I was at the funeral of a friend yesterday. He’d died unexpectedly at the age of 67.
As it turned out, the day of the funeral was the day of my 66th birthday.
A funeral isn’t the usual expected place to be on a birthday, nor is it where you would expect to receive an unexpected birthday present. But that is exactly what happened to me yesterday, at my friend Bill’s funeral. It was a gift given to me by Bill’s grieving wife, Deb, in words that she spoke in celebration of her husband’s life.
Deb spoke about the ancient Japanese art and philosophy of Kintsugi. Kintsugi is about celebrating imperfection; not trying to hide what is broken but recognising the place of mending as a thing of beauty in its own right, and highlighting the mend with gold. She referred to her husband as ‘pure gold’. He was. As was her gift to me in what she said, using words and with passion that I cannot even begin to emulate, nor do I think that I should even try. They were words that could only be spoken by a wife, grieving the loss of the love of her life.
I do, however, want to acknowledge those words in this post, feeling broken as I continue to feel inside as I continue to hope and try to heal. I realise now that I don’t have to aim to heal back to how I was before I was broken; that the broken parts and the process of healing – that includes reaching out to others who are also struggling – are the pure gold of life. So, I’ll continue to live it in the best way that I can, cracks and all.
As it turns out, I’ve been making some pots recently that are basically balls of solid clay that may well fall apart in the kiln. I now hope that they do – so that I can mend them in the Kintsugi way. Amazingly enough, I also got another birthday present yesterday – from another friend. It was a Kintsugi kit! How weird and wonderful is that?
At the turn of the Millennium, I completed a project under the Mind-Millennium Award Scheme.
My project – the Lifelines Project – involved collecting and publishing poems, pictures and self-help strategies from other people who, like me, had suffered from enduring and debilitating depression.
I had not met many of the contributors, and was amazed – honoured – that they trusted me with their personal expressions, all because of the underlying intention of reaching out in the hope of helping others.
If you, yourself, are suffering with depression, I would like to wish you well and tell you that you are not alone.”
Since then, there’s been increased awareness about mental health and how it can be improved. While there remains much to be done in society from the ‘prevent’ and ‘promote’ perspectives, being able to – and even encouraged – to talk about mental health difficulties more openly represents a start.
In my own experience, I eventually got fed up of talking – I’ve never been much good at it anyway. I knew that I needed to take action, to find ways of turning my life around, however difficult or painful that might be. And I knew it would be difficult and painful, to rebuild from a below zero level when I was in my forties.
From somewhere, somehow, I found the resolve to put my head down, prioritise, and push myself through. For a long time, I concentrated on work and on developing my internal resilience. Just before I turned 60, I decided to take the plunge and commit to a relationship. I now have a much fuller and richer life than I have ever had before and I’m thankful for that.
Even so, life continues to be difficult and I still take antidepressants – probably always will. But I have other coping skills and strategies, and have also been able to recently retire, taking away work pressures that I could no longer deal with.
I wasn’t able to keep in touch with all the people who contributed to the Lifelines Project but they’ve always remained in my thoughts and I hope that they too have been able to find a way through; a way that works for each of them:
Jacket 1 It’s there, on the chair The red fleece jacket With hood and drawstring waist That I don’t want to wear Don’t want to keep.
It’s warm and soft when I put it on But far too big for me Drowned in a red sea Shapeless, I feel A baggy, saggy, faceless entity.
I look at the jacket On the chair In limp, loose folds of red, and seams This isn’t the jacket of my dreams.
It’s theirs to wear Not mine to keep Their tears to cry Not mine to weep.
It’s there, on the chair The red fleece jacket With hood and drawstring waist That I don’t want to wear Don’t want to keep So I’ve put a price on its head To let it go free To someone who wants it But who wants me?
Jacket 2 It’s there, on the chair The red fleece jacket With hood and drawstring waist That I don’t want to wear Don’t want to keep.
It’s warm and soft when I put it on But far too big for me Drowned in a red sea Shapeless, I feel A baggy, saggy, faceless entity.
I look at the jacket On the chair In limp, loose folds of red, and seams This isn’t the jacket of my dreams.
It’s not my layer These aren’t my lies With drawstring waist And nylon ties.
It’s not my jacket They’re not my dreams These aren’t my ties They’re not my seams.
So I leave the jacket On the chair To go my way While they go theirs.
