The Year of the Roller Coaster

The Chinese name their lunar years after the animals in their zodiac. These revolve in a twelve year cycle. In a few weeks, we will be in year of the snake. All sorts of propitious things are promised. But then, the year of the dragon, which we are leaving, predicted all sorts of good fortune too.

Not wanting to be left out, I’ve decided to name my years – not according to any zodiacal sign but simply on their merits. In my system, names are applied retrospectively so that a more accurate nomenclature will apply. Last year was definitely the year of the roller coaster.

Roller coaster in grey Image: Priscilla du Preez on Unsplash

A worrisome year

2024 seemed to offer nothing but bad news (and I’m not even beginning to comment on world affairs). My brother-in-law died, my best friend from graduate school had a catastrophic stroke and too many friends were given awful diagnoses.

As a consequence, rather than looking forward to 2025 with hope, I looked to it with trepidation, knowing that at least some of those mentioned would not make it until 2026. I wasn’t sure that I had the stamina to cope.

Then I did something that shifted everything into perspective. I went through my new diary putting in birthdays, medical appointments and anniversaries as usual, but this time, I wrote on a separate sheet any good thing that had happened in a month. It didn’t have to be big or Instagram-worthy – it just had to be good.

A pleasant surprise

What I discovered was that every month had at least one happy event (and often more), which a cloud of worry had made me forget. Furthermore, on closer inspection, I realised that these events were giving me hints on how to cope when life most certainly wasn’t going to plan.

Let’s face the music and dance

Having last seen a professional live band sometime in the 1980’s, it was rather brilliant to see two this past year. I have Mariia to thank for this.

In concert in Brighton Image: Mariia Matrunich

In January, we got to see the wonderful Dakha Brakha. Their skill as musicians and the moving imagery projected behind was a reminder that even when the worst occurs (invasion by a wicked superpower pretty much tops the list) that joy and beauty can still be found.

And in April, we got to see Ukraine’s top band, Ocean Elsa. It was a poignant experience with most of the audience composed of displaced Ukrainians. The performance gave them a taste of home.

This band, like Dakha Brakha, have used their international tours to remind others of the difficulties those in Ukraine continue to endure and to raise funds for the war effort.

When Ocean Elsa’s performance was interrupted recently in Kyiv by the air raid sirens, they continued the concert in the underground station. In doing so, they thrilled their fans and reminded them that the spirit cannot be silenced.

(The video above was taken by Mariia’s friend and content creator for the band, Oleksandra Hyzha)

Art to console and inspire

In almost every month, I took advantage of trips to galleries and exhibitions. Both our holidays centred around places of especially wonderful architecture and art. Vienna (June) was designed as a huge visual spectacle and Venice (September) was a veritable 3D picture postcard.

Vienna’s centre was built to impress and residents are rightly proud to live in such a city. For the purpose of this blog, it was an area on the periphery that interested me. Here, the architect Hundertwasser had designed social housing that would uplift the hearts of those struggling financially and bring joy to even the hardest day. His use of vibrant colour and inclusion of nature tried to show that even the most modest housing stock need not be depressingly grey.

The Art House that exemplifies Hundertwasser’s unique style. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Venice, magnificent though it is, lacks soul. The grand piazzas and glorious facades are designed to impress. It is architectural conspicuous consumption. Though we may gaze in awe, we are not included in its glories.

The churches in Padua, in contrast, were a kind of exaltation. Their exquisite frescoes, paintings, tile and marquetry were commissioned in the service of God. Everyone was welcome to both wonder at their beauty and to bring their concerns. Padua is an important pilgrimage site and if you have any faith or none, the churches offered consolation in a difficult world.

In the company of friends

Few days, let alone weeks went by without visits to friends – some regular meetings like craft club and others more occasional, like my university friends’ annual reunion. All of them reminded me that nothing material can come close to the joy that shared companionship brings and any effort needed to host or entertain is rewarded with double in laughter and boosted morale.

My 60th in May provided a great opportunity to bring friends and family together and set the decade off on a positive note.

May sunshine, friends and Prosecco – what more could one want? Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And so my diary went on: a coffee morning here, a visit from my son there. Over and over I had been blessed with joy in one form or another. And reading through it, I realised that I had fallen for the pity-party narrative when I should have been rejoicing at my good fortune. Yes, the year has brought a plethora of problems and yet, should I focus on these, I would lose that most valuable attribute: hope.

