Gratitude

Embarking on 2021, the nation convinced itself that this was going to be a year of hope and transformation. This year, all those problems of 2020 would be wiped away. This year, things were definitely going to get better. But world events heed no calendar. The amazing new vaccine was going to take a long time – several months – to deliver and meanwhile, cases were soaring. The much lauded defeat of Trump in November did not end there, but dribbled on with court case after court case and ended, spectacularly, with the storming of the Capitol. And if our spirits were not feeling sufficiently dampened, the rain and the cold saw to that.

And amongst all this, I knew that I had to cultivate gratitude, because without it, my mental and physical health would suffer. It was not going to be easy. As is often the way, the solution came from unexpected quarters. I received an adorable calendar as a Christmas gift just days after I’d purchased one for the kitchen and my son sent me an exquisite leather journal.

The gratitude calendar

The calendar I received was super cute and very personal. My friend knows I love Beatrix Potter, so it definitely was going on display in the dining room where I work. It seemed as shame, though, not to write anything on it. With a full page diary and a supplementary joint calendar, it was not going to be used for appointments. The question then remained as to how I would record each day. Then it came to me. This would be my gratitude calendar. I would write down one thing that I appreciated or brought me joy. In full lock-down, there was not going to be anything newsworthy, but it would remind me of how it is often the little things that count. And at the end of the year, when I took it down, I would see that 365 wonderful things had occurred in my life that I was thankful for.

Simple pleasures of the day, noted. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Examples of my entries include: homemade chocolate (my husband is proving a natural chocolatier); being brought a cup of tea in bed when I was especially tired; a walk in the winter sunshine and cuddles with the dog. Rather than searching for any good thing in my day, I often have to select one of many. And if you are struggling to find the benefits in life, I suggest that you start with your most basic needs and work up. In the West, we so take for granted our warm homes, clean water, and access to varied and delicious foods, that we forget what luxuries they are. As someone who does not take their existence for granted, I always begin and end the day with thanks for being here to enjoy it.

The gratitude journal

These last weeks have been a little stressful with health worries. Not wanting to spiral down the rabbit-hole of self-pity and despair, or obsess on how life hasn’t exactly gone to plan, I thought about all that I had experienced instead. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised that even if I were to expire tomorrow (don’t worry, no chance of that!) I have lived a truly wonderful life.

The more I pondered, the more amazing stories tumbled out. Perhaps I should record them. After all, family stories are so easily lost and forgotten. Now that beautiful journal that had been placed on the shelf, because it seemed too good to write in, had a purpose commensurate with its loveliness. So I began writing. I’m aiming for an entry a day. Like Tristan Shandy, I suspect that my memories will exceed the paper and time available to write them. But what of it? Each day, I am reminded of good times and that raises my spirits. The journal will be there for me too when times are harder and will console me. They are a record too, of a life fully lived.

A record of a life. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Gratitude matters

Psychotherapist and author Amy Morin writes in ‘7 Scientifically Proven Benefits of Gratitude’ (Psychology Today) how practising the act of thankfulness can bring significant benefits to our lives. Her own life was filled with tragedy, but this young woman has focused on the positive, resulting in her maintaining mental strength through adversity. Here’s a very condensed version of her article.

Thank you. However you say it, it will be appreciated. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Say thank you Most of us were raised by parents who were constantly reminding us to say thank you. Aside from fostering good manners, they were also teaching us a habit that would earn us friends and improve our social relationships.
Feeling grateful makes you feel better – literally. Positive, grateful people actually experience less pain and are more likely to engage in physical self-care, which, of course, also boosts well-being.
Gratitude is the key to happiness. Being grateful reduces negative emotions like envy, reduces depression and furthers happiness.
Thankful people are more empathetic. As a consequence, they respond more generously to others’ behaviours – even when they are unkind.
Gratitude improves sleep. Writing a gratitude journal, doing an A-Z of gratitude or simply thinking about something you are thankful for in the day puts you in the right frame of mind for deep and restful sleep.
Having a sense of gratitude makes you feel better about yourself. When comparing yourself with others, you do not feel envy but rather rejoice in their success.
Fostering gratitude helps us to become more mentally strong and resilient even when life is most challenging. Like now.

And if you need further inspiration, I suggest that you spend a few minutes watching this gorgeous video a friend forwarded to me.

A perfect, visual guide to gratitude

There are still things to make us smile. x

Life is what happens – Part 2

As we enter our second full lock-down, it is more important than ever to see what benefits we can take from the first. The arrival of the vaccine is a beacon of hope, but of course, vaccines must be made, those delivering it trained and those receiving it administered. It will certainly be weeks, if not months, until any kind of normality returns. We could, as so many folks are doing, complain about the delay, or we could make the most of this hiatus from normal life. Since this blog is entitled, ‘When life gives you lemons,’ you know which approach I’ll be taking.

Living Simply

Since the first lock-down, my husband and I have been managing on rather less than half pay. We imagined that our carefully reserved savings would be wiped out; that our standard of living would plummet. Yet, ironically, we haven’t touched our emergency fund and our standard of living has never been better. Of course, we haven’t been on holiday or out to restaurants. We haven’t bought much in the way of clothes or had haircuts (though I could certainly do with one!) Living simply at home has meant that what we actually need is very little. Realising this has been liberating.

Simple and delicious! Homemade summer squash and vegetable soup and bread. Thanks to YouTube, I learned how to freeze my glut of squashes. Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

Of course, none of this would have been possible without the generosity of the government furlough scheme, which ensured my husband kept his job and worked as much or as little as the pandemic allowed. Many of his colleagues in the US lost their jobs and I can all too well imagine how distressing that situation would be. So though Boris bashing may be a national pastime at the moment, having peered over the brink of an economic abyss, I am eternally grateful that I live in a country where, no matter what happens, your basic needs will be met.

