Monday mornings often find me dragging my feet a bit over writing a blogpost. Yes, it would be smart to work on the Monday post over the weekend, have it ready to go so that I don’t have to work through those reservations again. But there’s something like wisdom that tells me to keep the weekends to myself, to family, to friends, to other creative pursuits. That believes two days away from this keyboard might be healthy. . .
Except then, yes, that Monday reluctance. This morning it felt particularly heavy. And noisy. Questions about ruts and authenticity and exposure and vulnerability. I’d recently noted a social media friend fielding some critical comments about what she was writing, what she was wearing, and then on Instagram this morning, I saw a comment on Parisian Cashmere Queen Linda Wright’s Instagram post that responded to the combat boots in her stylishly practical outfit by shrieking “Quelle horreur!” You’re all very kind here, I know, and my posts only occasionally feature what I’m wearing, but I put my lifestyle and my personality and my likes and dislikes here on view. Sometimes when I wake in the early hours (2 a.m. this morning, although insomnia’s been much less frequent lately), it’s with something like panic about having removed one veil too many online. . . .
The questions about ruts and authenticity, you will understand, take on increased weight as time diminishes. More specifically, while I have more daily time available for personal and creative pursuits now that I’m retired, my awareness of the limited number of years ahead has exploded since turning 60, then 65. (Although I remind myself that the wonderful Diana Athill, who died last week at 101, was still writing through her 90s — there’s always an Internal Critic who’s quite ready to counter by reminding me I’m no Athill). To be clear, I’m not looking for fame nor fortune at this stage of my life (if I’m honest, I’d probably like to be published, but if that were truly a driving force, I hope I’d be working much harder at it).
Neither fame nor fortune, but I do want to be making progress still. Learning, trying new things, taking a chance or two. And a blog of eleven-plus years is a beautifully mixed blessing: it not only proffers an audience for those new things, but it also imposes a sense of obligation and a projected expectation (whether faulty or accurate) of what that audience might prefer. Hence the concern about authenticity. . .
This morning, then, to move from the general to the specific, I was once again caught up in doubts about the validity of the enterprise. I’d planned to write about the contrast between the view from our condo windows (50 to 75 feet away from us, neighbours moving in their kitchen, sitting at their desk, windows and residents and lives stacked one atop the other) and the view we used to enjoy from our island waterfront home (languid waves or stormy seas, cyan heaven or lowering skies, fog-shrouded horizon or distant, beckoning shoreline).
Circling the topic, I was distracted instead by the huge, noisy contraptions chomping through layers of concrete and asphalt into strata of soil just across the busy street at the end of our block. Not even the length of a football field from here. . . Procrastinating, I began sketching in pencil. Then erasing. Then sketching, then erasing, then swearing at my ineptitude. . .
And then just committing to the limits of my skills.
I spent more time looking and chose a few elements I could manage. Seeing that I’d not left room for some important foreground buildings, I decided they weren’t as important to my story as those diggers and the city behind them. I embraced the crudity of my skills and boldly inked over the apologetic pencil lines. That done, I reached for the grandkids’ felt markers — if my buildings and vehicles were going to be childlike, why not, right?
I wish I’d kept track of my progress at this stage, because I was surprisingly pleased with the energy of the Urban Construction sketch I’d rendered (the coloured scribble just above/between the two diggers represents–poorly!– a mural I love). So pleased that I decided to spend some time playing with scissors and glue, the weekend newspaper and a magazine. . . .
Obviously, I’ve ended up writing this post about Creativity and Process, but I hope I’ve also managed to say something (visually) about the urban living that was my intended focus when I began. There is so much to love about living in the city (not least the reduced carbon footprint that comes with urbanisation). No denying, however, that it can be noisy and dirty and stressful. . .
We can talk about that noise and dirt and stress later, though, given that I’m now two hours into this post. Time to wrap it up and surrender the mic. I’d love to hear from you — those of you also living an urban lifestyle or those considering one. Those intrigued by the notion but skeptical they could adjust. Even those who abhor the idea. Let’s get all the voices in the mix 😉
You covered an inordinate amount of thought and action in your post! Good for you–and bravo for following through in a variety of artful directions.
Now to the question of urban living. I do not live in an urban environment…the closest large city being Washington, DC, 50 miles from my home, but where I worked for many decades–and not a place I want to live, even if I could afford to. My best friend has a lovely condo in DC, but the noise level from traffic and city living drives me crazy when I visit.