So, if you are feeling a little ground down by life, you might like to review the good times and remember that though the roller coaster lurches downwards for what can seem an eternity, it will climb again soon.

Giving Thanks

Last Thursday was Thanksgiving Day in America and since I’m married to an American, we didn’t want to feel left out.

Thanksgiving is a lovely holiday with many of the hallmarks of Christmas: family reunions, great food and full-on decorations. The upside is that, unlike Christmas, it doesn’t have the pressure of gift giving or quite the same expectations of perfection. It is a sort of ‘Christmas light’ where everyone gets together, eats, drinks and hopefully thinks about all the things for which they are grateful.

Autumn thanks Image: Megan Watson on Unsplash

International thanksgiving

With our sons in America, we couldn’t have the usual family feast, so we decided to do one for those who were also separated from their families. Mariia has a number of lovely local friends, so we had a sort of Ukrainian Thanksgiving with a few sympathetic Brits added for good measure!

One couple who attended had run a morning coffee and activity every Saturday morning for Ukrainians and their children – a life-saver for those finding their way in a new country. (They also hosted a family) Our neighbour, John, is a professional activist. We all had seen the impact of the Russian invasion on those who had to flee.

So, although it was a very joyful evening, it was also a very poignant one.

Smiles and sadness

After we had worked through a delicious bowl of borsch, made by Mariia, and three gorgeous mains made by my husband (venison stew, pheasant breast in cream and nut roast, for those who want to know!) it was time to give our thanks.

It is traditional, in America, for each guest to speak a few words about that they are grateful for and so we did the same.

A very special meal Image: Mariia Matrunich

And with such a gathering, the platitudes were left at home. Each person spoke movingly about their thanks and when Svetlana spoke about her appreciation of the Ukrainian troops, I wanted to cry. Scrumptious wee David, at the front of the photo, lost his father fighting in the conflict. I don’t know how his young widow retained her composure.

The Ukrainians were fulsome in their thanks to their families and the UK for sheltering them, but it is as much we that should be thanking them. Without their tremendous resilience and courage; the hardships their troops have had to bear, Europe would look very different now. Putin had no intention of stopping at Ukraine. Without them, we might all have been pulled into the maelstrom of war.

Time for something sweet

Our next course was dessert and it gave a good diversion from serious thoughts. As is traditional, I made pumpkin pie and some tasty, if rather exploded, apple spice pies.

With coffee and Ukrainian chocolates, we wound up the evening and said good-bye. It had required quite a bit of planning and effort, but we were so glad that we were able to do it.

End of the evening

Alas, the evening was not quite over for us. There was a mountain of washing up to do and Jeff had to drop some guests home. But we managed it all with a smile, buoyed up with the success of the dinner.

And more to do before we sleep Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Of course, one doesn’t have to find a special day to give thanks or host a meal or even join with friends. Each and every day is an opportunity to show our gratitude for the innumerable blessings we enjoy.

It may be fashionable to complain, but it shrivels the soul and narrows the mind. If you have been kind enough to read this, perhaps you can think of something, no matter how small, for which you are glad.

I start each morning giving thanks for a new day and waking, as the Southern expression goes, ‘on the right side of dirt.’

Christmas break

With so much happening between now and Christmas, this will be my last post until the New Year.

I hope the holiday season is a good one for you and that you find joy. In a blink, it will be 2025 and until then, much love, Karen x

‘May your days be merry and bright.’ Image: Chad Madden on Unsplash

Wild Weather Meditation

Having nagged Mariia for months to adopt a meditation practice, on Sunday, she asked if we could could do one at the beach and listen to the waves. It was a glorious day and the temperatures well above average, so why not?

What I hadn’t realised was that the extremely high winds were wreaking havoc all along the coast. Upon our arrival at the beach, we noticed pebbles had been thrown up onto the promenade and the shore carved into mountains and valleys of shingle.

Beauty and the beast
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

It was certainly fresh. The tang of salt water and sea weed immediately assaulted our nostrils and the sheer energy of the crazy air stirred in us an equal excitement. The extra effort required to reach the beach against the opposition of the wind made our arrival there extra sweet.

