cynically – but, alas, that’s reporters for you]. I have taken many calls from readers today, who just wanted to tell me they loved the story. Two separate callers told me it had inspired them so much they’d made a donation to the local city mission.
I bet that woman had no idea her simple gesture would have such a ripple effect – but that’s the way kindness often works.
Whoever she is, I’d like to thank her for brightening our city’s day.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Singing in the rain
[From my journal, Sunday]
It seems spring has temporarily deserted New Zealand and winter is back in force. After a late night at a dinner party [much fun] Pete & I woke this morning to cold, bleak weather with the steady drumroll of rain continuing all day.
Last week had been very stressful for me at work and I had put in some long hours. So I decided to take today to do exactly what I wanted. Since I have my period and the weather is awful, exactly what I wanted happened to be sleeping and reading [I'm currently reading an excellent book on reducing carbon emissions]. Usually I couldn't spend a day so lazily with out feeling ill by the end of it - but I guess this was exactly what I needed because now I feel refreshed and relaxed.
Just before dinner I had a burst of energy and decided it was time for a walk. I don't think Pete was keen but he bravely bundled himself up in his wet weather gear and off we went. It was a bitter afternoon, more like July than October. The mountains had disappeared behind a blank face of cloud; it was almost certainly snowing up there. The ewes with their lambs now half-grown were huddled for shelter under the black locust trees. Even the birds seemed to be keeping out of the weather, although I did disturb a kereru from a tree lucerne. Occasionally we caught a glimpse of the river, swollen and discoloured.
I had been snugged up all day and this first scent of fresh, cold, wet air was like a heady drug. It was exhilarating to be out in such aggressive weather - as if we were defying it. Almost nothing and no-one else had ventured out, except for us crazy lunatics.
As bleak as it was, it was certainly not a winterscape that we trudged through. There was apple blossom every where, lambs every where, the twitter of nesting birds every where. And where ever I looked I saw the most exuberant shade of green: pure, vivid, tender green, from the grass in the front paddock to the tips of the Lombardy poplars.
Winter might have its wicked way with us for a few more days yet, but spring will return soon.
It seems spring has temporarily deserted New Zealand and winter is back in force. After a late night at a dinner party [much fun] Pete & I woke this morning to cold, bleak weather with the steady drumroll of rain continuing all day.
Last week had been very stressful for me at work and I had put in some long hours. So I decided to take today to do exactly what I wanted. Since I have my period and the weather is awful, exactly what I wanted happened to be sleeping and reading [I'm currently reading an excellent book on reducing carbon emissions]. Usually I couldn't spend a day so lazily with out feeling ill by the end of it - but I guess this was exactly what I needed because now I feel refreshed and relaxed.
Just before dinner I had a burst of energy and decided it was time for a walk. I don't think Pete was keen but he bravely bundled himself up in his wet weather gear and off we went. It was a bitter afternoon, more like July than October. The mountains had disappeared behind a blank face of cloud; it was almost certainly snowing up there. The ewes with their lambs now half-grown were huddled for shelter under the black locust trees. Even the birds seemed to be keeping out of the weather, although I did disturb a kereru from a tree lucerne. Occasionally we caught a glimpse of the river, swollen and discoloured.
I had been snugged up all day and this first scent of fresh, cold, wet air was like a heady drug. It was exhilarating to be out in such aggressive weather - as if we were defying it. Almost nothing and no-one else had ventured out, except for us crazy lunatics.
As bleak as it was, it was certainly not a winterscape that we trudged through. There was apple blossom every where, lambs every where, the twitter of nesting birds every where. And where ever I looked I saw the most exuberant shade of green: pure, vivid, tender green, from the grass in the front paddock to the tips of the Lombardy poplars.
Winter might have its wicked way with us for a few more days yet, but spring will return soon.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Never let a boy name your dreadlocks
I've been growing natural-neglect dreadlocks now for nearly 10 months. Yes, only 10 months. I can barely remember what my hair was like before it started locking up in all this knotty goodness! I certainly can't imagine using a comb or a brush on it again; and thank goodness I don't have to.
I am getting to know each dread individually and let me tell you, some of them have personalities ... sounds weird, but it’s true. Some are shy about being dreads and are only knotted near the scalp. Some are perfect dreads: always tightly knotted and smooth. Others grow in zig-zag shapes, while others invent new contortions for themselves every time they get wet. A couple of sweet little dreads stand straight up from my scalp.
