What’s that at your elbow?

I had the good fortune to hold a lengthy discussion with a neighbor recently who quoted this phrase by Marcus Aurelius:

“Do not act as if you had ten thousand years to throw away. Death stands at your elbow. Be good for something while you live and it is in your power.”

How does one make one’s life count?

Simple expressions of one’s values are sometimes overlooked. The privilege of being a grandmother, for example; and wind that back to the privilege of having two children, two daughters, raising them to be good citizens, good parents to their own children. Obvious and natural ways to ‘be good for something’.

Being good for something starts within

Fulfillment within the family structure may be sufficient for some, in that it brings joy, fulfillment and a deep sense of calm and peace for many. Yet, being good for that ‘something’ that one can do beyond the immediate family is often a yearning within.

Being good to one’s own self first is a prerequisite to expressing a ‘greater’ life purpose should one feel called to do something that reaches beyond the family.

Being good to self involves self care in all its nuances. Without a firm footing of self knowledge it is often difficult to choose an appropriate way of serving others that truly resonates with who one is. This is a journey, though, and learning who one is and giving expression to that person often evolves along life’s path.

How does one express that something that is beyond one’s immediate self or family?

Being good for something may well be expressed in what is called a greater sense of purpose, an act of service to others. The expression of that may change during one’s lifetime, as it has in mine.

– a position in the workplace, outside home such as

– a chosen profession;

– serving one’s country;

– being creative – sharing one’s wisdom through writing or the arts.

The list is endless, especially if looked upon as embracing any aspect of life.

From the harried days of all that my chosen profession of teaching involved, I now find that something in

  • Slowing down in life, sufficiently to smell the roses;
  • Enjoying a child’s laughter in all its innocence;
  • Being present in conversation with anyone I am talking with – that is, not being distracted by surrounding noise such as the chainsaw in the neighbour’s backyard!
  • Silencing mind chatter
  • Ignoring my phone, except for actual calls or messages
  • Having a tea-party with my granddaughter;
  • Confiding over coffee with a good friend.

What about a greater sense of purpose than such trivia you ask?

As for a greater sense of purpose that rattles around within, asking to be identified and expressed, what is that? What replaces the profession that one no longer finds fulfilling,or has outgrown? what is it ‘beyond family’ that I could embrace, that would impact a greater number of people, perhaps in one instance. How can the present moment be filled to embrace many (people) rather than one at a time, or just a few?

Not all of us are ‘called’ to a ‘greater’ purpose – for, in my view, there is no greater nor less than! What is, is. (This point could be debated, depending on how one looks at it.)

Sometimes though, there is a knowing, an inner notion that there is more, that one can reach more people, that is sparked within. One knows that there is an opportunity to do more and that the something (more) is within one’s power.

As I explore this awareness, this sense of knowing, this notion, I realize I am fulfilling it. It is within my power to write. And what I write is being published, and it is therefore reaching more people than just one.

Why write? Why is that my ‘more’?

I’ve a love for words, their nuances, the fun of language. For many years I played with learning other languages, though now I can only boast a mere word or two. In keeping with my post in the link below, I have now recommenced writing, and hope to uphold that which I began several years ago. I hope too, that my goal in sharing aspects of my life in my writing will resonate with those who need to hear the messages contained within.  

I invite you to leave a comment below about your chosen ‘something’ that you hope or know will leave a mark on this world. (If the comment box isn’t visible, please click on the title of this blog.)

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Check out aspects of my early background here: https://louiseallan.com/2017/07/10/susan-dunn-my-reading-and-writing-life/

Our Dusty Destiny

It’s been over a year since my grand-kids stayed overnight. Gosh! How they have grown and changed! First of all, my now almost 6-year-old grandson is so much more vocal, keen to know about this and that, and really takes in the new experiences being offered, even on the trip between his home in suburbia and the house in the hills. Amongst the many things se shared, he soaked by learning about vineyards and the origins of wine; white painted fences around paddocks that contained horses and the beautiful Australian Banksias both in the bush and median strips.

Keen to explore the acre on which the hills home is built, our grandson runs happily between spaces, exploring where the fishpond was last time he was here, discovering only one laying hen, the companion having died some time ago, and now only two birds in the aviary.

Her Destiny was to become part of our household. Lovingly renamed Dusty.

