9 Jan 2014
I have some friends who are positive. Really genuinely enthusiastic about, well, life. All the time.
If you are one of them – you can stop reading now, I got nothing for you that you don’t already have.
 |
| Yahoo Serious – Role Model |
You probably know these kind of people. They like most people, love new ideas, like to get people together, find positive things to say about Hitler’s art, are genuinely interested in your grandmother’s bunions and will remember to ask about them the next time you see them. They don’t notice people being narky, or what people are wearing. They wear clothes that make them happy, they don’t pretend to have read books they haven’t, they can’t name brands, they love both Lara Bingle and Cate Blanchett and are thrilled they are doing so well for themselves.
They don’t care about your housekeeping, they give credit where credit is due at work, they’ll loan you money, they love their families, they can tell stories about themselves for your entertainment. They haven’t yet given up on Tom Cruise, they see rainbows in oil slicks during torrential rain. They buy carpets hoping they are magic, they buy the Big Issue religiously. They’ll go places that aren’t cool, they own up to liking show tunes and love catching the bus because they always meet somebody new.
Now.
Have you noticed that you always distrust these people? Shy away from those that are openly friendly? You wonder if their infernal happiness has a darker side – in fact, it’s the only thing you’ve been positive about this year. You assume they are nothing but an office lick-arse because they are so willing to well, take PART and say outrageous things like ‘Good morning’, ‘have a nice weekend’ and other such pleasantries.
Instinctively, or perhaps because of societal conditioning, we distrust happiness. We especially distrust people that are happy AT us. We find their energy, their zest, quite exhausting. And we wonder – what do they want from us? Why are they doing this to us?
Is it that we assume that people that are pleasant and open are weak? Do we assume that people that find joy in the small things must have nothing larger? Do we belittle their enthusiasm because we are envious and/or small minded? Are we basically only happy ourselves if everybody around us seems to be weighed down by the same obligations and insecurities?
Imagine the world we could make for ourselves if we approached everybody like a giant Labrador? If we assumed people are nice to us, because they are just nice people? Imagine if the next time somebody spoke to you on a bus or in the lift you didn’t immediately assume they have mental health issues or are about to rob you? Imagine if you went through life with gusto, with pep, with zest?
Just like negativity, positivity is catching. But yet we avoid positive people with the same kind of energy that Brett fellow threw balls at Piers Morgan during the cricket last week. (Sporting reference – go me!)
I once asked an enthusiastic girlfriend who I knew had had a tough week at work – how do you do it? And she said (and I quote) ‘Fuck me Al, it seems to take such a lot of energy to be a fucking wanker, I just can’t be bothered.’
Even enthusiastic about profaning. What’s not to love?
Go forth my people – enthuse.
8 Jan 2014
I am what is known in the business as ‘hot headed’. When I’m cross I shout. If I’m really cross I shout and tears come out of my eyes and I shake. It’s like all the crossness has to ooze out of me to accompany the noise.
When my husband is cross, he goes quiet and doesn’t want to talk until we’ve all calmed down.
That generally moves me from cross, to really cross, to internally raging as I try to work out where my daughters and I are going to live now that I have to leave him for being such an arse.
And then I get sad because my marriage is over and when I find my man, he’s normally reading something on his iphone about the music industry or the cricket and is not worrying at all because it’s just an argument and not the end of the world.
Apparently.
 |
| picture courtesy smh.com.au |
Occasionally, he does do some storming, eye rolling, door slamming and shouting, but he’s not had the practice that I have had and so while dramatic, I feel he has some way to go before he gets to be an expert.
But neither of us stay cross for long. We are not grudge holders, though he wants to ban me using the phrase ‘YOU ALWAYS…’ during any of our ‘discussions’.*
We do always say sorry. I am a big believer in the word sorry starting a conversation. I could not be in a relationship with somebody that does not know how to apologise. Even if it’s just ‘sorry I yelled’ and ‘not sorry I called you a stubborn arse**’, because there is no point in apologising for something you are not actually feeling contrite about when the conversation begins.
And if you get to the point in your relationship where you are not using the word ‘sorry’, you’re screwed.
