Sunday, 31 May 2009
It is surprising how easy it became to find some creative element to your day even on the hardest of hard days. It is such a joyous thing to have a reminder to recognise the creativity that is lying beneath the surface of everyday acts and thoughts, as well as to be spurred on to new creations and places in mind and body.
Blogging itself has been interesting. Many thanks to Meg, who commented on my first post, making me realise that I wasn't talking to 'my friend wall' (or too much anyway). Of course also to Leigh, who sent grumbling in the direction of blogging itself.
Blogland is a curious world. The suburb of creative Mums is an even curiouser one. I have enjoyed looking at the picture perfect posts of some and wondering if they either have live in help, a fake child or just prefer the polished post of persuasion. They are not persuading me though I have a hearty sarcastic laugh sometimes! I have enjoyed the humour and honesty of the real life that pervades others. I guess in blog world, honesty is an odd commodity - as in life I suspect!
So, here I am. I probably will not be posting every day from here on, but that just may save anyone popping by from my weaker moments - mind you - some of those have warmth and joy in a way the others moments don't.
With my expanding waist line that enfolds a babe that never sleeps; the field of creativity that I am able to tackle is shrinking in. I have about 9 weeks to go to that date that of course means nothing at all to the babe within.
My creative day today was a ride punctuated by "ow". Which I suspect W said more than seven thousand times. We are not sure exactly what hurts or why but I know I have days like that so who am I to judge. We did start W's overalls which are shaping up nicely. We had a bonfire by the dam last night which was our first and was great. We also discussed at length what Grandma might like for her birthday and decided against a turtle. No conclusion yet. We made creamed rice and we stewed rhubarb. We planted more spinach. We fed the chooks and wondered why Mother Hen looks so hen pecked when she used to be boss chook. Nothing lasts forever it seems. So best enjoy the sun when it is there as well as the cold that makes the sunset great and the stars so clear.
Thanks for coming by in May.
Glad you did.
Glad I did.
Saturday, 30 May 2009
Friday, 29 May 2009
Good writing is all about filling up your head and heart with good writing. So what a day it has been. What a lucky creative parent I am. After all it is all about perspective...
In our post vomit day of continuing high temperatures and snoozes, I embraced the world of being 3 and poorly. A wobbly pile of picture books was gloriously enjoyed and discussed (amidst sideline discussions of W's sore spots and not so good feelings). Amongst our pile was Cat Balloon by Palo Morgan, which we both love with a passion. It is so inspirational and uplifting. Birdman by Jiri Tibor Novak was talked about in detail as it is based on a business man who hates 'the bird' and sets out to destroy it and then realises how much he misses it. It could easily be a year 10 discussion text and the illustrations are really interesting. Dear Fred by Susanna Rodell reduced me to tears as it is about a family where one sibling lives in Australia and the other lives in America and they don't get to see each other for a whole year. Nothing like a letter written by a child to pull all those tight bits in your throat into one clenched spot. Of course Jeannie Baker's Window is a classic that I have actually used in the past to teach Critical Literacy and once again, W and I had a good slow read with lots of talking about change and what we do and don't like about the world. Mind you, it once again made me teary - what a day! All this seems a little like a secondary school English curriculum when I write it out like this but, it was all interspersed with less political and intellectual texts. Anyway, I ask you, when exactly is the right time to talk with your children about the clearing of native bush for subdivisions, family separation, modern business and individual ethics and its aims and downfalls or remembering to aim for your dreams without being put off?
After a brief outing to go to Mount Lofty Summit to look at the view, we returned and W had a snooze. Upon waking, the sudden and surprising arrival of a damp spot all over both of us sent us in the direction of a long and lazy bath. After a bit of bubble cooking we indulged in our other favourite bath game which is where W picks an animal and I compose a story. It keeps me thinking so as not to tell completely inane stories. I love the Steiner trick I learned of starting with 'Once upon and time..' and ending with '..and for all we know, they may be there still." This ending has more than once saved me from talking my way into a coma and actually appeals so beautifully to a three year old mind. W is of course completely honest and tells me after each story if it was a good one or not.
After getting dressed, dozens of pages out of 'Mama Goose' (as she is known in our house) were devoured. We have a very well thumbed copy that is illustrated by one of our favourite writers and illustrators, Raymond Briggs (The Snowman, Father Christmas, Fungus the Bogeyman, etc). I love the older more obscure rhymes and funnily enough, so does W.
