I’m currently working on three posts, and honestly, that kind of dispersed attention is representative of my efforts to catch a rhythm these days, to get into a groove. I remember my piano teacher shaking her head at my 15-year-old self, commenting that I was “spreading myself too thin” — I’d arrived a few minutes late for my lesson, rushing from my part-time job in the Children’s Department of our public library. She blamed that job, but even at home, the piano waiting for me to practice, I was as likely to be reading a novel, knitting a sweater, doing math homework, watching television, talking to a friend on the phone, writing an English essay, or helping my mother with the myriad household chores that never seemed to be done.
That piano teacher had other students who chose to push all distractions aside and focus on their music, and I would generally place 2nd or 3rd against their 1st in annual exams and competitions. I’d be momentarily disappointed with that result, but I’d acknowledge that, even if our talent and skill were equal, I simply wasn’t willing to put in the necessary practice time. Not if it meant giving up other interests.
It’s an approach to life I’m unlikely to change now, over 50 years later. I managed a disciplined focus as a mature student, finishing my BA, then doing a Master’s, then a PhD in midlife. But those years–and the subsequent ones as full-time prof–dampened, if not extinguished, my willingness to put appealing interests and activities “on the back burner” for very long. This does mean accepting that I will probably always only be “good enough” at whichever passion or interest I’m pursuing, and sometimes the gap between “good enough” and “really good” or even “excellent” frustrates or bothers me. “Process over product,” I say, and “comparison is the thief of joy,” and overall, most days, it’s a strategy that works.
Not that I flit without discipline from one pursuit to another, and not that I haven’t chosen a few skills to hone, a few manageable activities to prioritize. Except for the sketching, these have all threaded right through my life: reading, writing, needlework, walking (and moving for fitness and enjoyment), learning (languages, also traceable back to my childhood). Especially as I age, I’m deliberate about maintaining fitness (strength, cardio, flexibility) and I don’t think I’ve ever spent a day without reading at least half an hour, but the other activities jostle companionably for my time. Some get set aside for a few weeks, sometimes longer, but generally I’ve found a rhythm that keeps them in play so that my competence or comfort with them grows, however slowly, rather than falters. Good enough, I say.
But just as I was often jarred by the switch from end-of-term to vacation (and, obviously, vice versa) . . . or even by the change from scheduled classes to exam weeks . . so do I often find the switch into a New Year challenging, coming as it does after the weeks of preparation for Christmas/Solstice festivities. And this year, before those festive weeks were the weeks we were travelling.
All of which has led to a situation in which, currently, I’m preparing three different posts. And updating two journals (Reading Journal and Sketch Journal). And thumbing wistfully through my most recent Travel Journal, wanting to share more of that trip with you (how have the two or so months since that trip gone by so quickly without me posting more about it? Oh right! see above. . . ).
And I’ve always, but always, got something I want to share with you that ends up languishing in a post draft or a photo file. So somehow, today, having written myself many paragraphs along a meandering path, no very evident exit or destination in sight, I’m going to trust whatever intuition prompted me to take these photos, quickly tell you something about them, and then scoot away to return with a (possibly) more coherent post soon.
What you see in the photos represents an item crossed off a to-do list as well as the simple, elegant pleasure of a worn textile being recuperated in a task that affords creativity and play while requiring a modicum (just enough) of skill and attentiveness. So satisfying.
What you see is one of two dishcloths I made from the ripped fabric of a prematurely worn (read: poor quality!) fitted linen bedsheet. I’d made two previously along with two tea towels, but I still had metres of fabric on a shelf, so I gave over a morning to sewing machine and scissors. For each dishcloth, two layers of fabric, stitched along three sides then turned inside out and a hem turned under to stitch down across the top. Then I played, making up a pattern to quilt the layers together for reinforcement. And enjoying the play of tone on tone, thread against linen fabric, and the texture of the linen itself, the way the wrinkling told stories about light, stories about shadow. Valleys, mountains, pathways, stairways, rooms within rooms. Whatever. . .