I used to be much more hot headed than I am now. My world was very black and white, I lacked self esteem and the fear made me very shouty. As I’ve grown older and a little more confident, and found shades of grey in the world, I am less shouty. Still prone to being tempestuous but it’s not my default position anymore.
It’s the aftermath of those emotions and arguments that matter. Now more than ever.
We have two daughters who watch the way we interact with the world constantly. And they have memories like elephants. And they are brutal.
“Mama, do you remember when you did shouting at Daddy?” (Cue internal mortification)
“Yes darling”
“Why?”
“I was cross with him”
“Why?”
“Because (insert whatever daft reason got me all heated up)”
“But you said sorry?”
“Yes”
“And he said sorry?”
“Yes he did”
“That’s very good Mama”
Like all the things which they don’t fully understand it will get brought up again and again, discussed, pondered and returned to the vault. Arguments with each other or their friends get brought up, laid against their experience of what happened when we ‘did the shouting’ and discussed. It’s all in there. Layers upon layers of seeing how people interact. The positives, the negatives, the boring and the dramatic. Layers upon layers of experience jutting against their innate personalities and shaping their future responses.
The responsibility is huge. Huge.
I wish I didn’t get cross sometimes. I wish I was someone who could just say ‘Ah fiddlesticks’ when driven to distraction by a person, an event or hormones. But I’m not. So all I can do is make sure that my apologies and my explanations are as visible to the girls as any cross words I utter. To anyone.
I welcome the questions in so many ways because it means that no matter what else there is no fear. There is trust. There is love.***
Phew.
* He does ‘always’ though 🙂
** He really can be – don’t let his loveliness trick you
*** Loads and loads of solid soppy love – I’m very blessed and he twice so
7 Jan 2014
This year, with Christmas still clinging gently to our heels we packed up the four of us into two backpacks, two day packs, a tent bag, a satchel and two small people sized owl bags and caught the plane north.
Destination: Woodford Folk Festival.
 |
| festival armbands unite |
The adults in this equation are no strangers to festivals or camping. But this is the first time we’d attempted a festival with the girls when there were not ‘in utero’ and also the first time we had ever taken them camping.
 |
We can not say enough nice things about the
Coleman pop up tent – genius! |
We were like some of the original pioneering folks. We had to use communal facilities to charge our smart phones and everything.
That was the first glorious thing about Woodford. How unashamedly capitalist and consumerist it’s approach to what is largely seen as a breeding ground for alternative thought, alternative lifestyle, music and food. I revelled in the irony, even as some cultish vegan hipster ladled toppings onto my potato, charged me more for a lemonade than you paid for the wine and asked for a fiver to charge my phone.
Do not take this to mean that the festival is overpriced – the diversity of entertainment, the calibre of the performances and the sheer beauty of the surroundings – makes it incredibly good value. But still ironic.
There is lots to love about Woodford.
 |
| Street sign |
The children’s festival
There is clay, circus classes, colouring in, drumming monkeys, music shows, puppet shows, free facepainting, watermelon slices, story telling, sandpits, hay bales ball pits, Auslan classes, mask making, tshirt decorating, grufflepud creating and a ridiculously high proportion of children called Marley. It’s a little slice of small people utopia which when attended in the morning leaves them in a state of bliss which helps them endure heat, the music choices of their parents, dirt, spiders, ants and the wrong colour water bottle.
 |
| Daily facepainting – this day we were a potato and a cat |
Cold showers
It’s really freaking hot at Woodford. Even when it’s not over 40 degrees, it’s still inland Queensland in the middle of summer. So it’s still hot. Cold showers equal happiness.
 |
| Working out the spray gun |
Fashion
Hat? Check.
Sunglasses? Check
Groin and nipples covered? Check
It applies to both genders and is the basic approach to all fashion at Woodford. How much material covers those two things is entirely up to you. Nobody gives a shit whether you are dressed in an inch of material or miles of it – anything goes. And really truly nobody cares. I saw a lady who was easily 80 plus and she wore a different Mickey Mouse onesie every single day. Practical. Sun safe. Comfortable. Good for everything from yoga to dancing.