We indulged in a hotch potch dinner, which for W consisted of bits of (wait for it) egg and soldiers, spaghetti, weetbix and milk and honey on muffin. I'm sure my mother wouldn't approve!
After cleaning teeth with the excitingly purple new toothbrush, we finished the day with Chapter One of AA Milne's Winnie the Pooh. It has been years since I read the stories. We often read the poems and songs but the stories are so wondeful. We slipped into the world of Pooh somewhat like we slipped into the warm bath earlier in the day - comfort, happiness and joy.
So, there was no dinner cooked, no clothes washed, no dishes done but W went to bed happy and warm, much like I feel now. Good stories heal. Good stories grow new stories. Good stories help your fingers find the way to places you never think you will find the time to get to - but there you are. Just like Cat Balloon - you don't stop trying because you never know at what surprising moment you will achieve what you always hoped for.
Or as W puts it. "Mum, I tried and tried and tried and tried and tried. And then, I did it!"
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
:: Our favourite rhyme for the day (learnt today by W) is:
Goosey goosey gander,
Who stands yonder?
Little Betsy Baker.
Take her up and shake her!
:: I have a design in my head for a blanket jacket or vest with collar. hmm. interesting.
:: It's good to have wise women in your world.
:: When two small, yappy, white, dog like creatures run away from the house next door and chase your alpacas, is it wrong to hope the dogs copped a mouth full of alpaca foot?
but more importantly...
:: Does cleaning the floor bring the design for a blanket jacket or if I left the floor dirty would I have made a blanket jacket already?
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
So, in my belly free mind, I would like to.
:: photograph the many crazy mushrooms sprouting around here
:: plant my herbs
:: make my blanket trousers
:: make overalls for W
:: make some clothes for the new babe that aren't white, cream, pale pink or pale blue
:: make it to a meditation class
:: have a bonfire night before the rains really set in
:: hang out with my Mum
:: get to the Japanese exhibition before it closes
:: do a ginormous painting with W, for H next door who is in hospital for over 10 weeks to come
(as we are sure she needs the sun and the world bringing to her)
:: get to know a few people sitting on the fringes of my world who seem great
:: write a letter or two
:: cook something evil
But instead I appreciated T's arrangement of the tomatoes and tonight, I will do our tax!
Monday, 25 May 2009
I did not see the Cathedral myself until I was 21, although my Mum has several books on it which I have poured over since I was small. Only last month I was stealing moments whilst at my Mum and Dad's to read the book written by the architect Basil Spence about the journey he went on whilst working on the project.
Not particularly religious, my Mum is an artist who was, like myself, amazed at the group of artists who gathered to assist with and contribute to the rebuilding of the cathedral. Basil Spence was the architect. He entered a competition to win the right to design it with over 200 other entrants. Reading his journey alone was amazing. Artists like Graham Sutherland created beautiful and amazing works for the cathedral, which were central to Spence's design. The ruins of the old cathedral were kept and the new cathedral was built to encompass and recognise the cathedral's history, the war and a future. Countries from all around the world, from both sides of the finished war, contributed and were recognised.
One of my favourite works in the cathedral is known as 'the screen of saints and angels'. Images were engraved onto the screen by John Hutton. It took him over ten years to complete the work.
I have so enjoyed Flora (at http://through-the-round-window.blogspot.com/) who for her 'Every day in May' has been sharing some of her favourite stained glass windows as she is an artist in the field herself. When I look at some of them, for some reason, I keep being reminded of Coventry. Coventry Cathedral is such an emotional place itself and is so deeply held within me. Thank you for all the reminders Flora.
Isn't it strange the twisted roads that start in strange places and lead you back to sharing a book with your Mum as a small girl and hearing stories of when she was held up by her Mum to watch Coventry burn. One only hopes that some things have changed in our world. Hope is such a tenuous yet unbreakable thing.
Sunday, 24 May 2009
Saturday, 23 May 2009
So this morning I went to the physio. She explained I had a common neck complaint that naturally I have forgotten the name of, but is a 'lifestyle' complaint caused by too much of our modern life involving looking down and the effect that has on the discs in your neck.
So looking down hey - how much do I do of it. Surely an alternative, active, outdoor going kind of mum doesn't do too much of it?
Except talking with my son, most aspects of parenting, cooking, gardening, writing, blogging, sewing, reading, putting my socks on and just about every other ding dong thing I do!!! Maybe I should take W back and exchange him for a really tall child so I can look up at him while I talk with him!