Jacket 3 Now it hangs upon the door That red fleece jacket That I didn’t want to wear Didn’t want to keep.
It’s warm and soft when I put it on And not too big for me Warmed in a red sea Shapeless no more No baggy, saggy faceless entity.
I look at the jacket On the door In limp, loose folds of red and seams It’s not the jacket of my dreams But just a layer to keep me warm From frozen looks And glares of scorn.
It is my jacket With hood and waist To wear awhile From place to place.
One aspect of depression that is a constant struggle is finding something – anything – to build up my self-esteem. To a certain extent I’ve learnt to live with it, knowing that the worst moments pass if I rest up and tune in to parts of my brain that I’ve trained, using positive processes such as meditation, and affirmations: “I choose to be peaceful and calm; everything is unfolding as it should.”
I’ve identified my own truths and ‘root causes’ of past problems, and arrived at a point – in a very long and arduous journey – where I felt I didn’t need to have any aspects of these verified or vindicated by any one or any thing. However, I have found it helpful recently to have discovered the work of Imi Lo. I went through her book – Emotional Sensitivity and Intensity: how to manage intense emotions as a highly sensitive person (John Murray Learning, 2018) – highlighting many passages that I felt applied directly to me. I urge anyone who has been deemed ‘over-sensitive’ and felt alienated one way or another as a result, to read and take hope from this book.
The author states in a key point (p.45):
We are not here to dismiss the validity of all mental health diagnoses, or the importance of appropriate treatment in the case of severe psychological trauma. But it is important to examine the root of your suffering: often, it may be a reflection of your natural tendencies, and a result of being misunderstood, rather than as a sign of defectiveness. We must be extra cautious to not reinforce any restrictive categories, diagnoses and stigma around emotional intensity.
In the final chapter of her book, Imi Lo identifies possibilities for tapping into our creative potential.
It’s possible to be creative in many ways – not just through the arts. I’ve been as creative as I could be at different stages in my life and through many different types of work. However, having arrived at the point when I’m now retired, giving me a new-found freedom that I relish, I’m loving being able to re-immerse myself in solving problems associated with art and design, construction and concepts.
A significant difference that I’ve noticed between how I feel about work that I produce now, compared with work that I produced when I was younger, is that now I can feel a sense of satisfaction about having produced it. I can ‘own it’, take pride in it, see it for what it is in the context of my life; a life that I’m glad to have.
My self-esteem still falls by the wayside sometimes, but – generally speaking – I’m in a much better place than I’ve ever been. It takes a bit of getting used to, but I’m determined to make the most of it, knowing that I am – after all ‘gifted’ rather than the waste of space I often felt my self to be.
43 years ago, when I graduated with a degree in Ceramics, I knew that there was something wrong with me – mentally, emotionally – but I didn’t know what or how to deal with it. Since then, I’ve been close to the edge more than once and in more ways than one. I nearly lost my life during a psychotic experience in Iceland, felt broken to the point where I didn’t think I could possibly mend, and ultimately pushed myself through such extreme, painful experiences that many times I wondered why.
Thankfully, I also thought ‘why not?’ and bit by bit I found a way through.
Being in survival mode doesn’t leave any energy for forward planning, including consideration of what I would do when I retired. The idea of doing some work with clay again suddenly came out of ‘nowhere’ and I’ve been enjoying going to workshop sessions at a studio not too far from where I live. However, I also thought it would be good to be able to do some work from home, especially during the winter months when I can’t work outside in the garden.
The work I produced at college for my degree show was fired initially to bisque level and then finished in a sawdust kiln. We have no space here for a proper kiln but I’ve been exploring possibilities for sawdust firing; even firing ‘greenware’, that is without having put the pieces through the initial bisque firing. This will produce porous pots that are not ‘vitrified’ as they are when fired to higher temperatures, but some beautiful subtle effects can be obtained.
So with a few basic tools and a dining table, I’m off to a good start. I’m still going to continue to attend the studio sessions – apart from anything else it’s a lovely encouraging atmosphere and I enjoy the companionship and sense of shared experience. But it’s also great to be able to ‘sit and do’ at home – to make whatever I want to make – without time constraints or consideration of anything other than what I’m working on.
This brings me to Poetry/Pottery Rule No. 20: Enjoy the process.
Now that does sound like a plan – the housework may not get done, but these are pots that won’t need washing up!
