Staying Local

 

In times of uncertainty, plans are hard to make. This summer, we had hardly any idea about what to do. Before the pandemic, summer holidays were planned right at the start of the year, and it was often already too late regarding good deals on flights. Pandemic meant no plans. After pandemic, we felt no rush. There was still a possibility that covid wouldn't be quite over, plus the troubles surrounding any kind of travel were putting us off. Who wants to have flight cancelled last minute or be stacked at an airport with work deadline looming?

Add to it change of jobs, rising prices, strikes, and there is hardly any surprise that our enthusiasm was lacking. Also there was burning knowledge of a delayed house improvement project, that was slowly turning into an emergency. This was our first summer as parents with no clear plan. Let's just enjoy summer, we said. And we did.

We had a trip, there was a bit of life admin and friends catch up that meant we went to London. Expenses wise, a trip to London is almost equal to a week all inclusive out of term... Other than that, we stayed in the North West of England. Each week, we walked a part of the Kingfisher Trail. Some places we knew, some not. There is a lot of nature and greenery right by our doorstep. Who needs to travel for hours? Lovely hikes, nice quiet places, nature, and the comfort of home afterwards. Child wants camping? We camped in the garden for one weekend. House work was fitted around, it was quiet, and nice. Strangely, I enjoyed it. Perhaps I'm getting too comfortable, who knows. But I like being home. Nothing wrong with that.

The biggest thing that had made last summer special was the steady routine. While the child could have a lie in and there was no rush (husband is grown up and capable of getting ready on his own), I kept waking up early and instead of sitting down to write, I walked the dog first. These early summer morning are always magical. We enjoyed them right till the end and miss them still, even though it is too dark anyway. Early morning practice followed, then writing (editing at the moment) and as the other members of the house were getting up, I could do whatever was needed knowing that my practice, quiet time and writing were already taken care of. Little things are the magic sprinkle of everyday life. And making time for oneself is not a bad thing at all. Once we achieve that, we are on our way...

Shakti Power

 At the end of July, I joined my favourite Yogini Uma Dinsmore Tuli for an online retreat. Having a weekend of group practice was a real blessing. I still remember the beginning of lockdown, and how online classes and workshops were slowly normalised. Great, I thought, I will do so much more yoga classes when I don't have to worry about transportation, it will probably be cheaper, how great. So convenient, I thought. Of course, the reality was different. Finding time for a class or workshop away from home is one thing, fitting a class or a workshop into the every day home existence provides plenty of challenges on itself. Plus there are the issues with noise, people, pets, broadband... Home study isn't always what I thought it could be. And with a well established daily practice fitted around my needs, the motivation was lower than I'd expected.

But there were some nice classes, nevertheless. Not as many as I'd imagined, but enough to appreciate the option. And with Uma travelling a lot, it is nice to know that she is reachable. When her workshop about menopause was announced, and fell right onto the first weekend of summer holidays, I have decided to go for it. If it were in winter, I would struggle with the late evening practice. During summer and especially right after school had ended, dear child wasn't very demanding and could be left to her own devices for a while. So what that we all went to bed later, it's holiday! (It's really interesting how every little thing a woman of the house does effects the running of the all household.)

I have a daily practice which evolves and changes. I study yoga and consider myself a life-long student, practitioner and teacher. I wouldn't live a good life if yoga weren't part of it. And I had learnt a while ago that self-study and self-practice is my favourite way of doing yoga. I have zero need for regular classes. I used to enjoy them, but they are not for me anymore. The time and money can't be found. I invest in books and the occasional, carefully chosen workshop or course that goes with what interests me right now. I avoid too many teachers and contacts online. There is simply an overload of options. Instagram alone can swallow a half of a day just looking at what and how can be done. I have very little interest in sharing much about my daily practice and progress. I probably should try it, but seeing how hopeless I am with self-promotion, I don't even dream about it.

