dogs behaving badly

'midnight barking' - oil pastels

Generally speaking, I am noticing how much better I am sleeping these days, which I attribute to my continued daily meditation practice, and generally being more relaxed as a result. I used to wake up around 4am most nights, and have real trouble getting back to sleep, so that I was chronically overtired. One day last week, by contrast, I overslept until 6.50 am and missed my PT session (personal training). And Friday night I had a particularly good sleep as well.

Last night, however, the two dogs next door started barking loudly, at anything that made a sound, from about 10.30pm onwards, for over an hour. I was already drifting off when this started, but it kept me awake until midnight. At one point I even went outside and asked them nicely to be quiet, which worked for about 15 minutes. Then something else bothered them.

This morning, feeling tired and grumpy, I didn't open the door for our dog, Jess, when she was whining to go out. (I had had enough of listening to dogs!). So she weed on the carpet.  The carpet is now spread out on the grass in the backyard drying and hopefully losing its odour.

Of course, when children misbehave we commonly blame the parents. Perhaps this also applies to pets. The owners of the next door dogs appear to have gone away for the weekend and forgotten they have pets. In both these cases, the dog owners are clearly to blame for the animals poor behaviour!

I have just completed another batch of marking, Yay! And its only the middle of Sunday.

Now I am going to cook some food (possibly boeuf bourgignon) so we have something good to eat during the week, when we are too tired to cook. Still waiting for Jamie's 30 minute meals to arrive from Book Club. And how dare Channel 10 take his Food Revolution off tv on Friday night for OPRAH's last show?? As if having state of origin this week wasn't enough to annoy me.

Thinking about my last post, and about a talk I heard yesterday (Ted X talks from Sydney, broadcast on Radio National) on boredom, by anthropologist Genevieve Bell, led me to reconsider. We are losing the capacity to be bored, she suggested. Boredom, aka downtime, is good. I believe I am rarely bored. But if I was doing 'boring' domestic jobs more mindfully, and being less goal oriented, I would probably appreciate them more.

More later.

finally got round to my marking - again

(Started this post almost a week ago).

'reshuffle' - watercolour

After a weekend spent studiously avoiding my marking (its the marking season - approaching the end of semester) I have finally got into it this (Monday) morning and completed one lot, just in time for the next lot x2, which happens on Wednesday.

I had trouble falling asleep last night, and I think it was due to twinges of guilt about procrastinating for so long...however, I am also pleased that I can enjoy my entire weekend without forcing myself to do 'work' tasks.

I often struggle with this as I like to have something tangible completed over a weekend, either 'work' or leisure-wise. This weekend the most I really accomplished was: one (hard) sudoku, most of a (cryptic) crossword, one rice pudding, barley soup, taking son for haircut and shopping, vacuuming, etc. etc.  I also did a double gym session of body pump followed by cycling class on Saturday, but nothing very tangible. Last weekend I made a skirt, and did some knitting whilst watching my son play football in the sun, much more satisfying.

Some things I need to do soon: prepare for Cairns trip in early June. Gardening. Make the chooks lay eggs (probably beyond my control). Haircut. More marking. The list is in fact endless.

Why do we value some activities, which have a tangible result, over others? It calls to mind the phrase: 'a woman's work is never done'. Is this now anachronistic, or not? Statistically, women still do more housework than men, regardless of working hours outside the home. Obviously, domestic chores are continuous and have no end product. A good meal is a pleasant experience, but can be wiped out by a culinary disaster the following day. And either way, there is still the washing up.

more later.

this is how it is

'how it is' - wax crayon, watercolour paints, oil pastel, tissue paper.

Next week we are starting to run a group based on Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) and Art Therapy, in my (therapy) workplace. The image above is from one of the exercises I was trying out in preparation. To paint (or draw) how it is, and how you would like it to be (life). I have only done the first one. I really like it! does this mean I really like how my life is? Pretty much, yes (more than our clients I think). I enjoy the variety, the colour, the overall sense of cohesion achieved by layering and use of patterns. The good interactions with other people...

How could it be better? Well, less busy-ness, at least in this image...although less procrastination would achieve the same goal. Less stress. And more moments being mindful.

hibiscus

I went to an ACT interest group this week, for the first time. I really enjoyed it in the end, although getting there was an ordeal. We did an experiential activity (as you usually do, in ACT) about our clinical work, and letting go of the expectation of having to solve/help/fix, and instead, just being 'really present' with a client*. I experienced this as a great relief.

This is a link to an interesting neuroscience blog, by Jonah Lehrer, on the link between depression and thinking.

Jess in Toohey Forest

Dogs are really good at being in the moment.

On a more practical note, I am continuing to empty the freezer and cupboards, and use things up. Today I made rice pudding with some rather old calrose rice, and a vanilla pod whose use by date was 2007. It looks pretty good. I also cooked some pearl barley, for a minestrone soup. (I haven't eaten barley for years, possibly decades.) I have ordered another Jamie Oliver book (I already have 7) from the bookclub at work, for only $20. Its the thirty minute meals, as seen on tv. Shameless.

