Opening the door into 2023, with three little words.

In Scotland, the stroke of midnight heralding the New Year is known as “the bells” and it takes us from Hogmanay (New Year’s Eve) in the past forward in to the New Year. In Scotland the bells have now rung, and we have stepped into the New Year, 2023.

I hug my 2022 words close as I lay them aside, thankful for their company and guidance. They have helped me navigate an eventful yet ordinary year. Again, the year has thrown surprises amidst careful plans and my words have kept me on track.

2022 Reflections

This time last year, I was reflecting on more than the previous months and was aware of a growing sense that I wanted to slow down and spend more time on the things I enjoyed. That was captured in my first word, “unfurl”. I was exploring that balance between “living to work” and “working to live” and wondering  how to feel in control of my time. While I am not quite old enough to receive the state pension, I was increasingly aware that health has been challenging and  I am being realistic, not morbid to acknowledge that I am only a number of months away from the age that my mother died. These are precious years, and I want to enjoy them. A year ago I wrote:

“I am increasingly reminded that I do not want to spend my golden years working flat out. Moving to part time working has affirmed that, and whet my appetite for slowing down even more. My mother died on her 65^th birthday and as I approach that age, I want to step off the speeding roundabout and enjoy the benefit of having worked for the past 40 years, rather than work up to my last email breath.”

Over the end of year break and with the benefit of time to think, I reached a major decision. I would truly unfurl by stepping back from the stability and security of employment. 

This connected with closely with my second word “forage” as I had to be realistic. I would need to find assignments and small pieces of work which would pay the bills and provide the necessities. Having refined life quite considerably intentionally as well as reactively from the pandemic and health issues, as well as having moved to part time work, this was not as scary as it might have been just a few years ago. I knew I could “forage” for work and draw on the resources I have to live. And I have been extremely fortunate that things have found me, as well as me finding them and I am content in a modest lifestyle. 

Which confirms that I “savour” what I have, my third word reminding me to appreciate and value my life and everything I am fortunate enough to hold close. 

Again, my mantra has guided me through the year and 2022, the year where Covid played a less prominent but not insignificant role, is characterised by those words “unfurl, forage and savour.”

Embracing 2023

This is now the 14^th year that I have chosen three words for the coming year. Every year is a little different. Sometimes the words land quickly and easily. Sometimes they take longer and throw up more options. But every year, they settle and once my mantra is in place, I feel my shoulders relax and I am comforted to adopt the new words. This year, the words settled fairly quickly and I have been trying them on, ready to wrap around me as 2023 begins.

Harvest

The first word arrived very quickly and easily. I am a hoarder in that I gather and treasure little things that have meaning. I was struck during a recent writing group by mention of a “word hoard”, words which Seamus Heaney used and which chimed with a number of us. 14 years of 3 word mantras has provided me with a very rich word hoard. In addition to that though, I have a treasury of precious bits and pieces. But by that, I don’t mean valuables. I am surrounded by little “treasures”.  A Prague bus ticket, a bookmark from a little bookshop in Cambodia, a little water colour I found in a tiny shop in Zanzibar, a set of tea light holders from Morocco, a notebook from a women’s project in Nepal, an eternal desk calendar from Borneo, a lacquerware box gifted to me by a friend in Myanmar … These are treasure in that each one holds memories and sentiment which come rushing to me if I pick them up. They take me instantly to that place I was exploring and learning about and the people I connected with. That is the real treasure. I have a lifetime of memories, mega bytes and mega albums of photographs, snippets of half written poems and stories and I want to make the most of these. My first word will guide me, as I plan to “harvest” this rich hoard and shape it into something which I can share. 

Sculpt

That connects with my second word. In order to shape my harvest of goodies, I need to be structured. In fact, I need to ensure that in a life of unfurlment, I need to have structure to make the most of time and energy. My second word is “sculpt” and that will prompt me to shape and structure my life and activities. I will be reminded to bring form to what I am doing, but this will allow me to be creative and incorporate new ideas and opportunities. My mother was an artist, mainly painting and sketching but later in her life, she began experimenting with clay. I am not sure of how things came about, but her work attracted the attention of the art department of Aberdeen University and they gave her a scholarship to attend for several weeks to develop her skills and learn techniques. She would produce batches of pottery pork pies as kitsch mementoes for Melton Mowbray, the town she lived in, renown for pork pies. She didn’t enjoy making them at all, but she called them her “bread and butter.”  In other words, they provided the income and means to enable her to sculpt the pieces she loved creating. Harvesting that memory now, 25 years after her death, I realise I am doing something very similar and the word “sculpt” holds that additional precious association. I trust it to help bring shape and meaning to the coming months, and hopefully bring to life some tangible results, particularly in the form of writing.

Flutter

My third word particularly complements “sculpt” by recognising how easily I am distracted by tiny wonders from the corner of my eye and new thoughts and ideas from the corners of my mind. I am like a butterfly and when I “flutter” from one thing to another, new ideas emerge and I find myself off another adventure. That spontaneity is important to me and while I do need structure, I must allow myself to follow those flitterings of notions and ideas and see where they take me. Butterflies fascinate me, and I write about them as well as while away happy moments watching their own flutterings. 

And so my words have settled into their mantra, and I can hear them whispering encouragement as I step into the coming year. 

