Category: Health

Gratitude for rest against all odds

Our car of 15 years showed three flashing lights on the dashboard while we travelled to Whitby last Sunday. It displayed them during Summer too when we were driving to Poland from the UK. We got it repaired but the same problem showed. ‘We’ll give it a rest when we get to Whitby. It will cool down and we’ll be able to drive back.’ my husband said. His prediction was right. We returned home safely. One thing to be rather grateful for today.

We travelled to Whitby for air. To feel the sand between our fingers and water on our feet. And to eat fish, of course, an irreplaceable custom of every food lover. We headed towards the beach when we saw a crowd of people returning towards the car park. We seemed to be the only family that walked in the opposite direction. ‘Was everything fine?’ I wondered examining the opened restaurants, stalls, coffee shops and calmly floating boats and yachts. The surrounding was reassuring and the lobsters and crabs painted on restaurant walls seemed to nudge us towards the beach. Who wouldn’t like to see where the crabs live after all?

We rushed to get at least an hour of the golden light at the beach. We passed the crab-fishing family, a man inviting us for a sea trip, new marine centre and just before we reached the beach we had to pause to urgently drop 50p coins into a designated place for overstretched bladders. A relief worth paying for. :)

We collected ourselves and all the 6 bags that we had with us for all the eventualities of the beach life. Just before the stairs we stopped at the viewing platform to see the sea and the beach but the beach was not there to be seen. The frothy waves were licking the sea walls and all the way to the cliff. A spring high tide took over the whole beach. Disappointment was hard to swallow and yet there we were exposed to the sea air, energised by the colours of the sky, caressed by the breeze. Enough to be grateful for. Not to mention the ice-cream and the dinner and a chat with a fisherman… but more on this at a different time.

Take cake. x

Alicja

Is food photography possible in a small kitchen with small kids and frozen shoulders (mentoring post)?

I know that there is a handful of people here who like when I talk photography so I thought I will share with you how I resolved the problem of set ups and children in a small kitchen. I wish it occurred to me earlier but if it wasn’t for the frozen shoulders and my obtuse refusal to give up on taking photos, I would have not come up with it. If you have ever suffered from this condition, you know the pain and you know the catastrophising whisperer who is attached to it, i.e ‘I would never be able to do landscape photography. There is no way I can lift up my gear’ or ‘I would never be able to lift my elbows above my chest and get a decent photo.’ Well, it so happens that we do not always need to lift the camera above our chest to take a decent photo and we do not need kitchen surfaces to take them either.

It is ironic to some extent that it took me two frozen shoulders to see that I was quite limited in my thinking about food photography and my ability to do it in our circumstances. Limiting beliefs are good to discover for oneself simply to stay clear of too. This is what I used to think:

I thought that my kitchen was too small to take the photos of what we cook.

Obviously, I was mistaken.

I used to think that I need to make the surfaces empty to photograph the food we cook.

I was in the wrong about that.

I used to think that I would not be able to protect my set ups from my children’s hands.

I laboured with a false belief.

I used to think that having two frozen shoulders would mean I would not be able to handle my heavy camera.

I placed more trust in myself and my slow recovery.

I used to think that I must use the available daylight when I cook to have decent food photographs.

Where has this conviction originated?

To make your dream come true of taking photos of the food that you cook while you handle the kids and perhaps the partner that loves his cooking too, empty one drawer in your kitchen. If your situation is similar to mine, health-wise, use the lowest drawer available so that you can point the camera downwards. Create a set up in there. Choose your surfaces, clothes, trays, etc. Keep it all there and when the food is ready, plate it and rearrange it in your drawer to suit your taste. Take a photo.

I have chosen the lowest drawer in a shaded area in my kitchen where not much light gets in. I wanted to use a ring light to have full control over the brightness and the direction of light. I was bending the ring sideways to create artificial shadows for some photos. For brighter compositions I photographed directly from the top just through the ring light. Sometimes I squatted too and took photos from the side while the light was above the food.

In order to hold food in one place I use a wreath ring and I cover the wreath with a cloth. It is also useful for holding soup bowls or other dishes.

Happy with the results.

One step further to creative living with what we’ve got.

Just a second

‘Just a second. I don’t want to throw them away yet.’ I remarked to my husband while we were cleaning the kitchen and reorganizing it to accommodate my functioning with two frozen shoulders. The plates and cups moved out of cupboards to lower surfaces and the pots now are within reach for hands that somehow it seems became shorter in the space of just few months. I had my grip measured today by the physiotherapist and while his grip was as strong as 56kg, mine was as much as a round 0 so I’m cooking in lighter pots now and I’m trying to surround myself with soft and delicate objects to touch, wrap myself in and sleep on too. I notice that soft fabrics ease the pain immensely as I suppose the nervous system is running this show as much as the joints, muscles and bones.