Being therefore in the company of a great teacher and some fellow yoginis is a special treat. Something like a mini holiday, that lasts three days and only takes a few hours of each of the days. But the energy kick I got from that mini-holiday is immense. I can still feel it today. It shows me that I am not alone in a stage of life that is about changes. They are only very slowly starting to announce their future arrival, but they will come. And I will be ready.

As usually with Uma, her approach is inclusive, her techniques simple and the practice flows easily. When the course was ending, I wanted to stay longer, enjoy the lovely company, talk more. It doesn't happen with many gatherings - real or online. Her workshop reminded me to look up what her masterpiece - Yoni Shakti has to offer. 

Yoni Shakti is a big book about yoga and women's place in the world of yoga. It is a life long companion for a yogini, because it covers different stages of life and its cycles. And I could easily identify some core practices from the workshop, some slightly changed, because Uma's practice and teaching evolves, too. Of course, attending a course with a special theme is always better than simply putting things together from a book. But it is great to know that a lot of wisdom is readily available on my bookshelf. My yoga bookshelf has volumes that were read, volumes that are to be read and volumes that are consulted repeatedly. Yoni Shakti is the one with most bookmarks and sticky notes in it. Only a keen interest in chakras had taken me away from it in the last year or so. 

Going through it, I have concluded that I might as well start reading it again. Or focus on some parts. No, lets do it properly. If only I had more reading time! And as I was busy reconnecting with this book, news on Instagram had reached me that the book is now out of print and that there are some legal issues surrounding it. Oh well, women power can't be tolerated for too long, can it? It had made me only more grateful for having met Uma so many moons ago.

In between then and now I have visited London and saw the Feminine Power exhibition in the British Museum. It had made a connection with that magical weekend in my heart. Seeing the long history of us all, I am glad that we can celebrate the feminine power, however much pressure it brings on later...

As the summer of 2022 draws to a close, I am very content. This was a lovely, Shakti powered Summer.

Building Up a Story

 

I don't own a nice antique box that stores my favourite memorabilia. Things are scattered all over. While I was researching my latest story, I went around the house, opened a box full of diaries and notebooks, searched photo albums, and tried to remember where I had put everything. I had moved a couple of times before I settled here, so the past is whatever lasted and could be packed easily.

It is nice to look back and think that I had lived, travelled, and done things. I am not just me right now, I am all of me in the past, now, and in the future. Living in the moment is great, but not being able to learn and remember wouldn't make it better, quite the opposite - previous actions and experiences had brought me here and made me who I am.

Travelling is one of the best things we can do. Modern technology is great, but going through my random scribbles, saved pieces of papers, tickets, and trinkets is much better. The same goes for printing photos. Yes, a phone can store many more images, but if you want to have a good look, nothing beats a printed image. Besides, picking up the really good one to keep is a good thing. Having ten images of the same thing on the phone puts you off looking through the rest. And it is easier to remember where the things are than knowing which device, folder, cloud account, or back up disc the thing you want to see is.

Sometimes, I despair of the amount of things I own. Often, I do a purge and a few days later realize that I need that very thing that I deemed disposable not long ago. Therefore, I am careful about sentimental thins. If I throw away knitting needles, I can replace them. But nothing will replace a little figurine of Hello Kitty that had found me during my wondering in Tokyo. Things that I keep might not be valuable, but they make me happy. Because they bring back memories. And memories transform ideas into stories. Write what you know...

How I Look on Paper

 Looking for a part time job can be soul destroying, especially if you don't fit into easy category regarding experience or education. I've spent most of the year dreaming about starting my business, taking slow, tentative steps, and at the same time delaying any real action. My last trip into the self-employed/living the dream world had made me a little bit unsure. Sure, I was good at what I did, but I saw my limits - mainly being very bad at marketing, self-promotion, keeping in touch, networking, small talk etc. Add a couple of year of housewifing, which doesn't help with any of these skills, unless you are lucky and really manage to meet friends for life in ante natal classes and future business partners in a playground.