Modern world my bottom! Like to see how many medieval women spent their time staring at the clouds. Mind you. perhaps it was the night time star gazing that let them off. Now there's a thought...
I just knew I should have spent more time appreciating my tree dahlias.
So I am on rest. Not so bad for the weekend whilst help is on hand but Monday looms. Apparently I will be in horrid pain till Wednesday. How do these people know such things!
Yours in rest and appreciation of the much undervalued skill of looking down,
Friday, 22 May 2009
Link below - thanks to my wonderful midwife Lisa...
The debate is not over so please pass on the news.
Thursday, 21 May 2009
W and I have been sharing our creative space and our creations. He is wearing the new top and trousers (see yesterday's post) and all my off cuts are quickly turned into turtles and tigers and other designs. In the background is my current favourite blanket, waiting to be turned into maternity trousers and a vest for a friends babe to come! Next to the blanket are W's magic glasses - they make you see fireworks for inspiration. Under the blanket are some plain 0 and 00 suits waiting for prints.
The great thing about my chief assistant to the assistant chief is that he is very good at pinning all my bits and pieces together to make high art!
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Tuesday, 19 May 2009
stand by for the soap box...
I just completed your online survey and was disappointed to see that The Monthly joined the vast majority in neglecting to have "parent" under occupation and "parenting" under how the majority of working time is spent. The assumption from intelligent people and organisations that this occupation does not exist reinforces the sad state our wider community is in; the devaluing of parenting and the subsequent encouragement of widespread use of childcare and the pressure to return to work. We will live with the consequences of this situation for generations. I am a proud full time parent and wish there was more encouragement and acceptance of the vital role that men and women such as myself are making. Without this contribution, our children are sadly missing out and the contributions of all people are sadly lessened. Without our future generations, where are we?
So there you go, what is it with all those surveys and polls and questionnaires that make parents list themselves as 'unemployed' or list your previous occupation or pick 'education' just to say your not unemployed?
I believe that the little things in life sometimes drive the big ones and this little gripe of mine, if changed, just might change a few mind sets hey?
Monday, 18 May 2009
Sunday, 17 May 2009
However, the moment of the day is thanks to W. We were having a bath together and our usual bath job is to cook together using bubbles, water, cups and spoons.
W had chosen to make 'Melody Cake'. I asked him if he wanted anything and offered butter. W replied, "yes please, butter, but bubbly butter, with soul". I checked with him "bubbly butter with salt?" and he replied with confidence "no, bubbly butter with soul please".
So there you go. My days work, a huge pan of tomato passata, stewed quince and stewed apple and pear just pales into the evening light when compared with W's effort of Melody Cake made with bubbly butter with soul.
Saturday, 16 May 2009
It was odd sleeping away from the outside part of my family. At least I had the family on the inside to keep me company! And oh what a bump - I can't believe I have more than two months to go... Stood next to a friend who has less than two weeks to her due date - her bump was smaller and she is exactly the same height! I swear there must be two in my tummy!
Thursday, 14 May 2009
Tomorrow morning will be another story though...
Wednesday, 13 May 2009
Posterior position in pregnancy is basically when the spine of the baby is along the spine of the mother and is considered an 'undesirable' position for the baby to be in. It can be terribly painful apart from anything.
So in the last month alone, I have had three women find out that their baby was in a posterior position and when they talked to the hospital (midwife / obstetrician /GP), they were told not to worry as there is nothing you can do and that the baby may turn or it may not. One woman had a 30 hour labour before having a Cesarean section. The only true part in what these women were told is that the baby may turn by itself or it may not.
There are many things you can do, Rebozo being one of them. My sister in law and her husband learned the technique and used it and I was there as well - it was amazing.
Being informed about things such as the position of your baby and the effect it can have on the birth is so important. As one friend said - it is so hard to get good information. I have never found this but probably on account of always being supported by a home birth midwife.
Of course, doing something may or may not be successful - but at least you can try. The success of changing the position of your baby may possibly change a 30 hour labour with Cesarean section into a normal straight forward birth. Surely something worth considering.
Also the positions and movements recommended for the mother during a posterior labour are very different to that for an anterior labour. To be informed, even if the baby has not turned or you choose to not try to move the baby before the birth, can still have a great impact on the outcome.
The lack of information out there amongst supposed professionals drives me wild. To consider the professionals uninformed makes me cross, to consider they know and don't use the information even more terrible.
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
Monday, 11 May 2009
It is hard to rationalise some things in life. The excitement of finding enormous dump trucks with wheels larger than your mother when you just expected to find the beach was quite something for W.