Tuning in

Having found a spot in the sun and close to the protection of the groynes, we lay back and enjoyed the sea’s symphony. The bass of the powerful waves pounding the shoreline was most distinct. Above that was the tenor of the wind whipping across its surface. And if you listened carefully, you could hear the susurration of the tiny pebbles grating against the water’s edge.

The sea drowned out all other noises. Even the gulls could not be heard over the din it made.

Enjoying the deserted beach
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Sunlight played on our closed eyelids and, snuggled in several layers and a Dryrobe, I could imagine myself on a Caribbean island rather than the edge of the Atlantic. Protected from the wind, only gentle puffs of wind caressed my cheeks. It was bliss. My mind emptied of all but the sounds of the sea: a cherished moment of respite from an active mind.

Observational studies

After about half an hour, I wanted to watch the scene as well as listen. So I sat up and observed. The sea was charging the shore like a bull a matador – full of fury and pent up energy. No sooner did a wave make land than it would pull back and hurl itself once more. Gradually, it was working its way towards us, pushing a mound of sea foam at its vanguard.

Various gulls flew across the grey, their bellies and underwings silvered with sunlight. And the black groynes, facing West, looked like ancient standing stones set against the faint light of the sinking sun.

For a while, we felt as though we had stepped out of time, of our busy worlds and into something much more ancient and elemental.

Sea snow

Adding to the magical quality of our visit was the abundance of sea foam. Only when the seas are at their wildest do the seas create foam that floats through the air in great blobs like giant snow flakes. When I first witnessed it, I was thoroughly confused. How could snow descend in a clear blue sky? Now I know better, but despite clearly explaining its provenance to Mariia, she couldn’t help finding out for herself and getting a little wet in the process.

Sadly, not snowball making material
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And it was wonderful to see her embracing her curiosity and letting go of worldly cares – just as we had. I’m hoping it will encourage her to meditate – in whatever location – rather more often.

Time to go

With the sun setting, it was time to head back.

The pier at sunset Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

A few pictures taken, I was ready to scale the substantial cliff face of scree. By the end, I found it easier to crawl than walk – but I got there and as a bonus, I found an unusual and intact shell waiting for me at the top.

I love the objects to be found on the beach: shells, hag stones, driftwood. There is something otherworldly about them. Having pocketed my treasures, we headed home to hot cocoa and the joy of central heating. But, I shall keep my shell as a talisman to remind me that the sea is always waiting, with its magical ability to transform our troubles to airy nothings.

Souvenirs of the sea
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Puppy Park Therapy

Since my lovely dog walker is unwell, I have been taking Hermione to the puppy park once again. Despite the time commitment, the cold and the ruling out of any morning activities, it has turned out an unexpected boon.

While there recently, one of the regulars said that the puppy park was a kind of therapy, and she is absolutely right. Combining exercise, fresh air, good company and fluffy companions, it ticks all the boxes. And you don’t have to own a dog to enjoy them.

An urban idyll

The park is only a five minute’s drive away, set in a quiet neighbourhood next to my children’s old primary school. Behind is a Victorian cemetery and to the side a modern church. All of these lend the park an air of peace. And, despite being in the centre of the Old Town, feels like the countryside.

My heart lifts whenever I look up to the Downs beyond or the wide skies. Worries take on their correct proportions and disappear.

On days like today (when it was snowing earlier) we are exposed to the rigours of the cold. Indeed, facing whatever weather we are offered is good for us. The dog needs walking regardless – and battling the elements merely boosts our resilience. Today, I didn’t have my cold shower. Forty-five minutes in zero degrees was enough!

Exercise!

My ability to exercise is naturally not great, but a trip to the puppy park at least ensures that I get in a few more steps than normal. On good days, I might walk or stand for most of the time; on bad, I can enjoy the experience from the bench at the back.

The only problem is that one has to take care where one walks. The dogs have clearly not read the no digging signs and the ground is a mine field of craters. Mud and wet grass also pose their own challenges – but it does help sharpen my concentration. Fortunately, most owners pick up after their pets, though it is wise to keep an eye out for such hazards also.