Many things have changed for us this month. Husband is out of job, hopefully not for long, but it doesn't make me feel very confident. Instead of taking it slow, I feel that I need to be the one to step up, make a change, turn things around. Considering that he is now very available for the school run, it even feels tempting being out of the house more. But...

After careful attempts to spruce up my CV and applying for part time jobs, I may have no other option than to dip my toes in the self-employment pool again. My history is chaotic and sketchy, there are gaps, and most of all, the last years are filled with only one job title: homemaker. Or housewife, if you wish. And that puts people off, I think. Why are mothers discarded so easily? I see that most jobs are looking for flexibility, but at least ask me how I plan to organize my childcare and school run. Otherwise, why can't we elaborate on those 'lost years' at home? It isn't about sitting on the sofa watching daytime telly. Motherhood makes us dedicated and loyal (even to a very unreasonable little person prone to tantrums). We know how to compromise, find solutions, think and react quickly, negotiate, improvise, and health and safety is basically our second nature. We are punctual and keep our word. We are great communicators. We can work super quickly, see mess behind a corner, are quick learners, and hard workers. We schedule, budget, plan, keep paperwork and bills in order. We like to get things done and are very no nonsense kind of people.

So, yes, we have commitments and sometimes will need time off because ear infection can come out of nowhere, but when we are at work, we are at work and that is that. And we plan ahead. So, why can't we just get a chance, why are we dismissed before even an interview? Considering the advancing pension age and the way we live now, women in their forties surely aren't considered old?

Previously, I worked in a restaurant, and I would take a part time mother over a student or a fresh graduate any time, because there would be less of a chance that they wouldn't show off on an early morning because they were sleeping off a gig they went to last night. A parent would drag herself out of bed and go to the shift no matter how badly the night went. Because we did it since day one with a new baby. And there is much smaller risk of a sudden urge to backpack through Asia for a year, starting a new degree in a different city, getting pregnant and not able to work due to morning sickness, or non stop whatsapping our latest crash.

It is ironic that finding random employment in my twenties was much easier, when I was drifting around the world, fancying to stay somewhere, and starting work on a handshake. It was easier to work without proper paperwork and permanent address, in a foreign place, then it is now, when I am an established part of society with all required documents. Because now I am supposed to present endless enthusiasm for shelf filling in a supermarket, I suppose. And the outlook is different. Years ago, I was invincible, confident, and knew that things will work out. Now, I think about my child, about bills, about all our commitments, and have become accustomed to random 2 a.m. thoughts. I could be wherever with last hundred dollars in my back pocket twenty years ago, and I would still enjoy an undisturbed sleep in the night. Nowadays, I overthink stuff way too much and doubt myself.

Self-employment is calling, I can hear it in the distance. I wanted to find a job, get going, have a task, not having to worry about anything else. It may not be for me, in the end. Most likely, I don't fit the idea of a model employee on paper. I hoped that I could start making money straight away, because our circumstances are changing and I am worried. After many years of being always here, manning the house front, it looked good to have a chance to go out and do something else than school run, shopping, cleaning, laundry. I would still have to find time to do these, plus the things I love, but I would have to fit it around everything else. It seems that I will have to make it on my own. That may be better - no CV to update, no shifts to figure out. It may take much more time and energy, bring more sleepless nights, but why not? I just have to be brave. And figure out some path that requires minimal self-promotion and marketing... Fingers crossed.

Milestones

                                     

 My child's birthdays are special, of course they are. In anticipation, while child is dropping hints about favourite toys, reminding me how well school is going, and asking for cakes that look like mermaids/cats/princesses/unicorns/whatever else, I always go back to the last days of pregnancy. I always remember the due date, two weeks before the birthday, the anticipation of the day, the feeling of 'what now?'  when it became obvious that nothing will happen. I remember the heaviness and how impossible it was to sleep properly. I remember tiredness, wishing for a few hours without discomfort, just to dose off and sleep properly, deeply. Without waking up for every turn. Without the little legs stretching against my ribcage. Without the tip of my sternum seeming very much out of place.