So of course they are starting to acquire names. Fat Girl, Tuatahi, Drama Queen, My Naughty Little Sister, the Wallaroo Dread, Cherry Baby, and Supermodel, are just some of the names I have for individual dreads.
There are good times and bad times with my dreads, although I haven't once wondered whether I'm doing the right thing. Over the month of September the dreads, as a collective, seemed to go through an epiphany. They actually look like dreads now ... as in, the general public recognises I’m a dreadhead. That makes me happy.
I am just starting to get used to wearing hair wraps - good for doing Yoga and for windy days - and I'm also enjoying playing with beads. I've had a couple of beads given to me, which I really like. [Gifts of beads gratefully accepted, dear blog readers.] The rule is: if some one gives me a bead they have the right to choose the dread to put it on, and if they wish they can name that dread. One of my workmates bought me a lovely bead from Melbourne. It has an "A" on it, for Anne-Marie. My workmate is Maori so she christened the dread Aotea - the name of the waka [canoe] that brought her iwi [tribe] to New Zealand.
Then there is the exquisite green bead Pete chose for me at St Bead's in Napier. I informed Pete of his naming rights. He thought for a minute then decided he'd call the dread Trev ... Trev The Dread, to be exact.
I mean, really.
+ + + +
Photos by Pohangina Pete. To see where my dreads began go here and to see my dreads at six months go here.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Thoughts on peace day
Today is the United Nations’ international day of peace and non-violence. I thought a lot about peace today.
I thought about peace at Whanganui’s peace day celebrations at Pukenamu [Queens Park]. At noon the gathered crowd of several hundred observed a minute’s silence to pray for world peace, while all across the city church bells sounded. It was a colourful, warm-hearted celebration with lots of singing, drumming, hugging and different nationalities. People spoke about diversity and ending war. Whanganui’s Chinese community did a spectacular dragon dance and, at the end, we farewelled the hardy souls who left Pukenamu to walk 207km for peace, all the way to Wellington.
World peace is all very well; I would like to see that happen one day soon. But what about world peace right here in Aotearoa-New Zealand? I live in one of the most divided communities in New Zealand. What can I do, I wondered – what can all these people here today – do to foster peace in our troubled city? Is participating in this beautiful celebration enough?
Then I thought about my outburst at a loved one, that almost ruined our sweet weekend together. And about how this very morning I’d bitched to one colleague about another colleague who was irritating me. How can I play my part in bringing peace to my community if I can’t live peace in my daily life?
It’s easy, when I get to this point in my thinking, to start berating myself: I’m hopeless, I’m too hot-tempered, I’ll never change...
Then I read this post of Marianne’s and this line jumped out at me: “We look for maximum change while being kind to ourselves.” How wise that is. Recognising there is a need for change within myself and recognising that change does not happen overnight. This is the lesson I want to take with me into tomorrow. Because berating myself for not acting peacefully is not very, um, peaceful, is it?
I thought about peace at Whanganui’s peace day celebrations at Pukenamu [Queens Park]. At noon the gathered crowd of several hundred observed a minute’s silence to pray for world peace, while all across the city church bells sounded. It was a colourful, warm-hearted celebration with lots of singing, drumming, hugging and different nationalities. People spoke about diversity and ending war. Whanganui’s Chinese community did a spectacular dragon dance and, at the end, we farewelled the hardy souls who left Pukenamu to walk 207km for peace, all the way to Wellington.
World peace is all very well; I would like to see that happen one day soon. But what about world peace right here in Aotearoa-New Zealand? I live in one of the most divided communities in New Zealand. What can I do, I wondered – what can all these people here today – do to foster peace in our troubled city? Is participating in this beautiful celebration enough?
Then I thought about my outburst at a loved one, that almost ruined our sweet weekend together. And about how this very morning I’d bitched to one colleague about another colleague who was irritating me. How can I play my part in bringing peace to my community if I can’t live peace in my daily life?
It’s easy, when I get to this point in my thinking, to start berating myself: I’m hopeless, I’m too hot-tempered, I’ll never change...
Then I read this post of Marianne’s and this line jumped out at me: “We look for maximum change while being kind to ourselves.” How wise that is. Recognising there is a need for change within myself and recognising that change does not happen overnight. This is the lesson I want to take with me into tomorrow. Because berating myself for not acting peacefully is not very, um, peaceful, is it?
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