book

missed you

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Dear extraplorer,

I’m home. You may not realised it but I have been away a long time.  I have to tell you that everything I have been doing while I have been away has been very important. I have been working all over the world, helping people to grow. I have been writing at home for weeks, finishing off a book I hope will make a difference to the world, and bring more courage and joy and delight (but will anyone ever read it, I’m not sure). And I’ve been keeping hope alive wondering what someone else is doing in a far away place. I have been cooking and eating and seeing friends and doing pilates and running and sleeping. Sometimes I have crept in here to see you and I have wished that I had something to write here. But all my thoughts have been in my book and all my energy has been on planes and trains and in classrooms, and I have wandered around in my heart but not been ready to share what is in there, not yet.

extraplorer, I miss you, but I am here now, and I will be back. Be patient.

x

my favourite café is dying – my library is alive

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Yesterday I did something unheard of.

Instead of making my the café where I have gone to write for the last x number of years, a café so well-loved and frequented that I believe I may have worn a groove in the paths from my home to its threshold, I went to the library.

It had been little while coming.  First they painted the beautiful big communal room dark blue.  It altered the quality of the light, made it always a little bit sombre.  Then slowly slowly things changed.  The low-energy light bulbs cast less light.  The manager moved on and the new one…. Well, these things happen.  He introduced fresh flowers but when I visited they were always dead.  Then one by one the staff abandoned ship.  I saw the way that things were leaning, I made calls, encouraged from the sidelines, Canute-like failing to hold back the approaching tide.  The replacement members of the team were sweet, but somehow insubstantial.  No history holds them together.  And then on Monday, with the wifi more wi-foe, and the toilets neglected and the broken lightbulbs not replaced, and the cookie turned to dust…

That was it.  We had broken up.  A hastily proffered replacement cookie disintegrated into crumbs on my walk home.   There was no more left to say.

My city is not well-provided for cafés with large airy spaces and happy staff and a perfect cup of tea.  Too many are haunted by the spirit of the formula.  Faith has been put in track-records and not enough in the personal.  But insinuating itself into my consciousness had been the reopening of our library.

I hadn’t gone to the opening; couldn’t bear the potential disappointment of seeing old, worn, wabi-sabi beauty trashed by a new-kid-on-the-block.  So my visit yesterday was my first.  I tiptoed over the threshold, breath held, hands metaphorically in front of my eyes, peeking, and – sigh of relief – it was beautiful.  Not quite old-leather-armchairs-beautiful, but really, quite extraordinarily home and familiarity and sit-down-with-your-book-ish.

So armed with tea (yes, allowed in a travel cup), I took my place by a vast window, looking out to a park rustled by autumn winds, and I wonder about the change of seasons.

things I want to tell my children but might forget – going downstairs (and lifts and planes)

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Going downstairs

You may be surprised that stairs are considered very important.  If you watch a film like The Snowman, you will notice that it shows James going down the stairs, even though it does not really show him walking down the hall or landing.  This is because there is something special about changing levels, and it is to do with flying.  While we are thinking about this we are also going to think about lifts and planes.

Lifts

‘Going up!’  In a lift, when you hear this announcement, try jumping.  What is funny is that the floor will come up a bit to meet your legs while you are in the air.  so your landing distance will be a bit less than your taking-off distance.  This is also true the other way round.  If the lift says ‘going down’, then jump and you will land a bit lower than you took off.  This creates a funny feeling like a smile in your legs.

Planes

The same kind of inner woosh happens when you are in an aeroplane that is taking off.  To get into the sky the plane must start by going very fast along the land.  At a certain point, the plane nose will be pulled up and the plane is no longer on the ground but in the air.  There is a particular sensation at this moment which is like a gasp inside you followed by a tiny ripple going through your veins; this is because you are now flying, something that people wanted to do for centuries before we were alive because they looked at birds and wanted to be like them.  We are very lucky because at the time that we are alive, people have found a way to do this.  There are other moments that we feel this feeling and we will think about those later.

It is a strange thing that it is exciting to leave the ground, but it is also a good feeling to land.  Both feelings are good.  Being in the air feels free and wild and brave and being on the land feels solid and connected and comforting.  It is a very good thing when both two opposite kinds of feeling are enjoyable.

Going downstairs

So now you can probably see why going downstairs and upstairs is a special kind of action.  The other thing about going downstairs is that it is a transition that takes time you can notice.  Getting up is a transition that is happens in the amount of time we could call ‘the blink of an eye’.  Blink!  You’re out of bed.  Going downstairs is a transition that takes about ten seconds (unless you run, or slide on a lilo).  So you can notice it while it is happening, if you decide to pay attention.

things I want to tell my children but might forget – Introduction

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To try to make myself feel a little bit at home, I’m going to use some writing that I’ve already done, as well as some things that I will write new when I have a moment of inspiration or recognition.

This is the Introduction to a book I am trying out:

things I want to tell my children but might forget

Introduction

Well, children, I don’t know whether you will ever read this.  When will you be born?  Will you be born at all, and if you are, will you want to sit down and read things that your mother thought and wrote in the existence she had before you were alive.

I don’t know.

But what I do know is that the other mothers I know are very often busy.  They are looking after people and if I ever have the luminous delight of having children of my own, of having you arrive in my life, it is likely that I will be busy too.  I will be brushing your teeth, and telling you stories, and finding you water.  Or perhaps driving you from place to place.  And for sure I will be weaving this in between other projects too.  Things that you might not understand until you’re bigger, but you will know that mummy is at work.

So I want to tell you all my favourite things about the world.  Some you will understand straight away, some you won’t understand until afterwards.  We can’t always recognise things coming up ahead, but sometimes we recognise them with hindsight.  What I am hoping is that you will find it reassuring to know that there is always someone who has gone ahead of you, but also find exciting that you are the first you to have ever lived.  You are unique, you have wonderful company.

I’ve wanted to write this for a long time, but now that I have started, I suddenly felt a hesitation of not knowing where to start.  The world is a big place.  So what I would like you to do is to put on your explorer hat and we are going to travel through a day, but also through time and space, to childhood, to adulthood, to literature, to real life, and everywhere we will discover treasures and everywhere you will have a memento to bring home with you, and maybe to put in box or pin on a wall and know that you belong to everywhere, and everywhere you put your feet belongs to you alone, and to everyone.  We have all been here and none of us have been there.