Turns out that adding the photos and telling you about them hasn’t particularly helped me write my way out of this post. It does partially explain why those three posts-in-progress are still “in progress” — and it also reminds me that January has been generous as a month of feeling my way back to what I want to do. Reminds me of my very good fortune in having the luxurious space and time to move between activities: some days feeling overwhelmed by choice; other days happily ticking through my to-do list; some days snow-shoeing on mountain trails; other days stitching all morning and reading all afternoon. I think I’ve got some traction on the year now and if it took the whole month, well? Good enough, I say.
Anything here you can relate to? No? Just me? I’m very curious about whether you notice significant changes to your daily or weekly rhythms over the year, whether those have to do with seasons or work schedules. Even after retirement, do you find these persist and affect you? And has your pattern of adjustment changed over your lifetime or has it been constant? . . . Or you might just want to comment on the dubious value of stitching one’s own linen dishclothes from a worn linen sheet 😉 (oh, but they do a menial, yet important, quotidian job so well! Simple quiet pleasures count, however small.)
xo,
f
This year I’ve read 8 books so far, including 2 recommended by you, I think: Monogamy by Sue Miller and A Town Called Solace, by Mary Lawson. I found them both engrossing and thought-provoking, with different themes on marriage, families, fidelity, and loss.
Also started back at Italian today, in person, so exciting to see the ragazze face to face again. I caught a train and a tram to class, using public transport always make me feel quite European since we tend to use la macchina at the drop of a hat at home, but always public transport when we travel overseas. Masks everywhere but in class, it’s a price I’m happy to pay to feel “normal” again.
A presto
Jules
Author
I think it might have been Sue (High Heels in the Wilderness) who recommended the Mary Lawson. I still haven’t read that but want to.
I’m back at my Italian classes as well, but we’re in masks which is difficult for me, given my compromised hearing. Still, for now I prefer it to Zoom — those 2.5 hours in front of a screen were too much!
I am finding it hard to pull myself out of the lazing around we did in Quebec last week. It was so lovely being there and NOT beating myself up for whatever task I was NOT doing. The joys of being away from home. Trying to get back to normal this week … minus the self recriminations about productivity. I’ve always admired the way you have your fingers in so many pies. 😊
Author
That’s a good example — a good way of having your rhythm upset, but still takes that bit of work when you get back. Mind you, there’s nothing “normal” in Ottawa this week anyway, from the sounds of it. . .
Well.
It seems you are proceeding in joy.
An admirable way to live.
Well done.
And ,finally ,lovelyphotos of an useful tea towels.I peaceful and usefulwork
Author
Thanks for expressing it this way — “proceeding in joy.” I think I try to do this.
As I can’t use a sewing machine, (and I have no access to one) I’m full of admiration for your skill. Linen can be a very contrary fabric. I have heard that antique household linen can be purchased in European markets but like you, I’ve too have owned some linen sheets that have ripped prematurely. It’s been hot and humid here and that’s my excuse for wafting around all of January. Some things got done but others, not so much. Besides there was a fortnight of good tennis to watch 🎾
Author
I was quite cross about this linen’s limited longevity, given the advertising for it, the testimonials, etc. . . and then the unwillingness to stand behind a product. So I needed to do the stitching to make something good out of something annoying.
My sister loves to watch the big tennis matches as well. I should ask her what she’s been up to the last two weeks 😉
I envy you your energy . I’m a wee bit older than you & not nearly as fit . I seem to have reached the point where I have to decide what to do with the energy I now have . That doesn’t mean slumping on the sofa for hours & giving up . Walking , exercising , gardening & household tasks etc still have to be done & even enjoyed but I’ve learnt to pace myself . Some tasks can be spaced over days . A burst of energy is followed by a break to read my book , enjoy word puzzles or other interests . I like your idea of recharging with an afternoon nap but I can’t seem to manage that . I’m not moaning . I realise I’m very fortunate not to have to hold down a job or cope with serious health problems . I don’t know if this is normal for everyone , perhaps it’s just me 😉
Author
I have to pace myself as well, and I do like those naps. And I have to remind myself that doing things I love and want to do can be just as tiring as doing those I’m less keen on. (and just between us, I don’t expend very much energy on housework 😉
Aaah, rhythms. Yes, daily, weekly, seasonally. Easing into retirement has been wonderful and it has been interesting to see rituals forming as well as reminders that everything does not have to be planned!