Semi-rural best describes my home setting which is a house on an acre in a neighborhood of about 50 houses where I have lived for the past 25 years. Nothing is in walking distance; there is no public transportation to speak of, so one is dependent on a car to get anywhere–to do anything. Do I worry about this as I age? Yes, especially driving our winding, twisting back roads at night since we have a large wildlife population (deer, foxes, squirrels, possums, an occasional cow or horse that got away). They occasionally like to use the roads. At night this can have deadly consequences both the driver and animal. Hmmm. I seem to be making a case for urban living. But not necessarily.
As an introvert, I like quiet. My husband still works (and will for some years yet), so I have the house to myself all day, except for the dog—and even he doesn’t bark (good dog!). Rarely do I hear a fire engine, ambulance or police siren. Because we live so far from the city, less light pollution means that I can still see vast swaths of stars on clear nights. Because I live near the Chesapeake Bay, I can sometimes smell the salt water and when the fog rolls in, the low and haunting sound of foghorns from the ships going up and down the largest estuary in the world may be heard. For now, while I am still mobile and able to drive, I don’t see us leaving this home. All but one of my four adult children and all my grandchildren live within a 15-mile radius, so moving elsewhere doesn’t make much sense. Will that change? Possibly. For now, I am content where I am…says she who just came back from a vacation in London and Dublin. Guess I got my city fix for the time being, eh? 🙂
It sounds great!!
I agree with K — it sounds absolutely splendid, and I could use a huge dose of it right now. Very enviable and with so many family members living nearby, it sounds as if you're very well situated. The dark, to me, would be almost more precious to me than the lack of noise. . . I so miss it at night. . .
susan burpeeJanuary 28, 2019 at 1:37 PM
I still remember vividly moving back to Ottawa in 1984, after having spent a year down east, home on the farm. It was August. I was walking along Catherine Street in downtowm Ottawa, between a busy four lane street, and the elevated high speed noisy Queensway. I was hot. I was carrying several bags of groceries back to the house I was "sharing" with friends. Actually I was sleeping on their couch until I found a place of my own. The noise, the heat, the exhaust fumes, the sweat running down my back became almost overwhelming and I remember so clearly wanting to cry and thinking, "Oh my god, what have I done coming back to the city?" Of course that feeling passed, and I stayed. And who doesn't get a little depressed carrying heavy bags of groceries for blocks and blocks in the heat, eh?
I love that you've captured your ideas visually on paper, Frances. And in mixed media. Like a wonderful found poem.
Oh, that Ottawa August humidity would have made this so much worse than what "hot" or "the heat" suggests. . . And the grocery-carrying. Yup! Can't just swing the car into the driveway and unload the bags directly onto the kitchen counter. . .
Thanks for encouragement my mixed-media muddling — I had fun.
Oh – not to dwell on misophonia (something I'm finally coming to terms with after 45 years and so much middle-of-the-night meditation, it's crazy) but the only bad thing about living in the city is the noise (ok, and the pollution and violence, of course – oh, and it's pretty gritty to look at if you don't live in the fancy 'hood :-)). Weirdly though, when I'm in quiet places, I often fixate on some kind of noise I can't control – like a stream?! What the mind wants… Also, I realize I don't seem to be the poster child for urban living, you know how I love to complain, but I'm so sincere when I harp on that "the city" is a great place to be. And every city has its sweet specialness. Some cities, like Mtl, have entire miles of it! (I can't speak to Vancouver having not been but knowledgeable friends have told me some great stories.) A couple of weeks ago I went out for dinner, not something I'm doing much of lately – somewhere random and new – and the meal was spectacular. As was the service and the cocktails and the walk through the downtown thereafter with all of the gorgeous lights. It was the type of experience I try not to take for granted because I know that it would blow so many people's minds. Hell, it blew our minds! And I can do this pretty well when I choose. There's always another amazing thing coming into town. It's fun to live in a "destination".
This is the undeniable truth. With the bad (noise, pollution, grit) comes the very, very good. Saturday night we walked to a play a couple of neighbourhoods over from us. Admittedly, the walk was long(er than usual) — 4 kilometres, but the evening was crisp and clear and we were happy to get the exercise (another big city benefit is the fitness from walking). Saw a fabulous play in a fun environment after stopping for a very good Indian meal in a restaurant chosen from a plethora of possibilities along a very cool street buzzing with a happy Saturday night vibe. . . I just need to remind myself of this when the noise from the heavy machinery is driving me 'round the bend 😉
I think your sketch is utterly charming! It captures both the chaos and vibrancy of an urban construction site. I can almost hear the cacophony!