Sensory meditation

For those who struggle with regular meditation techniques, the park on a quiet day, is an ideal place to practice. This morning, since it was so cold, there were few people there and at one point, no-one. I could relax and observe the magpie strutting across the grass; listen to the high voices of the children in the playground and enjoy the chill hand of the wind on my cheeks. The world smelled newly laundered.

A warm welcome

But undoubtedly the best part of our visits is the welcome you receive. Dog walkers are a democratic bunch. The only requirement for joining ‘the gang’ is a canine companion. Seldom have I been in any context where strangers are invited in so openly. Not everyone wants companionship and may walk the perimeters with their thoughts, but most of us steer towards the gaggle at the centre of the field.

Hermione is my membership card Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Park society

They come from every station in life and it is delightfully egalitarian. You may be rich or poor, employed or retired, able bodied or unwell. It doesn’t matter. What binds us is our love for dogs (and other animals). These are kind hearted folks who take the time necessary to care for their pets and many have rescued more than one from dreadful fates.

Over time, you meet the same people and share news, but even if you only meet once, people often open up in unexpected ways. Do they know that here they won’t be judged? People share their worries and their fears, information about health problems and relationship woes. They listen too with interest to yours. Sometimes there are tears; often there are hugs. We share tips and commiserate and feel better for the understanding.

There is much laughter too. A couple of regulars seem to try to outdo each other creating crazy and witty stories we all enjoy. One lady announced, to our bemusement, that she had, ‘Picked up her new partner off the street.’ Like a comedian, she waited for our reaction then followed with the line, ‘Well, from a hole actually’. Eventually, the whole story was revealed: her new man was a gas engineer working across the road where she struck up a conversation and asked him out.

Though not everyone gets on – we are human, after all – it never sours the atmosphere of the park. There is room for all.

How much cuteness can be contained in a fur coat?

Dog therapy

The action of stroking a dog or pet is itself a happy hormone booster, so getting to stroke several is better still (dogs benefit equally). Added to all of the above, the park is certainly a great way to strengthen one’s mental health.

For those of us with disabilities or health issues, it gives a welcome and necessary break from the home and great social interaction. I am blessed with a full house, but for those who live by themselves, the park provides its own family. And if you don’t have a dog? No matter, most owners would welcome a break from their duties occasionally and some are no longer able to walk their dogs as they would like.

There is an organisation called Borrow My Doggy that matches busy owners with those who would like a dog, but cannot care for one full time. One darling man I met recently suffers from chronic fatigue and walks the dog of a lady with MS. He loves the freedom of the arrangement and the owner is delighted with the help: a win-win.

An outing to the dog park may never appear on Tripadvisor, but I’d give it five stars any day.

From Tree to Tree

When our beautiful Austrian pine had put on yet another growth spurt, it left some of its lower branches depleted. Once they were dry and clearly dead, it was time to do some pruning. This is a task for my husband, since it requires strength and skill with shears.

Austrian pine – haven for birds and wildlife
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Branching out

Initially, we planned on using the wood to fuel our chimenea, but then my husband had a better idea. The branches were a couple of inches thick with attractive rings and just the perfect size for tree ornaments. So he went to work, sawing disks of equal size, drilling holes for ribbon and varnishing them for protection.

Man at work Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Crafting together

My husband loves a family activity and so do I – so we gathered our materials and dragged poor Mariia into the event. It was a rather dreary afternoon, so what better way to lift our spirits than in creating Christmas ornaments?

Acrylic pens seemed like the best options, so I gathered up our supplies from the craft room plus some paper to practise designs.

Everything needed to complete the task Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Having multiple people decorating meant we had varied motifs. In an hour or so, we were finished and had a rather lovely array of ornaments. They are not perfect, clearly, but good enough to send to family in the States and to give out to our Ukrainian guests at Thanksgiving: a little memento made with love.

Something for everyone Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

Most of our ornaments were generic Christmas themes, but one or two, we made with a specific individual in mind. For Mariia, I made a peace in Ukraine one, which seemed fitting to the season.

In hopes of peace
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Tree preservation

Shorn of its dead branches and given a little more light and room to breathe, I hope that our beautiful pine will continue to flourish. And the branches we removed will live again on the Christmas tree and travel full circle – nothing wasted and everything gained.

