Tag: reflection

Twixtmas

I have always been fascinated by liminal spaces: doorways, verges, airport terminals and the inbetween times in our lives. The time between Christmas and New Year, six days of waiting for the old year to pass and the new year to start, sees us standing at the threshold of the old and the new, in limbo, neither here nor there quite yet.

My new diary for the year is pristine, bar a couple of appointments. It is empty, yet full of promise for what is to come. 365 days of dreams and hopes await, yet I have little control over what will actually happen. Which of us will make it to this very day next year? Who will join us in our midst? What will be the joys, the sorrows, the moments we will remember? How will we show up for them?

The other day, I looked through the photos on my phone, starting at January 1, 2024. I made two pages of notes of all the important events I had captured. They were overwhelmingly positive this year, but then we rarely capture our sorrows unless they are marked with a ritual. I am sure there were plenty of mediocre days there, but I chose to focus on the things that uplift me. I will remember this in the coming year and focus on the positives. I’ll leave the downside of life to news reporters.

Twixtmas is a good time to take stock and reflect. I want to get into the habit of doing this much more often. We all know that our notion of time is a mental construct, that time keeps going on without stopping on December 31 and starting again on January 1. But it is useful to draw a line somewhere and give ourselves a chance to begin anew. While I am not a believer in new year’s resolutions, I do set a guiding principle for the year. 2025 will be the year of Imperfect Action.

Imperfect Action calls for movement towards something before I am ready, before I have all the information, before I can talk myself out of it. It is a way to get out of my head (and out of my way) to attempt new things without expectations. It is a belief that if I act, the outcome will look after itself. It is a realisation that I can only control my actions, not what the result will be.

When we recognise our task is to lean into action rather than expect outcomes, we can live with increased equanimity. Life becomes less of a grind and infinitely more fulfilling. We can take each step with intention and let the outcome take care of itself. Trust your effort will lead you exactly to where you need to be. Happy Twixtmas!

A trip to New Zealand

Or the long-lost friend, a tech savvy daughter and a generous birthday gift.

Wellington foreshore guerilla knitters

Annie and I met in 1989 while working for a private college teaching English in Sydney. Our clients were Chinese, and the massacre at Tiananmen square in June of that year affected them all deeply. They came from cities and villages, desperate to earn money so they could repay the enormous debt they had back home which funded their airfares and tuition fees. None of them knew about life in Australia or the cost of living in Sydney.

Annie and I gravitated towards each other and soon became friends. We spent many a weekend going to the Glebe markets, meeting up for coffee and going for walks along the cliffs at Bondi. I left the college disillusioned with the management and teaching. She stayed for a while longer before travelling to Canada and Nepal. We kept in touch throughout this time.

In my memory, Annie was footloose and fancy free, always looking for the next adventure and travel destination. I was three years older and in a steady relationship. I admired her ability to save money and her courage to travel to far-flung places on her own. I admired her freedom and her trust in finding work wherever she went.

I was one of many friends she had, but she was my best friend. When I was about to give birth to my daughter, Annie was the obvious choice to be my support person. At 8 moths pregnant, I remember driving over some speed humps in my ancient Beetle. We shrieked with laughter as I landed heavily back in my seat. I could always rely on Annie to boost my mood and have a good laugh. No need for nitrous oxide with her by my side!

As our lives became more complicated with partners, jobs and eventually children, it was more difficult to catch up regularly. By then we lived in different parts of the city and eventually my small family moved out of the city altogether. Not long after that, Annie and her family moved back to New Zealand, which she had always called home. We lost touch.

Years passed. I always had a framed photo of Annie on my bookshelf and often wondered where life had taken her. My daughter heard stories about this special friend who was there at her birth and knew how much she meant to me. So she found her on the internet and booked me an airfare to Wellington.

Little did she know I would arrive on the eve of Annie’s birthday. What a treat to celebrate this special day with her loved ones. I finally met her adult children, was reacquainted with her husband and was welcomed into their home.

For a week, we walked the rugged beaches of Wellington with Dexter, their wonderful and quirky dog, catching up on 25 plus years of our lives. So much had changed for us both, but that initial spark from all those years ago still ignited our friendship. We share the same values, care about the same things and, interestingly, experienced similar challenges. We both stayed in teaching; she became an early childhood educator while I became a primary teacher. After teaching adults for many years, we gravitated towards teaching young children.

I loved being taken to her favourite haunts, the supermarket down the road and the café she frequents on weekends. I can now imagine her daily life; the route she takes to work, the walks she takes to clear her head, and I have met the people who are dearest to her. 

We spent some time sight-seeing, but those aren’t the memories I shall hold dear. While I loved walking through the botanical gardens, the museums along the waterfront, and the quirky shops on Cuba Street, what I loved most were the connections I was making. Talking politics with Annie’s 93-year-old mother was definitely a highlight. I loved her joie de vivre and her passion for social justice. May we all be as erudite and passionate no matter our age!

I’ve now been back home for three weeks. Neither of us have contacted each other since the first couple of days. We both have busy jobs and parenting responsibilities. There’s not much time left at the end of the day, especially when there is a two-hour time difference to navigate. It is all too easy to fall into habits of neglect. But this time I’m determined not to lose our precious connection again.

End of holiday blues

A six-week holiday is a luxury not many of us can afford. I took some extended leave so I could downsize, declutter, and pack before my interstate move. I was busy for the first three weeks and then time began to slow down to almost a standstill. Suddenly, there was very little to do until the last couple of days when things ramped up once more. And now that I am on the other side of the state border, there are dozens of things to organise, but now I have run out time.

I go back to work on Tuesday. It was a deliberate choice not to start on Monday. I knew I’d need that extra day. The electrician is coming at 8:30, I have parcels to collect and errands to run. The year has well and truly started, and that holiday feeling is but a fast-fading memory. Why does it always end so quickly?

Everything is gathering speed like a snowball about to become an avalanche. No matter how fast I run, I can’t get out of its way. There are now only two days left and I am caught between wanting to relax before work becomes all-consuming and wanting to get as much done as possible. Neither side seems to be getting traction.

Instead, I am plagued by anxiety dreams. They all take place at schools but not any school I recognise. I am either in charge and unable to make cogent decisions or I am in front of a class without planned lessons trying to control unruly students. In these dreams I forget to turn up for playground duties; my students miss their buses and I’m often the last one to arrive to class. This may sound as if I am plagued by anxiety, but if you talk to teachers at the start of a new year, many will have had similar dreams. I’m sure other professions have their own versions of these dreams.

It is not that I dislike my job. Far from it. There are many aspects I enjoy, like going into schools to work with teachers. One of the best things is watching teachers grow in confidence when they implement pedagogical changes, especially when they were sceptical or downright antagonistic at first. Not that I always succeed but when I do, it is magic.

So here I am with two days to go. I have a book I’d like to finish reading, boxes to unpack and I am longing for a lengthy walk amongst trees to replenish my soul. Instead, I fall asleep in my armchair, exhausted. I walk the dogs in the summer heat and return with a renewed determination to tackle whatever lies ahead. I remind myself of what Bob Marley wisely said, ‘Beginnings are usually scary, and endings are usually sad, but everything in between – that makes it all worth living.’