In these days of global warming, building on the sand dune system and other forms of craziness, sand dredging is a sad reality for Adelaide suburban beaches. Each year the sea tries its hardest to make people realise that the dunes belong to it not to them. Each year, the councils must pay extraordinary amounts to fight this natural phenomena.
Even for W, it seemed bizarre. The off shore barge, pipe line and dump trucks working like crazed oversize ants, shuffling the beach around while the sea sucks it back.
I wish I lived in a place that respected the dune system. W seemed to understand the concept, so once again, our wise three year olds are seeing more clearly than the deep pockets and views of the esplanade.
Being a parent is always enlightening. Where my reaction to the same situation in years gone by would have been of one kind, when in the company of W, you find the joy in it all anyway. Suck the marrow from the bone so to speak.
Sunday, 10 May 2009
Saturday, 9 May 2009
I am going out for the late afternoon and evening to wander with my friend T, then dinner, then a movie and still in bed by 10 with luck! Aaah, time away from the family and the home builds a better mother and a better lover!
Friday, 8 May 2009
At first she won a few local awards. Then the media picked up her story. They were fascinated. This woman often got up several times a night with one or the other of her children and could still tell stories to enchant and distract in the morning. She had a sense of humour that whilst sometimes strained, never actually disappeared for long. She generally, although not always, cleaned the house. She bought her children new shoes when they grew out of their old ones. She cut their often jagged and muddy toe nails and eventually taught them to cut their own. She mediated between her children as well as mediating between her children and the world.
The accolades began pouring in. The woman's motivation to raise well balanced children was inspiring the country. The new readers could not get enough stories about her. She made an effort to be informed about the world and about raising children. She tried hard to be thoughtful and considerate in her actions and speech as she knew her children watched her and learned from her when she was least expecting it.
There were moments when the media tried to portray the woman as a perfect role model. But she was not perfect. The woman made it very clear to the public that there were many moments she was not proud of. The woman would apologise to her children, do her best to explain and then move on, learning every day with her family. She believed it did no one any good to try to be perfect. To be real and honest was far more vital. Her partner was involved in the parenting and often they would talk late into the night about one child or another and about how their journey in life as a family was moving. They talked about what they wanted for their family, what kind of people they wanted to be and what kind of adults they hoped their children grow to be. They talked about how they could help each other grow strongly and well. Which is not to say they never argued.
The press, whilst respecting the privacy of the woman and her family, kept announcing new and almost fantastical stories. The woman tried hard to respect her mother and her mother in law, despite generational differences. She generally remembered birthdays. She contributed to the local community. Kindness was a motivating force in her life.
Universities soon realised that without research, the story of the woman would soon take on a mythical, unbelievable quality and be discounted by many community members, so they quickly took an active interest in the woman and the stories around her life. They looked at how she emptied bins, brushed teeth and generally tried to cook nutritious meals. How she explained new concepts to her children at odd hours and inconvenient moments. They documented, measured and described using scientifically acceptable methods.
The academics were particularly focused on how the woman kept her own interests and friends. How she kept her 'own life' outside of her children and her family. The woman knew that ultimately she wanted her children to be independant and that meant letting go of them. Having her own life was vital in this way. The academics recorded her successes and failures in this area but were amazed at the growing strength and resiliance of the children and the woman. It was not without cost to the woman however. Sometimes her heart ached and certainly her breasts now fell like damp tea bags when once they had stood more firmly.
It wasn't long before the woman became of international interest. Now backed by scientific research of international standard, there was no denying the situation. People all around the world were interested in her steadfast belief in spending time with her children. Her belief and personal philosophy around raising a well balanced child. Her children helped her hang out the washing. She laughed with them and was patient when inevitable messes, cross words and frustrations arose. She was not perfect and many days were obviously hard. Some moments almost unbearable. But the public could see, she would not be shaken from her task. Despite colds, chicken pox, vomiting, temper tantrums and moody moments, the woman breathed deeply and kept going. The family laughed together, went on walks together and had holidays that usually involved all kinds of discomfort, especially for the woman. The public were entranced.
How had the human race gone so long without noticing that being a good parent was as vital as the earth beneath. As complex as the furthest star.
She amazed the public, she inspired the academics, she won a multitude of international awards including the Nobel prize for peace and she raised children who were sometimes terrible but most times delightful. They would grow up to contribute to the a growing world in surprising and thoughtful ways.
The woman was special and she was loved by her family and the world for what she did.