“Harvest, sculpt and flutter”

The sun struggles to rise at this time of year, but as we reach this New Year’s Day, I am comforted to know that the days are slowly gaining additional seconds of daylight. I know that January is a cold and dark month, and with festivities behind us is tough emotionally as well as physically. So I hold on to the knowledge that the days are moving in a direction towards spring.

And I walk towards those spring days with my words to guide me, and wish to each and every one, a happy, healthy and fulfilled 2023.

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Reflections of 2021 through a three word mantra

As the sun sets on 2021, I spend time reflecting on my three word mantra. I can always recognise the year from the three words I chose for that year, a practice which I stumbled upon a few hours before the New Year of 2010 began.

That very first three word mantra, recovery, discovery and laughter takes me back firmly to that year. The three words came so easily. It was December 2009 and I was in the thick of chemo and seeking to hold on to the prospect of healing. I recognised that leaning on innate curiosity and an overactive sense of humour would be key ways of dealing with the challenges of cancer treatment and the three words kept me focused on that mindset through 2010. When I read focus, treasure and design, I am taken immediately to 2013 on a wave of grief. Those words tell me that was the year I lost my father. Knowing at the start of 2013, that we would probably say goodbye before the year was out, very much shaped the choice of the words as well as providing strength and focus. The three words reorient, nurture and crystalize whisper “2016” in my ear, reminding me of a year that heralded enormous change. The year that saw me leaving the continent I had lived for over 15 years, the work I had loved and the country which had been home for 7 years.

And the words patience, calibration and stardust would set the tone for the year now closing, and keep my strength during what was to be a wall to wall year of Covid. That is evident in my words at this time one year ago when I wrote “Selecting three words this year brings a new dimension, knowing that the months ahead will see continued challenge as the new strains of COVID-19 and winter fragility test us to the limits. It has been strange to choose my words with COVID-19 looming large, and I have been striving to see beyond the immediacy, yet I find it impossible to ignore it… I trust that my words will carry me through any eventuality, whilst acknowledging the significant one of COVID-19 underpins a great deal.”

As we enter the final days of 2021, I have been reflecting on the year and my three words for some weeks now. This reflection is a sound basis which I find essential as I take the time and energy to consider which words will carry me forwards into 2022. The words for the coming year are shaping nicely, but in the meantime here are my thoughts on the year, and the three words that have depicted my 2021.

Patience

When we stepped into 2021, I could almost hear the collective sigh of relief as the door was closed on 2020. The first Covid vaccines had been administered and there was a sense of optimism that 2021 would be see us moving out of the pandemic. Things would surely be different. My first word, patience, however, was a lesson drawn from the previous months. I knew that so much was out of my hands and that I had to put faith in the system and trust that things would work out. I knew that I just needed to be patient and focus on what was in my control, continuing to be cautious. The winter was tough, the long dark days were exactly that and the weather was not as kind as it had been the previous spring with frosts and snows continuing well into April. By the time the longer, lighter days appeared and the chills disappeared I had had my first vaccine, with our iconic NHS Scotland blue envelopes dropping through letterboxes and inducing unexpected emotions.

The Blue Envelope

But alongside the medical advances, and being in a very privileged situation here (vaccine inequity is a major issue, which merits its own discussion) there have been the inevitable mutations and variants of the virus which continue to create a dance with science. A dance of advances, side steps and retreats and the music keeps on playing. With each new chapter in the pandemic story, I have found the reminder to be patient has been essential. Of course there are days when I am sad and frustrated, but I know that I need to continue to just be patient and trust that life will become less and less dominated by Covid as we continue to move forwards. 

Calibration

I continue to live a very quiet, low key life and recent health challenges reinforce my own personal choice to minimise risk and exposure. I have not taken a bus further than a few miles away and mainly because of the commuting distance I have continued to work from home. I am to be enormously thankful that technology enables me to do this, but in contradiction, I have found it incredibly difficult to maintain a wise work-life balance. An important change, as been to move to working part time in the middle of the year, in order to calibrate that delicate balance. I now have two additional non working days. This has shifted the balance of my working week and now I have more free days per week than working days. Those working days seem to have stretched a little, but I know that they are followed by a very healthy break each week.

Another aspect of calibration has been possible by playing with space rather than time. My workspace has always been temporary, in between the spare bed and a blank wall, oblivious to the changing light and colours of the outside world. So the opportunity to shift things around during a recent family visit was embraced and things I had been unable to move were rapidly relocated. My desk now faces out of the window, and rather than missing nature in front of me, I find myself often distracted by the arrival of blue tits, robins and sparrows on the plum tree outside.

New view from my desk

The sense of calibration is something I am keen to take with me into the coming year and beyond.

Stardust

I have held on to the notion of stardust as we have moved through 2021, it has reminded me of the importance of seeing the light and wonder in the ordinary. Stardust sounds magical, yet we are told that “everything we are and everything in the universe and on Earth originated from stardust, and it continually floats through us even today”.

I have found the reminder that we are both reduced and elevated by the notion of being made of stardust to be paradoxically comforting and exhilarating. A reminder that we are tiny and insignificant in the planet, let alone the universe. And a reminder to look beyond the darkness and find the stardust that is within us, and in the universe.

My words have again served me well, and as with previous years, I take their essence forward with me alongside the lessons they have brought. And they pave the way for three new words to take me into the coming year, as they wait patiently to be revealed in the first hours of 2022. 