Disconnect

On Monday, my very ancient phone began behaving as one possessed: randomly phoning people, bringing up screens and threatening to delete data until I was able to switch it off. It had been a trusty friend for many years, but it was time for a replacement.

The screen cracked from side to side
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

My phone was second hand when I acquired it and since I have an alarming propensity for dropping and forgetting where I left it; an old, battered phone suited me fine. My husband, however, very generously suggested that I got a new one with an industrial case for protection. I confess I was tempted and succumbed – the chance of a first rate camera clinched the deal. I love my new toy, but though I value the convenience and amazing features of a smartphone, they also give me pause.

Time suckers

With the typical Brit spending an average of 4.25 hours per day (and with the majority of that scrolling), mobiles are stealing half our non-working hours. (Selfcatering.co.uk) For many more, the time is greater than that and has all the hallmarks of addiction. There is even a name for it: nomophobia. Young people denied access to phones (even in the classroom) become stressed and lack the ability to control their time spent on-online. (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/education-50593971 ) Much has been written about the corollary impacts on mental health, so I won’t repeat them here. But unchecked, mobile use is seriously worrisome.

Doom scrolling Image: Timi David on Unsplash

A phone’s primary purpose is to connect with others. However, I’m not sure this is always the case.

Only Connect?

For me, my mobile is a science fiction dream come true. I can video call friends and relations thousands of miles away; check data from a library that would make the one at Alexandria look provincial, and keep in touch with friends daily. It also allows me to take professional quality pictures, which only great care could be produced on a regular camera. (Remember F-stops and distance calculations?)

All good.

Walking with eyes on the phone not the pavement
Image: Daria Nepriakhina on Unsplash

But too often, I see mobiles used not to increase our connectivity but to reduce it. Mothers with buggies are glued to screens while their infants stare out to space. In restaurants, often a couple or members of an entire family are so enthralled by the images in front of them that they only look up to take a mouthful of food. And even at the celebrated Van Gogh exhibition in London, my friend told me, no one seemed to actually look at the paintings, but only used them as a backdrop for a selfie or a photograph.

Crowd looking at Mona Lisa Image: Victor Grigas on Wikki commons

I am as guilty as the next person of taking pictures of art I love, but what is so sad above the image above is that no-one is actually enjoying the masterpiece or any of those on the surrounding walls. Da Vinci’s iconic portrait has become a shorthand for culture – part of a travel check list for Paris to be posted and ‘liked’. Leonardo would be mortified by such philistines, though I suspect that the technology of smart phones would delight him.

Smart phones and the disabled

Here, as elsewhere, the device has proven to be a double-edged sword. Whilst these phones enable those with disabilities to communicate more easily, it may also be the very thing that prevents them from engaging with others.

Smart phones have all sorts of features that are a boon on so many levels: the visually impaired can magnify images and texts and listen to podcasts and stories; the hard of hearing can use the speakers at a higher volume or on speaker phone; those with physical restrictions on their hands can speak commands and texts. They allow those confined to their homes to engage with news from around the world.

Making life easier for those whose lives are difficult enough
Image: Ben Kolde on UnsplashK

When allied with smart home devices, they allow users to ensure their homes are warm enough when they return to them, operate difficult to reach light switches and call for help in an emergency. All of these are brilliant.

Alas, despite their capacity to land a rocket on the moon, most phones are used for scrolling the Internet and messaging. And what’s the harm in that? you ask. Nothing in moderation, but being bombarded with images of beautiful people travelling, dancing and generally being very active is a little demoralising to those who cannot do those things. They are also set up to sell products, and as I have mentioned before, the disabled are almost invariably at a financial disadvantage. The phone can be the modern version of the torture of Tantalus – the flexible body and the tempting goods are so close on screen but impossible to grasp.

Disability brings its own mental health challenges. We hardly need to add to them.

Enjoying the show!

I became acutely aware of this issue on Wednesday when I was quite literally incapacitated by fatigue. My wonderful friend sent shots of her recent amateur dramatics’ event. She had spent long hours in rehearsals, danced and sung and generally had a brilliant time. At university, we had been nicknamed ‘the dynamic duo’ – now she is the dynamic uno! Whilst I rejoiced in her success, part of me was pained by my own limitations and frustrated by a body refusing to cooperate. I’m back to my normal now and out and about visiting friends. But not everyone is so lucky.