As I marvel about how my child is growing, I remember the endless time in the hospital, where we had to go for a check up to make sure that we can wait for the labour to start. Just a quick check up, the midwife said. Right. There is not such thing as quick hospital visit, not in an average NHS hospital. I always remember how tired I was getting and the decision to get induced was mainly out of concern that I wouldn't have any energy left in the end. Which I hadn't.

The day before the birthday, when child's anticipation is at the highest (presents!!!), I always think back about the stay at the hospital and the fun that is induction... And I get flashbacks of the endless, painful process of getting that child out. And how grumpy that child looked, when she finally emerged and landed on my stomach. And how I didn't get to sleep again, even though labour was done, but I was looking after a little human that didn't rest inside me anymore....

I look at my child, the way she plays and the way she is and think about my own childhood, so different and faraway. This is a different world. My child is an online native and prefers to watch people on You Tube playing with dolls from actual playing, whereas I spent hours inventing stories and acting them out with toys and dolls. Lots of things that I passed on seem irrelevant. Kids now have different language. I also remember how much more independent we were, thrown into the world, fending for ourselves, running wild (and occasionally feral).

In many ways, we are similar, but childhood now and then is a different experience. My child is more protected and supervised, hardly ever really alone, but her world doesn't seem to be more safe. It was simpler for my parents to explain 'stranger danger', when they could only be encountered in real life.

I am more open and chilled around my child, different than my parents, but at times, I still glimpse them and their reactions in me. But I am bringing up my child in a very different environment and have to adapt, which helps when I want to do things differently - I have a reason and an excuse (times have changed, mother). But with each year, I see how much closer I am to having a teenager, and the jungle that we will encounter then.

My child sees me writing and assumes that it is what I do. More than that, I am a constant, somebody who is always there and who always puts her first. Somehow, she became a constant in my life, too. No matter the differences, she is a little copy of me from years ago, but with a very different outlook and future. Being a parent is a very special thing.

Bodies - My Second Published Book

 

    I have published my second book, which, ironically, is the first book I have ever finished writing. It was lying aside for a long time, waiting patiently, until I made it into my big project. The story is therefore important to me on a very personal level. But which isn't?

   Bodies takes us to Prague in the late 1990s. We meet four young girls who are gradually establishing their careers and their independent existence. Moving to the capitol city of any country is a big step and only one of the girls actually is from Prague itself. Some of the girls know each other, others meet in passing, or encounter the same people. That's life in a big city - anonymous and intimate at the same time. Life in a big city also means different levels of existence, living in the same place, but experiencing it very differently.

   The first character is Lizzie, a nurse from a small town who came to Prague to realize her dreams. First step was a job in one of the big teaching hospitals, which means subsidised accommodation and better career prospects. But nursing career is the last thing on Lizzie's mind. She wants to be a model. And Prague is the place where it can happen. She joined a prestigious agency and currently learns that it doesn't mean much. Making it as a model isn't as straightforward as she hoped.

   Ida, the second girl, is from Prague, and lives alone in a small flat she inherited from her aunt. She was originally a vet nurse, but after a break up and a crisis of confidence, she ended up working in a brothel. She was in love and very happy, waiting for her boyfriend to graduate from university, becoming a vet and living with her happily ever after. Instead, she ended up single, in a job she didn't very much enjoy. After a few trials and errors, she realized that selling herself may be an unexpectedly good option. When we meet her, she is enjoying herself, doing well, even meeting a love of her life. But will it stay like that?

   Victoria, our third heroine, seems to be the most glamorous. She is a model, and a good one. Working for the same agency as Lizzie, she is on another level - working full time, travelling, being in high demand. She lives in a beautiful flat with her gay best friend, has a rich boyfriend, and seems to have it all. But her ambition is much bigger, she wants to make it in the international market. Prague, the dream for girls like Lizzie, is too small for Victoria. However, she is already learning that sometimes, price of happiness can be very high.