Scunnered

Sometimes we can take on a sense of weariness, of being jaded. Of tiredness. Sometimes it goes a bit deeper. World weary, downtrodden and bereft of that lust for life. Usually it is fleeting or at least transient.  Sometimes it takes a greater grip.  We have a great Scottish expression for that feeling – we say we are scunnered.

I have been scunnered this week.  Physical tiredness plays a part but only a small part. The rest is a great deal more profound.

Back in November last year my grandson, David had his head shaved to raise awareness and funds  for Gammadelta T-cell lymphoma, a rare and aggressive form of blood cancer. It was an enormously generous act and it was prompted to show support to a pupil at his school who had just been diagnosed.  Yes, a pupil at his school. Jak Trueman, a boy aged 15 years old. It was cruel enough that my grandchildren were confronted with cancer in their grandparent, but to be plunged into the harsh reality of cancer in a peer at such a tender age is truly cruel.

David – before and after his headshave

Jak’s story or journey has been well documented and shared since his diagnosis, thanks especially to a wide support network and of course social media.

Following chemotherapy, Jak was preparing for a stem cell transplant late in January when the preparatory bloodwork threw up some concerning results.  Subsequent scans showed that the disease had progressed into his organs and bones and it was clear that his time was limited when his family shared the devastating news on 24 January.

In the following days, there was a flurry of activity, realising many of Jak’s wishes and dreams but also using the gathering attention to raise awareness and funds.  I will not go into detail as that is well documented online in numerous places, including his Facebook page.

I woke in Yangon on Tuesday morning to a Facebook feed filled with news updates relating to Jak.  I didn’t need to open those links to know that this could only mean one thing, Jak had died only days after learning of the spread of the disease.

He leaves an incredible legacy for one so young, yet enormously mature and generous.  He  leaves a family, school and community, united in grief and coming to terms with the privilege and grief of knowing such an incredible young man.  At the same time, galvanised and inspired to fulfil a series of plans which he had been shaping in his final days. The fundraising towards research into Gammadelta T-cell lymphoma has had a major boost as has awareness into childhood and blood cancers.  He leaves a phenomenal legacy in his name and memory.  Jak, his family and supporters (Team Jak) developed the concept of “Jak’s Den” which will be a space incorporating a number of features:

• Counselling/quiet rooms and fully qualified counsellors for siblings/ families and any other child/ teen requiring counselling
• A LOUD room for anyone wanting to go in if they want to make some noise
• A cafe for cancer sufferers and neutropenic folks who can’t eat out in public for fear of infection – this  will be sterile and all freshly cooked food as this was a huge loss for Jak he couldn’t get out or easily socialise
  
• An outdoor area with space for sports and games
• A music sensory area
• halls for singing dance and drama, connected with Jaks’ family business, which will also provide a space for sports parties and indoor kids football.

This is personal.  Both of my grandchildren were in the school band with him, and in particular my grandson, David really looked up to him.  David was proud to shave his head and show support.  We know how important image is to young people and a head shave at that age is a big deal.

The morning after Jak’s death, pupils at school wore gold ties or hairbands to remember Jak. My daughter had a crack of dawn run to the shops to find a gold tie for David. An extraordinary movement has been kindled from the grief and loss of one of their friends.

Only one day later, we were reminded that World Cancer Day was again upon us. And that is when I realised just how scunnered I was with cancer.

As the sun sets, so too does it rise.  I am fortunate in that whilst I have that all pervading feeling of being scunnered, I am confident that it will pass and that the new day will help to lift the spirits. I am even more fortunate that through my grandchildren I have a connection, albeit tenuous, with an extraordinary young person who shone a light into a very dark space and leaves pride and inspiration alongside grief.

December already?

At this time of year, I am always caught by surprise by the sight of snowflakes falling across my home page.  I found this seasonal (well, northern hemisphere seasonal) function years ago, and switched on the “let it snow” feature.  Every December since then there have been snowflakes falling on tropical vegetation and other background images.

Once the snowflakes start falling across the screen, I am usually working my way through another annual process.  The three words.  Any “down” time, such as sitting in a taxi, waking in the middle of the night or other time where there is a space for reflection I am thinking of the past year and the coming year.  Have the words worked well this year?  How do I want to approach the coming year.  Which words will capture my aspirations and guide me as we move into the new year?

This 2014 has brought its challenges and intensity, some of which had been hinted at, some unexpected and some less welcome. As the year closes, I will have brought my reflections together and turned my focus to the coming year.  Already, the mantra is taking shape and words are dancing around.  I know, though, that the decision comes later, that the words form their own shape and settle together as the time to set the mantra approaches.

Nearly twelve months ago I shared my 2014 words, and now already I am preparing for their successors.  And I find that this process is as relevant and meaningful for me as it was when I first chanced upon it in 2009. And for as long as it works, so shall I keep living with and through my three words.

Preview

I am sorry about the silence here – there has been a lot going on.  There is nothing worrisome (that I am aware of ) but rather a sustained push on all things gecko over the past weeks and months.

But I am catching up.  Slowly, but surely.  And so here is a preview…………

Inspiration

This is the kind of space which I have been yearning for. Set in a natural, quiet and inspiration setting.  Over the coming days there will be updates and more images than you would wish for. to make up for the silence over the past couple of weeks.