My camera work has taken a back seat for a moment. I am quite frightened of the camera’s weight and the repercussions of holding it for too long and too high but nothing is ever lost for the stubborn-hearted, right? I am using the time to make some sensible rearrangements that support creative with restricted hand movements. I’ll write a few posts on this soon. It is tough. I’ll be honest. Very tough at times and I’m cursing and crying sometimes at once and of course I fail not to mention the word ’embittered’ too many times to my friends while describing my moods. But then, I remind myself that I still have my index finger working quite well and, you know, photographers do not blame people, God or circumstances, they use this finger in different ways. So I remind myself to live by the standards of the profession and to search for the light. :)

Writing is taking me to various places at the moment. I have been trying to voice difficult thoughts to myself sensibly before I share them with others. Inner-dialogues have got this ability to get very complicated if left untreated, don’t you think?

My son has just started his secondary school and it pleases me to see him searching for his literary voice and that he is indeed enjoying his English homework. There is something about working with a dictionary that gives us rest and reassurance. All of a sudden everything has a meaning..

How have you been lately?

Walking

walking (1 of 1)walking2 (1 of 1)stream (1 of 1)

“Go outside. Don’t tell anyone and don’t bring your phone. Start walking and keep walking until you no longer know the road like the palm of your hand, because we walk the same roads day in and day out, to the bus and back home and we cease to see. We walk in our sleep and teach our muscles to work without thinking and I dare you to walk where you have not yet walked and I dare you to notice. Don’t try to get anything out of it, because you won’t. Don’t try to make use of it, because you can’t. And that’s the point. Just walk, see, sit down if you like. And be. Just be, whatever you are with whatever you have, and realise that that is enough to be happy.
There’s a whole world out there, right outside your window. You’d be a fool to miss it.”
― Charlotte Eriksson

“Many people nowadays live in a series of interiors…disconnected from each other. On foot everything stays connected, for while walking one occupies the spaces between those interiors in the same way one occupies those interiors. One lives in the whole world rather than in interiors built up against it.”
― Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust: A History of Walking

Uncoil your spine

time together

Over a month ago a physiotherapist very kindly and thoroughly examined my reflexes and muscle strength and firmly recommended Pilates. It was this or no hope to my overstretched and exhausted backbone. I left the physiotherapist’s room relieved. I had my signpost now – to how to look after myself and tend to my body. I don’t know about you but I feel I need a bit of direction in that matter. Over the years I got somewhat detached from my physicality as other things just were much more important. Now, three years after pregnancy and this extensive period of lifting and moving around with a child, my body decided to remind me of itself. And it’s lovely that it did. Pain is such a beautiful thing sometimes, it’s a call for personal attention, a call that we just must eventually answer, embrace and respectfully respond to.

So I did. I responded to my battered back with a respectful tone of Pilates and… a new way of life and thinking has opened before me.

It’s interesting how often our body reflects back the quirks of our personality and how at times it calls for changes in our behaviour.

A month ago I lied down for the first time on my Pilates mat and as I was stretching my back I heard the warm voice of my instructor: Less haste. You must be carried by stamina not by momentum. Do it slowly. Stretch slowly.

My whole world view collapsed. And a new one started forming.

I observed people who exercised with me. There was a man and a girl who were stretching themselves with wonderful grace, and with wonderful control and technique. I admired them. No jerky movements, no rush to complete. Just grace.

Yesterday I was there again and while with some exercises I did not struggle at all to the extent that I almost felt that just after a month they became my second nature, some other exercises really pushed me hard. The contrast between the two experiences was so strong that it shocked me. How can one thing feel so easy and the other so difficult? One muscle overworked, the other left untouched. Can they not work in congruence? My instructor bent over me again: The strength will come. Just do it. Slowly. Progressively. You’ll gain control over it.

Ever since my son was born I feel that we all have been going through a lot of growth. That together we have been uncoiling our spines to become confident and straight-walking people. His spine has been uncoiling mainly in a physical sense as he slowly progressed from being a newborn to a walking and running child, my spine has been straightening and strengthening through a lot of questioning, personal challenges and strong internal debates about my values and place and vocation in life. Perhaps the reverse will need to be happening now: as my toddler enters the questioning phase, I will need to look after the practicalities of life and the physical side of my vertebrae.

Now I know how to. By stamina, not by momentum.