 |
| That mermaid hasn’t got any clothes on Mama |
Bush Poet’s breakfast
This was a gem of a discovery. Hot breakfasts and an hour or two of subversive and hilarious brilliance. Aged stockmen, swagmen, farmers, urbanites and hipsters using colloquialisms and cadence to articulate their thoughts on everything from shearer’s stew to love to ageing to mining to horse racing to taxes to indigenous issues to English supermarkets. They rabble roused, insinuated, amused and saddened. Such talented storytellers all of them. And such fun.
 |
| Awesome arty things |
Snippets of conversation
I love how you overhear bits of conversation as you wander from venue to venue or sit on the hill in the sunshine. The son and his father speaking about whether or not he love loves his girlfriend or whether he just loves her. The small lads sharing stories of their lunch dates. The girls laughing so hard that their legs are almost kicking. The 3 year old that laughs hysterically every time you pass the restaurant which has repurposed toilets into chairs. The old lady wondering why you would want to swallow a sword in the first place let alone make a career out of it. The girls walking away from the Matt Corby gig wondering why they had never seen him live before and how they would never miss another gig. The young guy wondering whether to accept a teaching position at a Steiner school or Knox after the holidays. The lady screaming on her phone to whoever had stood her up and the stranger giving her a hug afterwards and inviting her to join their group. Tiny, fleeting moments of other people’s lives that offer a glimpse into different thoughts, interests and people.
 |
| Part of the opening ceremony |
And last but not least…
The Whole Shebang
It is not an all inclusive list but we saw GANGajang, Beth Orton, Matt Corby, Clare Bowditch, Castlecombers, Bob Hawke, Brendan Maclean, Simon Sheikh, Tim Finn, Busby Marou, Blue King Brown, Denise Scott, The Nymphs, Jordie Lane, Joff Bush, the dusk performances by the Pormpuraaw and Injinoo dancers.
 |
| Dancing with Daddyo |
That was just the talent. That was without the opening ceremony, the art, the food, the one man band, the games, the cricket matches, the side show, the circus, the venues and that big wagon thing they push.
 |
| Dancing to Busby Marou |
Clare Bowditch during the storm – absolute favourite gig at Woodford. That woman has an amazing voice, a big heart and I adored this performance. It was perfect for every sodden moment I spent on the hill that night. My next favourite was Brendan Maclean’s NYE performance – he’s snarky, vocally explosive and his music is awesome. But then there was Tim Finn, Busby Marou, Blue King Brown…. oh you get the picture.
 |
| Beautiful surroundings |
It was brilliant. You should go.*
 |
| He was the music man |
*This is not a sponsored post. Just a big fat happy new fan. Though if you want to pay me to review a festival, feel free 🙂
24 Dec 2013
I have a young nephew who embraces small obsessions at various points of his life with all the fervour of the newly converted and soon to die. And his mind works in peculiar ways – he’s a big thinker, spends a lot of time on the details but on occasion thinks so far out of the box that there is a simple brilliance to his logic.
We repeat things he says so often that it is entirely possible future generations will assume he was the same kind of philosophical thinker as Confucious.
And one of my favourite is a Christmas story. And guess what -it’s Christmas time!
Just generally, my parents love the opportunity to take my nephew and his sister to church with them on some Sunday mornings. They get to show off two of their grandchildren and the neblings enjoy it as they enjoy most outings with their grandparents. And the nephew has always loved it because there is singing, and he’s always loved singing. As only he can, he become passionate about ‘Jesus Music’ – or as you might more commonly know them ‘hymns’. Amusingly to me he lumped other Gran favourites such as The Seekers and Andre Rieu into this and if he heard them playing in her car he’d gleefully exclaim ‘Jesus Music’ and warble away his own versions of her favourites.
A few Christmas’ ago, my parents and various of their offspring, partners and grandchildren went along with them to church on Christmas morning. I feel that Mum and Dad probably spent most of the service scolding us to sit up straight and pay attention but this *may* be a memory from our childhood. Either way, I was lucky enough to sit next to the nephew. We sat, we stood and we sang. During one of the hymns he was looking around with an expression of fierce concentration, I leant over and whispered “What’s up dude?” and he whispered back –
“I’m looking for God”
“Oh. You are are you?”
“Yep”
(Mum/Gran glares at us from end of pew – we pretend not to notice)
“Any luck?”
“Nope”
The service continues. He spends a lot of time looking in one direction and then during the final hymn he leans over and whispers loudly “I found him!”
