Embrace what makes you unique, even if it makes others uncomfortable. I didn't have to become perfect because I've learned throughout my journey that perfection is the enemy of greatness.
I actually haven't followed this advice, to 'embrace what makes you unique' during my life time but I am going to try now. (Poor Peter.........or maybe lucky Peter- who knows where the trip will end.)
I did actually 'embrace what made me unique' at one stage. I like to count things and have them in order. I count all sorts of things - stairs; how many times I stir my coffee; how many things I have on the clothes line. I love systems and plans - you always have to have a plan. Over the years I have tried to convince my daughters to count things to help keep their lives organised. You can probably see where I am going with this. As time went on and things got a little difficult for me and I saw some mental health professionals, it actually turned out I have some aspects of OCD - quite a few in fact. Not so much as to interfere terribly with my life, but 'what I embraced as my uniqueness'- the things I saw as making me an interesting person - were not so much interesting as a bit of a problem.
I didn't like maths much at school but I have always been fascinated by numbers. I love to know people's ages. And when I studied psychology, statics was like a dream come true. You can take amorphous things such as emotion or feeling and measure them and come up with mathematical results. I wasn't very good at actually doing statistics, but I loved the way you could say something was significant or not significant based on a number.
The first time I studied psychology was at uni, back in the 70's and I was too busy having a good time and then cramming when I had to. It wasn't easy to cram for a statistics exam. There was no point just learning formulae - you had to know how and when to use them. Needless to say I didn't, and my statistics exam in first year psychology was the only time in my life I failed an exam. I passed the overall subject with a credit because I hadn't done too bad a job on assignments during the year - and this was the time before calculators.
When I returned to uni to study more psychology in 1995, everything was on computer, although the internet hadn't quite taken off. I did a research project on teaching syllables to primary school students with reading disabilities. I just couldn't get hold of the statistics program I needed, even though I was prepared to buy it, so my supervisor did the stats for me. So while I am not particularly good at statistics I love the idea of them.
But before you start thinking I must have a very organised life I should tell you that some parts of it are so extremely organised that I just run out of time to organise the rest.
And as for the idea that 'perfection is the enemy of greatness' I would rather change that to 'perfectionism is the enemy of greatness.'
And that is another whole story.
Easter has come and gone, and as important as this time is on the Christian calendar, Peter and I didn't manage to get to a formal Easter service.
We did attend a more informal service at Manna House. Peter and I volunteer on Thursday evenings at a dinner provided at our church for people who are lonely or down on their luck. I stopped volunteering for 2016 as I was tutoring, but I have cut down on that, and am back to Manna House again.
For the Thursday before Easter the hall was decorated with greenery and candles.
Easter Sunday saw Peter's family at Wollongong Botanic Gardens, picnicking and hunting for eggs and please note that no family faces have been depicted for privacy reasons.
We set up our picnic under the trees.
There was a beautiful view towards Mount Keira from where we were sitting.
This was the basket of eggs waiting to be hidden. Note the interested little hand.
Hunting for eggs.
Grandpa had some bags of Easter goodies for everyone - minus any chocolate but including a book. You can never go wrong with a book, although as Peter's eldest grandchild approaches 8 it will not be so easy to buy age appropriate Easter themed books. Maybe we will just establish a tradition of giving books at Easter.
We did manage to attend church last Sunday night. A cross was lit up on the stage. We actually arrived early for once.
Later in the night the cross became pink.
Ian, the head minister spoke on Romans 12 which talks about the way we should behave as Christians. It was interesting that he talked about pausing before we react when someone wrongs us. I had just been reading the same thing in a book my brother bought me entitled, Radical Acceptance by Tara Brach. This book is written by a psychologist who happens to be Buddhist, and I am not endorsing Buddhism as a religion at all, but I can think of a number of times in my life where pausing before I reacted would have been a good idea.
Climbing on my roof
Climbing on the roof is a problem for me. It is just too high, but I am determined to do it. My roof leaks and I want to help Peter fix it. So I am determined to make it up there. Each day I have been moving up a step on the ladder and standing until I feel comfortable.
There is a lovely view from step 7 and I only need to get up onto step 8 to make it onto the roof.
Below is a view with the ladder in the foreground.
And more views from my back roof.
Little toadstools in a tiny cup.
Polymer clay toadstools sit on a polymer clay base. I need to soften it with some spagnum moss and little flowers.
I have finally woven in all the ends on my crochet cardigan and am ready to get on with the next part.
I am just hoping I have enough wool as I am making it from an old half knitted jumper.
This is the cardigan I am crocheting.
If you are interested you can find the free pattern here.
Just remember American instructions are different from British and Australian instructions.
This poem by Bruce Dawe, a famous Australian poet, is one I can't forget. A little late for Easter, it is written from the point of view of a Roman soldier at the crucifixion. It is so evocative of that awful morning. Yet there is almost a poignant humour to it because of the colloquial language.
And a Good Friday Was Had by All
You men there, keep those women back
and God Almighty he laid down
on the crossed timber and Old Silenus
my offsider looked at me as if to say
nice work for soldiers, your mind’s not your own
once you sign that dotted line Ave Caesar
and all that malarkey Imperator Rex
well this Nazarene
didn’t make it any easier
really—not like the ones
who kick up a fuss so you can
do your block and take it out on them
held the spikes steady and I let fly
with the sledge-hammer, not looking
on the downswing trying hard not to hear
over the women’s wailing the bones give way
the iron shocking the dumb wood.
Orders is orders, I said after it was over
nothing personal you understand—we had a
drill-sergeant once thought he was God but he wasn’t
a patch on you
then we hauled on the ropes
and he rose in the hot air
like a diver just leaving the springboard, arms spread
so it seemed
over the whole damned creation
over the big men who must have had it in for him
and the curious ones who’ll watch anything if it’s free
with only the usual women caring anywhere
and a blind man in tears.
Green roofed hobbit house
Randomness peaks at age 25
'Our ability to avoid patterns is at its greatest in our mid-twenties, writes Andrew Masterson.' Click here to read more.
Too clean for our children's health