Thursday, 7 May 2009
The tidy up happened a week ago and during it, my son W and I found a plain navy jumper. After a discussion about what would go on the front of it we went looking for a silhouette on the Internet. There were many that were quite popular with my young man. He has a soft spot for dragons, but we managed to come to an agreement on the lizard. I was pleased about it as there were not too many corners. Far more than I initially thought by the time I got to the machine mind you!
W enjoyed ransacking my fabric piles, almost reversing the tidy up in one fell swoop. He finally chose the fabric, which he decided was like a lizard. He was also chief assistant to the assistant chief and did the passing of pins and excelled at the job. He also enjoyed chatting to the turtle who houses the pins in his back.
I was quite in awe of the fact that W sat with me from start to finish. He browsed some of my sewing books whilst I was at the machine but in general was really taken with the whole process. I would say this was a one off event, however, the purple pants I wrote about before were exactly the same - he was glued!
Perhaps if the creation was for me rather than him maybe there wouldn't be the same level of interest but certainly the ability to delay gratification was there on this day!
Oh and what gratification. He was so much happier than he looks!
At first I thought it was horrid result, whilst W was really pleased. I thought it looked tacky and touristy. But by the next day, after it had a good coating of egg and breakfast and mud, I found it had grown on me. At any rate, since it was not for me and W was really crushed to have to put it in the wash, I guess it was a success!
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
It was always so impressive to see the line up, where they start the chopping on the mark - so the person calling the chop starts it and then starts counting from one. Depending on the skill of the chopper, they start at different marks. It is amazing to watch one person start chopping at 1 and another at 8 or 10 or 28 and see them cut through the wood like butter. Huge chips flying off at every other chop.
Vic Summers is 90 this year and a great axeman.
He is retiring after his final chop at the Sunshine Coast Royal Show this week. He won 8 world titles. Vic is known by some as 'the gutless wonder' as when he was in his 50's he had two thirds of his stomach removed and still went on to win another world title!
It was great to hear about Vic on the radio today. It reminded me that woodchopping brings great joy to me and it was great to remember that my boy W enjoyed the wood chop at the Adelaide show with his nana...
As well as at the local hills show that we now get to call our own!
So here's cheers to Vic and to woodchopping.
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
I tempted fate already today by trying to make a hot chocolate twice. The first time I burnt the milk on the stove filling the house with, oh yes, that smell of burning milk. The second time I heated it in the microwave, usually a machine I loath and avoid. Lovely and hot, I thought I would froth it a bit in the plunger and low and behold a milk fountain that went nearly half my height into the air and at least one and a half metres around me! If it wasn't so amazing to witness, it would have been a crushing moment. However, my son and I were struck speechless by the spectacle.
So, not tempting fate again, my small creative act for the day is to find this which my son can make into a card tomorrow for 'Nana Day'.
Which I found whilst looking at another great blog: http://through-the-round-window.blogspot.com/
We also collected these to make into a gift.
More info on that later.
Monday, 4 May 2009
Later in the day, I went out on the front verandah and showed my new boy to the three generations of women next door. "He was born at 8 o'clock this morning" I said. "We know," they replied, "we heard his first cry."
I am sure some of the love that was showered on my boy every moment that he was within calling, grasping, cuddling or kissing distance of the neighbours was on account of them hearing his birth. Not that I would have picked an audience, but somehow, generations of women, seated in the kitchen next door and listening for my son's first cry, still makes me feel such a strong pull in my heart. Still seems so appropriate.
Surely, where possible, birth is about generations of women, about the home, about women's knowledge and the great strength and insight women have about their experience as women and mothers. My midwife was amazing. My partner was great but to be honest I was not particularly interested in him towards the end of my labour - it was a knowledgeable woman I was leaning on and could consider no other option for the birth of my second child.
Our first child was born in Fremantle, Western Australia. We were lucky enough to have the support of the Community Midwifery Centre. http://www.cmwa.net.au/ I think we paid about $20 for the whole thing from start to finish. We had the support of a midwife from 3 months after conception, two midwives at the birth and the support continued for over a month after the birth. I cannot recommend it enough.
Of course, hospital is the place for complications. No one would debate the skills of various hospital based professionals in certain situations when it comes to supporting the health and welfare of mother and child. All good home births include a back up plan and all good home birth midwives know exactly when to go to hospital. I never had any doubt about this and still don't.