“You did?”
“Yep – it’s that man” and points.
“How do you know?”
“He has a beard, he’s old and he knows ALL THE WORDS TO ALL THE SONGS”
 |
| On the road again… |
Genius. Most people can spend their whole lives looking for god, looking for big gestures, moments of transcendence, eyes that cry blood. But there he is, hiding from the adults, in full view of small people who believe.
And that is the beauty of Christmas. Whether atheist, capitalist, Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist. Everybody knows an old guy, with facial hair that knows the words to all the songs.
It really is a season for everybody.
Whatever your approach – be it Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Season’s Greetings – I wish you that but most of all, Peace.
23 Dec 2013
Today’s post is a guest blog by Natalie Wills, a UK based friend who is passionate about life to the point where sometimes I think she is in danger of being permanently positive. Big on love and empowerment she can be professional introduced as a Publishing Consultant and Writer with almost 20 years of experience in the publishing industry. She forged a successful career in international sales & marketing, including product development before she started her own business in 2011.
NSW Consulting is her business consultancy which specialises in flexible, focused and affordable project management support to book publishers.
And then she started another one. She’s one of those.
Unbeknownst to me she was also into healthy living (I know), her ‘other’ business is a health and wellness business called Nataloe. She is building a team who are passionate about the health benefits of aloe vera. It’s not a cult but people are really into it.
However, back to the blog, it’s Christmas – and she’s reflecting on what the best gift she ever got from her parents was and why she still values it today.
***
I spend a great deal of time telling my children how amazing AND beautiful AND handsome AND talented they are. It’s not because I think my children are brilliant at everything – it’s down to my absolute determination that they’ll go through life with good self-esteem. It’s a gift I can give them that costs nothing and can never be taken away.
I am shocked by just how many people confess to suffering with low self-esteem, especially other Mums I meet. Test my theory out by paying a simple compliment to a few of your girlfriends today. You may simply say, ‘that colour really suits you’ or ‘your hair looks nice’. How many of them will simply smile and respond with an unchallenging ‘thank you’? All too often a compliment garners a response more like ‘ah, thanks, I really wasn’t sure if this colour suited me’ or ‘really, but I haven’t had my hair done in ages’. Go one step further and compliment one of them on a nice outfit and you’ll probably be told how cheap it was to buy! Come on girls, take a compliment please!
Every morning I tell my daughter she is more beautiful than she was yesterday. She encapsulated my thoughts on self-esteem perfectly this morning. She told me I was more beautiful this morning too. Like a fool I replied, ‘but I haven’t got any make-up on’. She didn’t understand the connection and simply said,’ you’re more beautiful without make-up Mummy’. My son backed her up by adding, ‘because it’s your normal you’. I was really touched by this magic moment and simply said ‘thank you’.
I was struck by their love and innocence at 4 and 7 years old. I was happy with the beautiful compliment they had given me and it didn’t matter whether I believed what they said. I applied make-up anyhow – they don’t need to know about how make-up can help a woman’s confidence and they don’t need to know I’ve called it ‘war-paint’ for years. My Mum always used to prompt me to re-apply my lipstick just before my husband was due to arrive home from work. She told me, if nothing else, it would just make me feel better about myself. I was having a tough time at work some years ago and my dear friend and colleague used to nudge me before meetings and say, ‘it’s time to put your war-paint on’. Kind words and good lipstick really can help a woman!
On the school run I always admired how cool, calm and collected (and body confident) one of the Mums appeared to be. Carrying off hot pants and low cut tops on the Summer school run can’t be done by many. She made it look graceful and effortless and, from where I was standing, she oozed confidence.
We’re now good friends and she recently told me she didn’t feel confident enough to wear the dress she’d chosen for an evening out. It’s such a shame beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I can tell her she’d look stunning in any dress she chooses but, lacking in self-esteem, she’s not going to believe me is she? I view self-esteem different to confidence, even confident people can suffer with low self-esteem – it’s hidden just that bit deeper than confident behaviour.
I run two entirely separate businesses, one in publishing and one in the health and wellness arena, and I’m spotting a common thread with many of the women I speak to. There is a big problem out there with low self-esteem and it is inhibiting people with great potential from believing in their talent.
