Barnacle-encrusted ladder, seen from the kayak at low tide. All kinds of analogies to be drawn here, right?
My title really says it all, but since I want to offer you something this Friday afternoon, I’m including some photos from the last week, and a quick summary of what I’m working on for the next few posts.
Turns out that after my very well-received (thank you!) Canada Day post, I’m feeling surprisingly vulnerable — not about that post, but rather about the one that followed. I realized this sharply yesterday evening when my lovely Italian teacher mentioned my blog (she’d discovered it independently months ago, and recently asked my permission to share because she thought my classmates might be interested). And while I would have felt pleased to share that particular post (that 1300 of you have read and that raised a decent sum for a worthy cause), I admit that I cringed at the idea of people who I know in real life (but not well enough yet, perhaps) being introduced to my writing here at the more quotidian, more domestic — and, I always wonder, perhaps more banal — level of my “little bears and grandchildren” post.
Detail from a gorgeous wall mural at the delectable French bakery/café where I talked to my husband and I enjoyed good coffee and yummy pastries after my gym session — because Balance!
Please don’t rush in to reassure me here that my writing or subject matter is not banal. I’m not fishing for compliments; rather, I’m letting you know the context of some work I’m doing behind the scenes. We can chat more when I get the actual post written and published. Because today, chatting with my intuitive and inspiring and supportive personal trainer as she checked the state of my abs, arms, quads, and hamstrings during my first gym visit in 16 months, she suggested a reading and a podcast or two and then challenged me to “write about it.”
Close-up of mural detail. Or, close-up of a close-up? Because I’m crazy about that layer of blue paint that’s peeking through. . . another analogy in the waiting?
So that’s my weekend, planned. I just listened to a podcast by my favourite French life coach, Clotilde Dusoulier, on Les Courbatures de Vulnérabilité (courbatures, muscle stiffnesses you might get after, say, working with a personal trainer at a gym!) – and I’ll be thinking about how to train my vulnerability muscle.
And I’ve also begun another post that I’ll probably work on in parallel — one that comes back to that continuity with my mother that I talked about here.
As well, I’ve started my monthly book post, and I’m doing my best to get that up in time for you to add a title or two to the stack next to your hammock. (Ah, I miss the hammocks we used to hang in our back yard in the summer.)
Step back for perspective. Always a good idea!
Now, what about you? Plans for the weekend? Any hammocks (or barnacled ladders, or gorgeously decaying wall murals) in your life? Comments always welcome
xo,
f
Spending the weekend with our daughter and three of our grandchildren. First time we’ve had company since before the pandemic hit! <3
Great essays,musings about life,big or little things….it’s a balance and I like to read both. You are doing so many things….
Ping pong is so nice and fun sport,I’ve played it during my childhood (only for fun) and my son’s childhood as well. It is always amusing
I’ll meet a friend in a Jolie Petit Patisserie (it is the name!) …in the afternoon,hopefully they’ll have some cakes left……
Dottoressa
No, yes, and – well yes. I’ve never liked hammocks. There is a ladder right in front of me, leading into the water (about 1m deep), though without barnacles. And yes, there is a decaying wall behind me, sadly without any murals. Instead it displays a hole in the boards with sparrows flitting in and out. Something will have to be done about that…
When reading your blog as well as others, I observe how you and other authors handle the balance of private and public, and I notice differences and changes. So I am looking forward to your post on the subject.
Author
Eleonore, I deleted the two redundant comments you left when your first one seemed to have disappeared — what’s actually happening is that the comments will not be visible until I approve them, and sometimes that might take a few hours, especially since we’re in different time zones.
Glad to hear you’re at the lake, even if those sparrows are taking advantage 😉
Since I don’t write a blog, it means that I don’t experience the vulnerability that comes with examining my life/writing in a public forum. Therefore, I won’t tell you not to feel vulnerable. I wish you didn’t, but I recognize that some ingrained part of us always seems to know how to tweak at our most sensitive places–no matter how much we would like to deny it. Wishing you the best on building that vulnerability muscle.
In the summer we put up a canvas and metal gazebo on our patio. The supports are metal and there is a cord at the top that is perfect for hanging laundry to dry. This morning I hung sheets and towels and they enclose the patio and make it look very utilitarian and not that attractive. But I love the smell of air-dried clothes and linens, and it’s a pleasure for me to hang things there, and arrange the smalls on a folding rack in the sun. But I have never taken a photo of my summer laundry arrangement. Any photos of the patio show only the pretty parts. All this to say that choosing what to reveal in a blog is ever so personal and feelings of vulnerability certainly follow when one steps, even a little bit, out of the usual boundaries.
Author
Such a thoughtful response, Lorrie, with a concrete, sensory example that helps extend thoughts about vulnerability in blogging. Thank you!
We are having a quiet weekend here. Well I say that but our ( very nice ) neighbours are entertaining & there are more than the usual number of children in the garden shrieking & screaming with excitement . Tomorrow she will apologise for the noise & I will say don’t worry about it . After months of no little visitors next door it’s so nice & normal to hear children playing again . Tomorrow will probably be even noisier – Some important football final & more visitors next door . We might even watch it ourselves ?
I can understand the vulnerability . It’s very British to ‘keep yourself to yourself ‘ & you do have a dollop of British blood .
Author
I enjoyed imagining your garden, the neighbouring noises, Wendy. And yes, I’m pretty sure it will be noisier today! We were out for dinner last night in an area with a high proportion of Italian restaurant and cafés, and I know it will be very noisy as well. As you say, “some important football final.” 😉
and yes, I do have that dollop!
Prior to the pandemic our library would sponsor open mic poetry nights at a local pub. After a glass of wine I was able to get up and read something I had written. Now they are bringing these events back but on Zoom. the next one will be this coming Wednesday. It will also feature my daughter interviewing the local poet laurate and moderating the program. I have agreed to read something of mine, but I know I will feel more exposed even though it won’t be in person. There will not be the distraction of drinks and dinner. I think I will read something I wrote about the island where the family vacations, but am still considering presenting a poem I wrote about my personal feelings about aging. I am mulling it over.
Author
Wow, Darby, this is very cool, sharing your writing on a Zoom open-mic. I think it’s such a good example of the benefits of risk-taking, of letting yourself be vulnerable. Brava!
Recovering, slowly, from vertigo. Which mimics vulnerability to an extent. xoxo
Author
Yes, I can see that . . . I hope your recovery picks up the pace . .