How to say good bye to old slippers

I have these sad old slippers. They have holes in them. They’re dirty and their soles are long gone. But my Mum gave me these slippers years ago and I just can’t throw them out.

Once they were upright uggies.* They were clean and warm with a sole thick enough to walk outside in. Like all soles, they eventually cracked and wore through but my mum doesn’t give up on possessions that easily. She’s lived through a world war and rationing and she’s not one to throw out something which is otherwise still functioning if she can find a way to repair it.

So, she took the broken soles off and had a look through her sewing stuff. She found some leather pieces cut and collected from a footstool that had reached the end of its life – obviously it couldn’t be repaired but the leather could still be saved. Then she cut the scraps to match the soles of the slippers and sewed them on by hand with a stitch stronger than any I know.

I’ve been wearing them ever since.

My mum has Alzheimer’s now and all that practicality and resourcefulness has been packed off to a distant part of her brain. In current phone calls and visits, she’s on a very small memory loop and it’s sometimes hard to remember who she was. Throwing these slippers out feels like losing a tangible sample of the way she used to be.

Her spare room still has a sewing cupboard full of material, thread, buttons, bits and pieces. There are even some leather scraps left over from that same old footstool. We hated all the hand-me-downs, the mending and repairs. We wanted new things and used to roll our eyes at it all.

Now I just want to thank her for keeping my feet warm all those extra years.

*Ugg boots

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Emotional Excavation or why my anger about a late yoga class isn’t really about standing in a wind tunnel

I love a bit of emotional excavation. Curiosity about events which seem to disproportionately trigger can yield some very interesting results. I feel like I’m an archaeologist on a Stone Age dig. I get out a little brush, because we want to be delicate, right? And then I start working backwards slowly scratching and scraping and asking Why does that annoy me?.  A little something is revealed, so I scratch and scrape and ask it again. Keep scratching and scraping and you arrive at some surprising points of origin.

The doors to my yoga studio are supposed to open 15 minutes before the next class. Then there’s time for a bit of bustle in the foyer. People say quick hellos, stash shoes and put phones on silent before heading in to the studio and setting up.

My yoga teacher, really nice guy, loves a chat. This means that often his classes run over time and the doors to the foyer don’t open until five or ten minutes before the class is supposed to start. The class usually still starts on time-ish but it’s the waiting outside which really gets to me.

We wait in a line along the side of the building. In winter it’s a wind tunnel and absolutely freezing. In summer, there’s no where to hide from the sun. There isn’t much talking either because we all know how the sound travels and that there’s a class currently running.

I get colder and crankier waiting for the doors to open and by the time they do, I can barely smile at our teacher as he opens it up. In the scheme of things, none of this is a big deal. Why so seething over something so small?

Yoga class is a contemplative place and last week while I was lying supine and cranky, I did a little emotional excavation on why waiting for a few minutes was such a trigger for me.

Scratch. Scrape.

Being made to wait feels like you’re not ranked as important enough for the other person to make the effort to be on time.

Scratch. Scrape.

The class before ours is the Advanced Class, so it feels like they are favoured and given more time than those of us waiting outside in a lower class.

Scratch. Scrape.

I’ve been doing yoga on and off now for about six years but I still feel like a beginner. I can’t get to classes more than once a week. Sometimes, because of work and family and life, three weeks or a month passes between classes. When I go again, it feels like I’m back at the beginning and so there’s a general feeling of time passing and me showing up, albeit intermittently, but still being in the same spot.

Scratch. Scrape.

This rather embarrassingly mirrors frustrations in my creative life. Time is passing. I’m showing up, albeit intermittently, things move forward and then things stagnate and it feels like I’m back at the beginning or not moving anywhere.

Scratch. Scrape.

So, when I’m waiting in the wind tunnel for my yoga class, I’m not really annoyed about the advanced class running over time, I’m annoyed about time passing in the real world while my creative life stays in the same place.

Scratch. Scrape.

No, that’s pretty much it. It doesn’t feel great when you don’t feel like you’re getting anywhere.

Fair enough.

And wear a warmer jacket for the wind tunnel.  

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Thursday thank-you note

Acknowledgement for life’s quiet joys

I feel like last year, I gave a lot more air-play to what I didn’t have. It wasn’t just in my writing life but in my life life as well.

So, one of my new year’s resolutions that I’m going to make good on right now is to regularly think about things I love, big and small and say thanks.

Life is full of little loveliness that often gets overlooked and overshadowed by the bigger picture. I’d like to offer acknowledgement and thanks for books, authors, people, places, feelings, smells, rituals – anything and everything really.

I’m going to keep myself accountable by posting a Thursday thank-you note (who doesn’t love a bit of alliteration motivation) on Twitter and if it’s a big thank you it might spill over into a blog.

So, here’s to a new habit, may it change the setting on my dial to pick up and acknowledge all those small joys that usually only get a silent appreciation.

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