We went out for dinner on Friday, to Enoteca, as it was a sort of anniversary, but not quite.

I was hoping to post more often this week and failed totally. I think part of the problem is that I associate my laptop with uni work, and so I avoid opening it at home after a big day at work.

I find tv more relaxing.

*no way to say this without sounding corny.

more on all this later.

How does that make you feel?

Stuffed 'emoticons': fabric and filling

I have been watching the DVD series 1 of In Treatment, with Gabriel Byrne as the psychotherapist Paul. Each DVD features five weekly clinical sessions, with five clients (one is a couples session) including his supervision with Gina (Dianne Wiest) on Fridays, for 8 weeks. There are 4 series, so this should keep me going for some time. Its not quite real time, as the sessions are less than half an hour, but they feel longer. This is drama, not real psychotherapy, but its fascinating to watch the character development unfold through the constraint of the therapy session.  

One thing that really annoys me, is that Paul asks his clients 'How does that make you feel?' which I am sure no therapist would ever say. Perhaps I am wrong, but the idea that an event makes you feel a particular way is to miss the point that it is our interpretation of events that creates the emotional response, not the event itself. 

The stuffed emoticons, in the photo, are 3D shapes I am making, as a possible therapy resource, for helping people identify feelings. At the moment I am just playing around with fabric shapes and seeing what might work. The idea is to have lots of random shapes, colours, sizes and textures, that are not supposed to represent any particular emotion. (The heart shape is a pin cushion!). The client may be able to relate their emotions to one or more of the shapes, or to say how it is different. Experimental soft sculpture?

I have been wanting to write in here more often, and perhaps the way to do this, is to write less each time. So instead, some more photos. Something I did last week, was to take photos on my drive to work. Probably not a good idea from a safety point of view, but I only took a photo (with my phone, so not great quality) when stopped at traffic lights.  Noticing the moments.

and home again. I noticed the sky most.

P.S. I am fascinated to know who is reading this blog, around the world. I see the stats, and I wonder who you are. Please leave a comment! If you want to...

more later.

on your bike: losing it and getting lost

bicycle on road

This entry is not just about cycling, but about the fact that I have had two recent experiences of strong emotions coming up whilst cycling, which I am going to share with you. The first example is a story about bike rage, and I'm not proud of it, although no one was hurt (except me). 

The Brisbane river has a number of cycle and pedestrian bridges, which means that there are a few different city loops which can be taken, which are fairly flat, and early in the morning on the weekend, these loops are really peaceful and enjoyable (although the river at high tide still looks muddy, full to the brim and potentially dangerous).  

For the past two weeks, I have been cycling with S, who is becoming a seriously committed and fast road cyclist. I am very much the amateur with an L-plate in comparison. We are still trying to work out how to cycle together without either of us feeling too compromised. Added to this, I am impatient with my gears, and don't always change them at the right time, frequently making the chain fall off (this was happening about three times on a bad day). 

The last time this happened, I fell onto the bar and hurt my knee, and had a sudden attack of bike rage. I picked up the bike, and threw it deliberately at a tree on the pavement (we were in the inner city). What I noticed and was shocked by, was the clarity of purpose and the absolute focus with which I made the decision to do this, and then carried it out, with absolute conviction that this was the right thing to do. 

Far from 'seeing red' and acting impulsively, I realised that there was a thought first, followed by a committed action, albeit a stupid one. It gave me an insight into the power (and energy for action) of anger, and the potential for harm which was inherent in that moment. I am happy to say the bike and the tree were unscathed. Although it was shocking, it was actually a useful experience for me in terms of working as a therapist with angry clients - one boy in particular comes to mind - who see violence as a logical solution to anger. 

Chris Lilley's 'mockumentary' Angry Boys starts this week on ABC2, and although it may be uncomfortable viewing, I am going to try to watch it, or catch it later on I-View. 

The second story occurred this weekend, on the same circuit, when S and I accidentally lost each other. I had been leading until we crossed the appropriately named Goodwill Bridge. As S passed me I said, 'I want to stop now!' Unfortunately, he didn't hear me, and he disappeared off into the City Botanical Gardens. Feeling tired, thirsty (he had the water bottle) and confident he would soon notice I wasn't following him, I stopped on a park bench and sat and waited. And waited. 

S didn't return, and I was too tired to cycle after him (it was a circular loop through the gardens, and I didn't think I'd catch him). He was obviously, I thought, taking the opportunity to cycle faster now he wasn't following me.  At this point, I realised I didn't have my phone, any money, or car keys either. S had all these things. I decided to go back rather than forwards - I waited for ten minutes on the other side of the bridge, as I thought he would have to pass me at some point, but he didn't come, so I thought perhaps he had somehow gotten ahead of me. I then anxiously made my way back to the ute, which was parked at the start of our ride, as he would have to come back there as well, eventually. We had to get home, to give J a lift to his football game a little later that morning. 

