If we have a family, we yearn for a friend. If we have a friend, we long to be part of a circle of friends. If we have a home we imagine a castle. If we write, we need readers. If we have readers, we need a response. If we are healthy we fret for beauty. If we are ill we yearn for a cure.
If the cradle is empty we yearn to fill it. If the house is full of children and their dramas we wish for space. If our home is peaceful we yearn to travel. If we live in the city we dream of the country. If the table is laid we yearn for a feast.
Is it possible to cease yearning ?
For a moment - when I think of an out-of-touch friend, someone from a past I yearned for. Someone who might yearn for time to run backwards, to the last days of her daughter's health. Who might dream of taking Ruby by the hand and running - on fire with yearning - longing to out-run her child's illness and out-fox her daughter's death.
Sometimes when we quit our yearning, we can manage the harsh consolation of count your blessings.
And sometimes the other side of longing is even harsher. Is mourning.
Showing posts with label musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label musings. Show all posts
Monday, October 25, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Blog Analysis
Not mine, other people's. This is what comes of spending 5 plus hours watching episodes of In Treatment, which has fantastic performances by Dianne Wiest and Mia Wasikowska, and is marred only by Melissa George's trout lips.
A friend recommended a blog to me, a witty blog, an impolite and wild and eccentric and lively blog, a daring blog written by a an arty sort of wife and mother, a London sort of wife and mother. It's funny. And either Antonia ( it's alright to use her name as she doesn't know me, or this blog, from a bar of soap) has a devoted following because of her wit and sardonic take on life, or she has a lot of fond-of-commenting friends. Probably both.
Antonia lost me, however, when I read her very amusing post about recovering from post-natal irritation with her toddler by flying from London to New York for a weekend of cocktails with her gal pals. Suddenly, a blog that had read as subversive - of motherhood, art, suburban life, marriage - seemed to suddenly reveal itself as a blog of privilege instead, full of a sort of high class sneering.
Which is of course, a ridiculous thing to think, as anyone blogging for fun in the Western world is automatically writing from their broadband enabled position of privilege.
Yet somehow I prefer a blog like Helena's (it's alright to use her name because I'm about to say nice things) that isn't funny and doesn't mock but delves into our vulnerabilities as humans with compassion, hopeful images, beautiful and carefully chosen words. It's still a privileged form of writing but easier for me to swallow.
You can make up your own mind. I think I'm trying to make up mine about what blogs are for, what the best use is of this time we sit at our computers and write. And a deadly, earnest sort of work (much like this post!) isn't the answer to the mock-brave work of wealthy women, I know that too.
http://respectlovelearning.blogspot.com/
http://yetanotherbloomingblog.blogspot.com/ - please don't click on this link if you're likely to be offended by 'language' or 'themes'...
A friend recommended a blog to me, a witty blog, an impolite and wild and eccentric and lively blog, a daring blog written by a an arty sort of wife and mother, a London sort of wife and mother. It's funny. And either Antonia ( it's alright to use her name as she doesn't know me, or this blog, from a bar of soap) has a devoted following because of her wit and sardonic take on life, or she has a lot of fond-of-commenting friends. Probably both.
Antonia lost me, however, when I read her very amusing post about recovering from post-natal irritation with her toddler by flying from London to New York for a weekend of cocktails with her gal pals. Suddenly, a blog that had read as subversive - of motherhood, art, suburban life, marriage - seemed to suddenly reveal itself as a blog of privilege instead, full of a sort of high class sneering.
Which is of course, a ridiculous thing to think, as anyone blogging for fun in the Western world is automatically writing from their broadband enabled position of privilege.
Yet somehow I prefer a blog like Helena's (it's alright to use her name because I'm about to say nice things) that isn't funny and doesn't mock but delves into our vulnerabilities as humans with compassion, hopeful images, beautiful and carefully chosen words. It's still a privileged form of writing but easier for me to swallow.
You can make up your own mind. I think I'm trying to make up mine about what blogs are for, what the best use is of this time we sit at our computers and write. And a deadly, earnest sort of work (much like this post!) isn't the answer to the mock-brave work of wealthy women, I know that too.
http://respectlovelearning.blogspot.com/
http://yetanotherbloomingblog.blogspot.com/ - please don't click on this link if you're likely to be offended by 'language' or 'themes'...
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Workers I Love
Bakers, orchardists, general practitioners, writers of thoughtful essays, folk singers, hospital workers, mothers, historians, botanists, beekeepers, classical musicians, embroiderers, the people at HBO, astronomers, librarians, costume designers, aged care nurses, archaeologists, ABC radio presenters/producers/researchers, spinners, astrophysicists, writers of text books, creators of beautiful blogs, medical researchers, owners of independent bookshops, watercolourists, glass makers, preschool teachers, tea plantation workers, reading group helpers, elderly Red Cross ladies, children's book writers, illustrators, James May. Yes, I know he's not a category.
Who would you add ?
Who would you add ?
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