Reasons To Smile

                                  

 I can't help but feel happy. Maybe it is because I had a good night's sleep. I had another one last week. Waking up knowing that I had managed to keep just sleeping throughout the night, that the brain didn't wake up enough to make me think, that I was comfortable enough to position myself properly, and that I feel good upon waking, is something I have learnt to appreciate with age.

But there is another reason. This is my time of the year. The time around Imbolc, the more mysterious festival in the calendar, is mine. It announces the slow waking up of the earth, the gentle stir that happens quietly in the background. My birthday is approaching, too. It is the more real new year's celebration for me personally. The wheel is turning. While after Christmas and before the new year I need to hibernate, keep quiet, and celebrate the New Year only in terms of stationery, the beginning of February is the time to stretch, smell the air, be out, look at the sign of life, smile, talk.. and be happy. I am more alive than during the darkest days of winter.

This morning, I was contemplating happiness. How it isn't seen as a natural state, but something that needs to be fought for, deserved, hushed, and guarded. If you are too happy you seem too extravagant, perhaps even ungrateful. But when you think about your average days in which the weather is okay, you are managing your tasks, and are reasonably healthy, you may notice that you are actually pretty happy. Sure, you have goals and plans and ideas in your head about how much better life could be if - (insert whatever occurs). But when you think about that average normal day as it slowly closes, you might just allow yourself to see that you are indeed happy. The little moments that you almost forget are often the happiness you remember only when it is gone. Ask any parent of kids who had recently moved out or any owner of a pet that had passed over the rainbow. We don't see happiness when it seems ordinary. But the ordinary little things in our lives are happiness. They have more meaning than the big, extravagant, and rare moments.

So, with this new Imbolc and my approaching new birthday, I am very quietly happy. I have a sudden urge to start clearing out the garden and check how the little buds are doing, I want to go and find what seeds are left, get whatever is needed, and start planting, growing, and doing. I organize things and think about little projects - something to knit or sew, I want to do things with my hands. I bake and organize the kitchen. And while I busy myself like that, my head keeps plotting. Because stories want to come out, grow, and materialise just like everything else.

This year, I managed to bring my book just in time to coincide with this special time. My book family is growing, I am now the author of three full-grown, published books. I am happily working on the fourth one. The characters are quietly moving into the vacated premises of my plotting mind. Being a writer is part of me, an essential part of me. I am feeling celebratory and happy because I stopped dreaming of being a writer and had become one that not only thinks up ideas, but writes them, finishes them, edits them, improves them, and publishes them.

Sometimes, I think I see signs in the little moments. Like when earlier this week, while the teachers were striking, I walked in town with my daughter. We went to look at the display of soft toys in the toyshop. She likes the little TY toys with their names and birthdays printed on their tags and usually takes way too much time checking them out. This week, as my book was freshly out, the first toy she had shown me was called Star - the title of my new book - and her birthday was my birthday. Of course, she had to come home with us. And how can I not be happy??

My Dear Body

Here is to another year of you and me. We used to be a great team. We've been through a lot. But nothing lasts forever, does it? Forgetting the little episode when you tried to get rid of me at the age of four with a burst appendix (clearly an unsuccessful attempt), you served me well. Until about after thirty. We were strong, flexible, dancers and yoga enthusiasts who could eat anything, didn't know what a headache was, and never had a problem falling asleep. Apart from hay fever, which in some years got pretty bad, we were golden.

Until. The metabolism slowed. The skin stopped being effortlessly great at all times. I realised that getting pregnant and staying pregnant wasn't a given. Sleep wasn't that easy. Not all positions were suitable to sleep in. Thoughts could become really dark when I didn't watch it. 3 a.m. thoughts were introduced to me... I could go on.

Still, we are trying our best. We figured out how to eat, drink and live our everyday life to maintain good general health. Some things we don't do anymore, other things we do more of. We can cope with almost everything. And we are still lucky, we are healthy and strong. Of course, I know that I will change. Besides that, I never was one of the women who want to look like she is in her late twenties forever. To be honest, getting older is liberating. Because we know ourselves better. We stop giving so much f**k about what other people think and listen to ourselves instead.

But I do hold a grudge. I do. Because I went through the first long pandemic and lockdown with a frozen shoulder, got over it, recovered, and thought all was well, and then what did you throw at me? A funny feeling in the other shoulder in the late summer. It was getting gradually worse. Being wise and being through it, I tried my best to manage it. But no, by October I knew exactly where I was heading. By November, my practice was again strongly affected, no matter how early I added all the physio exercises I could still remember. By December, I wasn't sleeping so well. Because there wasn't an easy way to get comfortable. And simply turning in your sleep? That can be forgotten. I have to prop myself up every single time... But it wasn't enough for you, was it? In the most hectic days of Christmas preparations, you also threw covid at me. Why not? The last time you did it was during the Easter holidays, I suppose you are trying out a new tradition, body, aren't you? Well, stop it. I am one of the last people who still cleans her hands all the time, feels guilty if accidentally touches her face, and never ever ever sneeze or cough without covering my face (didn't do it before the pandemic either, basic manners, just saying).

