karencostellomcfeat

Be more dog!

Living with a little furry friend has been an enlightening experience and the more I ponder on what a dog brings to my life, the more I realise that they are the ultimate teachers. Forget all the self-help manuals, the life-style magazines and podcasts. All that is necessary for a successful and contented life is to found in the behaviours of our canine friends. For the world to be a kinder and happier place, we should do one thing: be more dog.

**Hermione in the garden** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Keeping your needs small

So much of our lives are spent in acquiring things that we don’t really require and exhausting ourselves in the process. Of course, everyone enjoys a little luxury now and then, but if we take a cue from our four legged friends, we will see that what we actually need is very little indeed : a secure home, regular, healthy meals, exercise, lots of affection and a nap when we’re worn out. I appreciate that even the above is not available to everyone, but if we have the benefit of the above, perhaps we can spare a little time and money to ensure that it is there for others too.

Dogs do not require designer gear or cupboards full of toys. They take what they find and make them into forms of entertainment. Hermione has had more fun with a flower pot (which she rather annoyingly obtains by removing the plant within) than any number of high tech gizmos. And of course, a ball. Every dog needs a ball.

**An old cup, a ball and a hole. Doggy heaven.**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

A healthy routine

Dogs and humans need plenty of exercise. Hermione has about two hours a day of walk and garden play plus anything else she can wangle. (I tried to wear her out once, but after four and a half hours outside, gave up!) Since I am unable to take her on long rambles on the Downs, I take her to the puppy park, where she can run and I can sit if needed. This time of year, the weather is seldom kind, yet we both benefit from the rush of fresh air and being immersed in natural surroundings. For Hermione, that means endless opportunities to sniff and explore the tree-lined perimeter; for me, it means time to watch the play of light across the sky and observe the ever-changing configurations of the clouds.

More often than not, friends arrive to share news. The dogs run around, or get fussing from other humans or snuggle on laps. Their owners reconnect with the world – for some this may be their first or only social interaction – but for everyone it is a period without phones, or tasks or diaries. We are there with our dogs and that is all we have to concentrate on for that hour.

A greater luxury still is the walks I can take on holiday, deep in woodland and ‘far from the madding crowd’. The level, even walks mean that I can walk further. With no traffic nearby, Hermione can range freely.

**Taking a brief rest after trying to walk a little too far.** Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

A controlled diet

Hermione, like most active spaniels, has a good appetite, so we have to be careful to feed her just what she needs and no more. We have a local butcher who provides her with the best dog food (at a very reasonable price) and with her dry food at night, all her nutritional needs are met. She eats her vegetables and drinks water.

Sadly, I have not yet managed to control my diet quite as well. Life without caffeine seems too hard and life without the odd sweet treat unbearable. However, I know that my body would thank me for such discipline.

Love and loyalty

There is a reason for the phrase, ‘A man’s best friend is his dog,’ because no human being could display the level of love and loyalty that a dog does. But perhaps we could try.

Hermione expresses nothing but joy every time that you return to her life (even is it is just after going to the bathroom). And who doesn’t like feeling loved? Though she makes no complaint when you leave her for a while, she waits patiently for your return and holds no grudge for you ‘abandoning’ her for an hour or two.

Whether you have just gone up the stairs to fetch something, or needed to go out to a place where dogs are not allowed, she waits eagerly for your return.

A dog’s capacity for forgiveness is also exceptional. Being a small dog, who routinely gets tangled in my legs and who, I’m sorry to say, I sometimes tread on, she is endlessly forgiving. She may give a look that says, ‘Why did you do that?’ but a pat or a belly rub soon reassures her that it was an accident and you meant no harm. If we could show such a level of forgiveness for other’s mistakes and foibles, the world would surely be a better place.

Sometimes you just need a nap

Unlike many dogs, Hermione is not especially good at sleeping through the day. There are far too many adventures to be had. However, when she is tired, she takes a nap. We can learn much from a dog’s sense of work/life balance. When we are working, we should approach it will vigour and enthusiasm; when we need to rest and recover, we should. I know that our world frowns on such indulgences, but we are only kidding ourselves that we are productive when we are exhausted. With fatigue being such a large element of my life, I am all too aware of how just plain badly I function when I should be resting. If I listen to my body, however, take a short spell to fully relax and start again, everything gets done efficiently and well.

**Snoozing on her cushion** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Of course, there are some doggy behaviours that are perhaps best avoided and I’m sure you know the ones I mean. Sexually active dogs make teenagers look restrained and aggressive dogs can be scary (though more often than not, their aggression stems from mistreatment rather than an innate tendency to violence).

Those aside, the dogs I know are friendly and welcoming, eager for attention, curious and energetic. They live in the moment without effort – a feat that Zen masters take years to attain. Perhaps of all their traits, this is the most wonderful. Dogs find joy in every aspect of their world – living with neither worry for the future nor regret for the past. If nothing else, surely this is worth emulating.

Heaven is in the Highlands

As you leave the Lowlands and enter the Highlands, the landscape becomes more elemental. Rolling, cultivated hills are replaced with bleak moorland interlaced with fiercely running streams and tiny waterfalls. At the roadside, the hewn pink and grey granite is visible, great slabs of pre-history.

The landscape takes on the strange geometry of a turtle’s back; small mounds intersected by pathways worn by water. The thought of breaking down is terrifying, for there is no shelter here, only the rust red bracken and heather low to the ground.