God bless the NHS

Equally, I cannot say how much I treasure a health service that is free at the point of delivery. Trying to stay well during a pandemic is stressful enough; trying to work out how to pay for medical care should you require a prolonged hospital stay falls into the realm of nightmare. We are so used to this luxury that we forget that for almost all the rest of the world, it is an impossible dream.

I loved that we all stood out and applauded those front-line workers who care for us, but we need to show that we fully respect them by doing everything in our power to stay well and, equally vitally, to keep everyone else well too.

Working from home

As someone who has worked from home for the past eighteen years, I am well aware of its benefits. But for those used to the crazy hours and even crazier commutes of modern life, it has been a revelation. People who once had to rise at 6.30 to have any hope of getting to work before 9.00, can now enjoy rising at a civilised hour and have an extra two to four hours for themselves. People who barely got to see their children before bedtime, were able to join them for lunch. Jobs which seemed vital to perform in an office environment; meetings scheduled hundreds or even thousand of miles away, suddenly proved to be quite capable of being conducted successfully from home. For many, the realisation that a work/life balance is possible, will, I hope be carried forward into new working practices. Of course, most people will enjoy going to the office and having that social interaction, but it doesn’t need to be everyday. I, for one, will miss my husband terribly when he goes back to work. I’m just hoping that his usual twelve hour days will be reduced and that some of them will be worked at home.

Getting outside

The change that has been most obvious during the various lock-downs has been the number of people getting out to exercise and socialise. Almost all my friends now walk regularly and I suspect this is true for everyone. Where in the past, we might go for a walk in a local beauty spot and meet the odd other person, now we have to find somewhere less crowded. Parking at our favourite haunt at Birling Gap is virtually impossible. And although I sometimes grumble about all the outsiders using ‘our’ favourite spaces, I am actually delighted that families are making the effort to introduce their children to the wonders of the natural world. And as the restrictions are relaxed, I hope that at least some will continue look to the outdoors for entertainment before their Xboxes or iPads.

The garden in winter Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Despite the fairly atrocious weather recently, I still spend time in the garden every day and I join my husband for at least one of Hermione’s walks. Yesterday evening it was dark with freezing, drizzly rain, yet being outside felt wonderful and returning to a warm home, better still.

Giving the planet a rest

The pandemic has certainly not been good for humanity, but it has been very good for the natural world. Skies that were a fretwork of contrails are now only blotted by cloud. Roads, once congested and hazardous to cross, are now blessedly quiet. And as our spending and consumption decreases, so does the impact we have on the planet. Of course, I’m not suggesting we go back to living in a yurt, but this period has shown that we do not have to destroy our natural home to live well.

Because despite the challenges, difficulties and even grief this pandemic has brought us, it has focused our attention on what really matters. It seems, the best things in life are free. These things: friendship, family, health and Nature all nourish us in ways that material things only gratify briefly. If we can remember this and carry forward what we have learned, 2021 should be a very good year indeed, no matter how long it takes to resolve the current health crisis.

I’d like to end with a beautiful poem my friend sent me. It may be a little optimistic, but one can dream…

And the people stayed home

And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently.

And the people healed. And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless and heartless ways, the earth began to heal.

And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed.

Kitty O’Meara

Life is What Happens: Part 1

There is no better way to sum up last year than with the adage, ‘Life is what happens when you are making other plans.’ In January, while news reports of a strange ‘flu in China filtered through to the West, we were eagerly awaiting a year filled with adventure. My diary was crammed with activities up until June: visits from distant family and friends; the Oxford literary festival; a long-awaited trip to Long Island and the chance to hug my granddaughter.

Though I can’t hug her, through photos and video calls, I can see her grow. Sofia on the beach. Image: Scott Costello-McFeat

On the morning of the 21 March, I was at the hairdresser, joking about folks taking the ‘flu far too seriously. Later that day, I read in the news that I should self-isolate. This was no ordinary virus; this was something else. And so began what I can only describe as nine months of house arrest. I have occasionally ventured further afield – to collect our puppy; to visit the countryside nearby and Alfriston, but effectively, I have been contained within a 1/4 mile radius.

Be careful what you wish for

On the surface, this appeared like a nightmare. And for many, I’m sure it has been. But for me, despite my love of ordinary life, it has been a wish granted. For years, I have dreamt of being on a retreat and of living a life of pared-down simplicity. I love quiet and contemplation and the rush and bustle of the everyday works against that. With no-where to go and no-one to see, here was my chance. So I took it, and in doing so have found innumerable blessings in this strange, contained life.

Peace

I live on a busy road, so the hush of lock-down has been a boon indeed. Sitting in the garden, every bird call, every rustle of leaves is audible, since it is no longer muffled by the incessant undertow of rumbling traffic. My meditation practice has become routine and unlaboured. No longer do I need to squeeze it into the cracks of the day, but I can indulge whenever I want. I’ve found a system that works for me: 15 minutes in the morning and 20 minutes at night while doing my breathing exercises. This morning, there was a beautiful dawn, so before doing anything else, I did my meditation and watched as the clouds gradually lost their rosy underbellies. Observing beauty and experiencing deep peace is a wonderful way to begin the day.

Enjoying the tranquillity of Nature Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Reconnecting with the land

Perhaps the most important element to my good health during lock-down has been my garden (and I have no idea how someone stuck in a flat could manage). It has brought me endless delight in the ever shifting seasons. It has brought me food from the vegetable patch and spurred me to improve my cooking skills – especially in regard to preserving and utilising the harvest.

