Category: Blank Space
But then, on the other hand…
But then, on the other hand…
written over a few days during Christmas
We are all at home today doing jigsaw puzzles, listening to this relaxing music for children and experiencing some magic on the screen. It gives the room a warming atmosphere and it gives a festive touch to the living room bringing the fairy tale land inside the house.
‘Look mum, what I’ve done?’ our 5 year old said feeling a bit better today albeit still quite feverish. She took clear tape and wrapped it around a piece of card. ‘Look mum, I have a wiping board now.’ We practise writing and drawing on it and it was brilliant. Yesterday, she took a hoop and danced with it around the room to piano music, fluey but determined that ‘bed rotting’ is not what she would succumb to. Have you heard about it? In essence, it involves idling around in bed with food around watching videos, flicking through the phone or watching TV series and it is an increasingly common form of rest. Not necessarily the most helpful to our nervous systems long-term but it’s easy to understand the allure of it. (You can read about it here. The article is in Polish but Google can translate it for you.) The term itself, however, seems to me like a good blocker to excessive indolence. I hope our 12 year-old will embrace it in his lingo.
There is a pink silicone pig walking on our floor right now.
‘What do you like most?’ I asked my 5 year old.
‘Mum and pizza’.
‘And if you had to give up Mum or pizza, what would you give up?’
‘Play. I would give up play.’
Children are smart. Their instincts rule. They rely on their parents for survival and they rely on food for survival and when faced with a dilemma, they will most likely give up what brings them joy. And I guess that is why there is a pink silicone pig walking on our floor right now.
It’s funny. It’s loud and it has the biggest and the most loving eyes, I’ve ever seen. It makes us laugh a lot by being a keynote speaker at the dining table designed to revitalize our instinctual goofiness. We become as silly as it is by imitating, of course. You just cannot help it, can you? The pig honks, you honk. And so it goes.
What made you laugh this Christmas?
I wouldn’t have got the pig years ago when I was doing the Nothing New project or years later, but now I give in, perhaps too often, in order to remain sane and find internal balance between different societal requirements, personal values and competing ideologies that surround our thinking. I justify the not-so-environmental purchasing choices by ‘wanting to get to know my daughter’ but perhaps it is not the best justification or rationalization to have. Surely, there are hundreds of other ways to get to know her. But maybe it is also the way?
Have you ever watched The Fiddler on the Roof? The main character, Tevye the Dairyman is often torn between choices and decisions to make, mostly whether to allow each of his daughters to marry who they want or not. His internal dialogues are characterised by the phrase ‘but then on the other hand…’ He keeps on weighing the pros and cons of every choice and decision giving in either to the pressures of the outside world or his own feelings about the situation. He calculates. The rights, the wrongs, the benefits and potential losses. Don’t we feel similar today with all the array of choices that we have to make about our ways forward in life and our children’s wellbeing. We want to make a difference in their lives and for their futures and then we are like Tevye… ‘But then on the other hand…’
But then… the reminders or signposting of what is right for them come from our own children.
‘What should I do with my wedding shoes?’ ‘Should we give them away?’
‘Mum, could you keep it for me and then my daughter can have them after me. This would be nice.’
Children don’t always want to discard what we have. They don’t always want to have new things. They often appreciate things and what they appreciate they want to last.
What does that tell us of the power of gratitude?
Thankful Tuesday: The National Tree Week and Writing a Novel
How have you been lately? We are in the National Tree Week in the UK right now and it seems utterly wrong to me not to acknowledge it. In the simplest of terms possible, trees keep us going, don’t they? To them and because of them. Sometimes it is their depth that invites us, other times it’s their shadow. Kind enough to overlook our mischief, tender enough to sense our sadness, generous enough to handle our joys. We return energized after reconnecting with their and our essence. We become ourselves and I guess that British English informal saying ‘To be out of one’s tree’ (meaning to behave somewhat crazy) is to a large extent an indicator of our reliance on trees for long-lasting sanity. It is a shared feeling, isn’t it?
Well.. to give trees and our connection to them a just thought and an appreciative stance, I wrote a few verses for this week and read a few pages of The Power of Trees by Peter Wohlleben to get myself into the topic. It is one of my favourite texts on trees and a consistent inspiration for me as the novel that I am writing is primarily based in an ancient woodland. Alfred Wainwright, a British walker, illustrator and the author of A Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells, gave himself 13 years, if I remember correctly, to finish his guides, I haven’t given myself that much time but my novel finds it hard to become a coherent piece. Nonetheless, I plan to finish it by the end of July 2026. It is a labour of love and I would like it to stay so. Are there any texts among your favourites that speak of trees and forests?