Yet, proceed a little further north and it changes once again. Replacing the barren hills are now endless forests wearing their autumn hues: flaring copper beech trees; pale gold birch leaves fluttering against their ghost-white trunks; ranks of pine in every shade of green. The colours rivalling Joseph’s dream-coat.

**Autumn colours** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And overlooking all are the mountains, the Cairngorms.

There are many beautiful landscapes in this country of ours, yet this, in its wildness, is by far our favourite and worth the fifteen hours of driving it takes to reach.

Arrivals

We arrived late on Saturday, ready to relax and enjoy our visit. Sadly, the cottage we’d booked fell well below expectations. It looked as though it had been furnished from a charity shop in the 1970s, had views on two sides of a garage and outbuilding and stairs so steep and dangerous that my husband decided we had to leave on the morrow. I’m not great with stairs at the best of times and these would be precarious indeed.

We found another hotel and were delighted to have done so. It called itself a ‘Wildlife Hotel’, which I thought was just marketing speak for being in the Cairngorms National Park. But they were true to their name. There were daily nature based activities, a library filled with books on birds and the local wildlife, and a lobby that played birdsong rather than muzak. Perfect.

Sharing the hotel with a group of keen ornithologists made us more aware of the birds we saw. I think I spotted a flock of bramblings, above, at the Clava Cairns. They were tiny little things feasting on the beech nuts that had fallen from the trees. But whatever their name, they were adorable.

Visiting the reindeer

One of the reasons we decided to visit at this time of year was that there would be reindeer in the paddock. The Cairngorms contains the only herd of wild reindeer in Britain, but sadly, they live high on the mountains for most of the year. In the autumn and spring (the rutting and birthing seasons), however, a few are selected to come down to the paddocks where those who are unable to hike the hills can see them.

They are gentle, shy beasts and though we were unable to walk among them, we were given a very close view.

**A male reindeer** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

As they were being fed at the time of our visit, we asked the herder about his job and the reindeer. It was a very personalised visit, as we were the only ones there!

Water, water everywhere

Across from the reindeer centre is Loch Morlich – a huge expanse of water fringed with woodland. Walking some of its perimeter in the fragrant pine forest is a glorious, multi-sensory experience. The wind whispers through the trees; the pine exudes its clean scent; the ground beneath crinkles as one pushes through the fallen leaves; the air tastes fresh as chewing gum and the view is a magical combination of leaf and moss and sparkling water.

Forest bathing has long been practised as a way to find peace. For me, the enclosure of the trees not only brings a spiritual calm but takes me right out of the world itself into a timeless, mystical place. Time simultaneously collapses and expands. There is only that moment and that moment is part of eternity.

It was perhaps less of a spiritual experience for the dog, but she loved it all the same. In her exuberance, she raced through the trees, jumped in the burns, ran circles on the beach and chased the ducks into the water until she realised quite how cold it was. This is doggy heaven too.

**Jeff and Hermione at Loch Morlich**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The water runs down from the mountains, but often from the sky. We managed to avoid the wet weather and only experienced a few, light showers. Yet, rain aside, what the water brings is magnificent. Perhaps getting a little wet now and then is not such a great price to pay.

On the left, rain so fine that it is barely visible. In the centre, the river at Carrbridge and on the right one of the many burns that are everywhere.

A little culture

Though there is not much that can lure us away from nature, any cultural stops in nature are just fine. We revisited Culloden, a place of such sadness that it emanates from the very soil. Having dutifully wandered the modern and well presented museum, we caught the tail end of a guided walk. The leader was young and exceptionally well informed and made the whole tragic tale of the Jacobite rebellion finally come clear.

Jeff then found a Highland mystery set in the area, The Bookseller of Inverness , which further explained the consequences to the Highlands of that fateful battle. It is a gripping read that helps fill out the dry facts of history.

A trip to the Highlands is not complete without a castle, so we signed up to a walk led by a heritage guide to visit the newly restored Blairfindy Castle. It’s more of a fortified house than a castle, but fascinating all the same. Today it is used as a sanctuary for birds and bats, with boxes nestling in the ancient walls. I love that its purpose now is to protect nature rather than repel raiders.

**Blairfindy Castle in the sunshine**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Friendly faces

No trip is enjoyable if the locals are not welcoming and the Highlands are exceptional in this regard. One is always greeted on walks and treated with kindness and friendliness in shops and restaurants. For somewhere so far removed from anything, it is a remarkably cosmopolitan place. We met folks from all over the world who married Scots or who arrived here and never went home. Due to the Clearances and the lack of economic opportunities in the area, there are sadly not so many natives, but those who have chosen to live here have done so because they love its unique qualities and that leads to a very happy population.

We also received a warm Scottish welcome from my adorable aunt and uncle, who invited us for a delicious lunch and visit on our way there. It may be a long way to drive, but it also affords us the opportunity to see relatives we might not otherwise be able to see.

**Happy times with Edwin and Morag**
Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

Our return journey gave us the chance to catch up with my dear university friend, Liz, and her husband, Peter, in East Anglia. They had organised a fabulous dinner party including my old cello teacher who had moved to the area (long story!)

There are those whose ideal holiday involves sipping cocktails on a Caribbean beach; others shopping in a large city. But me? Stomping through the woods in my wellies is my idea of heaven.

On Holiday!

Greetings from the Highlands.

We’re back in our favourite place and already almost at the end of our stay. We came here with every expectation of rain and biting cold and so packed an abundance of books, art supplies and journals. We would settle in by the fire, hot chocolate in hand, and get creative.