The garden as metaphor has worked its magic too. Half my plants were eaten by wildlife, blown over by fierce winds or stolen by the birds. Some plants thrived, whilst others, mysteriously died. The garden was an illustration in miniature of life itself: we may put in any amount of effort, but chance always plays its part. If we delude ourselves that we are in control, we shall only suffer stress and misery. If we accept these casualties of fate, we will survive in relative equilibrium. As someone whose tendency is to want to order and control everything, this has been an invaluable lesson for me. Whilst Nature firmly puts us in our place (a fairly insignificant speck in the universe), she also gives us hope. There are always new crops, new flowers, new skies. Winter, with its honeyed light, silver frosted lawns, and silhouette trees will be replaced by the exuberant greens of spring and the scent and colours of endless flowers. Life, always, goes on.

Company

The most precious thing that this strange year has brought me is my husband’s company. From being someone who toiled for ridiculously long hours, slipping away before I was awake and returning as evening fell, now he was someone who was home all the time. At first, he replaced work with frantic DIY projects, but slowly, he too began to relax and just enjoy being. For once, we worked together: on the garden and the home, cooking and learning new skills. As a prelude to retirement, it has been a very positive one.

Life is better with a dog! Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And, of course, working from home, made getting a puppy possible. Hermione has brought us infinite amounts of joy that well outweigh the (not inconsiderable) amount of effort and time required to raise her. She is a little bundle of cheerful mischief who always wants to be as close to you as possible – and who doesn’t enjoy that level of adoration? She has also meant we spend vast amounts of time outside and even with the foul winter weather, that too has played a very large part in keeping us mentally and physically well.

And last, but by no means least, this period has forged friendships rather than breaking them. My weekly chats on the phone or video calls has meant that we are all completely up to date with each others’ lives. And a huge thank you to all of you who have indulged me in this – I know I would not have made it this serenely without you!

There are even a few people who I am in contact with more than before, because changes in their working lives have given them more time. Others have just made the effort to make friendships more solid. My lovely friend from university, for example, set up a wee WattsApp group, so my old housemates and I can share jokes and stories. Though this year’s reunion has been postponed, we are all up-to-date with each other’s news and will have plenty to blab about when we finally get together next year.

As I write, it is New Year’s Eve and like the rest of us, I am looking forward to the New Year and what it may bring. Unlike last year, I don’t have any plans, though. I will take things as they come and try to remain flexible.

And in part 2 of this post, I’d like to look at all the ways we can take the blessings of this strange year to improve our lives in 2021. See you next year!

Happy New Year Everyone!

‘Twas the Week Before Christmas

Deck the halls Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

‘Twas the week before Christmas and all through the house, There was baking and wrapping; the click of a mouse. Yes, we are almost there and for me, this is the best part. Cards have been written and gifts (largely) wrapped. The headache of what to get for whom, of making things and decorating is over – now is the time to enjoy.

This morning involved my favourite activity – the distribution of gifts. My husband kindly drove me around town, dropping me off for a short chat with friends. What a treat to interact with people in 3D, despite masks and social distancing. Because this is what the season is all about, surely. Here is our opportunity to show that we care for one another. In the hustle and bustle of the every day, it is easy to overlook how much we value our friends. Yet, at Christmas, our goodwill embraces loved ones near and far and even, for a short, magical while, to everyone we meet.

Cards and gifts waiting to be delivered. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Christmas for many, especially women, has become a marathon to be run; a trial to be endured. How frequently we become burdened with insane expectations. The Martha Stewarts of this world have a lot to answer for. Of course, this misses the point entirely. Perhaps it is time to re-evaluate.

Festivals are moulded by convention, but whether we adhere to them or not is really up to us – there is no Christmas police. Take the Christmas card. It was invented by Henry Cole, who was looking for a time-saving solution to the fashion for sending Christmas wishes via ‘decorated letterheads and visiting cards’ (V&A). This was a trend he himself had encouraged to boost the postal service and especially the Penny Post. Many friends have chosen not to send cards this year and instead are giving to charity, which is eminently sensible if card writing is a chore you’d rather avoid. I love making and sending cards, so I shall continue. I also depend upon the Post Office, so in addition to our usual donations, I shall be making one to Royal Mail – via stamps!

The same holds true for Christmas meals. With so many folks unable to host family this year, they are choosing to make something that is far more in line with what they enjoy than what is expected. We’ll be having a woodland nut roast. Another friend will have lamb. If everyone in attendance loves turkey with all the trimmings, that’s great – just remember to get them into the kitchen to help you prepare the potatoes and sprouts or contribute a pudding. Cooking together is a wonderful and often hilarious activity (a glass of wine helps); cooking alone while others lounge on the sofa eating chocolate is an embittering chore.

With no-one able to visit, decorations too have become optional. Some folks have barely bothered, others, like myself have gone a little overboard. Christmas may be a little quieter this year, but there is no reason not to show one’s enthusiasm with lights and elves and reindeer.

Leave no surface undecorated Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

My motto has been leave no surface (undecorated) behind and on these dark nights and slightly worrying days, these very decorations have served to cheer me.

This afternoon, I made some sloe gin muffins to pop in the freezer for Christmas Day morning. The sloe gin I’d made in October is now ready and after decanting it, I didn’t want to waste all those delicious sloes. Removing the stones took a little while, but there was no rush, only an opportunity for mindfulness. With Christmas music in the background and my husband making dinner by my side, it was a lovely experience.

