Stay Where Your Hands Are

I said this to a friend this morning. She was panicked. About everything. I know how that is. You pull the thread from a small hole and a vast new terrifying landscape appears through the bigger hole you're creating.

I needed to say it for myself too. I caught myself fretting about the Tely 10 race coming up on this Sunday, about my appearance on a post by the venue hosts of my recent performance. Self criticism is one of my old reliable default standbys. I'm an expert on beat-myself-up behaviour. Instead of feeling thrilled about the reception my performance gave I focussed on my poor posture, my stomach roll, you name it: I'll inflict self-shame on it.

Her call pushed me upright. In more ways than one.

And I look at my hands for they will:

Cut up my healthy lunch for today,
Get me suited and booted and socked and...
Lead me out the door for a training walk,
Write this post,
Reach out to someone else today,
Pick up a bit of knitting to bore the inner monster,
Lift up and read a beautiful West Cork history book given to me by my sister
Type up a few daily emails to distant friends and loved ones.

I am sickened by so much - Gaza, Ukraine, the dying bees, you name it, the list is endless. And it was and is and will be ever thus. There is nothing, apart from outrage and outcry that I can do about it all. All of it noise: Internal. External.

There be dragons out there where my hands are not.

I can't feed them too.

Saving the Good Stuff

It was lunchtime today and I was putting it together, I try and plan my meals a bit ahead so I don't go all slackjawed when gawping inside the fridge. A look that can be cute when you're 21 but certifiable when you're 60-mumble.

So there I am today thinking I should add some portobello mushrooms to the tomatoes and I had this thought: "No, save the mushrooms, they're gorgeous, you should share those."

Well there I go again. I live alone. Who am I sharing it with? And last week I had to throw out the leeks, I was 'saving' them too.

It's like I'm just not good enough to actually serve myself some lovely food, gourmet food.

And I thought I was all through with that kind of thinking with daily useage of the good china and glasses, etc.

This reminds me of a workshop I held on self-esteem for women and I asked everyone with lovely underwear on to put up their hands and out of 18, only 2 did. 16 were wearing decomposing underwear. A huge signal of low self-esteem. Now I've never held a workshop for men but would imagine the percentage of men with good underwear on when they don't expect to be flaunting it is a lot higher. No? Yes?

And yes my underwear has been quite lovely for the last 20 years. I actually throw out the tatty ratties or at least recycle them into rag mats. Thanks for asking.

But this food thing was an eyeopener and I wonder in what other aspects of my day-to-day living I unconsciously dishonour myself.

The portobellos were gorgeous.