I promise 🙂

Breathless

I slipped out of the room, near the end of a discussion on writing inspiration, straining my ears as the voice of Louis de Bernieres faded gradually.   In no time I was on my way to Mandalay airport. I could scarcely breathe. My heart was fluttering and my pulse racing. And for once this was not a medical problem!

On my flight to Bangkok, I found myself in a strange middle space still airborne from the inspirational weekend, yet on the brink of an intense week of work and travel.  I closed my eyes, clasping the memories of the weekend, and those cherished moments, the very ones you keep safely in a little imaginary memory jar, in the mind’s eye.

I was leaving Mandalay, where the Second Irrawaddy Literary Festival was coming to a close and I was fired with enthusiasm and inspiration strangely edged with disbelief.  Crammed into just over two days, I had gathered many magical conversations to be treasured and precious moments to immortalise, dialogues with like minds and unexpected connections in the organised sessions as well as impromptu exchanges.

Moments such as:

• Listening to Polly Devlin talk about her memories and experiences as Seamus Heaney’s sister in law and her own writing. Laughing out loud as she said  “you don’t write poetry if you are Seamus Heaney’s sister in law!”

Joe Woods chatting with Polly Devlin

• Chatting with Jung Chang, her beckoning me over to sit with her when she saw me sitting apart, her kindness and thoughtfulness warming me.

Sitting next to Jung Chang

Jung Chang author of Wild Swans

• Discovering that not only am I sitting next to Jung Chang, I am also sitting very close to Louis de Bernieres!

Sitting very close to Louis de Bernieres in the audience

• Listening to Karen Connelly read her extract from The Lizard’s Cage and compelling me to read it as soon as I can.
• Polly Devlin gifting me her memoir because I told her how much her session had moved me.
• Hearing the wisdom of great and revered writers on writing.  “If you are “stuck” as Louis de Bernieres said, “just go shopping”, anything rather than sit there and look at a blank screen, or piece of paper.  Keep thinking, jot down ideas and use your dreams”.
• Sitting at the table next to Thant Myint U, listening to Daw Aung San Suu Kyi in conversation with Joan Bakewell (and avoiding being well baked in the room where it was held)

Audience with the Lady – watching from outside

• Saying “Good morning” to the Lady as she swept past after her talk.

The Lady sweeps past me in the hotel lobby

• Meeting a Yangon friend and learning that he is an acclaimed Irish Poet.
• Pausing on the staircase to chat with Ko Ko Thett and share a love of poetry.
• Spending time in the passageway for a conversation with Pascal Khoo Thwe and being able to tell him that his “From the Land of Green Ghosts” is one of the few books I have read twice.
• Admiring the beautiful handwriting of Lous de Bernieres as he signed my copies of Captain Corelli’s Mandolin and we chatted about education in Nepal following the conflict.
• Being able to talk with Karen Connelly and sharing contact details in the hope that we can meet for coffee and writerly chat in Yangon.

Similarly to my experience of the Literary Festival last year, I found the authors and speakers incredibly approachable and unassuming. I still struggle a little to believe that I was able to talk with and listen to such esteemed figures. This year the Festival had been itself the subject of some discussions and changes but I remained largely oblivious to that as I was swept along by the tide of creativity.

Sitting listening to Polly Devlin in the company of Louis de Bernieres and Jung Chang

I am now back in Yangon, my case is unpacked and a number of new books are trying to find a space to squeeze in to the bookcase. Ideas are flowing and a breeze of new energy is breathing fresh life into my writing projects.

All over the place

I am not sure where to start with this.  I am all over the place, and I have been all over the place.  And tomorrow I am going more all over the place.

My physical and mental beings are in limbo and transit all at once.  My mind feels as if it is the spin cycle of a washing machine.  Everything churning and spinning with no time to stop and reflect. No moment or opening to move forward.

I have just returned from a very short, intense and emotional visit to Scotland, with highs and lows.  Precious time with family, especially my father who continues to display incredible strength despite his frailty and years.  The sudden, cruel loss of my brother in law, stolen by a hiding cancer, believed to have been eradicated by the best of treatment completed only a few weeks ago. A long haul flight nursing a dramatically coloured and swollen leg, damaged thanks to pavement aerobics caused by an unfortunate combination of numb and clumsy Taxotere toes and a sneaky paving stone peeking up over its allocated territory. The rare gathering of close family over steaming mugs of tea and coffee and delicious comfort food. Hushed conversations. Rushed purchases. Heavy skies. Welcome laughter. Heart-wrenching smiles patchworked over wounds.

And as an unseasonal challenge Scotland organised blankets of snow over brave crocuses and daffodils as a  picturesque backdrop.

My return travel deposited me back in hot and sultry Yangon some 28 hours or so after I had left family in Scotland before sunrise in sub zero temperatures and into a sky full of snow waiting to fall.

Now, only a few days later, I am still not quite able to rest.  My half unpacked bag is now being re-packed ready for the short flight to Bangkok.  And the main reason for this unrest is the prospect of yet more checks. More blood draws from an arm so bruised I cannot see my own vein, scans to seek out anything which might be hiding and the usual investigation into anything which might hint at something sinister. I am exhausted with it all, yet I know it is what I need.  I know that without these checks, my mind darts into those dark, frightening places.  My Doctors and I are on the same page.  By the end of the week, I hope that I will be n the other side of this heaviness and limbo and able to move on in whatever direction that might be.  I know that my physical and emotional fatigue is colouring my spirit and mood.  I understand it. It just is what it is.