We thought we ought to try one! Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

I made the muffins because I wanted to. There was no obligation – only a chance to try a new recipe. We need to hold strong to doing things not out of duty but out of love. We need to blow away those clinging cobwebs of convention and embrace what brings us – and just as importantly, others – joy.

A picture of an elf – just because! Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The early Quakers – devout though they were – did not celebrate Christmas or any other feast day. For them, every day was sacred and should be valued as such. Though most modern Quakers, and the rest of us, do enjoy these special celebrations, perhaps a balance can be struck.

Christmas Day is both wonderful and ordinary. Its brilliance lies in the efforts we make to contact loved ones, share gifts and food. It reminds us to be our best selves. And if we remember, simultaneously, that is it just a normal day, perhaps we can take the stress of perfectionism out of it.

Better still, we can carry the essence of the season throughout the year. Cards, gifts, fellowship and sharing food is not just for Christmas. An unexpected card will always bring a smile, as will a little ‘unbirthday’ gift. We can share food with the needy through Food Banks and drop samples of our creations round to friends. Christmas Day marks the turning of the year – towards light, life and hope. It offers us a new beginning, as every day does. Let’s make the most of it.

Seasons Greetings from us all! Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

Which leaves me to wish you a Very Merry Christmas! And I look forward to joining you in the New Year. Much love, Karen

Santa Lucia – Bringing Light into the Darkness

Today, at noon, the sun hovers barely 45 degrees above the horizon and is shrouded in thick cloud. And no sooner has the sun risen, it seems, than it is heading back to bed, streaking away in a blaze of cotton candy pink.

And we’re the lucky ones. Living in the South East of England, I get to enjoy almost eight hours of daylight. Head further north and that will be reduced to six. Further north still and days hardly move beyond twilight before slipping back into night. Is it any surprise then that our northern neighbours in Scandinavia make great efforts to celebrate the light? On the 13th December, these countries will be doing this with processions, candles and feasting on Santa Lucia’s Day.

‘Santa Lucia’ leads the procession. The candle crown represents one story in which Lucia wore such headgear as she brought sustenance to Christians hiding in the catacombs. The candle crown left her hands free to carry as much food as possible. The white dress symbolises her virginity and the red sash her sacrifice.

Who was she?

Lucia of Syracuse was born in 283 and martyred in 304. She became one of the most celebrated of saints in the Middle Ages and her story varies from source to source. In essence, she was a child of noble parentage who converted to Christianity and vowed to devote her life and her virginity to her faith. Unfortunately, her mother, with the best intentions, arranged for her to marry a wealthy pagan. Alas, it seems her appeal to him was purely financial, so when he discovered that she was distributing her dowry to the poor/Christians in hiding, he denounced her to the Governor. Outraged by this independent behaviour and refusal to meet his demands, the Governor ordered her to be defiled in a brothel. They could not move her and so tried to set her on fire. This too was unsuccessful and she was eventually killed by being stabbed in the neck. The miracles of her earlier survivals ensured her sainthood.

But how did this Italian martyr come to be revered so many miles away? Like so many important festivals, Santa Lucia’s day fit snugly with an earlier pagan festival celebrating the winter solstice – Yule. The Norse believed that the sun was born on this day, and as they were converted to Christianity, the sun was replaced by the son of God. Under the old Julian calendar, this would equate to the 25 December today. When the calendar changed, Santa Lucia’s Day moved to 13 December. Santa Lucia – whose name derived from the Latin for light – became part of the Advent celebrations. Her light came to usher in the ultimate light of world – the Christ child.

Though the Santa Lucia traditions of feasting and friendship seem very appealing, I shall have to give it a miss this year (at least the socialising bit). However, we can usher in the light in a different way. On the advice of a friend, I have invested in lots of fairy lights. These are festooning the windowsills and mantelpieces and outside the house too. When lit, they bring a primal sense of joy. Snug and cosy in my home, the abysmal weather outside can do me no harm.

My nod to Santa Lucia Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Bring in the light

It seems I am not alone in my quest to banish the dark at this time of year. As we walk the dog, we are treated to any number of extravagant light displays up and down the road. It is a wonderful act of generosity bringing a smile to everyone who passes.

And light, even the dim light of winter is essential to our well-being. It will boost our vitamin D levels and is especially crucial for those of us with MS. It will improve our sleep and help us avoid the winter blues. Venturing out into the cold not only gives us the light exposure our bodies need, but makes the return to the comforts of home even sweeter.

Planning ahead

Next year, perhaps I shall introduce Santa Lucia celebrations to friends and serve the traditional glogg (mulled wine) and make pepparkakor (ginger biscuits). I might even ask folks to dress appropriately as Lucias, Santas, star boys and ginger bread men!

Till then, I shall muse about snowy days and candle lit nights. Here’s a beautiful video by Jonna Jinton to help get you in the mood.

Warding off evil and the darkness with candles and song.

Virtual Craft Club

Monday mornings were usually filled with the gentle hum of chatter and quiet industry. Since lockdown, there has been only silence. I miss my craft club and I miss my friends’ company, but not all has been lost. Creative thinkers (and doers) that we are, we have found a way to continue via social media. Though I hope we shall be getting together again in spring, we still have many cold, dark weeks to get through. Till then, craft club will exist only in the virtual realm.

Keeping momentum

The craziness of this year has made it very difficult to keep any sort of momentum for our activities. However, for our sanity’s sake, we must. Structure anchors us and a diary containing entries is far healthier for us than a blank one. Mine is filled with virtual encounters, but they are no less enjoyable for that. Craft club met on Mondays, so that is the day scheduled to chat with those friends. Book group has gone to Zoom and volunteer meetings are held via conference calls. I have never been so grateful for my laptop!