But, as our national poet once said, “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft a-gley.”

Yet, sometimes things not going to plan can be the best result of all. Bar a few rainy showers, we have been blessed with sunshine and in the glories of autumn could not possibly remain inside any longer than necessary. So, we have been out and about once again, taking our explorations one layer deeper and having wonderful adventures.

**Okay, so it is cold!** Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

We have discovered new castles, heard a talk by famous a TV presenter, lived like royalty and immersed ourselves in this spectacular location.

I shall be sharing the highlights with you next week, but until then: Mar sin leat an-dràsta : good-bye for now.

Magazine Make-Overs

Make-overs in magazines generally take the form of adapting a living space or person to make them more glamorous. But what if, instead of the make-over occurring in the pages of the magazine, it used the magazine itself?

Print quality today makes magazines far too good to waste. If, like me, you want to give your magazines a second life, here are some ideas to make the very most of them. Fortunately, many of my friends feel the same way and some of their ingenious projects are shown here.

Inspirations

My first task when taking a creative textiles course was to look at illustrations and choose the ones which spoke to me. What colours and textures did I find myself drawn towards? What moods did they express? It was a fun exercise, not least because it made me better aware of colour combinations and the effects they have on our mood.

When faced with the seemingly endless choices of paint and fabric in the world, it can be a good place to start to narrow the field. We don’t need to copy the rather curated ‘set’ of the magazine spread, but we might pick out features that we can replicate in our homes and clothes. Perhaps it will nudge us to try something new knowing that these two colours, for example, really can look good together.

Purposeful play

As most of you know by now, I am a bit of an origami fan. When I find gorgeous illustrations in a journal, I cannot help but pull them out to add to my rather capacious store of papers.

By using these papers, if the project doesn’t go well, nothing is really lost. It can go straight to recycling. If it does go well, then you have something original and beautifully illustrated to enjoy.

My favourite activity when I have a few minutes and have the urge to create is to make little boxes or envelopes. They are perfect for tiny things like paperclips, post-it notes or sweets brought by a friend. When they get tired, I make a new one!

As for envelopes, what is more perfect for seeds than those already adorned with vibrant flowers?

20 minute collage

Don’t have time to work out how to make all these? Well, perhaps the next idea will appeal. It requires absolutely no skill and only twenty minutes. I confess that I took longer due to my inability to just get on with it and my perpetual desire to doodle in the margins.

This activity is both a creative and thought provoking one. It was suggested by Julia Cameron in her book The Artist’s Way (yes, that again) as a means to bring a more playful approach to creativity. If free-writing took a visual art form , this would be it. Find a quiet moment, a few old magazines, supplements or even advertising materials and rip out anything that appeals. Next, stick them on a big piece of paper in whatever order seems most pleasing.

For artistic play, it is quick enough and satisfying enough to quell those little creative urges. As a visual free write, it reminds us of what we really love. Often life and responsibilities cause a certain amnesia in this regard. I have to work in the city, because that is where the work is etc. But if, like me, you are constantly pulling out pictures of the countryside and seascapes, perhaps it is time to think about remote working or a new job.

Our sensible brains will often block what we actually want and make us miserable. If we can find a way to discover what we really want in life, and work towards achieving it, we may well find the happiness that eludes us at the moment.

A second life

This week, my friend rather serendipitously said that she couldn’t throw away her magazines because they were just too lovely. I know what she means. Some she stores, but when she sees an especially pleasing image, she uses them to wrap old boxes and give them a new lease of life as waste paper baskets.

**Pretty paper baskets** Image: Jenny Timberlake

Another friend chose to use her old magazines to design a very bespoke card for her husband. I love the diorama effect with layers of depth. In addition to the gorgeous images, inside is a tiny chair made from a bottle top and wire. Who needs a present after receiving such an art work?

**A very special card**. Image: Jane Belcher

The delights of decoupage

What prompted me to write this post is featured below. My copy of Uppercase magazine had gardening as its theme and the pages were crammed with the most adorable images. One set were of old fashioned and imagined seed packets and I simply could not throw them away. Some were used to make cards and the majority were used to decoupage my little table. I’d found the table for a bargain £6.99 at the charity shop and knew it would be perfect for my she-shed.

All it needed was a little zip. Originally, I planned to paint it in the shed colours, but the seed packet illustrations called out for a life reimagined and longer lasting.

It took some time to cut them all out, but it was a quiet and relaxing activity. Having laid them out and arranged them as I thought best, I only needed to stick them on and give it several coats of varnish. Washi tape served as a nice edging device.

**My floral table** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

An afternoon (post cutting out) was all that was needed to transform a rather sad looking table into a vibrant one. It certainly isn’t perfect, but it does always make me smile.

With all of us having to take care of our expenditures at the moment, finding ways to reuse and repurpose the things we have is a ideal way to enjoy very cheap entertainment, with little waste and hopefully, beautiful results.

Seeds

Wondering what to write about this week, I asked my husband for suggestions. ‘Seeds,’ he said and then went on the extol their miraculous qualities and how they act as a rather apt metaphor for life. Seeds? I thought. How on earth am I going to find 1,000 words to write about seeds?

My husband, a newly converted gardener, is currently fascinated by seeds. After planting vast numbers of tulip bulbs, he discovered that they can be propagated by seed. (Who knew?) He then went on to find that if you harvest these seeds, plant them and wait about three years (gardening is not for the impatient) you will get tiny bulbs. Having found that all bulbs can be grown from seed, he then deseeded my giant lilies. And here they are:

**Lily seeds awaiting planting**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

If anyone would like some, let me know!