Lydia gave me a gentle nudge in the early hours and I went downstairs to open the back door for her, propping it open so that she could enjoy some morning air, which I knows she likes to do, while sheltering inside. It gives her a chance to go and have a ‘peepie’ if she needs one and I go down later to close it, as expected finding her now curled up in her chair.
My lower back is aching a bit after my exertions of yesterday, balancing on a stepladder that I’d positioned so that I could reach the far corners of the walls I was painting. I knew I hadn’t strained my back – I’d been careful and I have Qigong and yoga to thank for giving me flexibility and strength that I wouldn’t have otherwise. I did, however, feel that I’d stretched muscles that I wouldn’t otherwise have stretched, and decided to make myself a cup of tea for comfort, to take back to bed. It must have worked because I didn’t wake until after 9am and I felt I’d had a reasonably deep sleep for a few hours.
It was the ‘Boot and Shoe’ walk – that I also call the ‘woodland walk’ – for Lydia and me this morning, the name coming from the house nearby. She was sniffing and pulling most of the way so I don’t know what scent or scents she’d picked up on, but they were strong.
After coming home and giving Lydia her breakfast, I decided to make some blueberry muffins. I don’t feel like my usual breakfast foods at the moment – even poached eggs on toast which I normally love as a brunch – and muffins seemed like a good option. I’d bought a large tray of blueberries when I went shopping yesterday and they are a good nutritious fruit.
For a standard cake mix I use a basic formula of equal quantities of butter or margarine, sugar and flour in a ratio of 4, 4 and 4 plus two eggs. This morning, I had 12oz of baking margarine in a tub leftover from when I’d made a cake a couple of weeks ago, so I used that as the starting measure. Deciding that I didn’t want my muffins too sweet, I weighed out 8oz of sugar instead of 12oz. I’m quite happy to use metric measures but this morning stuck to imperial as it made it easy with the amount of margarine I was starting with. Six eggs, a sprinkling of salt, 12oz of self-raising flour – plus a little extra baking powder just to help the muffins be as light and fluffy as they can be – an unmeasured quantity of blueberries and a splash of evaporated milk completed the mix.
I’d preheated the oven to 180 degrees centigrade and spooned the mixture into 18 paper cases. I baked them initially for 20 minutes and then moved the muffins from the top shelf to the lower shelf and the ones from the lower shelf to the higher shelf to help them all cook evenly. I set the timer for another 10 minutes but got engrossed in writing this post and didn’t hear it go off! The muffins, however, are just nicely browned, not burnt, and I am now waiting for them to cool down so that I can try one, or two, or more.
The carbs should help to set me up for some more painting this afternoon. Having finished the walls I’m now turning to woodwork that was done not so long ago but needs a bit of freshening up in places. It shouldn’t take long and won’t be anywhere near as strenuous as yesterday’s efforts. I do find the process of painting soothing, so I’ll just take my time and it’ll get done.
As it turned out, the small pot of paint that was in the garage, that I thought was a water-based satin white for woodwork, was actually a matt white emulsion. I only discovered this after I’d painted over with it in a few places but it’ll be fine. I’ll buy a pot of the paint that I need tomorrow and go over it again.
There’s also a skylight window frame that needs doing, so I started to prepare that by giving it a good clean with some sugar soap solution. I was too tired to start painting it today as it will need careful concentration – including masking tape application in places – to make sure I do a proper job of it. It will take a couple of coats and I also need to try and reach the outside pane to clean it. I cleaned the inside pane today but I may need my steam cleaner for the outside.
Positioned at the top of the stairs, I used a combination of a chair, stepladders and a left-side-step on to my ‘strategically placed’ filing cabinet today and was able to reach all parts of the skylight frame. It’s going to be a job for later in the week and probably going on into next weekend.
Trev’s back after going out earlier. He sampled and approved the muffins and I’ve now reached the 28th day of my latest 28-day writing cycle, so I’m taking a short break from writing new posts and will publish an earlier post each day instead, starting with ‘A Bag of Clay’ that includes a poem. Hope you enjoy it.
My books continue to be available on Amazon, in paperback, for Kindle and on Kindle Unlimited:
Today I applied the second coat of paint to the walls of the landing and the stairs.
It’s good quality paint which flows well and only drips if I overload my brush, which I do – sometimes.
I wipe up drip spots as I’m going along, and make steady progress. In a few hours, it’s done.
I clean brushes, put clothes and cloths into the washing machine, then rest for a while. Lydia comes to join me.