With the ability to post images of our work, our craft club has been supporting each other via WattsApp. Crafting is, after all, a sociable activity Perhaps we want encouragement for a work in progress or congratulations on a job well-done. Either way, these interactions reward us for the long hours spent crafting and encourage us to do it again.

Show your love

You may well ask why bother at all. You can buy almost anything on-line and it seems almost perverse to make it yourself. In a way it is – but if you have a creative itch, you have to scratch it.

But there are less selfish reasons too. In making homemade gifts we are given the opportunity to show that we care. As we are making the gift, we are imbuing it with our affection. While making the quilt for my granddaughter, I thought of each stitch as a little kiss. I can’t give her them in person, but I can send them via my work.

In a world of mass production, handmade gifts can be tailored to the recipient’s interests and make them truly bespoke. Jane Belcher’s picnic quilt below was made for a friend who is part of her quiz team. It’s a little joke about his (lack of) geography knowledge with world maps to improve it. The man is, of course, brilliant in every other way and the quilt a humorous memento of quiz nights.

Detail of Jane Belcher’s geography quilt Image: Jane Belcher

Jenny’s son is a biologist with a particular love of butterflies, so what better gift to send to him abroad than a beautiful embroidery of Sussex butterflies to hang on his wall? It is a reminder of home and of how much his mother cares.

Local butterflies – a perfect gift for a biologist. Image: Jenny Timberlake

Express yourself

Just as we might use our creative gifts to please others, we should also use them to please ourselves! Creative activities like painting are simply good for us. They challenge us intellectually, improve our mental well-being and help to hone and maintain our fine motor skills.

Sharing our beautiful work with others, like Jane’s gorgeous picture above, extends the pleasure. I can’t help but smile when looking at this!

Share your talents

Making baking into art Image: Penny Smith

Since March, Penny has been unable to attend her pottery classes regularly. The up-side is that she has had even more time to work on her already impressive baking skills. These were made to celebrate a friend’s birthday.

Finding some Christmas spirit

Since August, my crafting time has been somewhat diminished – puppies and crafts are like oil and vinegar – they don’t mix.

However, Christmas is not Christmas to me without at least some attempt at personal gifts. Since I can do stuff in the kitchen (my puppy can’t reach the counters just yet) I thought I’d make soaps. My first attempt was a bit of a disaster, but the second went to plan. Adding a little flourish with the wrapping, I had at least one little handmade touch to add to my Christmas presents.

Not everyone wishes to do Christmas cards anymore, but I never feel in the Christmas spirit till I’ve made mine. This year, I’ve made origami and calligraphy based ones and I hope that the friends gets as much pleasure from receiving them as I gained from making them.

Christmas inspired crafts Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Experiment, explore, enjoy

The joy of arts and crafts is that there really is something there for everyone. Above is a tiny representation of all the things my friends and I do. I confess to being the least proficient of the group, but I try to make up for that with enthusiasm.

It doesn’t need to be perfect (machines do that), and it doesn’t need to be a competition. Craft club is about encouraging and inspiring, laughing at our mistakes and misadventures and rejoicing in our successes.

And if you don’t have a craft group or want ideas on how to start or good instructions, YouTube has the solution. I regularly consult it for new origami patterns and a good friend became expert at crochet with only YouTube teachers as her guide. A note of warning: there are so many wonderful instructional videos out there that you may never leave the screen to do them!

While our lives are a little in abeyance, it is a perfect opportunity to explore our creative side. Post your results to friends or better yet, give them as gifts. And with the brilliant news about a vaccine, we will soon be able to craft together, in person. And I suspect that when we do, that morning will be very noisy!

Good Intentions

The road to hell, they say, is paved with good intentions, but not because our intentions are inherently evil, but rather when not acted upon, leave us with our usual flawed behaviours. The trick is to have intentions that we make good upon.

While listening to a wonderful webinar on meditation practice on the OMS website, one of the things the speaker, Phil Startin, recommended was setting one’s intentions for the day. He is not alone in suggesting a daily practice of goal setting, but this was a little different. These were not goals in the sense of achieving an objective – baking a cake, running 5K (!) or doing a kind deed, but in regard to one’s behaviour. ‘How do I want to behave today?’ he asks. It is a question worth pondering.

Here is the whole webinar, should you wish you watch it!

Intention meditation

Phil went on to say how he considers both how he will act and how he will communicate, with the intention of making both more loving and kind. His ideas were something that resonated with me, but how to incorporate this into my daily practice? I try to do a formal meditation each morning for about 15 minutes with mini, informal ones throughout the day. Like most people, I struggle to keep my focus, but here was a way I might do that and give my day a unique sense of purpose. It took me a while to come up with a plan and then I remembered the Quaker testimonies or guide to living that is neatly summed up in the acronym STEEP. The letters stand for: simplicity, truth, equality, environment and peace.

So after a few, deep breaths and a mini-body scan to ground me in the present, I begin.

Simplicity

Let me live simply. How does this work in our world of abundance? We could don sackcloth and live in bare rooms with only Shaker furniture, but I’m not sure that is necessary. I have spent more time thinking about this one than any other and know I shall spend much more time still. My best suggestion to myself is to avoid being seduced by the siren song of materialism. Simplicity is not about depriving oneself but rather avoiding excess. Whatever we have should be valued and honoured. When we appreciate what we have, we seldom want more.

Truth

Let me speak the truth and be true to myself. Speaking the truth as you see it is not always easy and certainly not always popular. However, to retain our self-respect, we do need to be honest about what we believe. There is no need to proselytise, but we should not shrink from our opinion, even as we acknowledge that we might be wrong!