After I wrote the post about The Gita for Children by Roopa Pai, a few amazing things happened. One event led to me receiving the original Gita by post from someone. We were also invited to a lecture on the differences between Christ and Krishna (photos soon). I embraced it all because sometimes The Essence wants to come to us through multiple channels. I know that the Gita takes nature seriously and I am very curious of its approach to it. After all, our spiritual lives are one of our primary influences in shaping our ecopsychologies and our mindsets for scarcity or abundance, gratitude or non-recognition.
Hello you, Tree.
Make us See.
That without you,
The course of life
Forgets to breathe
And goes wrong ways.
Through the dungeons of politics
As dense as a carved slice of fog
Placed in a jar of uncast votes
That suffocate the future.
The tree, oh comfort and respite.
It stays potent and flexibly solid
With its roots extending to neighbouring hills
and branches simultaneously strong and tender
protected by years of genetic experience
against the utterly predictable
forces of chaos.
The tree sways
and it is its strength.
Chaos reigns
Itself out of recognition.
And it is its catastrophe.
The tree makes only one promise.
To grow
It gives you oxygen
In partial compensation
for space taken.
As if it had to…
Furniture, instruments, books, crayons, utensils
Firewood, bird-nests, frames and sledges
are the givens
within but in fact beyond expectations.
This is how the tree excels
Even after death.
If you like being inspired by woodland photography, see Nigel Danson’s Gallery for woodland and landscape photography. The gallery feels like a gentle massage for the mind and I can assure you it will be one of those moments of giving oneself some caring love to look through Nigel’s photos. They are great pieces of art. Enjoy them.
And let me know, how you are, will you?
The photos were taken in The Birches, Ambergate, Derbyshire as well as in our local park in Derby.
A question for you
Hi there,
I am sharing with you a blog post. I wrote it years ago while writing about living simply for a year.
I hope you don’t mind me asking if you are still interested in this topic? Also, would you like me to continue writing about living simply? I have departed quite a lot from the topic over the years. Since you are still subscribing, I wonder what you would like to read about? What has initially triggered your interest in Postcards Without Stamps? I definitely need to return to living simply.
What do you like reading about?
I am so eager to hear you answers. Can’t wait..
x
Alicja
In and out of the woods: coping with writing anxiety
The Society of Authors has recently justly expressed in ‘The Author The Journal of the Society of Authors’ its strong disapproval regarding authors’ work being sent to to A.I. generators to create texts for education. This is apparently frequently done without authors’ permissions or consultations. Similar doubts, I suspect, appear among online writers and bloggers who simply worry that their writing style, crafted for years, would be hacked into and reproduced in multiple ways depriving the original author of their well-earned and unique voice. These worries are of course not alien to me and I do often question online publishing knowing at the same time that a lack of online presence reduces greatly my own verbal productivity and outreach to minds that also like to create with words (or images). That said, on examining my own writing styles, I can simply say that I am also made out all that I read over the years and my own inner A.I. brain is defiantly activated when I read or hear good writing. Tuning into styles is very common for language learners and decoders and I think it is our common pleasure, just as artists like to create a bit in the style of someone.
A long time ago I attended a photography talk at a camera club given by Paul Mitchell on woodland photography. I do remember being very much inspired by his work. To copy Paul Mitchell is impossible but to embrace his appreciation of the subject does not require much, especially if you happen to grow up next to a forest but were somehow dissuaded from heading that direction and then felt cheated when the adults went there themselves just before Christmas to find evergreens to decorate. ‘So is the forest safe or unsafe to visit?’
I know what answer The Woodland Trust would give, especially when it comes to visiting their trees, ferns and fungi..
I have been writing for a while now some poetry and fiction that features little bits or significant elements of the woodland and I am overcoming my fear of being eaten by the A.I. monster. I hope you will find it enjoyable and I hope you will visit your nearest woodland soon before all the leaves are hijacked by the wind and pathways turn to mud.
Apparently, it’s going to be misty tomorrow… time to get the cameras ready.
Bye for now.
Poem
how sweet the sound of shadowed grass
made no disturbing threat unkind
how sweet the blacks on the bark unlit
that survived the wisdom
and the wit
of loving being so obtuse
that gave me no silence
no choice
but to refuse
the darkness so unkind to self
that went undone through childish maze
how kind of him to make me free
of liberty
to be all
I can be
i.e.
one
at
a
time…
Copyright Alicja Pyszka-Franceschini 2024
The poem forms part of the anthology ‘Bitter toes: Poems on Immaturity’ (title in development) or some other book of mine.
Postcards Without Stamps 