I’ve got some more painting work lined up for tomorrow but for now I can just relax. Time to give Lydia her tea and make ours. I think it will be early to bed for me.
Tonight’s Buddhist class completes the five-week course on ‘Embracing Change’.
Change can happen in so many ways, on so many levels.
In my experience, I have not always known why I have not been able to ‘let go’ and move on at times. I think, now, I have more insight into why, and it’s because of the deep inner healing that I needed to do. It’s understandable to want to do that in a safe way, at a safe time, so that when the wound is exposed, it won’t be subject to any more damage.
Sometimes, however, circumstances force us to push through pain on a survival basis. How amazing then, to be in those circumstances and somehow find that you have got access to the support that you need to heal, from sources that in the past you could not have even imagined existed, yet somehow, they do. That’s where I’m at now.
And, for now, I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing; different things on different days. Today it was painting, white emulsion on walls; tomorrow I’ll go to pottery in the afternoon. Walking Lydia, of course, in the mornings, is such a good thing, I’m pretty sure for both of us. Meditating, practising yoga and Qigong, listening to the teachings of Buddha passed on through the Kadampa lineage. Meeting up with friends, chatting with neighbours. More painting of walls until that job is done, then I’ll move on to do something else. I know this is all leading to further change, and I am becoming more able to embrace the uncertainty of what lies ahead.
I rarely remember dreams but woke this morning from a deeper sleep than I’ve had for a long time, remembering one.
The sense of relief that comes from sleep is immense. The strategy of reducing my caffeine intake, limiting myself to just two or three cups of tea a day – in the morning – and no coffee, is starting to pay off.
It is by no means the only part of my strategy, as limiting or eliminating caffeine altogether isn’t necessarily going to do the trick without other factors kicking in, in my experience anyway.
For me, I know it is a combination of physical and creative and other activities.
It also depends on the type and context of activities.
The heavy lifting and shifting I’ve done recently, clearing stuff out of house and garage and taking them to the tip, are good for the musculoskeletal system, but my nearly 70-year-old back was giving me a few warning signs. A few stretches at home helped, but not as much as the yoga class I went to yesterday. There has been no Qigong this week as we do classes in groups of three, then have a break, then back for another group of three. This works very well and yesterday meant that I had time to do a charity shop drop-off, again with more lifting and carrying – a big bag and a box – and then go shopping for our tea, a stir fry that I cooked using a combination of a bag of pre-made sauce, some hoisin sauce from a bottle, and some dark soy sauce. I usually make a stir-fry sauce from scratch, using a combination of lemon or lime juice, ginger, garlic if we have any, and again soy sauce; also a bit of brown sugar, salt and pepper. However, due to my having had a cold, I thought I’d make it a bit easier for myself. I also took the time to buy a large pot of matt white emulsion, some concentrated sugar soap and a precision paint brush for edges. This will enable me to start doing the painting work I have lined up for later in the week.
So, for now, I’m keeping my strength up and the aches and pains at bay, glad to be able to enjoy a walk with Lydia on this bright and sunny, if somewhat breezy, morning. I always feel invigorated after I come back from our walks, and I now have a good little routine that involves putting her poopie bags in the outside bin, washing my hands, filling and setting off her breakfast ball for her to nudge around the lounge, putting a chicken wing or drumstick (sometimes a lamb rib) in a cool bag for later, so that it defrosts and hopefully gets to room temperature but doesn’t go off, and making sure that there’s a further supply of her raw food starting to defrost in the fridge.
Today I didn’t feel like sitting down for breakfast so I put some mashed banana on toast that I’d spread with olive spread and did some tidying up in the kitchen while I was eating it, unloading and loading up the dishwasher and a few other things. A dishwasher is a relatively recent acquisition for us and it makes such a difference.
Later today I’ll visit M in her care home. We’ll go for coffee and a cake but I’ll make sure I get decaff. It’s the way forward for me, for the time being at least.
Trev has done some more clearing out as well, which puts us in a good position for me to start painting the walls by the stairs and in the landing area. I painted through all the rest of the house when we moved in, a section at a time as I wasn’t feeling well and I could only do a section at a time. I never did get round to doing the walls up the stairs and on the landing though and since then there’ve been a lot of things going on. I now, finally, have time, energy and inclination to do that job. It shouldn’t take long but then there’s no need to try and do it in a rush. A bit at a time and it will get done.
Glad About 
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