I am over covid, in a way it was OK to have it when I had it because I could just rest after Christmas and slowly recuperate. But the shoulder isn't improving fast enough, it is once again the slow, painful journey I've been already on. At least it isn't my writing and most used side and I don't overcompensate quite so much on the other side (is that the reason for suffering now?). So I am taking it one day at a time. And I still like you, my dear body, and wish us both a very good and healthy/healthier year.

On and On We Go

 The proof copy of my last book had arrived in the post. Nothing beats the feeling of holding the physical book in your hands. I can edit endlessly, make files, back up files, consider the work done, but the book itself is on a very different level. Even though it is not yet quite done. 

This is my third book and so far, the read through had always brought changes. First time, I played a lot with the cover itself. Second time, I was smarter with that, but still picked enough issues in the text. I also figured that no header means more space and less pages to print.

With my third book, my editing process was very organized. I have finally built a system that hopefully works. Proof will be in the proof copy read! To print the text and read it through on paper is an old trick that really works (and guarantees lots of printer-related frustration), but interestingly, the book print shows what even the A4 paper format print missed. Something about a real, physical book makes the little mistakes jump out of the page more. Because they don't belong in a book! Also, any blunder in formatting shows up nicely.

Reaching the end of bringing my third book out to the world reminded me that life is indeed going around in circles. Bigger, smaller, lapsing, stand-alone circles. Time is something that flows round and round, it doesn't travel in a line. Seasons, years, occasions, even fashion come and go. Year ago, I was winning NaNoWriMo with Star, working on the story every day, then I carried on through December, finished the first draft and while doing that, I had my first proof copy of Bodies to read through (I used so many sticky notes to mark issues with the text!). Once Bodies was polished and finished, it was published and I began editing Star. And now I have Star in my hands, going through the final stage of this project. Another cycle is reaching its completion.

One thing I have to say is: I will miss my characters. I like all of my books, they are very much influenced by what I have learnt, seen, and experienced, but somehow, Star and the other people from her story are very dear to me. Do I have a favourite? It feels unfair, like asking a parent which child they like the most. Impossible, but with an inner twinge. It will probably change once I start living in an inner dialogue with my new characters, but at the moment, I am a little sad. Maybe I will return to Star and her story. Why not?

I finished the first draft at Christmas and the feeling of accomplishmet was very much subdued by a feeling of loss. After so many early morning with Star and the others, I was lost. Besides, we are meant to be with our nearest and dearest at Christmas, so why were these characters over? Maybe I will have a finished, polished book by this Christmas. Hopefully, I will take the separation more easily, being a little more used to it. Besides, I will be ready to send them all out to the world, endlessly proud.

Writing all of this feels good. Three books finished. I am a real writer. Unknown, rubish at marketing, but real. I am making a very slow progress, but honestly, that is the story of my life. Things take time. I've learnt that much at least. Besides, number three has something about it that pushes me forward. Of course, three books bring much more confidence with them. We all could put together the one story we believe we have in us and publish it. Self publishing makes it possible. Two books are better, but still, it might just be an ego boost. Three books mean business. By the end of the second book, we writers (the self published kind) know how much work goes into the story. Writing a draft is only the beginning. Finishing the third book means that I am here to stay. Quiet and shy, very much on the outside of the amazing writing community, but here, claiming my place. And plotting my next book, of course!

November

 November marks the approaching cold season, count down to the end of the year, and, of course, NaNoWriMo. I am busy polishing off the manuscript that was born during last year NaNoWriMo. After a year with the characters, they are basically part of the family (in my head at least).

I was noting down ideas for the next project throughout the year, too. NaNoWriMo is ideal for that: putting the ideas together and shaping a story. First draft, mad creation, whatever you call it, knowing that there is a challenge to write certain amount of words each day is perfect for that. But, in all honesty, I knew I wouldn't manage this year. I participate every other year anyway and even though I was tempted, I had to be realistic.

This is my first year with a job of sort. I am freelancing, not working full time, but it makes a difference. I have to be more organized, more flexible with my time, and (sigh) my housewifing won't do itself. Besides, I am not putting much effort into networking and promoting myself in the working field and I am doing very very miniscule effort with promoting and marketing my writing.

So what if instead of writing I started the more difficult thing - talking, communicating, promoting? Wouldn't it be a challenge on itself? Much harder than the desired word count.

I was seeing myself writing and updating my blog every day, posting on social networks, researching all the possible ways of making people aware of my stories... Let's see. We are one week into November and I am hoping to finish and publish the first post of the month that was of course meant to be out last week. I had a hectic week, more work than usual and after ticking off all the tasks each day, writing was lacking behind. Only scribbled notes are a witness that my brain didn't give up. But I was also feeling proud and very accomplished. I have managed to do everything I had to, I did it well and I ended the week on a high note, because I was feeling good. Not exhausted, drained and in need of rest, but balanced and happy. Because I have made time for myself. I still woke up early every day, had my practise, took care of myself as well as the others, ate right... Isn't it easy to forgo all these little things in the pursuits of other goals?

So my plans for this very productive month (because what we don't do in November, creative-wise, we will truly struggle to accomplish in December) is to be as creative, open, communicative as I can, but also not to forget to keep things in balance. Yes, I want to sell books. But also, I want to be in the best mood and health possible. I won't have a chart on the NaNoWriMo website cheering me on, there will be no badges, but I hope that I will be able to reward myself with the knowledge that I have done the best that I could. That is good.

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...