In all this turmoil and shift, this feels like the right time to change my background image.  While everything is so thrown up in the air, taking its own time for the different elements to drift back down and settle.

This image speaks to me right now.  The sun is setting on a heavy day’s work in Yangon outside the Central Railway Station.  This woman is carrying her burden on her head, keeping her hands free and her posture proud. Her silhouette speaks of determination and strength, as it absorbs the soft rays of the sinking sun.

And of inspiration and clear direction.               In direct contrast to being all over the place.

To seek out wonders….

 “Travel writers seek out wonders. That’s our job. It always has been — and always will be.”

From the opening sentence I was on the edge of my seat, listening attentively, taking notes and nodding like the classroom swot.  Rory MacLean’s words were resounding in my head. Indeed we do seek out wonders, in so many ways.  I know I am not exactly a (budding) travel writer, being based in overseas countries rather than journeying as such.  However, much of my experience is very similar, observing, smiling and reflecting on the little and not so little details of what is new and different around me.  The tiny details which you almost miss, as much as the grand, well-known wonders.  Although I have been in Asia for over a decade, I still have that sense of novelty and delight in my surroundings and the innumerable wonders which are there if only you open your eyes and mind.

This was my first session at the Irrawaddy Literary Festival.  The event which had been unthinkable until a few months previously, and the three days which had been fiercely protected in my diary, only to be sabotaged by a nasty stomach bug. I was still feeling somewhat delicate on the second day of the Festival, having missed the full first day due to the wicked bug.  Gingerly, I joined the audience late in the morning to listen to three writers  Rory Maclean, Caroline Courtauld and Monisha Rajesh talk about Travel Writing.  And I was hooked from those opening words, listening to these authors talk about their work and their differing approaches to seeking out wonders to share in their writing.

They shared insights, anecdotes and techniques and I scribbled furiously.  The future of travel writing was explored, given that the physical journeys have pretty much been travelled. How can a travel writer then focus on new wonders? The writers talked about the importance of reflection in travel writing, in describing an experience using all the senses and not only visual and the facts.  There is no wonder in recording basic facts.  Do photographs make us lazy? The beauty of travel writing is in enabling the reader to re-live the wonder which enthrals the writer.

I was able to speak briefly with the writers after the session, which added to the inspirational mood and set me up beautifully for the remainder of the day.  I was already forgetting that I missed the first day completely!

From the time I first saw the information about the Festival, I was blown away by the calibre and number of the writers who would be there.  I was particularly excited about a session on narrative fiction with a writer I had not known about – Akash Kapur along with two names very prominent on my bookcase.  Thant Myint U and Pascal Khoo Thwe, both are authors I worship.  One of the first books I read after being posted here in Myanmar was The Land of Green Ghosts by Pascal Khoo Thwe and I have read this once more since then, as well as gifting the book to several friends.

It provides a wonderful insight into Myanmar traditional and rural life, and is an utterly engaging and compelling memoir of a young man from a very remote part of Myanmar.  Pascal Khoo Thwe now lives in the UK and in fact has only visited Yangon three times in his life!  He shared beautiful insights and details, and one which stayed with me was his account of arriving in the UK.  He told us that he arrived in London after a long flight from Bangkok and was most disoriented.  The plane landed in thick grey cloud, and after he was met he was taken onwards on the London Underground.  He told us that at the forefront of his mind, was the voice of one of his grandmothers.  She maintained that on death, we move on from this world to a place where the sun is unseen and people live underground! You can see why I love his book so much.

As this session was coming to an end, people were getting up and leaving early.  We knew why.  The next session, due to start as that one came to a close was an audience with Daw Aung San Suu Kyi and there was a palpable sense of anticipation.  My friend and I did not leave the session until it was completely over, we were enjoying every last word, and also did not like to give a message that this session was in any way less engaging.

Of course, we had planned to listen to her talk though, and we trotted on over to the room where it was to take place. And we were not alone.  There were hordes of people and we soon discovered that the room was full and the doors shut.  However, the word on the lips of everyone in the crowd was that she would address everyone on the Terrace after her audience.  The Terrace is lovely, but hot, and exposed to the scorching afternoon sun.  When you add that to the fact that I would not see anything thanks to my short stature, and that the crowd was growing by the minute, my friend and I decided to step away and head for a cup of tea in the cool and shade.

Our tea arrived, and I glanced up to see some new activity a few feet away.  A group of photographers and TV cameramen were tripping over themselves and each other as they scurried backwards in our direction.  While the crowds were outside or in the main lecture hall, we were in the tea room and suddenly, the Lady was walking right past us! Sometimes things are just meant to happen.

And at the end of her address on the Terrace (which we could hear, but could not see) she walked back past us.  This time the camera scaffolding was not there, just a few people and by pure luck I caught the moment where a young girl briefly grasped her hand.

So unexpected, and very special.

She was due to speak again later, after the Orwell Lecture which I also attended.  The final session was a panel discussing “Desert Island Literature”.  The writers on the panel was a treasure trove of writers – it was truly astonishing to see William Dalrymple, Jung Chang, Vikram Seth and Aung San Suu Kyi and Fergal Keane (moderating) sitting together. I was completely star struck. Each with such an impressive presence. Jung Chang, whose “Wild Swans” is another book I have read twice (a rare phenomenon) and Vikram Seth whose epic “A Suitable Boy” also sits in a prominent place on my bookshelf. How a man with such a slight and small physical stature can produce works of the enormity of “A Suitable Boy” was an irreverent thought which made me chuckle!   Tiny man – HUGE book 😉 Enormous personality and charisma.