Your musings about ruts and authenticity resonated with me today. I posted something last week that generated some critical comments, which in and of themselves didn't bother me that much. I was more annoyed by what felt like policing from some readers…."no! that isn't YOUR STYLE," as if I'm not allowed to step outside of what's expected or try something new (which I was very clear about in the post…that I was trying a brand I'd been curious about). It got me thinking about that tension between authenticity, creativity, and playing to expectations. The older I get, the more I value authenticity.
Just FTR, I think you walk the line between sharing and protecting privacy very well.
Thanks very much, Sue. I saw that post and those comments (although tbh, you aren't the blogger I was referring to) — and then, as I say, on IG Linda Wright got almost exactly the same comment on her combat boots except "en français." ;-). Not only the "Quelle horreur" but that the look wasn't her at all. Of course, she responded with aplomb, but I still found the presumption and the rudeness (I suppose the commenter might have thought it merely "honest" — ha!) jarring.
I expect you might write about this in a future post, and I look forward to reading your thoughts.
I have been thinking about city living a lot. Since I have retired we sold our suburban condo and now rent an apartment in a 2 family home. It is in Yonkers,NY.Right next to New York City….I walk more places now but I hear the sirens,cars and construction noise ALL the time. Drivers beep their horns and double park. They ignore crosswalk rules for pedestrians. I walk my dog with my eyes peeled for those who might tun us down! Fortunately there are parks nearby to get away from it all. It is a mighty adjustment.
There are many nice things about our living arrangements now. We have family steps away and spend more time together. There is much less pressure in this situation.
I very much enjoy your writing and have also used your reading suggestions on your other blog. Don't go away!!
That was a bold move, Theresa, and I would imagine you're still in the adjustment period. Depending on our levels of sensitivity, the noise and the stress can affect our well-being (my husband is scarcely bothered; I'm adjusting but it's been tough). But as you say, there are parks and we begin to find the quiet corners of the city (I think of the park behind the Rodin Museum in Paris, for example — such a treasure). The museums, libraries, galleries, big enough that the traffic noises can't penetrate. . .I've begun to cultivate an inner quiet through meditation — not with much discipline nor for long periods, but I've been experimenting with an App — Timer Insight. . .
And focusing on the benefits helps — the ability to walk so many places is huge for me as is having family so close by.
As for the blog, I'll be here for a while, I think. . . 😉 Thanks for the kind words.
You sent me to Diana Athil and Jean Rhys whose novels I enjoyed. We become aware of the limitations of time as we age (or we don't!) I have friends who struggle with night-time noises but I don't bother with them. It's more an idea that wakes me in the night. I have not driven for a year and I am seriously looking at my carbon footprint.
She was absolutely marvelous, Diana Athill. As an editor and as a writer — and as a woman who lived a bold and honest life through a time when that was no easier than today.
My Lottery Win Fantasy (the joy) involves either buying a cottage in East Sussex by the Downs or a riverside flat in Rotherhithe. Both have fabulous possibilities. Peace, quiet, beauty v more noise and beauty. It's internal peace that we seek and we can strive for that anywhere. And when I get blocked on my blog, I get bashing anyway. Sometimes it works, sometimes it goes into the little dustbin icon. Eventually something appears. For the time being, I continue to live in a good sized village, halfway between moor and river, bang in the middle of Britain. I think I have cultivated the middle way.
Both possibilities are wonderful to imagine — urban and rural both. . .
Well, we might be seeking internal peace, but until you've had all 15 of the recycling bins wheeled out of the condo parkade in the lane just below your bedroom window at 5 a.m., you perhaps shouldn't dismiss the quest for some external quiet quite so cavalierly 😉 At such times, I curse and then remind myself that with this move we've thrown in our lot with the larger bulk of humanity, and I'm still very privileged. But I'm awake and it's going to be a long day 😉 Your middle way, at those moments, rather beckons. . .
Love your use of mixed media in this sketch. Very effective in conveying the noise and chaos from the "Urban Construction" and also a very fitting title. The Monday blog ended up being taken care of albeit a bit of dragging and reluctance. Glad you saw the wisdom of spending precious time with family and your creative pursuits. My husband and I will eventually sell and move to the city. We have created a home and a place that we love and would prefer to spend the rest of our lives here but it is not practical or convenient. We are well aware that soon as both of us are unable to drive, we'll be marooned in suburbia depending on the kindness of family and neighbors. And we don't want that as a default plan. And if city living doesn't work for us, we can also go the senior community living route. There are some very nice places we have looked at. We will install soundproof windows in the city to reduce the noise level indoors. I shouldn't mention the combat boots but I'm guilty of buying a pair. I ordered them from Designer Shoe Warehouse through a link on one of the blogs I read daily. I've worn them only with my jeans. My husband likes them and so I'm keeping the boots. I prefer classic style but not always. I prefer classic style but not always. I'm looking forward to when you are published and the pleasure of buying a copy of your book. By the way, thank you for introducing me to Diana Athill books. She lived an interesting life. I think that's why her books were interesting and wonderful to read. Amelia
Thanks so much, Amelia, for encouraging my experimenting as I worked through my Monday heel-dragging.