All flowering plants begin as seeds, though some will multiply from there by other methods. For example, strawberries and spider plants reproduce from runners or ‘daughter plants’, which are attached to the parent. I was delighted to discover another wild strawberry plant when weeding in the garden, and my plan is to let them take over the entire area. But overcrowding for plants and people is seldom wise, so strawberries also have berries with the seeds on the outside to give them the opportunity to disperse their seed further afield.

Here’s a little video about the life cycle of plants. It is rather cartoonish, but I confess I could have used such a clear presentation when doing O level biology. (Please skip if you know all this already!)

https://youtu.be/AcSgaUBwIn4

Free gifts

My perambulation around the garden yesterday brought lots of surprises. Seeds had clearly been having a good time exploring new parts. The rocket is incredibly successful at long distance travel and has made it from my veg patch at the far end of the back garden to the front lawn. I was delighted to find new clumps of parsley yards from where they were sown; flowers that hopped up into my raised garden planters and some that had found a location they preferred away from their original beds. Such unexpected gifts are always a joy and if you are not too fussy about keeping your garden in regimented order, it will soon decide where plants are most comfortable and will thrive. We practise a very relaxed version of forest gardening and it certainly works for us.

Autumn’s glory

To compensate for the paucity of flowering plants in this season, autumn generously offers us an alternative. Seed heads are a beautiful addition to any scene and particularly enchanting in autumn’s slanting light. Their delicate silhouettes act as an elegy to summer. For now, they are bare: mere mementoes of warmer days. But in holding the seeds for future seasons, they promise a return to colour and abundance.

**Seed heads at Birling Gap** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Seed heads also make the loveliest displays. I have several in vases throughout the house and some giant allium heads woven through with tiny lights so they look like illuminated chrysanthemums. When fresh cut flowers are not in season, these make the most environmentally friendly alternative.

Feed the birds

Seed heads are a great food source for birds during the lean autumn and winter months. That said, we often tidy the garden and get rid of many of those nutritious food sources, since those ‘dead’ twiggy, stems are less beautiful (at least to some). Reading an edition of Country Living recently, I discovered that some plants we routinely cut back are great bird feeders and will thrive just as well with a spring as an autumn trim. Though this information was too late for some of my lavender, the rest is still flower heavy and I’m trying to be careful only to take out those plants whose seeds have already been eaten or dispersed.

**Lavender – a feast for the birds as well as the eyes**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Harvesting seeds

Harvesting seeds could hardly be simpler. One only has to pick the plants (dry if necessary) and shake them out onto paper and transfer to a paper bag. That’s it. I like to make pretty seed envelopes for seeds to share, but just because I like an excuse to play.

This year I am drying my Indian corn kernels. My corn this year didn’t fare well. First they were assaulted by snails, then happily grew during the long, warm spell, only to be assaulted once again, this time by torrential rain and a plague of woodlice. Never mind. Such things are inevitable in gardening. Luckily, they were able to produce just enough to give me seeds for next year. I must let them dry completely then gently pick off the kernels. I’m hoping that the weather and wildlife will be kinder then.

**Enough for next year’s crop**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Enough to share

Though seeds are not expensive, they are not especially cheap either – especially for more rarefied varieties as the corn above. When you gather your own seeds, there is always more than enough to go around. Last year, I gave out sunflower and corn seeds and hope they fared better than mine! Many towns will have seed swaps during the autumn, but less formal exchanges between friends is also great. Whatever knowledge you have acquired about location, soil and conditions can be passed on with the packet of seeds.

Planting seeds is an act of hope and, as any gardener will tell you, results in great joy when successful. My husband made a lovely comparison between planting seeds and life. He said, you plant so many, but only a few will make it to completion. Like all endeavours, we work hard and don’t always achieve the outcomes that we hope for. That said, when they do materialise, our labours bloom delightfully and all the effort seems worthwhile.

The Capacity for Delight

Every so often you find a phrase or quote that resonates with deep authenticity. I have found many in my reading of The Artist’s Way, but this one in particular stands out.

My grandmother knew what a painful life had taught her: success or failure, the truth of a life really has little to do with its quality. The quality of life is in proportion, always, to the capacity for delight. The capacity for delight is the gift of paying attention.
Julia Cameron

It is seldom that an author bestows upon us both a beautiful concept: ‘The quality of life is in proportion, always, to the capacity for delight,’ and the means of achieving it, through the act of ‘paying attention’.

Attentive meditation

For many years now, I have been working on attentiveness both in meditation practice and in daily living. The theory that I had been struggling to master at the beginning has since flowered into understanding. What makes me happy are not the obvious things: new clothes, meals out or entertainment (though I enjoy all of these) rather it it the joy of observing life going about its business – a film reel of infinite variation. Perhaps it also explains why, despite my life going distinctly side-ways, I am more content than many who ‘have it all’.

Thinking about this yesterday, I made my morning pages an act of observation. Please forgive their roughness – it is free writing – but this is part of what a mere fifteen to twenty minutes brought:

Lovely morning, low light cloud. The salvias are little spots of frothy white in the far end of the garden. All is rich dark green after the rain, but there are wonderful splotches of colour – the red, white and pinks of the last geraniums, tiny yellow rocket flowers, a vibrant, deep red rose and our new white rose, which is thriving.
The sun has broken through and bathed the grass in golden light. H. is sitting, very attentive, waiting for our resident squirrel perhaps? The sunflower heads are now brown and forlorn, but I hope contain some nice food for the birds.
The magpies clack away to one another – they are the monarchs of the garden, cowing all the other birds. Only the large ravens threaten their reign with raiding expeditions to the table for stale biscuits and nuts.
Karen Costello-McFeat

**A little rain battered, but holding on!**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Writing it down

Since following the requirement of writing morning (or afternoon) pages, I have had to make that my meditation practice too. And it works. Focusing on the page and summoning my thoughts requires absolute attention and once my general grumbles have been aired, there is room for something more delicious.