Other discoveries include the new two-year old kitten-like cat, the addition to the household after our two previous went to cat heaven within a short space of time only a few months prior to his visit. “Destiny”, her cat-haven name soon became Dusty, as for some reason a two-syllable name is much easier to call! Our grandson remembers Dusty’s predecessors, Smooch and Pixie. It seems as though they smile from cat-heaven as they watch their playful newcomer and our grandson in the space they once shared.

A cosy place shared by Pixie and Smooch.

Given the passing of three family pets, the subject of grave sites and death arose quite naturally. It’s no mean fete, however, to navigate the topic of death and burial with a young child. I take my hat off to our grandson’s father who plans a visit to a cemetery to see the sites of family members who served in the war. In my mind, and not intended as approval, but rather as simply a great way to ease into a difficult topic, this will build on a foundation already begun in the passing of my grandson’s great grandmother. It will, perhaps, lead to an understanding of where one is ‘laid to rest’ or buried, should that be the chosen destination of one who passes on.

Maui, so named because he barely uttered a real meow, and we’d just returned from a holiday that included the island.

Do you think there is a need in our society to be more open?

The whole concept of death and dying needs to be addressed in our society, in my view. As my grandchildren deal with the notion of their own grandmother ‘being old’, ‘having wings’ (arms that lack muscle strength!) and being unable to keep pace with their energy, I am comfortable with discussions that open the doorway to increased understanding. At some point, it may, indeed it very probably will, become relevant to introduce the notion that not only the older generation are the ones who die, that death may call one ‘home’ at any age. But that concept is yet to be introduced: the day for such a discussion has not quite arrived.  

Not guilty! Hmm!

Your thoughts?

When do you think it is a ‘good’ time to open discussions with a child about death and dying?

How would you or have you gone about it?

I invite you to share your thoughts in the comments below.

(If the comments box is not visible, please click on the blog post title and it will appear at the end of the post.)

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Furthering My Dreams – 2023

Recently, I re-read what I’d hoped to achieve almost 4 years ago. As with most ideas, plans or goals, some were achieved, others put on the back burner, others long since forgotten.

Interestingly, what has transpired is a focus on spiritual growth which is now a conscious path of learning and unlearning, of being present, of being mindful.

My revised goals for 2023 are to –

1. Continue to deepen my spiritual growth.

  • Some of the ways I find helpful are reading, attending local events and giving myself ample time alone to process what I am learning.

Books I’ve read to teach me spiritual truths include –

  • Eckhart Tolle’s Stillness Speaks; The Power of Now; and A New Earth.
  • Thich Nhat Hanh’s The Miracle of Mindfulness, a quaint booklet of immeasurable insights into meditation. A simple learning is understanding that meditation is also known in western society as mindfulness.
The beauty of nature is a powerful entry into stillness.

2. Maintain a Gratitude Journal

  • A simple entry of one item a day is sufficient. However, I find the toastmaster’s approach to speech evaluations useful –
  • two-three positives;
  • a couple of areas “I could do better by…” (with a suggested ‘how to’, even if it’s simply bringing awareness to what may need to change as the Divine will open doors that lead the way.)
  • Concluding with another positive or two which refocuses the mind.
  • I find noting both what I am grateful for and what I can improve, especially at the end of the day, opens doors to possibilities being opened up while I sleep. Sometimes answers are given in the morning, other times, down the track. I may only become aware of the shift when looking back.

3. Share Time with family

  • My grandchildren are growing up! Two are already young adults! My youngest turns four this year.  One of my strongest values is being there for family: time spent with them and with their parents is invaluable. I aim to uphold this in simple ways – sharing a meal together; childminding; chatting over an evening drink and fun outings.

4. Write

I feel like saying the corny thing, It would be a ‘novel’ idea if I stuck to my writing plan! Yeah, I know, boom, boom.

  • This year I kick-started writing again. Check my About page for further insights.
  • I aim to continue with my blogging; sorting and writing family stories, writing poetry and self- publishing inspirational verse on social media. You can read my Instagram posts here.
Photo by rawpixel.com from Pexels

5. Family History

Inherited from my mother and my own research, I’ve a great deal of family history waiting to be written up. (Four dozen 50 litre crates worth of paperwork to be precise: old letters, birth, death and marriage certificates, tin plate photographs amongst the myriad of formal and informal family snapshots; articles and items of memorabilia!)

  • My primary audience will be family; however, some will find its way to publication for interested parties. As my family history stems back to pioneering days in Western Australia, there’s a great deal of scope for integrating the beauty, trials and tribulations of earlier times.  One such post can be read here.

