Look Both Ways Before You Start the Year.

Most of us will find ourselves this month looking, like its namesake, Janus, both backwards and forwards. Television shows will highlight the successes and failures of the year; we shall ponder our own highs and lows and as we make resolutions or start filling our pristine diaries, planning or simply hoping for a better future.

2021 was definitely a strange year and the temptation is to see it as one of endless lock-downs, disasters and civil unrest. From a news point of view, it certainly was. From a personal vantage point, it was something else entirely.

Reasons to be thankful

Last year, having received an additional wall calendar, I decided to dedicate it as a gratitude diary. Each day, I would fill in one event or experience that brought me joy. With only a couple of exceptions, I managed to complete something for every entry. I took as my guide Alice Earle’s wise saying that: Every day may not be good, but there is good in every day.

**My gratitude diary**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Most of my entries were hardly newsworthy: a coffee with a friend, a trip to a nearby beauty spot, or an act of kindness. Yet, these are the stuff of life. Looking back over the year, I saw that it was filled with moments of joy amidst all the stress and restrictions. It was a good year.

Sustaining hope

For me, knowing that happiness can be found in the most challenging of circumstances gives me not only solace but hope. We need to feed our souls with a belief in the goodness of others and the possibility of positive outcomes, otherwise we will shrivel into despair. The world has never been just nor easy. The most cursory look at history tells us that. Yet it is still a wonderful place. Like Janus again, we can find balance by looking at it both ways and centre ourselves somewhere in the middle. By developing the practice of gratitude, we give ourselves the best defence against life’s ‘slings and arrows’.

This year, I received two wonderful calendars again and I knew exactly what to do with the second. And when this year ends, I shall look forward to reading its entries.

**Moominmamma would approve**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Looking forward

Two years ago, when I pondered what 2020 might bring, I did so with great optimism. By February, my diary was packed with planned visits from friends and family, a literary festival in Oxford and my own family’s reunion in the US. Of course, none of those things came to pass. This year, I am a little more circumspect.

And this is the problem with trying to guess the future. We often over-estimate how good or bad it is and forget to focus on the only time that actually counts, which is now.

**A cause for celebration** Image: Artturi Jalli on Unsplash

Perhaps we should be grateful to our current circumstances for reminding us of this. We literally cannot make plans only tentative goals. Whatever we schedule, we must be willing to change or rearrange or even cancel. This is hard. No-one wishes to be reminded of how slender a grasp one has on one’s life and those prone to be more controlling (as I confess I used to be) find this the hardest of all. We rant, we rage and some even throw tantrums – but it hardly changes anything.

But if we can embrace the current uncertainty as a metaphor for all of life, we can start to enjoy everything that it offers regardless of whether it meets our expectations or not. Of course, we need to make provisional plans for reunions and holidays, but we need not rely on them being fulfilled. There is a place for hope but not, I think, for expectation.

Exchanging expectation for hope

When we expect things to happen: our parcel to arrive the next day, our future vacation to be a success and our plans to go without a hitch, we are tempting fate. We are also likely to be sorely disappointed when things go awry, feeling somehow cheated of our ‘promised joy’.

If, however, we take the more humble approach of simply hoping for a good outcome, our disappointment is likely to be less keen and our ability to recover greater. Hope is a robust thing, as noted in Emily Dickinson’s wonderful poem: ‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers – (314)

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.

Hope is not demanding. It simply continues through times of promise and adversity and ‘never stops – at all -‘ whereas thwarted expectation often ends right there with its accompanying misery.

So, let us hope this new year brings us all that our hearts yearn for, but should it not fulfil our desires, let us remember, with gratitude, all that it has provided.

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!

Journeys of Discovery – 1

I have had the good fortune to travel quite extensively throughout my life and each journey has been a voyage of discovery. As my children grew up, I looked forward to further trips with just my husband. I anticipated rather more civilised and cultured affairs than the slightly hair- raising exploits we tended to have with my two, very active boys. Sadly, life had other plans and with my diagnosis, I believed my days of adventure were over.

For a long time, Alexander Graham Bell’s quote was true for me.

“When one door closes, another door opens, but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us.”
– Alexander Graham Bell –

For ages, I kicked against the closed door, bewailing my fate. Eventually, I began to tire of my self-pity and began to look forward and not back. First, I had been utterly blessed to see all that I had. Gratitude is a great antidote to despair! Second, what was travel anyway? We spend so long asking each other where we are going and where we have been that we miss the most crucial question of why?