I find stitching so incredibly meditative…and I love those images!
Author
We’re on the same wavelength, it appears 😉
I very much relate to your post today. . .Having retired from a career in education at the end of May 2019 and a week later celebrating the arrival of my first grandchild, I felt like a whole new world of possibilities had opened up. But also in that very same week, my mother fell and within a few months she died. I was just beginning to get my feet under me when the pandemic hit (not to mention the upheaval and horrors in the political and social realms in the U.S. in the past few years.) My father died 13 months ago, of Covid. Many of the travel plans my husband and I dreamed of have not been able to transpire; we’ve cancelled 8 sets of reservations since the pandemic started (and then ebbed and restarted, several times.) But those are “first world problems.”
Despite all of the grieving, anxiety and loss, I did manage some bursts of creative output, but not nearly what I had imagined. Gradually, I have been learning to not judge myself for not being more productive in a systematic way. I try to find the balance between the needs of body, soul and spirit each day, and some days I get it just right. My interests and needs are quite similar to yours: movement of some sort almost every single day; reading; knitting, embroidering, drawing and/or writing. I have been slowly learning to accept with grace that I am not fully in control of my life, but I can strive to be as present as possible with whatever is happening.
This January has been a challenge for me. There were some wonderful moments, the concert at Carnegie Hall, a wedding in Boston, yet there were days when I did not want to leave the house. December was fairly mild for this part of the country , but January was, it seems, unusually cold with little respite. I did have a few physical issues, some unexplained dizzy episodes, an unplanned dental surgery. but I felt I used these as excuses, and were it warmer they would not have held me back.
I had to laugh about the torn fitted sheet. I have one as well, the bedding set was given to me last Christmas by my daughter. It came from a specialty shop and was of good quality, presumably, cotton. maybe too much reading on bed. You will make it into a thing of beauty, while I will cut it into rags for dusting. As I look back on my life, I see that there have been any number of activities which I have dabbled in and although I never achieved a high level of skill felt were worth doing. The other day I had an interesting experience. A good friend sent me videos of riding lessons we had taken together at least 25 years ago, recently unearthed. . Because I was always an anxious rider, I always judged my ability critically. It was a revelation to see how proficient I actually was.
Looking back on January it would seem I spent the entire month watching cricket and tennis. First there were 2 Ashes tests between England and Australia followed by the Australian Open. When the temperatures are hovering in the high 30 Celsius sometimes topping 40C enthusiasm wanes. January in Australia revolves around sporting fixtures, trying to keep cool and moaning about the weather. If anyone wants to invade they should definitely do it in January because no one would notice or could even be bothered to do anything. We would keep watching sport, having barbecues and probably say “can’t be bothered, it’s too hot”.
Author
We had a taste of those temperatures in last summer’s record-breaking heat dome and I can’t imagine living with them for very long. I definitely “couldn’t be bothered; it’s too hot!”
“Good enough” is excellent! You were more clever than me, I’ve learned it the hard way,but it is important that I did finally.
80:20,”Spoon theory” (you were the first that mentioned it to me,in Gornji Grad , Zagreb,…..oh happy days!)…….,yes,I’ve learned how to cut corners,from time to time
I admire that you are a renaissance woman with so many interest to pursue
Lock down (and life generally) has taught me to take it more easy,how to say “no”,not to plan 2-3 appointments,a coffee meeting with friends and concert in the evening…..but,I’m still planning my days,weeks and months,more slowly,it is more work than play(but,as I love some components -it is a play,too),but with enough time for rest (and recreation :)), reading ,walking…..we’ll see what the new new normal will bring
Linen is a wonderful material,it has almost a life of itself….and your dishclothes have something so charming
Dottoressa
Author
It’s a great theory, isn’t it? Still sometimes a struggle to scale ambitions back to reality, but I think the pandemic has been an opportunity to work on that. I do really wonder what adjustments will be made when we our healthcare systems adjust, to covid as endemic….
So true about linen — even in a disappointingly processed fabric such as my sheet, there’s such a great surface texture and it’s held the dye so well.