Sometimes the truth hurts or is simply overwhelming. If this is likely to be the case, I try to adopt Emily Dickinson’s strategy of ‘Tell all the truth but tell it slant’. Avoiding hurt is always more important than being right. Here’s her poem in full.

Tell all the truth but tell it slant

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —

Equally vital is to stay true to our essential being. We all play roles: mother, wife, daughter, father, husband, son, but these do not reflect who we are. Our true being is much greater and complex. Finding ourselves beneath the roles is a quest on its own, but one which quiet times allow us to embark upon.

Equality

Let me treat everyone as an equal. This one looks so simple, but is the most complex of all. There are inequalities of all kinds of relationships from families to race. I usually pick one to focus upon, as there is so much to contemplate. We can think of transactional analysis where we relate to each other as parent, adult or child (ideally, we relate as adult to adult), or we can think in terms of class struggle: do I look down on those who are financially worse off and unthinkingly admire the wealthy? Then there is race, gender, religion, sexual orientation, disability etc. All the ‘isms’ are best avoided, but we will have more work to do than simply speak in a politically correct way. Christ probably put it most succinctly when he said, ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’ If we can manage that, we really will have a more equal society.

Environment

Let me honour this world that is my home. I’ve always been a keen environmentalist and struggle constantly with how modern living affects the earth. We cannot fail to make some impact, but we can attempt to make it as small as possible. The Jehovah’s witnesses believe that man has stewardship over the earth rather than dominion. I think they have a point. By setting our intention each morning to look after the world rather than despoil it, we can inform our actions accordingly. By fostering a love of the outdoors, I believe that we make this goal easier still.

Peace

Let me promote peace in my relationships and in my being. Peace, like most things, starts at home. If we can work on creating more peaceful relationships with those we interact with, we can hope to bring peace to others too. It may mean doing something as simple as holding your tongue when someone says something unpleasant or expects you to like a cruel meme. We can fuel the fire or we can take away its oxygen.

As for ourselves, we are cauldrons of emotions – often negative ones. I am no exception here and was famous for my daily rant to my poor office mate in South Carolina. Apologies! There is so much injustice, wickedness, corruption and plain stupidity in the world that it is easy to spend one’s life in a state of permanent outrage. Yet, our anger is of no purpose if we don’t seek solutions. More often than not, we simply disturb the equilibrium of the listener and, of course, ourselves . Finding a centre of peace and loving kindness will lead to ripples of the same extending outward from us. Achieving a state of peace is a life-long challenge, but when I succeed in holding it, even for a few minutes, it is as wonderful as it gets.

Have it your way

Living intentionally doesn’t require joining a convent or a cult. It only requires that you commit to the idea of living with a purpose and setting your intention to do it. As is true for anything worthwhile, it demands a certain amount of discipline and commitment. What are your values? Use these to create your own acronym and guide your morning contemplations. These could develop into prayers or mantras or as a focus for your thoughts. Whatever you choose, it will help you start your day in a positive and hopeful way. And we will all benefit from that.

Struggling

Everyone, it seems, is struggling at the moment. So many of my friends have health issues and family worries. Others are simply finding the restrictions of lock-down unbearable. For myself, these last months have been extra challenging. I injured my back and endured three weeks of sciatic pain, then my darling daughter-in-law had a cancer scare, then another part of my back became problematic. My MS, not wanting to miss out, joined in too, with the result that I found it very difficult to keep balance and cheerful. Relentless pain wears you down physically and mentally.

Pain isolates us Image: Hailey Kean on Unsplash

Suffering also heightens one’s sense of isolation. This is magnified by the Covid restrictions and lack of normal interactions. So what can we do? We can practise resilience and we can listen. Paradoxically, the cure for our own sense of aloneness in suffering is in acknowledging the pain of others. I love the way that Bram Stoker expresses this:

Though sympathy alone can’t alter facts, it can make them more bearable.’
Bram Stoker

Pity, sympathy, empathy and compassion

All these responses are ones we would do well to cultivate if we hope to alleviate suffering in the world. Yet, they are all subtly different, moving from a passive to an active response. Psychology Today gave an excellent definition of each.

‘Pity: I acknowledge your suffering.
Sympathy: I care about your suffering.
Empathy: I feel your suffering.
Compassion: I want to relieve your suffering.’
Psychology Today

When we express our pain, we are often given the first two in response. This is seldom a great comfort. Pity and sympathy, though not without value, tend to put the giver of that emotion an elevated position to the sufferer. Which explains why, no doubt, ‘I don’t want your pity/sympathy,’ is a well-known response. Though I would rather someone showed they cared than not, expressions of pity always leave me feeling a little uncomfortable, not least because they do not actually offer any help.

Empathy has the advantage of equalising the relationship. ‘I feel your suffering,’ because I have suffered too. We do not need to have experienced the same experience (though it certainly helps if we have) to share that fellow feeling and make the listener feel less alone and less targeted for misfortune by the universe.

A thought provoking bench Image: David Lowe on Unsplash

Compassion, however, is what we can all strive to provide. It literally means to join in suffering and further, to seek to heal. Taking action is key if our words are not to sound hollow. An act of kindness never goes amiss, but such acts are a little harder at the moment. So what can we do? We can listen.

Compassionate listening

The most beautiful and eloquent explanation of what compassionate listening means comes from the Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh. I’m just going to put a brief clip here, but you might like to watch the whole interview, which is on YouTube.

Thich Nhat Hanh explains what lies at the heart of compassionate listing

Hanh explains that when we listen with the intention of relieving suffering, we can allow others to unburden their hearts and heal. The method is simple in theory, but very difficult in practice.