If we ask ourselves that question, it may prompt us to discover far more enriching and exciting journeys of discovery than two weeks at the beach – no matter how exotic the location. For me, journeys give the best opportunity to gain insights into other ways of living. They can be catalysts of change; an opportunity to adopt the best practice of others. Or they may simply give us the chance to see natural wonders that remind us of the beauty of the Earth and our responsibility to cherish it. The world is our classroom, should we wish to pay attention.

So what did I learn from a recent visit to the Scottish Highlands for the New Year?

The best things in life really are free

From where I live to the Highlands is an epic fourteen hour drive, so planned stops were needed. Our first was to one of my oldest friends, who lives in Leeds, and who kindly offered her hospitality.

There are few things more delightful than dinner with old friends, catching up on news and relaxing after a long day. We brought gifts, of course, but the evening was essentially without cost and of priceless value. Our added bonus was enjoying their knowledge of the surrounding countryside and a visit to Malham Cove – a geological wonder in the Yorkshire Dales.

Malham Cove – a crescent shaped inland cliff Image: Wikipedia

This glorious spot was more or less accessible with my scooter and I thoroughly enjoyed the majesty of this weird anomaly of an inland cliff. The UK is never short of surprises.

Collective action and perseverance can achieve the seemingly impossible

Our next stop was Stirling and since we’d missed the castle on our last trip, we decided to rectify it now. It is a magnificent building full of intricately decorated halls and impressive battlements, but what made the visit for me was seeing the newly completed reproductions of the Unicorn Tapestries which had been commissioned to adorn the walls of the Queen’s inner hall.

The Unicorn in Captivity. The seventh and final tapestry in the series. Image: Google images

These tapestries had taken fifteen years and a large number of weavers to produce. I cannot imagine the stamina of those artisans who laboured every day to produce at best inches of tapestry. (One of the guides said he would look in on their work and after eight hours wonder if they had done anything at all.) We are so used to instant everything that we forget how much time, determination and skill is required to make something that is truly awe-inspiring. Together, those weavers worked to create objects of incredible beauty from something as simple as coloured threads.

Nature provides her own gallery

But no matter how awe-inspiring the art of human hands, it always pales in comparison to the master. We reached the Highlands at last and they were breathtaking.

Being out in nature always lifts my spirits; being out in the wilderness makes my heart soar. Discovering that our hotel looked out on some of the many woodland walks around Grantown on Spey was a much appreciated late Christmas present.

A walk (or scooter) in the woods. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Community is forged in adversity

Beautiful though this landscape is, it is also brutal. Whilst we may have loved meandering through woodland, picking fallen moss and pine cones; the inhabitants of this region would have had to battle the vagaries of the weather, the intractability of trees and inhospitable nature of mountainsides to farming. This is a region that has known hunger and hardship.

What these struggles have produced, though, is a community full of resilience, immense generosity and kindness. Those who formulated the myth that the Scots are mean, I suspect never crossed the border!

In a world where people still depend on one another, community is not just a trendy catch-phrase but a way of living. Though the village was tiny, there was plenty going on and we never passed anyone without at friendly hello and perhaps a wee chat. Strangers though we were, we were welcomed by everyone.

Hogmanay (New Year’s Eve) is celebrated throughout Scotland with great vigour and our village was no exception. Towards midnight we went to the main square – already heaving with people of all ages, some dancing near the stage with the the folk band.

We were treated to an amazing firework display before heading back to our hotel for the piper accompanied by two young Highland dancers. Wired with excitement, and needing to recover from the cold, we took advantage of the ‘wee drams’ on offer with other treats also. All of these were provided by the hotel at no extra charge even though our stay was hardly expensive.

Our history shapes us and speaks to us

There is not space to write about all the historical sites we visited, but they included more castles, battlegrounds, ancient standing stones and my favourite: the Clava Cairns of Outlander fame. Though I grew up very close to Stonehenge and an array of pre-historic settlements throughout Wiltshire, this Bronze age site excelled them all. There were no fences and no visitor’s centre, which meant that, a few selfie-taking tourists aside, we were able to fully absorb their magical beauty in this quiet enchanted grove of ancient trees.

The mystical Clava Cairns. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

They demonstrated to us that our ancestors were brilliant engineers who were able to orientate the openings of the cairns to align with the sun at the winter solstice. Whatever we build today is merely an extension of the ingenuity of our forefathers.