6. Work with a mentor

I find working with a mentor immeasurably rewarding. Being gently held with encouragement for those times I struggle to keep up with my writing plans, my mentor is a gem. Consistency is key, and I have a brilliant example in Maureen. Her blog, her novel, her short stories, our regular catch ups over coffee are invaluable to me. She has set a high bar with her blog, How to be Eighty, which Google ranks highly.

7. Holidays

  • In the last few years I’ve focussed on caring for others and took brief breaks. Now it is time for a treat – an actual holiday! To that end, I’ve planned my first trip overseas in some time, incorporating a spiritual retreat. I’ll no doubt keep a journal and have a zillion photos to manage! Check out future posts!

8. Health

  • Following on from an intense focus on my personal health in the past year, I aim to continue the new measures introduced:
    • Exploring new recipes that support a balanced diet is a must-do.
    • Finding simple do-at-home exercises that become part of my daily routine is a great exercise in itself!
One of many books I am enjoying using. My daughter gifted me this one for my birthday. I am not truly Vegan, but I enjoy vegetable based meals.

9. Self Education

  • I value life-long learning. Taking up programs that enable spiritual and personal growth, I also find insights and skills I can share with others. Social interactions are often based around small groups or with individuals I encounter in these programs.

10. Social Interaction

  • Meeting new people is high on my list this year. I am focusing on finding like-minded, supportive groups and individuals with whom I find mutual support for my writing and for my personal and spiritual growth. I have joined a few groups based on my education programs and enjoy outings to lovely local places such King’s Park. We meet over meals breakfast, morning tea, lunch or dinner! Often new-found acquaintances lead to sharing an event such as a comedy show or a musical.
  • Spreading my social wings is something I am keen to continue throughout the year. I am sure my trips and travels will offer abundant opportunities.
Photo by Arshad Sutar from Pexels

11. Enjoy my photography

  • Take lots of photos. This is a no-brainer! I always take photos! This year I’ll focus on my trips and travels.
  • I’ve a life-time’s worth I’m currently sorting and utilizing in my posts, as well as for family.
  • I’ve heaps of photos in my stash of family history to sort and share.

12. Read

  • For the first time in several years, I am once again reading. Apart from the above I have a list that includes –
  • The Resilience Shield by Dr Dan Pronk, Ben Pronk & Tim Curtis
  • Deepak Chopra: Abundance by Deepak Chopra
  • Shannon Meyerkot: Brilliant Minds by Shannon Meyerkot
  • The Storyteller By Dave Grohl
  • The Power of Awakening by Dr Wayne W. Dyer
  • The Elevate Bundle by Benjamin J Harvey

A busy, few months are ahead!

In conclusion, I’m sure there’s at least 23 different opportunities to fulfill in the remainder of the year! I am sure I will achieve most of them! Anything that does happen to fall by the wayside is clearly either not meant to be, or will find itself on the following year’s list. After all, time and calendars are really only concepts of convenience! Reality is timeless.

How is your your year turning out?

I’d love to hear how your 2023 is panning out. Please leave a comment below and let me know something that has been a highlight for you.

PS If the comment box isn’t visible below, please click on the title of this post. It will then appear below.

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Low Cost Meals & A Walk Down Memory Lane

Low cost meals and simple dishes were a fact of life during my childhood. In the 60’s My mother managed our household of five on a minimal budget that didn’t always keep pace with inflation. Even so, we never went without. There was always food in the cupboard, and the pantry, and later, when we could afford one, the chest deep freezer.

Because we lived in isolation, on a farm, frequent trips to the shops weren’t possible. My mother bought in bulk. It was common sense to do so. She supplemented shop bought foods with home grown vegetables; home-made preserved fruit from back-yard fruit trees; home-made jams and chutneys, and even home made ginger beer. She became adept at creating meals out of little.

Simple meals

The main meal usually consisted of simple dishes. Nothing gourmet. I don’t think I learned that word until after I’d left home.

In winter, we often had soup with bread, not a skerrick (tiniest piece) of butter in sight, followed by a simple main meal and dessert or bread and jam. Each serving was ‘enough’. That is, it was a serving, not an overladen plate. On Sundays, soup with pancakes was our meal. No in-between mains. There was sufficient nourishment in the soup.