Just listen – for up to one hour.

Keep advice or comments for another time. Perhaps you can arrange a date to do this afterwards.

Acknowledge your own failings. Try not to be distracted by theirs!

Adopt the correct mindset before you begin. This is not an activity I would advise when you, yourself, feel emotionally unsettled. A moment of prayer or meditation beforehand would certainly help. Hanh suggests we start this way: ‘I have not understood enough of your difficulties and suffering.’ Let me hear them and try to understand.

Baby steps

Few of us will have the grounded sense of self Hanh has, nor the years of self-discipline and meditative practice. Nor, I expect, have we been nominated for the Nobel Peace prize by none other than Martin Luther King. Mere mortals though we are, we can begin to practise compassionate listening both in conversations and I believe equally well in writing.

In doing this, we can support and love each other through these challenging times and beyond. I struggle, you struggle, we all struggle. Yet, we need not struggle alone.

Everyday Miracles

Everyday miracles may sound like an oxymoron. A miracle is, after all, defined as something exceptional, unexpected and brought about through supernatural intervention. Yet, this definition is too narrow. Life itself is a miracle, replete with thousands of other little miracles occurring every moment of every day. We only need to change the lens of our awareness to see that this is true.

A very late visitor. A red admiral butterfly swooped past me in the garden this week! Image: Jeffrey Hamilton on Unsplash

Live deeply

As I move into the eighth month of self-isolation, my world has become very small. Except it hasn’t. If anything, it has expanded beyond what I can actually contemplate. Paradoxically, this enforced enclosure has led to my greater understanding of how space, as we normally perceive it, is only one plane of experience. It was as a teenager studying Thoreau’s Walden that I was introduced to this idea. He argues that through subsisting on a small plot of land in Walden woods he is really living. He also argued that journeying beyond the distance you can walk is unnecessary. I was charmed and intrigued and thought he probably had a good point. Then I went off and travelled the world.

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms…”

― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

And now, I’m home. All the time.

I realised when lock-down started that I could look outward at everything that I could not do and go quietly mad, or I could try Thoreau’s experiment in my little plot of land. Unlike Thoreau, who was living in a basic cabin and largely growing his own food, I had the advantage of a comfortable home and regular grocery deliveries, but I could still see if I could ‘live deep and suck out all the marrow of life’. So that is what I’ve tried to do. I have wobbles like everyone; I have days I want to have a major tantrum (and often go ahead and have one), but what keeps me going (and sane) is spending a part of each day outside looking for miracles. And I am never disappointed.

Look closer

If you are existing in a relatively small, enclosed space, the trick to making it feel bigger is to turn your eye upon it as you would under the lens of a microscope. A drop of pond water looks intriguing and alive when magnified – so too a garden.

What spurred this post was studying the very tiny cone of our Laylandii – and of course, it was a pine cone despite being the size of a berry. I split it open, mainly to enjoy its scent, when out fell dozens of tiny seeds. So that’s how you propagate, I thought to myself. I was delighted. What other secrets were hiding in plain sight? I made it my quest to find out.

Common Laylandii with its tiny pine cones Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

When walking my previous dog in the same park daily, many years ago, I’d given myself the task of finding something new everyday. Discovering 365 new things was going to be a challenge in a small park – even with the advantage of a duck pond – but would certainly make the outings more interesting. The first hundred days were easy – seasonal changes saw to that, but after, I had to look increasingly closer. And the closer I looked, the more I saw. All the things I thought I knew intimately became unfamiliar. At the year’s end, I realised that I was just getting to know the place.

The dazzling and the humble

Very late in the summer, I planted some giant sunflower seeds and eagerly watched them grow. From the original ten, only three survived having been assaulted by high winds, snails and a rambunctious dog. At last, one bloomed – a glorious crown of gold that positively glowed in the late autumn light. Van Gogh would be proud. Amidst a sea of greens and faded brown was this magnificent splash of colour.

Not so giant Mongolian sunflower Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

These are nature’s show stoppers and are sure to make us smile, but not everything can be so dazzling. When we make a conscious effort to look for beauty, though, it turns up in the most unexpected places.

Despite being a little overwhelming and often viewed as a pest, I am a great fan of ivy. We have to hack it back regularly or it would overwhelm the garden, but this deep green gem has more to offer than its gorgeous, evergreen leaves. It too flowers and it too has fruits: orb-like bunches of deep purple berries that rather resemble grapes. And just when these berries reach their perfection of ripeness, our ivy-clad fence is literally covered with pigeons gorging themselves on the fruits.

A feast for the birds. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Common sense(s)

So much of what we experience is purely through our vision, yet our four other senses are working hard too in order to interpret our world. I was reminded of this whilst sitting in the story shed watching Hermione chase around the garden in the rain. The air was close and filled with a delightful perfume. It took me a moment to identify it as bay. The damp and the still evening was the perfect conduit for this gorgeous scent.

Which made me make the next round of the garden a little more multi-sensory. I picked some sprigs of herbs and ate them. I concentrated on the rain/cold/wind upon my skin and the contrasting warmth of my cosy raincoat. I listened to the birds and tried to identify the different songs: the unlovely screech of gulls and the noisy chattering of the magpies; the staccato soprano of the blue tits and the tremulous high pitch trill of the robin. There are so many birds in the garden and though I recognise their songs, I seldom know who sings what. The RSPB has a wonderful tool to learn bird songs, but I suspect I shall just enjoy the music.

What are your miracles?

The readers of this blog cover many countries and I would love for you to comment on the miracles that you experience in your own environs. Our lives may be bound with restrictions at the moment, but if we bear witness to the beauty that surrounds us, I believe that our enclosure will feel significantly less irksome. Perhaps, we will even find sufficient there to make us truly content.