A dear friend, with whom I have corresponded since we were children, has perfected this technique of delight through observation and passes the gift on to me in her letters. Her pages, and there are several, are chock full of details. She might be writing from a comfy, fold-up chair inside her tent in Scotland or recalling a walk in the Yorkshire Dales or itemising the visitors – both floral and animal – to her garden. Her joy is contagious and encourages me to see what changes have occurred in my world. Because she gives a very intimate view of her life and interests in her letters, when we meet up, it is as if we’ve just left off a conversation. We know what is important in each other’s lives and not just the Instagrammable highlights.

If you find the idea of meditation daunting or too time consuming, a small journal entry can set you on the right path. Focussing on your feelings and observations with a morning cup of coffee is a wonderful way to begin the day. Look out the window. You might be surprised by what you see.

Picture this

My art teacher sends a daily text with a photo image. She is the most attentive of observers, seeing beauty in things we never pay much attention to. In addition to the lovely scenes from her walks and flowers from her garden, she has sent a number of shots of woodgrain this week and their natural grooves and swirls are gorgeous.

While planning this post, I went around my garden looking for interesting images. There were too many to include here, though I have included a sample above. My favourite has to be the quince. It is almost ripe and glows like a lightbulb. Even on dull days, its vivid yellow shines through.

**Pendulous and golden quince**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Unlike so many things in life, the capacity for delight is freely available to everyone. Even in the most urban areas, there are gardens and parks containing a multitude of fascinating offerings. Our homes too can host such joys, though they tend to be more static.

Cultivating attentiveness in all our activities, from washing up to watching the rain dribble down the window panes, enables us to find interest and charm in the everyday.

Whether we note these moments with our smartphone cameras, a dedicated journal or only our mind’s eye, we will find that by nurturing the capacity for delight, our lives, no matter how difficult, will feel blessed.

A Well-Earned Rest

To say the last few months have been busy would be an understatement. They have been exciting, gregarious, exhilarating and exhausting. So much has happened in such a short time that my head is struggling to process it all. Unfortunately, my body is fully aware and like an overworked mule, refusing to cooperate further.

It all caught up with me at the weekend. Hermione had been badly bitten in the puppy park (she should be fine), Mariia had a wobbly over distressing news from Ukraine and well, I was running on empty. It was time to rest.

**And so to bed!** Image: Isabella and Zsa Fischer on Unsplash

Time to rest

We all need to schedule rest into our lives and I, like most folks, tend to forget that. And so we struggle on until no amount of caffeine or cat naps will do. We simply need to stop. With MS, this can be a little abrupt. One minute you are fine, the next your legs lose power, you feel dizzy and need to sit down before you fall. Chronic fatigue is extremely inconvenient when you have other more exciting plans. Perhaps you can stretch it a bit (as I did over the summer) but eventually it will come back to claim you.

Though I confess to failing on most points of moderating my downtime, I have maintained a very strict sleep schedule. I am always in bed by ten and up around 8.30am. Yup! Ten hours is what I need. Well, ten hours of rest at least. Sleep is not always guaranteed, but lying quietly will do me fine.

**Like a koala, I am happy to sleep on any horizontal surface** Image: David Clode on Unsplash

No regrets

Am I sorry that, in engineering parlance, I have tested myself to destruction? Absolutely not. I would not have missed a single day of this wonderful summer. However, I am aware that all good things must come to an end – or at least a pause.

Strangely, this hectic season has brought its own satisfactions. Bed lover though I am, I have never been quite so delighted to head upstairs in the evening as I have these last months. The gentle weight of the the duvet pressing down on me, a pillow cradling my head and relaxing dim light all feel like great luxury when you are really tired. Because when the day is filled with adventures, rest is a welcome respite. Days not so fully filled make bedtime a bore.

Unearned rest

Because the great irony is that too much free time and too much rest is bad for us. Our society is obsessed with leisure. We are encouraged to have endless days where nothing is expected of us and our every need is filled. It is the message behind all those adverts for exotic holidays, convenience foods and time-saving appliances. Have more time to yourself and you’ll be happy they say.

**Heaven? Perhaps. But there’s not much to do**. Image: Maarten van den Heuval on Unsplash

Except you won’t. Only poorer. Those wealthy enough to live a life of luxurious liberty are seldom content. The briefest look at the history of the leisure class would tell us this. These lives are filled with alcohol, drugs, affairs, gluttony and general bad behaviour – anything to keep the threat of boredom away. We are not designed to be idle.

Worse, those imprisoned in idleness have almost invariably bought their leisure with the price of another’s miserable labour. This is the greatest irony of all and has caused immeasurable suffering across the world. The Roman reclining on his coach being fed grapes in his centrally heated room does not have to witness the sweltering slaves below him.

**The good life?** Scene de banquet, fresco Herculaneum

Fortunately, our own lives do not come at such a direct human cost – though we are wise to remember that there is always a cost to someone or something; if nothing else to the earth itself.