I had visions of having to cycle all the way home (about 10 kilometers). This was quickly turning into a nightmare - I promised myself I would never go anywhere without my phone, money, car keys and water again. Eventually he turned up, having done several double backs and waited in various places as well. We were separated for about 45 minutes, I think, but it seemed longer. Of course, we both had a lot to say when we were reunited. And it wasn't: 'I'm so happy to see you darling!'

This reminded me of the dog in the rain metaphor in ACT. If a dog is locked out of the house all day in the rain, it will still be pleased to see you on your return. But if  you lock your husband out in the rain all day, he will be upset and angry when you return! Humans need to go back endlessly over what happened, and why, whereas the dog is able to let it go, and to appreciate being let back into the house.

These episodes also remind me of when I did a sort of Bioenergetics when I was younger: basically this is body-based psychotherapy. Emotions would be much more accessible when the body was energised, through a variety of techniques. And psychotherapist Babette Rothschild, who is coming to Brisbane in June, writes about the body-mind-emotion connection in The Body Remembers.

mother's day quince friands

For something completely different, I made these for Mother's Day yesterday, having followed Maggie Beer's recipe for roasted quince, which was on Masterchef the other night. I love quinces! And older son slept at home last night, first time for over a year, as he was behind with his final teaching assignment, and teaching prac. starts today. I also love being a mum.

more later.

keep calm and crayon

keep calm and crayon

This is my own version of the WW2 poster...I like the fact that I could make the word 'crayon' using letters from 'carry on' - just one 'r' to spare. Of course it doesn't have to be crayonning; anything creative is fine. I have been doing a lot of 'crayonning' in the last week or so, being on leave from work and actually having time to make things - this has included a messenger style bag and another two journals. But this post is mainly going to be about reading, shopping and books.

What I've been reading and buying

I read in Frankie (Australian arty-crafty magazine) about an illustrator, Daniella Germain, who drew everything she purchased, as a way of limiting her shopping behaviour. [Confession: I had a mini-splurge last week, buying two books, two jumpers: from Vinnies, so 'pre-loved', and a (new) pair of shoes, all on one day.] I took photos of everything instead:

 

                                    from Mrs Flannerys

but I could see how this could become tedious quite quickly.

I have been reading one of the books I bought, The Emperor of all Maladies: a Biography of Cancer, by Siddharta Muckherjee, who is a cancer researcher and oncologist in USA.  He has a fantastic name, and is also a fabulous writer, despite the gruesome, somewhat chilling subject matter. I am so pleased I found this, I had read several good reviews, but hadn't remembered to write down the name of the book, and despite searching for cancer and health books in several places (including a real bookshop) I had been unable to find it, until it just appeared on the table at Avid Reader the other day, and I knew it was 'the one' I had been looking for. 

In 1995, three of my friends were diagnosed with breast cancer; thankfully two of them are still alive. Susan, one of my oldest friends from school, didn't make it: she died a few months before her 40th birthday. We all have many similar stories - my dad had prostate cancer for many years (although it probably didn't kill him), and my father-in-law had lung cancer (although he died of a heart attack, after living for some time with only one lung). Indeed, cancer has us all in its crabby grasp, one way or another. Its good to 'know your enemy'...and the history of cancer research is fascinating. The egos of the surgeons, doing radical mastectomies on women, although it was contra-indicated, and the blindness of the (smoking) doctors, who stubbornly disputed the link to lung cancer...a surprisingly good read.

And, at Avid Reader, I was served by Chris Currie, who told me I had $15 in rewards to claim, which was a bonus, as I usually refuse to join these schemes. Chris, I since discovered, has just had his first novel The Ottoman Motel published (I recognised his photo in the paper). I couldn't have had that experience with the B**k Depository.

I am now forcing myself to buy (some) books in real bookshops, not just online, as I am concerned about the survival of Australian bookshops. It was sobering to go into my local Borders last week, and to find that they were selling off all their stock. A few weeks ago, Angus and Robertson did the same thing, and they are now closed. I was tempted to buy a marked down Borders' electronic book reader, Kobo, but thought that if they close down, the reader may no longer be operational. The free 100 classics was tempting, but having looked into it, I think the Be-book is a better bet, as it is not tied to any particular franchise, and apparently downloads are much quicker. I haven't bought it yet though.

I also read an article in Q-weekend, by a British journalist, Will Storr, which compared British and Australian culture, something I have written about in earlier posts. Basically he says that Aussies are friendlier, but more (outspokenly) racist. Brits are cynical, miserable, but more politically correct (and I mean that in a good way). I agree with most of what he says.

Went to the amazing William Robinson retrospective at QUT Art Museum and Old Parliament House. Fantastic paintings of the rainforest. This is fig tree from the city botanical gardens, next door. 

And so bin Laden is dead. Perhaps the end of an era, time will tell. Hopefully this will boost Obama's chances of re-election, although possibly for all the wrong reasons.

More later.