Your plan to move to the city mirrors what we did a few years ago — ours was very much motivated by comparing the last decades of his parents and mine, and by observing the elderly who seemed so well accommodated by the European cities we've visited. Urban life seems to offer more independence and creativity and activity and a chance to engage with others. . . but it does mean some losses and some adjustments in the meantime. Soundproof windows will help 😉
Enjoy those combat boots — I have a pair of Fluevogs (Malcolms, the model) that fit that description, but I've been tending to wear my Blundstones more. I should dig out the former, inspired by you and Linda Wright. . . As for Athill, yes, an interesting life but also her ability and willingness to be so unflinchingly honest . . .
Thank you for pointing that out. A major omission on my part regarding Athill's writings not to have mentioned her unflinching and cleared eye honesty. I'm going to buy three of her books that I haven't read. So many great books to read and not enough time if one counts whatever else is going on in one's life. 🙂
I love your sketch. How do you have so many publications from which to cut collages? I used to have piles and piles but am all digital now.
As for fashion critiques, there are pros and there are civilians. Linda Wright is a pro. You (and I, and most of the readers here) are a civilian. Pros set themselves up for sponsorships and brand ambassadorships but also for sharp criticisms. Civilians deserve civility. And anyway, I haven't seen any fashion fails in this space.
I am writing as my self-imposed deadline to post looms. I have several ideas in my head, always, but I am dissatisfied with them all–I don't have the right photos, I want to do more research first, I really should go back to that place before posting about it, is it too personal/political/random….I still have no idea what I will hit the button on two hours from now. I hope it won't take me two hours. Good grief.
Ha! You spotted that, eh? (the "eh" is a classic Canadianism 😉
The weekend newspaper delivered quite a few of those words, but I happen to have a reserve of magazines at the moment because my husband gave me a small stack at Christmas, a sweet reminder of the days when we would do stocking for each other and I taught him to tuck a cluster of magazines into mine. . . .
I take what you're saying about bloggers who do so for a living, and I think I agree overall (although rudeness is still rudeness). I would imagine that the financial compensation might be enough to thicken the skin, as should the deliberate choice to go that route. As well, I think that many Pro bloggers deserve the sharp criticism for pushing product with personal praise that doesn't ring true, by modeling outfits of questionable taste or quality or value. But the combat boots worn with Wright's outfit were absolutely congruent with the taste she's modeled so far in her account and it seemed presumptuous for someone to tell her they "weren't her." And I think that kind of behaviour can migrate from the professional blogs to seem okay when applied to the "civilian ones 😉 (in fact, the Social Media friend I referred to in the post is not a professional blogger, but was given a swath of unsolicited advice about how she should improve her outfit).
Good luck with meeting your post deadline — it's so much work, isn't it? I mean, I love it and I'm quite conscious of the benefits I get from it (this community!), but wow! so much time. Looking forward to reading whatever you hit the button on.
As another long time blogger I identify strongly with your concerns about voice and authenticity on your blog. I sometimes feel I have said everything already that could possibly interest anyone else and seem to have decided that I will simply keep on writing for myself, about what interests me – at the moment the attempt to turn myself into a runner! At least if I take that approach it is authentic, although it may not be interesting!! We live deep in rural North Wales with a single farm as our neighbour and stunning views of the Clwydian hills. I love cities and lived and worked in them for years. I still love a trip to London or Paris or New York and always return energised and lively. But after fifteen years or so of living in the country I think I would miss the natural world unbearably if we moved back to the city. The plan with the new house is to stay very much in this area but to move to the edge of a village, down in the vale, with a bus service and a pub within walking distance but still with the views and the quiet, although we will be looking up towards the hills instead of down from them! For me what really matters is getting hits of both kinds of living. I get morose if I don't have city time every couple of months but the balance in terms of where I live for most of the time seems to work for me if it is country based. Although I sometimes think I could live anywhere at all – it is access to my people which is the real decider!
It's tough, isn't it, blogging this long and trying to stay both true to ourselves and fresh enough to interest others. For the record, you continue to do that in each and every post, from my perspective. I'm very much enjoying this Couch to 5K series you're writing, as I've enjoyed your focus on the garden in past years and the glimpses of country life over the long course of the blog.