Yet we still aim for the life of leisure, whether is it briefly – in the form of a holiday, or completely – in early retirement. We work hard, we save, we dream, but when we attain our goal, it is often different from what we expected. Perhaps we arrive at our exotic location too tired to move from the sun lounger to explore our location or perhaps our retirement brings its own question of what to do with an endless stretch of days. Or worse, when we reach it our health is too poor to enjoy it.

Rather than seeking the extremes of total work or total leisure, perhaps we should look for a balance of the two so that when we go to bed at night we are healthily tired.

Striking a balance

I do too much. I know that. Today I am in my track suit bottoms and cosy hoody because I need to rest. I’m not 100% well and hope this respite will fight off the cold that wants to overwhelm me. I need to push back and find space for repose and for myself. (A brief trip to Birling Gap yesterday to write felt as joyful as a vacation.)

I need to reinstate my yoga and breathing exercises that were side-lined with my son’s arrival and then Mariia’s. We need to insist on rest as ardently as we insist on leisure. Because we need both. Adhering to the 24/7 work culture will only result in ill-health and burn-out. Aiming for a life of leisure results in a fatuous existence.

When we have purpose in our lives and fill our days with whatever ignites our passion, whether that be helping others, work, creativity or play, we fall into bed at night satisfied at a day well lived. And if we don’t find our balance today? There is always tomorrow. But for now, I’m off for a nap.

The Last Taboo

We have come a long way. So much that was viewed as taboo in the past is now part of modern discourse. The once shrouded mysteries of sex are discussed in the classroom; cancer is no longer spoken of in hushed voices. Issues around race, gender and sexual orientation, though far from ideal, are at least getting the consideration they deserve. Yet, I would argue there is one taboo that still endures that affects the lives of millions of people: disability.

**A painful reminder that even the young suffer** Image: This is engineering on Unsplash

I can already hear cries of ‘No, not at all!’ so let me explain. Taboo is a subject that people avoid because it is extremely offensive or embarrassing (Longman Dictionary). When something is taboo, the person who falls under the prohibited characteristic feels shame. Disability is often not very pretty. Many suffer from bladder and bowel issues that thrust them even further from the socially acceptable. Some children are born with such severe birth defects that when we see them, we wish to look away. Others are victims of terrible accidents that leave them physically impaired. Feeling uncomfortable?

The constraints of shame

This post arose from a conversation I had with the members of my MS group. The group contains those who are barely affected by the disease and those who are permanently wheelchair bound. We were talking about the use of mobility aids and the resistance we feel for them.

**Don’t let them see me** Image: Felipe Pelaquim on Unsplash

One member relayed the funny/tragic story of her father who, blind and suffering with dementia, finally allowed his wife to take him out the only way she could: on a mobility scooter. Once they reached the town centre, he threw his coat over his head. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want anyone to see me in a scooter,’ was the reply, to which we all laughed heartily. Despite everything that was wrong with him, he was mortified to be seen to be disabled. Like so many, his absorption of the stigma of disability added a further layer to his suffering.

Vanity! Vanity! All is vanity!

I know any number of stories that are effectively the same and often they make me cross. One person’s ‘vanity’ at being seen with a stick or scooter often leads to the inconvenience of others. It may result in falls and hospitalisation; it may engender an excursion that is painful in its slowness for those accompanying .

When talking to my friends (all of whom were resisting to the last!) I suggested that it was perhaps their egos that were standing in the way of their safety and independence. They nodded in agreement. Further, I argued, that if we ourselves are ‘ashamed’ of our disability, how can we expect others to be accepting? We can only normalise this if we ourselves make it normal. The number of people I see with canes, walkers and scooters is legion. And every time I see someone making the best of their situation, I internally applaud them.

**Out there and enjoying the countryside** Image: Annie Spratt

I also fully understand those reluctant to reveal their disability so openly. One hardly looks sexy in a scooter. Or a wheelchair. Or with a cane.

But we are how we are. Accepting that is probably the biggest obstacle of all.

Are you disabled enough?

My husband is always threatening to buy me a T-shirt that says, ‘I’m only in it for the parking.’

Ask anyone who has used a disabled parking bay and they can regale you with stories of when they have been given dirty looks or worse. Personally, I never use one if I can avoid it or feel fit enough to get to where I need to go, but sometimes, you don’t have a choice. For those with invisible illnesses, it is often excruciating. After all, you look okay and may not even be in a wheelchair or using a cane. But short of having a letter explaining why you need it: you suffer leg pain, chronic fatigue or in my case, legs that work, until they don’t, you just have to accept the withering looks of those who think you are somehow taking advantage of free parking.

The truth is that Blue Badges are given out only very reluctantly and with copious documentation. They are not given out on request. Anyone that has one, needs it.

And the greatest irony of all is that I would love to leave my car behind and walk, as I used to.

Be grateful

Listen to any conversation between a disabled person and a non-disabled and you will probably notice that the disabled person is exceptionally polite. They will say thank you for every single step that is taken to remove the impediments that stand in their way or for any miniscule amount of help given. I am all for politeness, but where we are only easing the passage of someone for whom the world has not catered, I not sure that we should let the world off so lightly. Should someone set a great wall in front of your path and then offer to help you scale it, would you be appreciative or annoyed that they set it there in the first place?