In addition, the fact that our phones can entertain us all day, every day, means that for those who find getting out the house difficult, it can become an excuse not to and life narrows accordingly.

Take a break

For 24 hours, I had no phone at all and found it surprisingly restful. There was no need to check it at regular intervals for messages. I had more time to write and create. I missed a little banter and a few hellos, but nothing vital.

Now I’m back online, I have to fight the desire to check out all my new options: garage band to make music is especially appealing and my camera looks awesome, but will have to wait.

The smartphone is an astonishing feat of technology, which can bring so much pleasure and connection. However, sometimes, we need to disconnect to get the human interaction we need most of all.

Remembrance

In the UK, after the pumpkins have been removed from the porch and the treats given away, we tidy up and thoughts turn to the next celebration – in our family’s case, Thanksgiving.

A trio of pumpkins. I think you can guess which one each of us carved .
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

But in much of the world, Halloween, or All Saints’ Eve, is a prelude to the main event. For this period, which commemorates the dead, can begin on 31st October and continue until 6 November with Remembrance Day observed on the 11th.

Samhain

I was surprised to discover that this predecessor to Halloween begins on the 31st October at sunset and continues until sunset the following day. In the Celtic calendar, it marked the end of harvest and the beginning of the lean months of winter. It also signals the new year. Old and useless items would be burned in great bonfires, in a ritual clearing of the old to make way for the new.

As a liminal time, when the veil between this world and the next was especially thin, the bonfires were also used to ward off evil spirits and the ghosts of one’s enemies. Knowing the general bad behaviour of my Scottish ancestors, I’m sure such a precaution was wise.

Yet, twined with this is the remembrance of those we love: welcoming them back with lights, and food and prayers. I chanced upon this blessing, whilst researching this post and thought it rather lovely.

Tonight is a night to call out those who came before. Tonight I honor my ancestors. Spirits of my fathers and mothers, I call to you, and welcome you to join me for this night.

Celtic blessing, Irishcentral.com

All Saints’ Day

All Saints’ Day is a public holiday in much of Europe and an opportunity to pay a visit to a beloved who has died and to tidy graves and leave flowers. The ‘Saints’ in All Saints’ includes those in the religious calendar and those who have either died in faith or have brought others into the faith. It is wonderfully inclusive!

A Swedish graveyard lit by candles Image: Nikola Jonny Mirkovic on Unsplash

With the very short days of winter in Sweden, they have come up with the ingenious solution of lighting candles and leaving hardy flowers like heather at the grave site.

Dies des Muertos

In Mexico, elegant Scandi-chic is eschewed in favour of more vibrant and light-hearted celebrations. Each home creates a small shrine with flowers and food for the departed who is represented in a photograph.

Well remembered Image: By Eneas de Troya flickr.com

Not everyone will have such a lush display. My lovely daughter-in-law, who spent some time in Mexico, often makes a simple one with photos and candles to remember those they love and who have died.

Rather than a day of mourning, these days are seen as ones of celebration, with feasting, special foods, dancing and parades. Death is mocked rather than feared with crazy costumes and an abundance of colourfully painted skulls. The departed is remembered with joy. Amusing stories and events in which they were involved are recalled and retold. And I hope that after I have gone, people will remember be in the same way – in stories filled with laughter rather than in hushed, serious tones.

Dead glamorous Image: Geary Wikki

Because really, death is as much a part of life as birth is. We need not always refer to it in euphemism or avoid mentioning the deceased or shy away from honest discussions about how we would like our deaths to be managed.

In a world where anything goes, death alone remains taboo and as a consequence, the bereaved or the dying are left on the margins of society. Perhaps it is time to take advice from the vivacious Mexicans and to celebrate those we love even when they are taken from us and to greet life with exuberance, while we are privileged to enjoy it.

Papyrophilia

At last, I have found a word that expresses my particular obsession: with all things to do with paper and related products. In my case, these include pens, pencils, ink and art supplies – but paper is my first love.

In this digital age, such a passion seems at best quaint and at worst reactionary. Who needs a book when you can read a tablet? Who needs beautiful stationery when you can send an email? And as for entertaining yourself with paper, how could it compete with the endless variety of Instagram?