Iced coffee at lunch time came in a 2 litre yellow jug with a white lid, not a Masters Dairy plasticized cardboard carton. My nother made it from Tooralac Powdered Skim Milk, (later it was other brands), chicory essence and raw sugar. Two thirsty men, later three, coming in from farm, downed the jug full, glass by glass, without batting an eye. I couldn’t acquire a taste for it. Milk and I never got along.

Tooralac Milk came packaged in strong plastic, so durable that I still have an original from many years ago.

Offal for meal anyone?

For main meals, my mother was adept at creating dishes from cheap cuts of meat. Liver or lambs fry was served with lashings of onion and gravy and a helping of mashed potato, carrots and peas or beans. I found lambs fry barely edible, but, I was told it was incredibly rich in iron and therefore good for me. It didn’t meant I ate it with any degree of pleasure, though!

Another meal was tripe. Colour was added to this very bland, pallid dish with boiled carrots and garden fresh peas or French beans. Once I learned where white meat other than chicken came from, I couldn’t touch it, even when it was disguised in white sauce made from milk, flour and onion. Utterly ghastly!

A favourite only ever found on a plate in front of our mother was brains on toast. To this day, I can see the squirmy looking ‘meat’ being devoured with a smile.

Home grown

Later, when my father had a spare lamb or sheep for household food, we ate chops, roasts, and whatever other cuts of meat he managed to cut. It was always difficult for me when I saw bloodied bags hanging from meat hooks on the side verandah. Later, the meat was wrapped in plastic, labelled with a texta, stored in the freezer and consumed over 2-3 months.

Steak and kidney pie might sound like a luxury. It was generally served as a stew of sorts, with toast or mashed potato. The steak was a cheap cut of gravy beef. This dish was so unusual, the kidney sort of added an exotic flavour. But I knew what it was, and avoided the chunks, or swallowed them whole.

Cow chops

In our very early childhood, a tale is told that my brother asked for ‘cow chops’. Of course, he was too young to know the source of each cut of meat.

Mum also bravely served home home-grown chicken. Visions of a headless chooks tied to the clothes line, quite why I’m not sure; the copper of boiling water beside the engine shed (we had 32 volt power) and the smell of scorched feathers as mother dunked and plunked and plucked the bird, always had me turn my back and retreat to the other side of the house. I don’t know what else she had to do. But we did eat the meat.

This is the sort of copper my mother used. A fire was lit underneath and water boiled in the copper insert. We had an old one near our engine shed and another one in the laundry for washing clothes

My least favourite dish, apart from tripe and brains, was trotters in jellied aspic. Good heavens! I couldn’t eat it then, and I’d run a mile now!

Years later, when my father began keeping pigs on the farm, we had pork. Huge, fatty pork chops. We were obliged to eat all the meat and the rather large, fatty portion still on the edge of the chop . We weren’t terribly well-informed about the health issue of cholesterol back then. 

Meatless dishes

Occasionally we ate meatless dishes. Mum was adept at pasties and made a very tasty pasty slice. She made fillings from home grown vegetables. We were allowed to cover our serving with a squirt of tomato sauce. Of course, being a vegetable dish, we needed no side servings. I recall though, mashed potato may have been added to fill growing children and our hard working father.

Admiration

I recall my mother’s dedication to providing the best she could for her family. To this day, I admire her ability to be creative with dishes. Brought up on a pioneering farm in the central wheat belt, she would have learnt her skills in preparing such meats and other inexpensive dishes from her mother and sister. 

 A ‘mincer’ or grinder, similar to the one used to mince our meat.

A modern approach

When prepared meats became available on trays covered in plastic from supermarkets, it was no doubt much easier. Chops no longer had to be home-cut. Mince no longer had to be put through the hand turned grinder. Today we get chicken breasts, legs or wings by the tray. Or a whole chicken if we wish. We are spoilt for choice.

These days I am mostly a vegetarian, for various reasons. I don’t get why people fuss over having meat in their diet. I find plenty of nourishment without. But that’s a topic for another day.

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How to waste time and justify it

De-clutter, write or study?

Recently I’ve begun de-cluttering my home. It’s a challenge as it consumes so much time away from writing and completing courses I am studying! Of the many courses I chose to study, one begging for attention is implementing what I learnt in a course on photography – all six modules crammed with high-end, professional information, intensive and challenging. My fingers itch to use my camera again!

Learning to take photos with a fresh eye, I’m tackling close-ups before moving on to macro photography of flowers.