**Always say thank you I**mage: Courtney Hedger on Unsplash

The vulnerability that disability immediately brings means that we have to appease our helpers. This is not a comfortable position and is not one we should find ourselves in. I have been aided by any number of delightful and kindly strangers – when stuck on the Barcelona metro for example, where the disabled entrance did not lead to a disabled exit (!?!) – a sweet father took my wheelchair up the stairs and then went back for his own child’s pushchair, while my husband helped me up the steps. He was a darling, but the system was at fault.

Not making the world accessible is a discrimination as profound as that against a racial group. Disabled lives are important, but I doubt there will be any marches for this cause or wheelchair rallies, for that matter.

Changing the script

If you are reading this blog, I think it fair to assume that you are sympathetic to the cause. As our natural allies, I urge you to treat those with disabilities as normally as anyone else. It’s easy to fall into saviour syndrome and make any assistance more about you than the recipient. We’ve all had those whose relish in helping us makes us feel diminished.

Just as we have learned to treat those who are different from us in ethnicity or sexual orientation, I ask that we do the same for the disabled community. (I am fully aware that mental disability is as crippling as the physical, but my post doesn’t have room for that discussion here.) For me, the mark of true civilisation is in how we treat our most vulnerable and marginalised members. We have come so far in this. Just one more push and we can explode the last taboo.

**Enjoying life – together** Image: Nathan Anderson on Unsplash

Random Idea Generator

Whilst recovering from my Covid booster at the weekend, I confess that my brain has not been working at optimal levels. By Tuesday evening, I was still in a bit of a fog and had not settled on this week’s post. ‘Any ideas?’ I asked at dinner. ‘I need an idea generator.’

Mariia and my husband Googled it and yes, such a thing does exist, but the site was a tad suspicious. My husband then went old school and suggested taking a random word from the dictionary. ‘Worth a try,’ I thought.

For reasons best known to himself, he picked my rather neglected Swedish/English dictionary and fortuitously opened it in the English section. With high drama, he flicked the pages, closed his eyes and then plonked his finger on an entry: Writing.

‘When in need, the universe will provide,’ my husband beamed and I had to agree that this was an especially happy accident, not least because writing has been so much on my mind of late. So, writing it is.

Composition

My first thought was that writing consists of two things: the physical act of writing and composition. I’ll begin with the latter.

**A writer’s desk** Image: Green Chameleon on Unsplash

The myths surrounding composition are legion, but the most persistent and damaging of all is the notion that one cannot compose without the aid of the Muse – for which I blame the Romantics. Writing, like all arts, is 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration. What makes it to the page is often the essence of what has roiled around the author’s brain, been scribbled on now scrunched up paper and selected from a swathe of research. And when inspiration is especially coy, it’s time to do some editing, further reading or even typing things up (as I have done in my slightly addled brain state this week) because it is all valuable in attaining one’s goal. If I sat waiting for the Muse, I would be lucky to write one sentence.

Whatever you think you can do or believe you can do, begin it. Action has magic; grace and power to it.
Goethe

I love this quote, because beginning it is all. Unlike in my youth when I was cowed into inaction, because, who could write like Shakespeare? I now just get going. It may be rubbish; it may consent to being shaped and polished or it may simply help me clarify my thinking, but in beginning, I am setting in motion the very things I need to occasionally reach success.

Morning pages

Three journals and several months later, I am still doing my morning pages as recommended in The Artist’s Way. This crazy, morning free-writing works. Once written, my head is released from the worries and fretting that normally clutter one’s thinking. Just writing three pages every day gives you a solid proof that you can always find something to write about – even if only rambling thoughts. But it hones your skills and sometimes an interesting idea or line or image is birthed in these pages.

Poetry revival

With our lovely Ukrainian staying with us, I have become a little time (and often energy) poor. My novel plans have had to take a back seat, at least for the moment, but I still need to maintain my intention to enter a writing competition or submit a piece of writing every month. So I have reverted back to the form I used when my children absorbed almost all my waking hours: poetry.

I’ve written and submitted four original poems. Their chance of success is minimal, but the discipline of writing for a specific audience under specific time restraints is reward enough for me. I’ve also dug out my old poems and dusted them off. Anything worth keeping, I’ve typed up again and I’d like to share one with you which most perfectly speaks to the season.

Indian Summer

Just when I had given up,

you returned,

as bold as Leo, ascendant.

My skin tingled in anticipation,

longed for touch,

the ripe exposure of naked skin.

I shucked my outer layers,

worshipped you,

a sunflower supplicant.

Ignored the warning signs:

packing swallows,

bees humming valedictions

to bleached lavender stems,

pregnant dews,

dawns slow to shake sleep.

Then one morning, I woke,

eager, full of plans

to find you gone.

Writing buddies

Another small step I have made in my writing life is to enlist the help of a writing buddy. A dear friend writes (and performs) the most brilliant monologues and since we were talking about our writing, I asked if she would be my writing buddy – prodding me to create when necessary, rejoicing or consoling my victories or losses. Each Friday, we need to send each other something and I am very excited to have a companion in this often isolating profession.

The art of writing

**Twenty-six letters and infinite variations**. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat;

I have always loved the physical look of words and being taken on by an accomplished calligrapher has made me even more enamoured of the art of lettering. My teacher Mary, at eighty, is never short of brilliant ideas and approaches. She accepts no slovenly work and pushes me to think far outside my comfort zone. I confess that sometimes our lessons descend into coffee mornings, but I always come away enthused to do more. My rather long, current project has been to produce an alphabet for my granddaughter. I am almost there!