If I give just one gift to my kids it will be good self-esteem. They will encounter both failure and doubters in life but with good self-esteem I firmly believe they will not be inhibited. I know they’ll pick themselves up again, push a little harder and reach their goals. My parents relentlessly fostered good self-esteem into me. I am eternally grateful because I know I’d be nowhere without it.
***
If you want to talk to Natalie, feel free to comment below or contact her via
Natalie Wills
Tel: +44 (0) 7957 198967
Email: natalie@nswconsulting.co.uk or nat@nataloe.com
Website: www.nswconsulting.co.uk or www.nataloe.com
Twitter: @nswconsulting and @nat_aloe
17 Dec 2013
Dear Mr Morrison
I’d like to congratulate you on the absolutely cracking code of conduct that you have introduced for asylum seekers this month. But I don’t think you’ve gone far enough. I think that code of conduct should be introduced more widely across Australian society because I, like you, don’t think the law is enough.
You and I both know that according to statistics asylum seekers are 45 times LESS likely to commit a crime than a member of the general public. In fact, the last available statistics showed us that only 5 asylum seekers were charged with any kind of crime in a one year period. So I see why we are so concerned. It’s outrageous.
But I think we need to expand it to other groups of people too. I, like you, are very concerned with the safety of the general public which is why this code has been introduced obviously and have helped you out by highlighting a few groups you should get your government to monitor more vigorously.
In the code of conduct you remind asylum seekers You must not harass, intimidate or bully any other person or group of people or engage in any antisocial or disruptive activities that are inconsiderate, disrespectful or threaten the peaceful enjoyment of other members of the community;
You obviously wont have had a lot of time to go out at the moment I appreciate since you are so busy writing fabulous documents like these, but its the silly season – this clause is encompassing 90% of office Christmas parties this month. We’re going to have to really get moving to make a difference to the safety of the public. Though to be fair we can probably skip the 33,000 asylum seekers currently living in the community – you wont let them work so they wont be at the Christmas parties. Good thinking on your part. Saves us time.
In the code of conduct you remind asylum seekers You must not make sexual contact with another person without that person’s consent, regardless of their age; you must never make sexual contact with someone under the age of consent;
This is going to get awkward but just flipping through the pages of this year’s newspapers – we need to extend the code to a number of different groups such as our defence force, the NRL, the AFL, the teaching profession, the clergy, the public service, our government, anybody attending schoolies and the banking industry. It’s not a definitive list by any means but it’ll get you started.
In the code of conduct you remind asylum seekers You must not refuse to comply with any health undertaking provided by the Department of Immigration and Border Protection or direction issued by the Chief Medical Officer (Immigration) to undertake treatment for a health condition for public health purposes;
We can start with the Eastern suburbs, then move to Byron Bay and the like. The directive might not have come from immigration but there are a lot of people out there not vaccinating their children and I hear that’s where the hippies congregrate. We’re seeing a rise in diseases that were eliminated in Australia and I fully understand your concern about public health. I think we should also target the filthy buggers on the train that don’t cover their mouth with their hands when they cough or sneeze. It’s an outrage.
In the code of conduct you remind asylum seekers You must not disobey any Australian laws including Australian road laws; you must cooperate with all lawful instructions given to you by police and other government officials;
We can jolly well start with the North Shore mums. Have you seen those women at school pick up time? They are parking in no parking zones, stopping in no stopping zones and sometimes in the park and kiss zones they don’t kiss their kids they just WAVE them goodbye. If I’m a representative example, I can tell you I should be signing this code of conduct – I got two speeding fines in the same zone in the same month earlier this year. I am truly a menace to society and so are many of my friends. Look, I’ll help you out here – I’ll just email them the code of conduct and get them to sign it and send it back to you. That work okay?
As you can see, I’m all for a much more comprehensive approach to the issue of public safety and I am so glad that you are addressing it with such fervour. I am also very keen that we introduce some kind of uniform for people that identify with the utopia you are working towards, maybe a patch can be sewn on the clothes of people that don’t agree with us or maybe didn’t have the good luck to be born in a country like ours? It would just help a little I think in working out who is properly Australian and who isn’t.
Looking forward to the next bit of brilliance from you or one equally noble and inspirational colleagues.
My very best regards
Alison Hallworth
