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
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.
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.
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.
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 phonenot 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Our recent trip to Northern Italy has left my head positively fizzing with the beauty of its art and architecture.
We had planned the break as an opportunity to meet up with very dear friends who live in Germany. We were twice blessed: with an amazing location and great companions to share it with.
Tempting though it is to make this a postcard account of a short but very full stay, I’d like to veer from the Tripadvisor mode and focus a little more on some of the less obvious aspects and the longer lasting impacts of such a adventure.
With our usual good luck, we were to arrive in Venice on the day of a nationwide transport strike, which meant we could get to Venice airport but not the city nor our planned destination of Padua. Hmm. We were not to be deterred and my husband sorted a hotel in Venice and a vaporetto to get us there. Costly, but worth it.
The floating world
We sped into Venice, James Bond style, the boat barely skimming the water as it jetted along. With the sun setting on the lagoon, the city looked especially ethereal, rising dimly out of the sea on fragile foundations.
It was indeed a floating world – both in the literal and metaphorical sense. Venice is held barely above the water and floods often. Even if one has never visited the city, it floats in our imaginations as a dreamscape of mystery and beauty.
Yet, it also matches the Japanese idea of ‘the floating world’. Originally, it was a Buddhist concept of life as difficult and transitory, yet the meaning was inverted during the Edo period to mean the passing pleasures of the hedonist: beautiful women and the entertainment wealth could purchase.
The city upon the sea Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
For those of us fortunate enough to be able to afford such travel, Venice is a pleasure ground of magnificent architecture and art; designer shopping and elegant concerts. For those working in Venice, it is perhaps a different story. Whilst the grandeur of its buildings boasts the success of the few, the narrow, dark and sometimes sinister back streets and the ripe smell of the canals come evening, suggests a different story. This dualism was encapsulated by a middle-aged man wheeling the excessive luggage of two Japanese tourists over a steep, stepped bridge. Loui Vuitton meets luggage trolley.
Because grand though it is, Venice is a city of stark contrasts and once you move away from the tourists in St Mark’s Square and into the back streets, the more obvious this becomes. However, these quieter parts were no less beautiful for their simplicity. Every so often, we would come across a barely populated piazza with a few trees and a central well. Washing hung on long lines from the balconies and perhaps a small dog would pass by on its walk.
Awe-inspiring though Venice is, it is still a city of commerce and glaringly demonstrated wealth. It was certainly worth a visit – but one will do.
Vicenza – architectural wonders
Our German friends, Sarah and Michael had driven to Padua to meet us, so we had the advantage of transport. Both my friends and I had been encouraged to visit the nearby town of Vicenza for its ancient architectural beauty and the famous Rotunda.
The town itself is an architect’s dream with wide streets and a large imposing piazza in the centre. It is also home to the first indoor theatre – Teatro Olimpico. Renaissance frescoes and vaulted covered walkways aside, it is a thriving, modern industrial centre. Tourists from abroad are few and I suspect that they like it that way. When we went for a coffee, the waiter spoke no English and my very limited Duolingo Italian finally felt worth the effort.
La Rotunda built in 1565 Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
The main draw of Vincenza is its buildings and it is the show case of the influential architect, Palladio. From his name is drawn Palladian – that symmetrical, open design which harks back to that of classical Rome and Greece. His style reached its height of popularity in the 18th century, two centuries after he designed the Rotunda, and is still relevant today.
Chioggia – The working man’s Venice
Taking advantage of the fine weather, our friends took us to Chioggia the following day. Like Venice, it is filled with canals and surrounded by the lagoon, but unlike Venice, it is quiet and unhurried. We arrived on a Monday, so many of the shops were closed and the cafes, bustling with locals from noon until two pm, suddenly emptied and closed. Dawdling as we were, we were fortunate to be given a table at 2.05! The kind waitress took pity on us and delayed the end of her shift until we were fed.
Chioggia is a port and fishing town with a small stretch of beach that attracts summer visitors. It is modest but pleasing with houses hugging the sides of canals and peaceful streets with flower-filled window boxes. My favourite place there was a tiny 14th century church. It was only one room and sparsely decorated, but it echoed with the prayers of centuries.
Padua – city of learning and pilgrimage
Our base was the magnificent city of Padua – home to the second oldest university in Italy and to innumerable awe inspiring churches including the Basilica di San Antonio.
It is a place of learning and is filled with young people who throng the streets going to lectures or perhaps taking an espresso and catching up with friends. When we were there, it was clearly graduation day and students, accompanied by proud parents and friends, wandered about wearing the laurel crown of the graduate.
The central piazza Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
Padua is famous for its medical department and its scientific roots go back centuries. Copernicus was a student and Galileo a professor! It served as a catalyst for Renaissance thinking.
With science and medicine having such a strong presence, it is no wonder that the study of the natural world and especially its healing properties was of utmost importance. To further the aim of educating students, they built an exquisite apothecary garden.
The botanical gardens are still flourishing today and are a source of scientific study. While the core of the garden houses medicinal plants, more exotic species have been added since. It provides a welcome retreat from a busy world.
The medical museum in Padua is a wonder also. I only wish that I could have been taught the sciences in such an entertaining and interesting way.
Much of our stay was spent mooching about the gorgeous streets and stopping for coffee. But we devoted a fair amount of time visiting the innumerable stunning churches in the city. All were impressive, but only a few attended by more than half a dozen congregants.
Even the most famous church, The Basilica di San Antonio, was only moderately busy – but unlike other ‘tourist destination’ churches, this was peopled by nuns, pilgrims and those who came to pray. It was exquisitely beautiful with high vaulted ceilings, domes, elegant frescoes, marble marquetry and stonework. It was designed to be awe-inspiring, and it was. I loved the domed ceilings in deep blue scattered with stars, the trompe l’oeil marble scene behind the tomb of Saint Antony, the courtyard gardens outside the main building.
When I gazed at the craftmanship, I though of the hours or even years required to achieve the effects. I thought of the craftsmen toiling day after day in service to something greater than themselves. I thought of the thousands of people who came here looking for solace or hope or acceptance and felt that I was part of a very long chain of humanity.
And I felt that time had come full circle. Pilgrimage was the first form of tourism. Holiday comes from holy day and our leisure and spiritual practice are strangely combined. Whilst fewer of us believe in any formal or traditional way now, it does not mean that we don’t gain from our journeys.
We can be uplifted by a mountain or an exquisite work of art; we can connect with those who came before us and left us such treasures; we can learn so much about ourselves and the world.
My Italian trip has cemented my desire to do more creatively – to do it seriously and with commitment. Travel can be transformative if we allow it to be.
Or it can just be light and fun. Seeing friends and breaking bread (or eating pizza together) is also great. However you find your dolce vita – enjoy.
Me, Lorenzo the waiter and Sarah at the best pizza place in town! Image: Michael Meier