The panel discussion was fascinating and moving, and provided insights into the lives of these iconic people. I held on to every word, still scribbling into my little notebook, so that I would not forget little snippets of treasure.

I had been surprised and delighted to be invited to the Gala Dinner that evening, so rushed home to change and returned in time to mingle and chat with writers, friends and literary aficionados.  Surreal and wonderful.

Sunday was just as inspiring.  I chatted with writers, listened to powerful and emotional readings, had copies of my books signed and was humbled by the modest and supportive words from these well known authors.  I bought more books.  Because you can never have too many, and because I had become acquainted with new writers and wanted to read (and own) their works.  The day melted, and as the sun sank over Inya Lake, there were many exhausted and contented smiles.

Listening to poetry at Irradaddy LIterary Festival, as the sun sets on Inya Lake

By the end of Sunday, I had forgotten that I had been so ill and missed the whole of the first day, because there had been so many special and memorable moments.

Another incredible and inspiring event had taken place, and I had been fortunate enough to be at the heart of it.

And inspired to continue in my quest to seek out wonders.

Embracing and nurturing 2013 with a three word mantra

Whispers of cloud, streaked pink and gleaming are scattered across Yangon’s sky as the sun creeps over the horizon carrying promise and hope of a new day, of the first day of 2013.  The shrinking flames of the candle flicker at the shrine beside the tree where the Nat spirits live. It is the right time to share the three words which I have selected to encourage and guide me for the coming year …………

This is now the fourth year which I have used the “three word” exercise instead of resolutions, to inspire the coming year and to use as a motivation for change.  In fact, I really did not make resolutions before then.  They did not hold much meaning for me.  Of course, there were things I wanted to do or change, but I did not necessarily find that the New Year was timely, or adequate, for that.

When I first saw the three word exercise, in the final hours of 2009, it instantly resonated with me.  The timing was exquisite, coming after my diagnosis and in the midst of chemo.  The words tumbled into my mind easily, singing encouragement and hope.  They formed a mantra which truly enabled me to think forward, and explore what my priorities should be for the coming year as I moved through treatment and into a new unknown.  It was motivational, affirming and inspiring.

And doing this exercise as the year closes has continued to be so. I feel that the three words chart my hopes and priorities for the year, and give me something to focus on. They whisper to me as I continue through the years, and I cherish them. I can tell so much about those years from these words:

2010               Recovery, discovery and laughter

2011               Harmony, vitality and adventure

2012               Resilience, escapade and wonder

It is fascinating to look back and see, through these words, where I was emotionally and physically this time last year.  And to reflect back on how apt they might have been for 2012.

In terms of resilience, oh my goodness that has been apt.  It has been a reminder throughout the year to really focus on emotional and physical wellbeing in order to have reserves to draw on when needed.  And how they have been needed. Serious health issues for me and close family members have led me to sink time and again into the bank of resilience and, I hope, have to a certain extent lessened the struggle.

I am glad I also selected escapade.  This has been a reminder to carpe that diem, and do things in the here and now.  My pulmonary embolism in July, and the fright in October, with the bone scan and raised tumour markers reaffirmed how important it is to do the things I want to and not have regrets.  These do not need to be Big Things, although trips to Hong Kong, Timor Leste, Indonesia, Cambodia and Norway are pretty big in the scheme of escapades!   Just as valid have been those spontaneous and smaller escapades, such as cycling off down unknown paths with my fantabulous bike, or taking the circular railway around Yangon on Christmas Day.

And as for wonder, this lives in my very soul.  I am curious by nature, and my mind wanders off on trails of thought unbidden, leading me to fascinating destinations and passing through unexpected places.  Watching a kingfisher at the poolside took me on an incredible journey of wonder in every sense.  I know I need to hold on to that awe and appreciation in what is around me.  I know that a healthy curiosity is critical to my psychological and emotional wellbeing.  That is the way I rock and roll!

Truly, these words have both guided me, serving as a reminder of priorities and also served to preserve the essence of what turned out to be a tough year for me.

So as the year has drawn to a close, I have been wallowing in word choice again.  Last year I was awash with words and found it quite difficult to choose.   The process took me many days.  This year the words came to me with little searching.  I selected three words almost immediately and although I have tweaked and refined as I have taken time to deliberate and really live with those words, two out of the three are my original choice, and the one changed is very close to my original selection.  And those words for 2013 are:

Focus, treasure and design

Focus

Last year I spent a great deal of time selecting the right three words for the year – “resilience, escapade and wonder”. And of course, just a few days into the New Year, I was already wondering if I had made the right choice. I am a bit of a butterfly and flit from task to task, from idea to new idea and am easily drawn away in unplanned directions. I remember thinking that I needed to focus, to see projects through after the novelty wears off and to set clear goals and objectives as well as commit to seeing a task through.  I particularly like the fact that focus exists as a verb as well as a noun and thus expresses deliberate action as well as something tangible to aim for.  It will remind me that I must focus on my health, on ensuring a balance between work and leisure even in such an exciting, changing and increasingly demanding environment. Ensuring focus will also help to bring clarity, in the literal as well as the figurative sense.  Yes, focus is an important word to set the tone for my year.

