Wisdom from Pooh

In 2011 I have adopted a new mentor – even if he will never know it. Some say he is only a fictional character, therefore he couldn’t possibly know about the “real” world. Some say he is simple and naive, so his words have no weight. Some people might even argue that he is for children, so adults should adopt an attitude of indifference. I say these people have lazy imaginations.

Anyway, here is a quote from my mentor: Winnie the Pooh

Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.
Pooh’s Little Instruction Book, inspired by A. A. Milne

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Dear Santa

I feel like I’ve already got my Christmas present this year in the shape of a little girl, but because the spirit of Santa is munificent I get the gift over and over again. This year the whole family is trooping over to New Zealand to spend Christmas and New Year with my brother, sister-in-law, and nieces and nephew. It’s Maisie’s first Christmas. She’ll have no idea what’s going on, nor will she care, as long as there are plenty of smiles and cuddles and lots of laughter. If we laugh she laughs with us; she’s a true empath and every one of Maisie’s smiles is a gift.

So anyway, Santa if you’re listening, I just have one request: could you have a whisper to Mother Earth and ask her, in the spirit of Christmas, if she’ll refrain from shaking the world? We don’t need presents, we just need to be safe. We’ve got everything else covered: love, laughter, community and goodwill.

If we do experience an Earthquake, let it be minor . . .

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Moving to the country etc

I was born in a big city and have always lived in big cities, hence I thought I was a big city girl. Lately, though, hubby and I have found ourselves increasingly unhappy with the big smoke – the pollution, the noise, the big city attitudes which is invading our once almost rural suburb, and of course, the cost of living. So, the Walkers are leaving for greener pastures.

Since our little one was born we’ve made frequent trips to my parents property, which we affectionately call The Meadows on Mungay. We spend three fabulous nights there at a time, frolicking in the grass by day and staring at the Milky Way by night. (For those of you who live in the city and have never seen the Milky Way because of the ambient light, do yourself a favour and go bush for at least one night, pitch yourself a tent, build a little hearth in the dirt and then look up). The air is clear at the Meadows, there’s no noise pollution except for what we create ourselves, and there’s never a dull moment when you’re surrounded on all sides by the Australian bush. Our only visitors are wallabies and kangaroos, the occasional monitor lizard and a cacophony of birds.

Life slows down on the Meadows. There’s little to rush for, and even less desire to do so. My little girl, tiny though she is, smiles more, plays more and seems more content there. The city overstimulates us all, makes us think we’re hungry for more. The country sates us, makes us look deep within and say ‘I like myself here’. That is why we’re selling up and shipping out. The country may be quiet, it may be conservative, but it has so much more to offer a 21st century family; smaller schools, better community, easier more sustainable lifestyle. As a writer, country living has more to offer me than the city. There will be fewer distractions, and any distractions that do occur can only fuel my imagination and boost my creative output. Country living will force me to be resourceful and most importantly to be self-soothing, instead of relying exponentially on our disposable society to fill my needs. I will miss my current Bibliotopia under the house, but I can also look forward to new adventures in a new library, one in which words live enveloped by nature.

Expect frequent updates on Operation Mungay Meadows.

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All this because of a phone call

This blog was going to start something like this: It’s not my imagination, society is becoming more apathetic. I was going to write about how socially lethargic we’ve become, how common courtesy is about as common as common sense (not very), and that respect is a sentimental notion to be found only in fiction. Then I got a phone call that has made me rethink that statement. The details of the phone call are unimportant; suffice it to say that while the purpose of the call was not altruistic, it was surprisingly considerate and helpful. It was not a grand gesture, but significant enough for me to reassess my feelings about society, or at least a small portion of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I still believe we live in an increasingly mercurial society, whose collective attention span mimics that of a gnat, where patience and tolerance are things many feel entitled to but are seldom willing to exercise themselves, and that most especially we live in a society without community. To keep myself from becoming bitter, I remind myself that society is made up of a number of communities and that those communities are made up of individuals. I acknowledge that there are people, outliers, willing to put aside their own motives for one second to consider a neighbour, a customer, or a total stranger. I’ll remember and honour the ones I’ve met in my travels. All this because of a phone call.

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How much can I say before . . .

. . . she wakes up? I’m supposed to be cleaning the house while my husband sleeps in with our baby girl, but since it’s been awhile since I posted, I thought I’d get a few words in here first. Life is pretty busy with a newborn. She’s 9 weeks old today and doing beautifully. She’s a happy little girl and I’m told she’s a “good baby” – whatever that means. And she just woke up. Oh well, better luck when her next nap comes around. Lord, I miss writing!

Posted in JOURNAL ENTRY, Maisie Rose, ME ON WRITING, The writer | Tagged , | 1 Comment