Who can resist cute stationery? Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Before casting me into the role of Luddite, I should let you know that I hugely value the convenience and sheer magnitude the cyber world. I’m writing this on my laptop, send endless emails, learn Italian on-line and like nothing better on a rainy afternoon than to indulge in endless YouTube videos showing you you how to make stuff. Because for me, the Internet is a valuable tool, but for beauty and inspiration, I like something more concrete.

Sending love

Despite the postal service doing its damnedest to put us off ever sending anything, (from which I preclude my darling postmen), most of us like nothing better than a letter or card sent in the mail. An actual letter will be read and read again and when I reply, I can remind myself to ask after developments in their news.

A card can be perched on the window sill and remind us that we are remembered and cared for, days or even weeks after the date of celebration. My mother’s mantelpiece and countertops are filled with greetings on her 90th birthday. One cannot feel lonely surrounded by such signs of affection.

A selection of cards
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Of course, I cannot resist the chance to make cards and where possible to match them to the recipient. And if anyone makes one for me, it will be cherished long after the wrapping paper has been recycled.

Paper meditations

Yes, you read that correctly! Papers can be used as a form of meditation. The attention required is likely to expel all other thoughts from your mind. Ideal for this is the Zen craft of origami. Since it requires no creative thinking, only a very intense attention to detail in following instructions, it is the very best way to filter out the chattering of the monkey brain.

An origami menagerie Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

There may be quite a lot of paper wasted, as you fold the wrong way or struggle with instructions. Just as in life, things don’t always go to plan, but in origami, we learn to keep on trying until we succeed. As an incentive, origami papers (especially the Japanese ones) are the most exquisite papers around with elegant designs in rich, opulent colours. Simply looking at them is a joy.

Paper play

I haven’t been very well these last few weeks and when not in bed have been on self-imposed house arrest to avoid spreading my germs. When awake enough, I have indulged in my latest paper fetish: junk journaling. I came across it on the Internet and suspect I have found my calling. Junk journaling (or scrappy crappy journaling as my husband refers to it) uses papers you have to hand, magazines and packaging to create exquisite journals with all sorts of interactive elements. It is no holds barred paper play and includes book binding and repurposing old books – in other words, heaven.

Extras for journals Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

My box contains some of the additional elements you can add to your journal pockets and spaces: a mini memory book, pretty envelopes, a wallet and posh pockets for ephemera. If you’d like to learn how to make these things, I’d recommend the expert from Treasure Books on YouTube. Tutorials are free and endlessly inspiring.

And when you get even more serious, you can start to make and bind your own books. Below are some of my early attempts: a cookery journal with staple binding; a travel journal with stitched binding and a triangle book I copied from one I had been given. This has a sort of concertina paper fold.

Practical papers

The best part of all of this is that you can make things to use or give as little gifts and favours and which cost nothing but time. It is completely bespoke, so my travel journal contains tickets and maps and sketches from our trip, as well, of course, as a written account of our travels.

I shan’t go into details, now, but perhaps I shall in future when I get a little more competent. I’ve also started getting seriously into repurposing books – watch this space.

Sensory fulfilment

Our senses are vital to our well-being. Jon Kabat-Zinn has just written a book about it, but what I know already is that if we deprive our full sensory self, we deprive our deepest self.

The digital world is primarily visual – but in a false, pixilated form. Convenient, but not conveying the rich intensity of a brush stroke. It can contain music and voice too – but again – no matter how good, it is disembodied. I doubt anyone who has gone to see a live performance would quibble that, in terms of satisfaction, the live show is far more satisfying than watching the video.

For me, creating with papers and colours fulfils the spectrum of my sensory needs. I love choosing hues that complement each other; papers textured with flowers or a thick grain; the smell of old books and new. Handling the paper, folding, cutting and shaping it, allows my hands to work in harmony with my material. The hush while I work is itself soothing.

Though paper is edible, I have not tried it!

A mini notebook made from scrap paper and an old calendar. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

So before you throw that card or paper away into the recycling box, consider how it might be reincarnated into something new. Start with a card or a tiny note book and soon, I think you’ll find, that you are as addicted to paper as I am.

Prophecy

These last few weeks, my husband and I have been enjoying the Netflix production Kaos. With a star studded cast, lush settings and a fantastical storyline, it is the perfect way to wind down before bedtime.