De-cluttering

De-cluttering will hopefully to clear my mind as much as my home. All the unused ‘stuff’ I’ve accumulated, much of which arrived in my home when my mother passed things onto me. Family history is a big one. Several crates later, all indexed and numbered, are now being stored. Why store stuff? Why not just get rid of it all? Well you might ask. I’m the custodian of family treasures, photos, letters, keepsakes and so on. Strangely all of these items held greater importance until recently. They still do, though in a very different way.

You see, I’ve de-cluttered my mind of the constant racing thoughts that can be all-consuming, and with those thoughts gone, I now have a fresh perspective on what it means to keep all these historical items. I am not my past. Yet, family stories are unique. And so I hold onto what I will re-visit when the time is right, and hopefully write those stories, well some of them at least.

Guilt over keeping what has been passed down the generations, some from the 1800’s, diminishes as I pass items (like the Beale Piano, an early 1900’s item) onto those who want them, family first. Selected items are stored, and local groups, such as Buy Nothing score unclaimed and unwanted items.

Ornamental Dutch shoe and jug from a trip overseas. One of many items now stored.

Writing

I know we all have our excuses for not writing yet as I say, de-cluttering the home is beneficial to making way for new thoughts. It’s a trend and widely acclaimed. Just type ‘de-clutter’ into Google to see a myriad of proponents, such as Mary Kondo.

Pacing self is so important! With shifting heavy items in the de-cluttering process, and the magnitude of it all, I find exhaustion hits every hour or so. A 5-10 minute break does the trick: coffee, a quick walk in the garden, feet up for five. And then back into it! None of these breaks are long enough to write in. Besides, my focus is on the next crate of ‘stuff’ not the next sentence I might write!

In devoting nearly all my time during the week to de-cluttering, I feel anxiety build-up. I want to achieve all my goals, especially with my writing. Grumpy begins to walk in the door.  Over coffee, a dear friend asked me why I wasn’t writing, and with my admission realizations hit me.

The key to writing, that is, to keeping Grumpy at bay and letting Happy walk in the door of my mind, is to write every single day. It doesn’t have to be for a long stint.

It’s often promoted by writers as the best way to write! Yet, it’s way too easy to be distracted from doing just that. Possibly because I do write from home. How do I squeeze in the time with the urgency of a major project hovering over me?

Scheduling in time to write needs to be non-negotiable!

A day to just write – or a half day – or an hour – or ….

Yes, the day, time and duration can be fluid. For example, Monday morning is often my day and time to write after a busy weekend focusing on family. However, I’m flexible, and when a family member needs help every other Monday, I re-schedule that day to another one in the week. Sometimes the change rattles the brain and Grumpy gets a look in! But here I am on a Sunday evening, my new time.

In short, I schedule a non-negotiable day or evening each week plus a half an hour each morning

With a specific time to look forward to, all the in-between stuff gets done. I plan the de-cluttering, the general housework and coffees with girlfriends. They all find their time. Happy swings through the door. And with one day set aside for writing, and the house getting closer to being re-organized, repainted and refreshed – oh, didn’t I mention the painting? Yes, that’s meant gutting the rooms. So it’s a long project. Essential, therefore to have time set aside to write!

You’ve met Grumpy. And Happy. Sleepy is me at the end of a day. Sneezy is how the dust accumulated in the now empty spare room affected me; Doc is possibly where I’d end up without self-pacing; Dopey is how I feel after a long day; Bashful is how I used to be and still am, to a measure!

Here’s how I lock in writing time

1. Schedule a non-negotiable people-free writing day or evening. It reminds me of Pupil Free Days at school. As a teacher I got so much done without the distraction of students. (Argh you say, as a mother, with kids underfoot when the teachers had these days! I feel for you! I was, and remain, a mother, too!)

Without time to set our minds to the task of teaching – and now as a writer, to writing – the task simply cannot be done as well as it could be. Ask any writer!

2. Heed Julia Cameron’s advice in The Artist’s Way and write a journal every day. It clears the head of cluttering thoughts and promotes happy smiles.

3. Use a coaching technique I learned that highlights what is important to me right now. It’s magical and helps me focus.

4. Grab my social media note book and scribble down the numerous ideas that come to mind, sometimes with content outlines for blog posts, sometimes a verse for an inspirational post. This might take away that sense of panic about ‘what can I write?’ I actually have lists already but I want fresh ideas as well.

5. Read, make notes and put into practice hints and tips from Robin Houghton’s  ‘blogging for writers’ which I purchased at the Save the Children Book Fair recently.