**Three to go!** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Pen and ink

Writing by hand may be a bit unfashionable, but I still find it is the best way to generate ideas. After all, a pen and a bit of paper take up almost no space and can be used anywhere. I prefer to use a cartridge pen with colourful inks. When I make a change, unlike on the computer, I can see the original without erasing it. I can also doodle, make crazy cloud plans and so forth which my computer skills don’t allow.

**Penning thoughts**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Once, I remember listening to an author who wrote everything in long-hand. ‘Why?’ asked the interviewer. ‘Because it is slow,’ replied the author. And she’s right. When you take time to write, you gain a little time to think. It has its merits.

Personally, I mix and match. Pen and ink for thoughts; computer for writing up. This post began with a randomly generated word, progressed to notes, to outlines and then to this. It is a process I am only just about to finish. The idea generator worked this time, but I think I won’t rely on it. Had my husband’s finger landed a few millimetres out, I should have been saddled with: wriggle, wrinkled or wretchedness. They would certainly have stretched my creativity.

The Dangers of Anticipation

The idea for this blog came from my husband. ‘Why don’t you write about the dangers of anticipating a specific future?’ he said.

**One disappointed baby**. Image: Ryan Franco on Unsplash

It certainly sounded an interesting topic and one that we are all too painfully aware of following the endless cancelled plans during the pandemic. My son’s wedding is also on our minds: so much arranging, expense, organisation and energy for a fleeting day. What if anyone gets sick; flights are cancelled or delayed? What if, what if, what if.

Which is when I started to think of the flip side of anticipation – the dark side, if you will, that says that everything will be a disaster. Catastrophising is just anticipation turned on its head. So my musings today will be on the dangers of each and if I can, I shall offer some ways we can curb, if not entirely avoid, these hazards.

The Perils of Perfectionism

Life, as we know, seldom goes to plan, yet still we invest in a future event that we hope to be perfect: a holiday with ideal weather; a new child with exceptional gifts; a celebration that goes without a hitch. What are we thinking?

When we expect or even hope for perfection we are positively taunting the gods into action: that is, to foil us.

**Reality**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

My own wedding day, which turned out to be a very happy one, began on a different note. I will not bore you here with all the things that went wrong, but for a moment there, I thought my husband might be walking down the aisle by himself!

Managing expectations

Here, as in all the other important occasions of our lives, we need to ditch the Hollywood, airbrushed model of life and simply enjoy the moment as it is. Often it is the very things that go awry that break the tension and allow us to laugh at ourselves. More often than the things that went perfectly, they are the stories we pass on to our own children. Not being perfect doesn’t mean terrible. It only means true.

Managing expectations doesn’t only apply to the major events in our lives, it applies to all of it. Has my life turned out as I expected it to? Hell, no! On any objective scale, it is an absolute disaster. Yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Whatever I lost: employment, my previous, beautiful home and my health has been compensated. I may not be able to work, but I can write and create. I love my new home even more than the previous one. With poor health has come acceptance and understanding. I could never have foreseen such. How could I when we are brainwashed into thinking that ‘negative’ change is always disastrous?

Aiming high not aiming low

Having said all that, I do think that it is always worth doing the very best you can. If we aim high and fall short, we are just a little off our goal. If, in despair we aim low, we cannot achieve any more than that. Often, when our expectations are thwarted, we imagine there is nothing worth striving for. Such an outlook may protect us from a specific disappointment, but it ultimately leads to a disappointing life. So aim for wonderful and hopefully you will enjoy something good.

**Sometimes you hit the target. Sometimes you don’t.** Image: John-Mark Smith on Unsplash

The Siren Song of Catastrophe

Perhaps it is my age, but I seem to be surrounded by folks who, like Chicken Licken, are always pronouncing that the sky is falling in. The latest news story throws them into a tail-spin of epic proportions. The media, of course, thrives on such and social media is its amplifier.

And the temptation to catastrophise is seductive. There are few things more exciting than a disaster (so long as it doesn’t touch us too closely). The energy crisis, for example, was set to see us all shivering in fingerless gloves in a sort of Dickensian dystopia. Except, it won’t. The Government has taken steps to avoid that. Catastrophe over. What’s next?

Predicting disaster has energy and drama to it. Suggesting that everything will be fine, does not. The benefit to catastrophising is a rapt audience, news to tell and excitement, but the disadvantage is that it skews our whole view of the world. When we are constantly focused on the worst case scenario, we are ignoring all the very magical things that are occurring in front of our eyes. We are not experiencing the now, as Eckhart Tolle would put it, but only an imagined (and terrifying) future.

In the most damaging variant of this, we create a sort of self-fulfilling prophesy. We convince ourselves that our plans will never work or succeed and, sure enough, we are right. For if we act without faith, we cannot hope for victory.

**Illustration for Chicken Little, 1916** Image: Mabel Hill

In the fairy tale, Chicken Licken and his followers are led into the fox’s den. In the original, they are eaten by the fox, thus demonstrating that by believing in the worst, we head straight into it.

In later, more sanitised versions, the chick and his companions escape, though cannot remember what set them on their path in the first place. For who remembers the media-fed terrors that haunted us only weeks ago?

If all the unexpected events in my life have taught me anything at all, it is this. Our control over the world is scant indeed, though it need not cause us to fear, because if we accept what is offered each day with grace and thanks, there is little that can upset our equilibrium.

Of course, I look forward to future events – our trip to Maine for my son’s wedding most of all. However, knowing that there will be set-backs and problems allows me to enjoy that anticipation with less anxiety. And if the sky really does fall in? Well, I’ll just deal with that when it happens.