In Praise of Snail Mail

Everyone loves to receive a letter or card. This is why the greeting cards industry in the UK generated a whopping £1.506 billion in 2017. There are few better ways to start the day than with a missive from a friend.

Yet, though we all love receiving mail, most of us are not so good at sending it. We text, we email, we telephone, but seldom put pen to paper. This post is intended to encourage you to do just that. With a second lock-down in the UK beginning this week, we will all be feeling a little more isolated from our friends and family. Through correspondence, we can bridge that gap.

All you need to get started Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

When I was a little girl, my letter writing began with the obligatory thank you notes. Then I began to correspond with my best friend who had moved to Yorkshire at the end of primary school. The wonderful options available to youngsters today was not available to me, so it was write or lose the friendship. Neither she, nor I, wanted that, so we wrote. I doubt our letters were very profound or even particularly interesting. I imagine that there were numerous complaints about dull lessons and wet PE, but I’m sure we also chatted about our latest crushes and minor triumphs.

The years passed. Very occasionally, we would have an opportunity to meet up, but despite the vast periods of time between, whenever we did, it had none of the awkwardness of a long separation. Because that is the brilliance of letter writing. No matter how far apart we are or for how long, our words form a firm chain of connection.

Writing allows you to fully tell your story

The reason that letter writing keeps you close is that it is the most honest form of communication. We plan what we want to say, we choose our words and are not side-tracked by interjections or subject changes. If we feel that we have said something the wrong way, we can edit it. Correspondence has all the joy of conversation with the benefits of time and contemplation.

Writing also allows you to be more personal. If you need to explain something at length or express a difficult emotion, the space and control that correspondence gives, allows you to do that. Perhaps this is why letters are the favoured form of communication for lovers. In the safety of the page, we can say what we feel without fear of censure or embarrassment.

Good letters are not bragging round robins, but rather portraits of the ordinary.

Letters are equally a window into the writer’s life that I honestly have never enjoyed in any other form of communication. By writing of their day to day existence, especially when it relates the minutiae, we get a glimpse of their reality. Good letters are not bragging round robins, but rather portraits of the ordinary: a book you are enjoying; a funny incident at the supermarket; a social event. My favourite writers include what they are doing as they write – ‘I’m on the second cup of coffee and eyeing a croissant’ or ‘Just thought I’d add this before the washing is finished’. By sharing our thoughts and the details of our lives, we connect with each other in very special ways.

Of course, cards and letters are also vehicles for marking important events, but if they become solely this, we are in danger of our letters becoming a bulletin of social highlights. And just as a picture without shadow becomes two dimensional, so does such a letter create a caricature.

I suspect that people often don’t write because they do not have anything especially exciting to say. To this, I cry, ‘Of course, you do!’ Whatever you are doing will be of interest to someone who cares about you. Have you been selecting and planting spring bulbs? Got on with the knitting project you spoke of last time? Managed to do some yoga practice? We are not in a competition to see who has done the most exciting stuff. In the privacy of a letter, we can share our most mundane achievements and express our fears; in other words, be fully human.

Stationery

Choices! Choices! My idea of heaven would be a giant stationery shop with an endless budget. There are so many ways that we can communicate with each other from micro letter/envelopes to pristine A4 cartridge paper. Choosing the right form for the task is part of the pleasure. And it should be a pleasure – selecting a card or paper or perhaps even which pen would suit. Our selection in some way is a nod to the recipient too. Not only should our stationery reflect ourselves, but what we send to whom should match. I have some pretty crazy stationery that I know some will love and others be bemused by. Send what you think they would love to receive.

Postcard

Reluctant letter writers can take heart that a postcard is an excellent form of communication and requires the most meagre amount of writing. I love that a few folks still send cards from their holidays: the scenes and stamps giving a real flavour of their location.

Art postcards too are perfect. Been to a good exhibition? Buy a card and send it with your news or get a stash of images you love and pass them on. After they’ve been read they can adorn the walls or be used as bookmarks.

The more ambitious might indulge in a little DIY here. Colour-in postcards are fabulous or you can buy watercolour books to create your own designs.

One done, one in progress Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Envelopes

An interesting alternative is to use a letter that is itself an envelope. As a student in America, airmail letters were my life-line. They were relatively cheap and if you wrote really small, you could cram in a surprising amount of news.

Or use an envelope template (take a regular envelope and deconstruct it) and make your own on maps or gift wrap. Add lines on the reverse side and write away! Just remember to leave the areas that need to be glued blank or fold and seal with an imaginative sticker. If you want to go further, it is very easy to make origami envelopes for messages as small or large as you wish! Old magazines have an endless supply of beautiful images to work with.

Envelopes great and small Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Cards

These are not just for special occasions. My lovely aunt sends me beautiful photography cards and my friend in the States hilarious ones to make me smile. More often than not, these adorn the mantlepiece for weeks to come and many are stored away as happy keep-sakes. This is hardly something one can do with email.

Scenes of Scotland Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The letter

And finally we come to letters. I love the ones that go for pages and are, perhaps, written over several days. I am a paper fan, so letter writing gives me every opportunity to indulge in the most gorgeous stationery.

Though it is perfectly okay to type a letter, a handwritten one feels infinitely more personal and friendly. I even like to choose the pen and ink I will write with. If you’re going to the bother to write, you may as well go the whole way!

As the days become shorter and lock-down encloses us, it’s time to stock up on stamps and stationery. I can think of no better way to spend our time and share our love. And speaking of which, I have some letters to write.