6. Thank my dear writer friends who encourage me – over coffee – to get on with it!

I donated innumerable books to the save The Children Fund, a fabulous outlet in Perth. Winthrop Hall, at UWA Nedlands overflows with treasures at their annual event.

Buying time!

I’m not really wasting time. It’s called de-cluttering! It’s managing the push-pull of wanting to write about the very items I’m storing that’s hard! The advantage is, being more tightly organized means I can pull an item or a crate from storage and focus on that when I am ready! In the mean time, a fresh new coat of paint enlivens the once cluttered bedroom freed once again for grandchildren to enjoy; and the house breathes more freely!

Hi ho! It’s off to work I go!

Acknowledgements: Images from Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs are from the edition published by Dean & Son Ltd, London, 1954.

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COURAGE

Courage is a strange word.

It implies there’s fear.

And indeed, there is.

Swaying Bridge. Art in a cafe!

Moving forward in life is sometimes a shaky experience, like crossing a swaying bridge. The daredevil in me would love to see the views from this bridge but I know my knuckles would be white gripping the side ropes.  Vertigo makes my head swim, my heart race and the blood pound through my veins!  

What is courage?

Courage is defined as ‘mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty’ (Merriam Webster). Imagine then, venturing along a narrow mountainside path with no option but to move forward.

I once walked around this mountainside in Northern Thailand. The only measure of proof is this photo, taken with my back firmly against the wall of the mountain while tentatively reaching for my camera which was slung over my shoulder With sections sporting little space to the edge of the narrow path with its rickety fence, it was a case of one sideways step after another.

My husband was way ahead of me with his best mate, believing I had given up and gone back to the start. He knew how heights affected me.

However, I always prefer to go forward, so retracing my steps, once I was on my own, wasn’t an option. 

I turned my back to the rocky wall and inched my way along, glancing out and up, not down, at least not until I pretended I had a bit of courage. 

One step at a time. That’s how I managed. Past piles of pickets that had fallen off. Who had managed to collect them and put them in a wider recess? Some brave soul, no doubt.

I know I took a long time to get to the look-out.  Once there, I paused a good while, but as you might imagine, I’d seen enough of tree tops and soon began my journey down the mountain side. Not nearly as daunting.

Window after window of opportunity for photos slowed me down this time!

I was surprised when I met our hosts’ Thai helper who’d been sent to find me! I was already heading down the safe, wide stairs to the car park when I met him.  Admittedly it was dusk by then! My one-man search party smiled and headed back to the car park with me.

Yes, I’d made it!  

Eyes closed with relief! I’d made it back down!

I know we each have our challenges to face; some are harsh realities about how one approaches life.  . 

Courage comes in all shapes and sizes.  This was so real for me – just like in real life. Hey!  It was real life! 

When is courage called for?

Instances I find myself needing courage range from mountain treks, tree-tops walks to just getting up in the morning after the loss of a loved one. I could list a dozen or more; here are just a few –

  • Making new friends.
  • Moving house
  • Raising two daughters alone
  • Reading a eulogy for a loved one.
  • Leaving one’s home country and living and working overseas
  • Marriage and its opposite.
  • Learning how to be single again.
  • Walking one’s spiritual path
  • Making wise financial investments
  • Driving around a foreign country – on the other side of the road!
  • …and more!

I’ll talk about some of the above in future posts.

Starting at the base of the mountain, one climbs upwards. A metaphor for life itself. It is always ‘rather nice’ to journey with others. Sometimes though, the path is one we travel alone, even for a short while.

“But as long as your courage holds out you may as well go right ahead making a fool of yourself. All brave men are fools.” — Robert Frost 17 Apr. 1915, in Selected Letters of Robert Frost, 1964

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Eggs and a Piano

There’s not a lot in common between eggs and pianos. Except for the one that used to grace my lounge room. If the hens on my Nanna’s farm in the early 1900’s hadn’t been so productive there’d have been no eggs to sell, no money saved and logically, yes, you’ve got it. No piano.

Our Beale piano had pride of place in our front room.

My grandmother, Nora Farrall played the piano and sung beautifully. She was joined by her husband, Harold, in recitals with family and friends. It was pioneering days in the wheatbelt and coming together for a Sunday afternoon, or an evening was a popular form of entertainment.

The piano (right-hand image, far right corner) in its first home, Greenacres, my grandparent’s home in the central wheat-belt, Western Australia.