You're very lucky — as I know you know — in your situation in the countryside, surveying brilliant views, and your new plan sounds very wise, enough of what you'll need for independence in a manageable setting that nonetheless gives you the views and the quiet. The bus service is key, as we don't need to be following Prince Philip's example with the nonagenarian driving, do we (poor old chap 😉
I suppose where I live is a kind of compromise between city and rural. and ten minute walk and a train ride of under and hour and you can be in Manhattan, a short ride from parks and sanctuaries. I hope I can stay here. You really do need a car to shop and my town house is multi level. I am in my later 70's and live alone. no issues for now as my health is good, so far. very conscious of what time I have left. I wish there were more bloggers around my age to weigh in on our issues. Darby
it sounds as if you're well situated for many purposes, Darby, and I hope you can manage to stay where you are or manage the transition well when it's necessary. And yes, it would be good to hear how more of us are dealing with this past 75, say. . . Thanks for pushing the boundaries of the conversation a bit.
Rural living isn't always tranquil! We decided to come back to the house I inherited from my parents, in the small village I grew up in. Although we don't have the sirens of the city (hearing a siren is An Event, and everyone wonders what the incident is), we do have some industrial noise. A few years ago a biomass energy plant was built at the other end of the village, turning waste grain from nearby distilleries into electricity. Good, yes? Well yes, but it's lit up like a Christmas tree at night, dimming the stars in that part of the sky and adding to general light pollution (rather ironic), it belches constant clouds of steam, and in any northerly wind direction we can hear it as a background hum. Our 4 traditional distilleries in the village are normally silent unless you're right beside them, but last night I opened a window at 3am to look out at the falling snow, and heard a loud roaring like a jet taking off coming from the one about half a mile away. Probably excess steam pressure from the boiler being vented. I miss the deep silence of my childhood, but modern life seems just to get noisier and noisier. Cars on the road are more powerful and noisier now, so the background noise just increases. But we chose not to live up a hill in total peace because of a) rabbits and deer in a garden and b) most importantly, not having to drive for a simple errand, especially on snowy roads in the winter or to get the rural bus into town as we get older.
I agree that there are many illusions about rural life — on our waterfront property on that small island, we often contended with huge freighters anchored just offshore and it took some concerted activism to get them to turn the football-field-style lights off at night. The engines kept throbbing, though. . . and in summer, the motorboats and tugs and occasional horrid jetski. . . .Light and sound pollution have become ubiquitous and I, too, miss the dark and quiet — and, to be honest, I often miss the nighttime cold dark which is impossible to sense in a condo. . . .The HVAC systems whose noise spills over into our back lanes and insinuates itself through our bedroom windows also keep us relatively comfortable indoors. Compromises. . .
You have a way of hitting exactly the topics which keep me awake at night. As with the question of how much time there is left and how I want to spend it. How to find a balance of intellectual and creative pursuits, not to mention being together with the people I love. Diana Athill’s writings are a great help (I’ll never forget the episode of three old ladies planting a rose bush together). Thank you for bringing her to my attention. Just as you did with Ursula LeGuin’s “No Time to Spare” which I received yesterday and started reading right away.
I also admire the way you followed your creative impulse from writing to sketching to collage – with delightful results.
Thanks, Eleonore. Those two women were inspiring in so many ways (and yes, that communal planting, the collected/collective energies — and now, of course, the rose will bloom on in memory of Athill. . .
Check out the film Disobedience. Among it's many messages, the final illustrating the Triumph of Dropping Things…..the ultimate in authentic. Freedom (from/for anything) is yours for the taking. Be True.
Giulia
I would like to watch that film, actually. I must say, however, that I often find your focus rather absolutist and that's really not my way at all. The notion of what it might mean to "be true," for example, seems so contingent, provisional, relative, to me. And the proselytising uncomfortable, to be honest.
I love this post and your mixed-media illustration–they seem to compliment each other, and capture the mixed blessings and trials of time and life. I don't live in such an urban environment, but I still live in town. I considered moving to a downtown loft but decided I wasn't at that stage quite yet and I am close enough to the city center that I can uber if I don't feel like driving and parking. I was recently talking about this with a friend. As an introvert and a lover of introspection, art and reflection, I would love being out in the country or living in a quieter place. And yet, I also need the social input which challenges my creativity. Even though I am just 60, I can already see that my eyesight for night driving is not what it should be, and if I lived in a quieter place I could easily get lost out there. I would not make it into town for all the music and art that feeds my soul. So life is a compromise and a balance. Something is always lost; something is always gained. My own inclination is that as I age I should move toward more urban and away from isolation, much as some part of my nature leans the other way.
Now I shall go read the comments.