   The last of the girls is Isabela, a stripper who is carefully building her brand and running her career the best way she can. Dancing was her dream and she loves what she does, but she has also a strong business mind and isn't afraid to try new things, promote herself, and be who she is without any shame. It means living a very isolated existence and regularly upsetting her family, but for her, it is the best way to live.

Every chapter is dedicated to one character in turn, and we follow their progress through some pivotal times in their lives. Although their lifestyles are very different, some things about them are similar. They are ambitious and independent. Men should be falling for them, but the truth is that relationships aren't simple, no matter which of the girls we look at. All of them want to meet The One, but they also value their independence and freedom, which isn't seen as something women should aspire to, or talk about. Establishing their independent existence, they are finding out how society works and how they are supposed to fit in it. In a nutshell, life is complicated. And we can read and see how the girls in Bodies figure it out.

If you are interested, you can find the book here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Bodies-Lucinda-Real-ebook/dp/B09VFMFQT5/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1A4BO7DJGSNM4&keywords=lucinda+real&qid=1648563893&s=books&sprefix=lucinda+real+%2Cstripbooks%2C88&sr=1-1

The post about my first book Grey Rainbow is here:

https://lucindareal.blogspot.com/2021/06/about-grey-rainbow.html

Yes, I Can

 New year, old me. Beginning of the working regime was relatively brutal. December was great, because it was efficient. I carried on waking up at 5:30 and writing until the school chaos began. It was great. In November, I'd won NaNoWriMo, but the story wasn't finished. I made a plan to carry on with the writing mornings until Christmas and hopefully finish the first draft. And I did! Exactly on the dot, December 24th, as planned in my diary. It hardly ever happens.

I had one Saturday morning off, didn't get a lie in, but wanted a computer free day and it felt weird and wrong. Christmas Eve was strange, because besides it being Christmas and me slowly finishing all the things that need to be done for the festivities, which mostly involve food, and minding an overexcited child, I was mourning my characters. For two months, I've started my day with them, wrote about them, and during the day kept thinking about them, occasionally ran to the desk and made a small note about an idea that came to me. While writing the story, I was already quietly plotting what will happen next. Because even if readers are not interested, I am, and I want to spend more time with them. Therefore, Christmas Eve was bitter sweet. I was with my husband, child and pets, all of us healthy, I should be grateful and happy. But the characters whose story had received the most delightful 'The End' in the morning, were on my mind. It was a mixture of mourning and longing. Very strange mood.

I started reading a book, hoping to get lost in another story. But I noticed that I was a little removed, slightly aloof, simply in a writer's mood that many other writers may understand.

During Christmas, I had a break. Morning routine disappeared, I went for a booster vaccine and was unwell, therefore my rhythm had changed. Getting back to school was painful. The alarm clock was still set at 5:30 and I decided to leave it like that. And since the 6th of January, I was doing my best to really wake up. I am still keeping the draft on the ice, working on formatting instead. Not easy to do first in the morning, but at least it is getting done, during the day, I would find too many excuses not to do it. Formatting is a pain. This week, I am slowly reading the proof copy. I would call this process 'comma hunting'. I am on a look out for misspelled words, nonsensical sentences and such, but what gets to me the most at this stage is punctuation. I had edited, read the text aloud, but still, I find things....

But writing mornings aren't the only thing on my mind. I am also taking active steps to starting up my business, opening up new opportunities and hopefully starting to work. All of the things that were on my mind or on one of many to-do lists are being taken care of. My energy has changed. I have more of a 'can do attitude'. I firmly believe that the two months of intense writing and discipline helped me to set my mind up this way. The year is young and the world is my oyster. Even if January feels endless, and moving towards its end, the energy, like the Moon, is slowly waning.