Treasure

The second word has been a bit slippery!  My earlier choices included nurture, nourish, cherish and embrace.  With embrace, I wanted to capture that sense of not just accepting whatever comes my way, but moreover to grasp it fully and transform it into something positive and to my advantage.  In my mind is the shadow of my January checks and the checking of the tumour markers.  Whatever the tests and the future holds, I must own it.  I must accept and take control of all that I can. Embrace had appealed in that it conveys a sense of acceptance with the added element of taking control.  I had also been taken by nurture, with its essence of encouraging growth and creation through care.  If I had to select just one word for the world, then it would be nurture.  We need to nurture all around us, our children, our partners, parents and family, our colleagues, friends and acquaintances.  We need to praise and encourage. Then I settled on “cherish” which is a beautiful, rich word. I felt that it conveyed all of the previous aspects, as well as a beautiful sense of when caring for the most precious things to us, protecting and treasuring them.  And that is when “treasure” came rushing in from the wings and swept over cherish gently setting it to the side.  Treasure has been my final selection because it has a wider range of meanings, which include cherish.  I also love the fact that it is also a both a verb and a noun, and that symmetry really calls to me.  In its verbal form, it is very close to cherish, with the added sense that it is something very special. I love treasure as a noun too, because we are surrounded by treasure, in even the most ordinary, everyday entity.  I love to pick fallen frangipani blossom in the morning, and call it morning treasure.  As modern life becomes more sophisticated and complex, maintaining a sense of naivety and wonder is refreshing if not essential to our emotional well being.  I also apply this concept to my physical well-being and know that I must continue to focus on health and activity.  My wonderful morning swim and cycle routine is a treasure indeed.

It is so important to notice the simplest elements in our surroundings and value them.  We really are surrounded by treasures.

Design

My third word is design.  Again it is a noun and a verb, and again it has a variety of meanings which speak to me for the coming year.  It represents the importance of creativity in my life and serves to remind me to prioritise those creative activities which I so enjoy. I need to ensure that there is space for art, reading, writing and imagining, and that I must ensure balance in my life. Design also conveys a sense of deliberate action, as in the phrase “by design”.  This chimes with me so much.  No matter what challenges are thrown in my way, I must retain control and make wise decisions as I follow the path I choose.  I must ensure that I invest effort and due consideration and don’t just allow myself to be swept along.  Life is not about what happens to us, but how we deal with what happens to us, and we must remember that.

So these are my three beautiful words, my mantra for 2013 and my guiding star.  The past year has been tough in so many ways, and I hope for a year which is kinder.  I know that the dark shadow of the oncology review is in the first days of 2013. I move towards that, holding tightly onto these words, trusting that no matter what this brings I will be guided through it.

The weight of paper

With my change in swimming venue of a morning there have been a few accompanying changes.  One of those is the company I keep.  While there are rarely other humans in the pool with me, I am regularly joined by a frog (who refuses to be rescued), a squirrel who runs along the fence, a melodic mynah bird and a rowdy dispatch of crows.  But the most regular company I have is that of a gloriously coloured blue kingfisher who watches me rather haughtily as I encroach on his personal inland waterway as I swim up and down the pool.  The first time I caught sight of his bright blue wings I felt that the colour was almost an unnatural blue, as if he had slipped into a tub of thick blue emulsion.

One morning, I was in my usual meditative state of mind, my mind drifting about the kingfisher and wondering how I would describe the blue of his wings. There are so many blues in the colour palette, Prussian blue, cobalt, ultramarine, azure, turquoise, cerulean……… never ending blues.  I resolved to Google “shades of blue” when I got home.

However, that sparked another train of thought.  Perhaps I should emphasise that my swimming style permits me to soak in what is going on around me (in other words a head-above-the-water style).  Thus the morning swim has been the starting point for many ideas, blog posts and even a petty major work project!  Off my mind went on its own to a recognition of how quickly we refer or rather resort to Google or other technological sources of reference and information.  In those hazy distant pre-Google days we used to have a wealth of reference sources, either in our possession or in what used to be a favourite haunt of mine – the library.  That treasure cave, overflowing with my favourite thing – books!  I had all kinds of books and I would spend many happy hours reading and leafing through the illustrated encyclopaedia in our home.

Libraries used to be a key part of my life, and not only during my life as a student.  My love of books was demonstrated when I left my job in 1989 to take up a place at university as a mature student.  Our small, cosy office had a collection and I was gifted a sum of money as a leaving present.  Most people were very surprised at what I bought with that money.  I was delighted with my acquisition – a brand new Collins Dictionary and Roget’s Thesaurus.  I was all set for university!

Libraries were integral elements of life.  For example,  I have only really two clear memories of that intensely emotional time following my mother’s death 15 years ago.  The first was of losing all composure and completely breaking down at our first meeting with the undertaker, it was a desperate moment bring all those emotions and sense of being truly bereft  bursting to the surface.  The other intense memory stems from my compulsion to find a quotation from a certain poem as a reading. And what I remember is spending a great deal of time in the local library searching for “that quote”.

That was a time, not so long ago just before the dawn of the 21^st century and the proliferation of the internet.  Well, before its proliferation in my life anyway. Nowadays I would have been able to consult Professor Google and find out the quote and the poem in several editions in all likelihood in a matter of moments.  But I can clearly remember, finding myself a table in the local village library, anthologies of poetry opened beside me as I leafed through for several hours.  And that in itself was cathartic and somehow comforting in a way which I suspect a thirty second internet search would not have been.