Its premise is that the prophecy relating to Zeus predicts his downfall and he is trying to do everything to avoid it. I’m curious to see how it ends. Greek prophecies are seldom proved wrong, though they may be proved right in unexpected ways.

All of which has made me think of our own attempts to predict or harness the future. Despite our rational age, folks still flock to read their horoscopes, have their cards interpreted and their futures foretold.

Crystal ball Image: Zaeo on Unsplash

At a recent craft club, someone asked, ‘What would you do if you knew the date of your death? Would you want to know?’ In answer to the first part: probably cry. In answer to the second: definitely not!

Do you really want to know?

Because knowing brings its own raft of problems. Do we then act upon them by fulfilling all our bucket list or do we despair? And can we ever be sure that the prediction is correct in the first place?

In a moment when I thought I ought to be prepared for my future, I looked up when I could reasonably expect to be wheelchair bound. The answer was hard to find, but I eventually unearthed an Oxford study that gave honest answers. It suggested that between 61 and 66 years of age, 95% of all those diagnosed with MS could expect to be wheelchair bound. I’m 60.

My chair affords me a way to travel Image: Sarah Leaper-Meier

My first reaction was that I would be in the remaining lucky 5% – but I know that is just wishful thinking. My OMS life-style has kept me steady for far longer that I expected, but I suspect there are limits.

The question now is should I act upon that knowledge? Should I move again or book the builders to convert our house? Living with a wheelchair is far more complicated that it seems.

Knowing what I can expect in the next decade in relation to my condition has complicated rather than simplified things. The world is not geared to accommodate the disabled – anyone who has taken a child shopping in a pushchair realises that – but at least I am blessed with living in one of the most disabled-friendly countries on earth.

Fear versus hope

On one level, I am terrified. How will I cope with being utterly dependent on others? How will I live an even remotely normal life? But then, I remember the people I know who are also constrained and some far more so than me. Yet, they have made their lives beacons of kindness and consideration: one in her charity work and another becoming chair of the British Paralympics Committee. They have focused on their abilities rather than their physical challenges.

And although I have a fair idea of my future in medical terms, I have no idea how I will fare under the new circumstances. I would hardly say that the last decade was what I had hoped for, yet it has been filled with all sorts of adventures and unexpected joys.

After all, a prophecy only suggests what will happen to us, not how we will react. And the latter is the key to it all. We can rage against the gods who treat us ‘as flies to wanton boys’, or take whatever life brings and spin it into gold. The only prophecy that no-one can question is that life is finite. With that being the case, I suggest that we squeeze every ounce of juice out of it while we can and let the future bring what it may.

Running out of Steam

Last Saturday, I had my flu jab and I have been running through its variety pack of side-effects every since. But most of all, I’ve been sleeping.

After all the stress and excitement of the last few months, my body had had enough. Having ignored all the hints, it took matters into its own hands and downed tools.

Though I’m feeling much better after yesterday’s gargantuan sleep fest, I realised that trying to wrestle a thousand word article today might be a bit too much. I hope you’ll understand.

Hermione enjoying a rest Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Because no-one likes to shirk their responsibilities (even if it is just a blog post) or let others down or say no.

Most of all, I hate being the one who says I don’t think I could manage that outing or event. No-one wants to be responsible for disappointed faces! As a result, I often say ‘yes’, knowing as I do so that I will pay with my health later.

But we live in a world of constant activity and the insistent message that we are missing out. Of course, we are. No-one can see or do everything: the nature of time sees to that. Yet, rather than seeing this as a failing in our lives, we should see it as a benefit. With hours limited, we should spend them only on those things which really matter and fully engage in them when we do.

I’m trying to be more like Hermione who is active to levels beyond my comprehension and then settles down for a nap or cuddle. Does she worry that she hasn’t seen The Great Wall of China or walks in the same park days in a row or misses a play due to rain? Of course not. She takes it as it comes and relishes each moment.

Because she understands far better than we do that to live well, we need time to rest and to dream; to gather up the woolly tangle of our lives into a neat ball so that we might knit a great adventure later.

So I wish you a good week full of joys and also times of rest. As for me, I’m off for a coffee and to resume reading my novel.