I can relate to what you say. When I was younger, I used to feel envy for those people who seemed to be quite secure about their one and only purpose in life while I could never make up my mind. But with time I have come to accept that I am that kind of person and that there are too many things I just do not want to give up.
Making something beautiful or useful (or both) out of something that would otherwise be discarded is so satisfying, isn’t it? And your dishcloth is very beautiful indeed.
Author
Yes, I would say I have felt envy and then mystification in almost equal measure at times.
And it is satisfying, yes! And when it’s something that I believe to be beautiful and know to be useful . . . bonus! 😉
Hi Frances – so much of this post resonates with me and your writing ( which I think is much better than just good enough’ ), articulates how wonderful it is to live life with a curiosity about many things.
I know I am something of a flibbertigibbet – hopping from interest to interest over the years – but now looking back there are some that have endured, and surely with 50 + years of practice, I must be reaching some level of competence in some of these enduring pastimes and skills.
I am writing this early morning ( is just 7am in Edinburgh) – before my work day starts. I am still working full time in a job that I struggle with – it’s exhausting and with little satisfaction – so my back burner interests of exercising, photographing, reading, thinking about writing 😉 and this week marmalade making provide the salve to a workweek that’s all work and no life in terms of balance !
I can’t see me getting out my sewing machine and create such beautiful utilitarian objects, sewing and knitting skills are not my strong suit- but I love the light and patterns they create and I imagine if I had made something similar – I would have spent more time taking pictures of them in different lights than sewing .
I love reading your posts – both here and on Instagram and I find your writing and window into your various strands of interests an inspiration and encouragement to keep my own creative strands active – even if right now they have to be shoehorned into a shoerter time window.
Small joys to be found everywhere.
Mx
Author
First of all, I doubt you’ve really been a “flibbertigibbet” — a magnificent word which I almost used in this post — to point out the disapproval that can be aimed at those of us who don’t keep our eyes straight ahead as we work whatever row we’ve chosen or been assigned. Clearly, there’s a point at which prolonged aimlessness and ineffective flitting work (don’t work?!) to our disadvantage, but more often, I think, trying out a variety of pastimes or jobs/careers leads to satisfaction and/or provides balance in our lives. As with your example, with those “back-burner interests providing the salve,” as you say. If you hadn’t once hopped between interests back in the day, you wouldn’t have found the ones that have endured. So, brava, you! Go, flibbertigibbet!! 😉
(Thanks so much for the kind and encouraging words about my posts — much appreciated!)
I very much relate to your post today. Having retired from a career in education in 2019 and moving to the UK, I felt as tho a new life had opened up. My son got married and we managed a couple of trips around Europe before the pandemic hit. Many of the travel plans we’d planned have not happened—we have not even been able to see more of our kids, despite being on the same continent now. I never did find a rhythm to my retired life.
The death of my aunt threw me into a deep depression during lockdown and I’ve been struggling to emerge from that. The hobbies that I’d planned to pursue during lockdown—writing up family history, scanning old photos, resurrecting my grasp of Old English, writing poetry, were just dabbled in and lurked in the background.
I am emerging into life again and struggling to find some structure and rhythm. I find I don’t do so well with a self imposed structure and I’m not sure how people transition from a full working life with colleagues to an emptier life and having to make new friends, find new groups, find volunteer activities, especially during these times when we need to be cautious about whom we mix with.
I read your wonderfully written blog as inspiration. You seem so grounded and very productive in my eyes. Thank you for being out there and one of the consolations of having time to read.
Author
What an accumulation of big changes you have faced over the last few years — no wonder you’ve been finding it tough to establish rhythms that work for you. Even so, I can see the emergence of more positive possibilities here in your four paragraphs, the self-reflexive analytical work you’ve done and the projects and pathways ready to pick up. Still, I’d want to progress slowly, incrementally, if I were you, and leave some room for some rhythms to arrive organically balanced by those that you can structure more arbitrarily. But what do I know? Still trying to get there 6 years post-retirement, so?!! 😉
Thank you for listening and understanding. Sounds like a voice of wisdom to me!