Of course, researching from books was significantly more time consuming.  However, I used to find it generally a real pleasure and I could happily while away hours buried in dictionaries, thesaures or encyclopaediae or in all manner of reference books.  And even in those days, it was entirely usual to “surf” off in different directions as new gems of information and kernels of new questions would form.  However, there was still the pre-internet older cousin of Dr Google who existed in the medical reference books on dusty library shelves, and who was just as alarmist!

As a student of modern languages at university, I needed to have my own reference dictionaries.  Translation was a key part of our course, as well as language analysis and critical reading of literature and journalism in my languages of study.  For French we had our main chunky French-English/English-French Dictionary as well as the monolingual “Le Petit Robert” which was an absolute Aladdin’s cave of language treasure.  Looking up one word would send me off on a trail to understand all the nuances of that word in French.

Our Russian Dictionaries were a little different.  The English – Russian dictionary was in its own volume, as was the Russian – English one.  These were large, heavy books as were the French dictionaries, somewhat larger than A4 so not possible to carry out for easy reference!

Hence our regular lengthy periods of “residence” in the university library!

Much as I love our internet age and rapid access to almost any kind of information, books are still important to me.  The Kindle, for example, could have been invented for me, someone who regularly has difficulty closing travel bags and dreads airport check in scales because of a book addiction. And the Kindle is indeed amazing (of course I have one 😉 ) and there are many things I love about it. It astounds and delights me that it does not matter how many books it stores, the Kindle never gets any heavier.  Don’t ask me to try and understand that!  I also love being able to lie in bed and buy books.  That really must be the height of decadence! I love being able to hear or read a book recommendation and be able to search on the kindle bookstore and buy it within seconds. This is particularly welcome as we still do not have a huge selection of books available for sale. It also gets round the fact that sending a book through the post or by mail is likely to take a lengthy time, and delivery complicated so far away. Electronic books have gone a great distance to resolve that.  For example, I recently won a book (in a draw) and the book was emailed to me as a link/electronic document.  And I was eventually able (with the guidance of the Google Technology Support Team 😉 ) to transfer it to my Kindle.  (Although I do have to confess that it is not quite as special as the signed copy of Gok Wan’s autobiography which I won a couple of years ago and which sits proudly on my bookshelf!

Many people have told me that they have converted easily to Kindle and don’t miss books.  However, I can’t say the same.  I do miss books.  I joke that my Kindle looks silly with little post its stuck all over it as page markers of something I liked and want to remember.  But I am only half joking.  I really do like having those markers in a book.  They are visible reminders and I do revisit favourite quotes (such as “I fall down. I get up again.”  Although I did find myself tempted to try and press on a word in a real book to see if the dictionary definition would come up, as it does in Kindle!

One of my friends similarly maintains a blend of real books and Kindle.  She loves being able to download the daily UK newspapers here in Yangon, as well as key periodicals on her Kindle, but still buys books for actual “reading”.  And of course there are those memories of Sunday newspapers, serial pots of coffee and leisurely days working through the “step-back-from-the-world-for-a while” features and analytical studies.  Although I have to confess that I also have clear memories of getting myself all wrapped up and tangled in the broadsheets and suspect that my Sunday recollection is actually more a nostalgic memory than actually really enjoying the papers!

This week I had another interesting book encounter.  As I was walking along the street, I passed a lovely little roadside stall with calenders, books and lots of stationery goodies. My eye was caught by a little book, which I realised was a full calendar from 1900 through to the end of 2013.  A 113 year calendar!  Sure enough, I could look up any date in that time and find out what day of the week it was (very important in Myanmar culture), whether it was a full or new moon, festival and the Myanmar date.  No need to Google birth dates for visitors to the country and no need to rely on connectivity.  Perhaps it would have been more timely to stumble upon it a bit earlier and share the Myanmar calendar, as a way of balancing the fears of the Mayan calendar!  It could have saved a deal of angst (where’s the tongue-in-cheek icon 😉 )

It is clear that I am holding on tightly to real paper and books as the world shifts in the way we store information and reading material, while using the convenience of technology for what it can provide for me.  The internet has changed and continues to change so much.  One area which is not the focus of this post, but which warrants a passing mention, is of course the whole area of friendship, support and community which the internet has gifted us.  In my case, living at a significant physical distance the internet has enabled a completely different experience than I would have had even a few years earlier thanks to sophisticated online communication mechanisms and systems.

As I step back and reflect on this, I think it is not so complicated really.  I think it is simply (as it is with so many aspects of our life) about maintaining a balance.  With regard to information, books and technology we do not need to opt for one of the other. We can make a concerted effort to keep the parts we like. There is no rule which says we must choose now – “Kindle or paperback novel”,  “Google or illustrated Bird Book” or even “Mayan Stone calendar, little Myanmar 113 year calendar or hang on-the-wall paper calendar”!  I believe that the challenge might be more in maintaining an understanding and recognition of that balance.  The convenience of the internet draws us in more subtly than we realise.

All of which is a rather winding trail of thought and deliberation sparked off by a kingfisher! And thanks to a variety of reference sources, I am able to say that my morning time company is in fact a white-collared kingfisher, a species prevalent in South East Asia.

Thank you, my morning time friend, for your inspiration.