Where did our piano come from?

The piano was most likely purchased in the1920’s or early 1930’s. It is a Beale standard piano, not full height, suited to sitting rooms. Beale Pianos was founded by Octavius Charles Beale in Annandale, NSW in 1893 and established a reputation in making quality pianos in Australia. I believe the company still stands today. It rose to become the largest piano manufacturer in the British Empire, producing around 95,000 pianos from 1893 to 1975.

Beale undertook making all parts of the piano. The piano in our family has a clear identity stamp on the wooden cabinet, a manufacturing number clearly visible on the frame as well as the distinctive Beale Tuning System stamp.

Typically, Beale pianos were overstrung, which I understand to be an asset, along with high quality playing mechanisms. The hammers and the felts are in great condition. Nothing has ever needed replacing. Its original keys are fully intact and the piano maintains good pitch despite its infrequent tunings.

A quick peak inside also reveals its solid iron frames. Over the years this made it a mover’s nightmare in weight, but no doubt has helped it survive its original journey from place of manufacture in Sydney, to Perth and subsequently to my grandparent’s home on their family farm, known as Greenacres, six miles out of Ardath.

The original Beale Piano Tuning System was designed specifically for the Australian climate

Of particular note is the unique the Beale Tuning system that Beale patented which was designed to withstand the dry, hot conditions in Australia. At one point, I imagine piano tuners were not easily come by in the wheatbelt and it dropped a semitone across the whole keyboard. Careful re-tuning over the years has it back to where it should be, a testimony to the quality of the piano.

Despite Beale initiating the use of wood to suit Australian conditions, extreme heat and dry summers in the wheat belt took its toll on the French polished wood, adding an aged, crackled character to its finish. According to Leaver and Son, pianos of this vintage are worth anywhere from $500-$5000 depending on condition. In my opinion, our piano is worth much more than its dollar value, being the holder of treasured family memories.

A peak inside the piano.

Moving around

Over the years the piano survived several moves: From its home in Ardath it  may have accompanied my grandparent’s to their retirement home in Bruce Rock, though it was most likely given to my mother at that point in time. That meant it ended up in the lounge room on  my parent’s farm, Kenberdale, located just within the boundary of the Narembeen shire. From there, when I married and settled into my first home in Perth’s hills in Kelmscott, the piano moved in with us. My two daughters learned to play it in our Adair St home, and continued ad hoc lessons when we moved several times in the city. For a brief stint between 2008 and 2010 it resided with one of my daughters while I lived in London.

It is most fortunate, that over the many moves between homes over a period of more than fifty years, it was only one during move that it the removalists almost dropped it! Thankfully, no damage apart from a scrape or two happened – all part of the piano’s character now.

While it had its place in my home in the Perth hills, I occasionally gave private tuition to family beginners and played the pieces I’d learnt many years ago. It briefly shared my younger daughter’s home while I travelled overseas, and now it has moved to the inner suburban home of my older daughter so her three children can learn if they choose to. It is my hope that in the future it will remain in the family one way or another.

Learning to play

In the sitting room at Greenacres where my grandmother played and gave recitals she also taught her daughter, Dorothy, my aunt to play. Dorothy, taught her sister, my mother. My mother has no recollection of being taught outside of the home, but she recalls a music teacher in her school days who taught from the Ardath Hall. So my mother might have also learnt from her. When the piano came into my parent’s household I rarely heard my mother play.

One of my mother’s favourites. She’d ask me to play this one while I practiced. The sheet music is so fragile now that the brown paper glued around the edge is falling away and the internal pages easily tear! I still play it though

Learning to play the piano was a skill I acquired rather than a natural talent. To me, learning to read music was like learning maths. All equations and timing and counting. It is also like reading words on a page. Once learnt it stays. Well, it has done so for me anyway.

I was sent to the local convent where my piano playing skills were accompanied by raps across the knuckles with a short stick! Lessons in moral conduct were also thrust upon me at me to redeem my soul and to provide sharp reminders to avoid errors in playing. Little booklets, I can visualize one of them now, about how to be a good Catholic girl were thrust upon me. I kept them hidden in my thin, brown music case away from my parents. I knew they would disapprove, being staunch Protestants.

In the process of learning to play the metrical beat of my metronome tick-tocked beats as though I had donned the costume of Tick-Tock in Return to Oz. The unforgiving regularity of keeping time is a tough one for me so I play for my own pleasure and if I miss a beat because I’m out of practice, it is of little consequence!