They were a spiritual place too. Having been used as a place of worship for centuries, if you stood quietly, you could feel those heart-felt prayers of long ago: for a peaceful afterlife, a good harvest, love and health. For that moment at least, we did time travel to stand with those who lived before us.

So, let us think why we travel where we do and how it can enrich our lives. We do not need to travel far, but we do need to travel deeply. If we do this, each journey will bring discoveries that we can apply to our everyday lives. If we travel thoughtfully, both our communities and the planet will thank us.

2020

If there were ever a year with an auspicious date, it would have to be this one. I love the plump symmetry of the digits; the repetition of the words; and even, as my husband has pointed out, the phonics of the Roman numerals MMXX that say, mmmm kiss, kiss! That has got to be a great way to start the year.

I’m writing this from the Highlands of Scotland, where they certainly know how to celebrate Hogmanay – the last day of the year. The evening’s revelries are followed by two days off, no doubt to give everyone a chance to to recover.

And it certainly makes sense to mark the passing of the winter solstice, when the Earth tilts its face towards the sun once again. This far north, light doesn’t appear until nine in the morning and slinks away again at four in the afternoon.

The observance of the solstice goes back into the furthest reaches of time. Our ancestors would have celebrated with fires and fermented drinks; we celebrate with fireworks and Prosecco. As they say, plus la change, plus la meme chose.

The dark beauty of winter Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash

But what is the significance of the New Year for those of us blessed with light at our fingertips? Our working lives are seldom tied to the seasons, and our social ones barely affected by the vagaries of the weather.

The Romans named the first month Ianuarius, which we translated to January. It is named after Janus, the god of openings and change. He was a threshold spirit who presided over transitions from one state to another: from beginnings to endings, war to peace, childhood to adulthood.

He is usually depicted in profile with his two heads looking in opposite directions: one backwards into the past and one forwards into the future.

Two headed Janus https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Janus1.JPG#/media/File:Janus1.JPG

Looking backwards

And the New Year is the perfect time to reflect and remember. Taking account of the previous year should be a source of celebration and not regret. Perhaps we didn’t get the house/car/promotion that we wanted, but unless we are extremely unfortunate, there would be times that we wish to recall and memories to cherish. It is a great time to get out the old albums and reacquaint ourselves with people and experiences that have been subsumed in the chaos of the everyday. This is in essence what Robert Burns’ poem is about – drinking with old friends and remembering former escapades.

New Year's favourite song - with the lyrics!

Looking to the future

New Year is equally a time to look forward, to think of how to make our lives better and more content. A noble pursuit, certainly, but there is a danger in putting too much emphasis on making all your plans on this one day. Resolutions made now may not be ideal for later on. For example, a vow to give up chocolate after Christmas’ over-indulgence is likely to run aground at Valentine’s. I prefer my friend’s method of making monthly resolutions that are smaller and easier to attain.

For example, instead of deciding to watch less TV and read more, choose a book that inspires your interest and plan to read it by the end of the month. Each time that you reach your goal, your success will make you more keen to repeat it.

Even better is to work on creating routines that will make your life more fulfilling. University College London’s research revealed that new habits are formed in as little as sixty-six days – a little over two months. If whatever it is that you have resolved to do is of value, surely it is worth that investment?

This is not to say that it will be easy, but we can make things more manageable if we choose. By breaking challenges into smaller portions, we make them more achievable. Far more important than doing a lot is doing a little, often, ideally every day. (If you are exhausted or just can’t face something one day, let yourself off without guilt, just make sure that you get on with it again the next.)

I use a recumbent exercise bike to help strengthen my legs and avoid stiffness and pain. When I started, I was exhausted after five minutes and one kilometre on the lowest setting. Now I routinely do five kilometres and a minimum of fifteen minutes. I know this is very weedy, but for me it is a success I can build on. My cycling comes before my shower every day and unless I feel drained by fatigue or unwell, I just get on and start pedalling. It is surprising how often on days that I thought I could only manage a few minutes, I actually achieve my goal. To succeed in anything, we need to turn up.

Looking to today

Handsome though our Janus is, he is a face short. I wish that he had one looking in the direction of the viewer – looking straight into the present. After all, our lives are composed not of the past or of the future, but an infinite number of nows. It is merely our thoughts that time travel.

New Year’s Day is a welcome opportunity for a fresh start. My aim is to make every day as significant, allowing each night to draw a veil on my disappointments and failures and each dawn to provide a pristine canvass on which I can make my mark.

So I wish you a wonderful day and hope that your year, like 2020 vision, is perfect.