Now in South Australia, there is no community based program. We are lucky enough to have a private midwife who is quite amazing. http://www.homebirth.net.au/ She came highly recommended and I love the activism that oozes from her.
Of course, the current political landscape for home birth is a little torrid to say the least. Certain "journalists" have made headlines with quite ridiculous, badly written and badly researched stories. Statistics of course can be made to say most things, however current research is most definitely stating that home birth is no more or less dangerous that a hospital birth but generally does result in higher rates of satisfaction, particularly on the part of the mother. http://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/lifematters/midwife-home-birth-as-safe-as-hospital-says-study-20090416-a8wu.html
Something that can not be said for free birth, where a woman usually has no support from conception to birth from any trained professional at all and often births alone or just with her partner. Referring to a free birth as a home birth is confusing as the only thing that is the same is the location. A home birth as I understand it, is one that takes place with a trained professional midwife. My experience of home birth midwives is that they are exceptionally well experienced and educated. Their understanding of the woman's body and the birth process is deep and thoughtful. The breadth of their information is impressive. I love that the way they support you is to get to know you and provide the information and support that you need. That is why they spend so much time visiting you and talking to you from when you meet them to when you have a new baby.
I hope that the current recommendations for independent midwives do lose registration do not get passed. Ultimately it is about women's choice. I would be horrified to be forced to go to hospital unless I needed medical intervention. Having a baby is not like having root canal treatment as one thin-minded journalist put it. Women are supposed the have babies, we are not actually supposed to have the roots of our teeth ripped out by knives and tweezers. A normal birth is safe at home. Give a woman an environment where she feels safe, a well educated and professional home birth midwife and time, and babies will be born.
Of course not all women would choose a home birth. I am not suggesting this. To force a home birth on some women would be the same as forcing a hospital birth on another. Surely both ideas are ridiculous.
Support home birth as you are supporting safe choices for women. You don't need to choose it yourself to see that it still a valid choice.
I look forward to sharing news of my second born, since it will be in August, hopefully rather than on the back verandah in front of the fire perhaps.
Sunday, 3 May 2009
First I recorded it.
('every day in may' creative note - my camera is crap - must remedy)
Then I decided that it needed to be out all the time not rolled up on top of a cupboard. So we put it up in my sewing room so it can inspire me. So my creative act was going to be one of inspiration.Then we realised that it was a summer painting - done outside. As we are Adelaide hills dwellers, flippant desires to paint outside in Autumn and Winter are cruelly punished by the enthusiastic artists being turned into freezlings and drenchlings. So, we set up the Winter workshop. An enthusiastic hour or so turned the filthy, randomly packed garage into a studio most worthy!
So my creative act was recording, installing inspiration and the creation of a creative space for Winter art. Painting, chalking and more. Whilst doing this, W learned how to ride his bike down the driveway - just an aside!
Tomorrow we paint!
Saturday, 2 May 2009
Friday, 1 May 2009
I am aim to blog every day, however briefly, about a creative act of that day.
So, my particular take on it, is an astronomically broad definition of the words 'creative' and 'act'! Hence, my creative act, where necessary could be teeny tiny or possibly stolen from a different day altogether. In which case the creative act is one of reflection, writing and acknowledgement - no small act surely!
I like that this plan will result in increased creativity. I especially like that on busy days and in mad hours, it will hopefully lead to an acknowledgement of the creativity that simmers under small acts. Small acts that go unnoticed too often.
I taught in a five teachers school in the Central Desert years ago. I had a habit (which I have still, though not limited to teaching) of telling stories at lunch time of things that had happened in my classroom that I thought were hilarious or poignant.
One day, another teacher who was in her last few years of teaching, commented that the stories I told were in no way remarkable in themselves. But in the telling, I was always reminding her and others that the small words and events of the day did matter and when told in a certain way, gained a weight that was deserved and brought much needed humour or pathos to everyday events. She said that it was never until she reflected on the stories that she realised she has seen such things many times and never given them the space. Hearing me tell of them in my particular dramatic and humorous way made them seem so important. She said she always went back to her classes and noticed things that before had gone unseen. Joy in the noticing.
At first it was a revelation to me that my stories were not remarkable as I have a habit of thinking most things in life are remarkable! But I realised that it was actually a greater thing that I was making unremarkable stories change the way other people were seeing their worlds. A reminder to look at things differently and gain heart from humour and those smallgigantic leaps that we and young people always make.
I hope that 'every day in may', some essence of this appears again for me and for any stray eye that comes this way. I hope small acts of creativity do not go unnoticed...