When I began studies in senior high school I entertained the cooks in the dining hall of my Merredin boarding house but once in the city, studying at university and teachers college, it became all too hard to keep up playing. Many years later, though, both daughters learned to play the piano and I taught the rudiments of music to my granddaughter. Curiously I find that with so many different methodologies today, it is barely necessary to have a teacher when the internet can serve the same purpose!

Magic does happen! I passed all my Pianoforte and theory exams with good grades. I practiced an hour or so every day – scales and set pieces and the occasional non-compulsory piece. It was more than a subject to learn. It made my heart sing. It still does.

My grandmother’s piano stool overflows with numerous old editions of sheet music.

An ear for music

The only thing I ever truly wished for while tinkling the keys was an ear that naturally heard sounds and matched pitch! It forever eludes me, though I know what sounds right and how to create music from a composition. It’s always a delight to hear those who are blessed with running their fingers up and down a keyboard creating music as though it were the gods themselves showing off!

Playing an instrument is a delight in the way it brings me right into the moment. It’s a great way to focus and centre self. I have old sheets of music stacked high, usually on top of the piano and overflowing from my great grandmother’s piano stool that came from Oldham in England when she immigrated with her family in 1910. Not naturally musical, I’m ever delighted to have had the opportunity to learn an instrument and know my grandmother’s piano will remain in the family for the next generation and beyond. It is part of our family heritage.

My granddaughter loved playing. After a few personal lessons she taught herself using online lessons.

Dusty Days

When the dust of life drifts into our layers

And we allow it to become part of who we are

We may become gritty, rough, uneven in texture

And find it uncomfortable living within our own skin,

dealing with people, with life itself.

Find that place where you can take a deep breath –

Breathe in the Spirit of Life

Allow it to cleanse the mind, body and soul,

To penetrate the spoiled places within and sweep the dust away.

Life offers much more than a dusty day.

***

Starting Afresh

For me, ‘knowing someone’ is to have met them in person. Yet, in this world of ‘everything online’ I need to know who my target audience is – and discover you – you are here in an online meeting place, reading my post. I have begun my journey into writing, once again. And I welcome my readers.

Looking for further inspiration and clarity about kick-starting my writing, I ask a friend or two about creating a fresh online presence and appreciate their insights which spur me on.

One is a writer with an established readership. She is a brilliant writer: raw, vulnerable, authentic. She has published her story. I take inspiration from her over regular meetups. We keep each other on our toes with our writing. Messages fly back and forth with a measure of excitement – ‘I’ve posted my blog’…  ‘I’ve written 500 words (or more)’ and we smile. I sense that while she is well established in her writing, (Google ranks her website and blog highly for her consistency), encouragement is always of mutual benefit. Sometimes I think it swings in my favour, yet she is always there. Meet Maureen here.

Making new friends later in life

Now, true to my “about me” page, there-in lies one of life’s diamonds. She is always there. I know I can count on my friend to encourage me with my writing and with my life in general. It takes courage and guts to reach out and make new friends later in life. And we are both doing just that. Our 15 year age difference works a treat. Wisdom from someone who has lived through some of the obstacles I am facing in life and in writing, while somehow, whatever I am doing is encouragement for my dear friend.

Discovering New Friends

Equally beneficial is another friend who is navigating the challenging field of writing, self-publishing and is looking to traditional publishing for her novel. With her wonderful inspirational quotes and following on social media, frequent catch up chats in person and online are mutually supportive. We met later in life as well. Our friendship began when we both attended the same writer’s retreat. At the time, she owned a store in my local community and I popped in one day, to arrange travel plans to attend the retreat. From tentative beginnings to raw authenticity, there’s not much we don’t talk about. Again there’s 15 years difference in our ages. This time I am the older person. You can meet Michelle here.

Family

Family offers unique opportunities for growth, wisdom and inspiration. With encouragement from my brother who is two years younger, I know I have an external source to my intended audience. Someone who is simply there as a voice of encouragement. Invaluable in itself. We explore every topic under the sun, and find much more in common than our mutual heritage.

Key people appear in one’s life when they are needed. It might seem that they are stumbled across. I believe we’re given the right people at the right time for whatever we need. It’s just a matter of listening, learning and heeding – doing that which is intended to carry us forward on our path in order to nurture who we truly are, both individually and collectively.   

I’ve made a fresh new start. The day draws to a close.
Karratha, WA