Post Convention Blues

All has been quiet here on the blogging front. I have been acutely aware of the fact that I haven't been blogging, but that doesn't mean that I haven't been thinking about it. Actually I have been thinking about it a lot...and pondering....and reviewing...

More on that later.

The biggest reason I haven't been blogging lately is that I have been in Adelaide SA for the annual convention of the Short Statured People of Australia.

I don't know if there are words to describe a convention. I'm actually finding it really difficult to express what a convention means. It's equal parts exciting, fun, inspiring, challenging, emotional, overwhelming, heartwarming and many other adjectives.

At the moment the post-convention blues have hit good and proper. I got my first taste of post-convention blues waaaay back in September 1980 and although they've never hit with quite the severity since that very first time, they still hit and stay for about a week or so.

Late afternoon at the convention site in Belair.

I can't really explain why the PC-blues have hit hard this year, nor can I explain the accompanying anxiety that is plaguing me right at this very moment. I had a wonderful time. The company was amazing, the sites we visited were terrific and the days where we were educated and informed were....educational and informative! I have come away from the convention feeling motivated and determined to give back to an organisation that has given so much to me.

Short Arts Painting Workshop

One of the biggest highlights for me was the fact that the Short Arts Collective seemed to gain some momentum. For over 20 years now there has been a very strong sporting component within the SSPA which has been wonderful - giving short statured people the opportunity to participate in competitive and recreational sports activities. Sports within the SSPA has gone from strength to strength over this time and it has been great to see. However, a number of "we creatives" wanted to see the Arts represented in a positive way as well, giving opportunities for short statured people to express themselves creatively in whichever way, shape or form they chose. As a result, the Short Arts Collective was born and, up until this convention, the Collective has been finding it's feet slowly but surely. 

This year at the convention I facilitated a painting workshop where I led a group of participants in a painting exercise that explored colour and shape to express emotion. Although I was nervous about it, it proved to be a sucess with participants all having a go and then expressing how nice it was to just sit and create something. We had lovely conversations happening around the table as we painted and it seemed to be a time of reflection and peace for all participants. I was really proud of everyone. They all created something that was very individual.

The Short Arts Collective also launched it's first book - Letters to Myself. Such a labour of love this book was! It was a very emotional experience for the authors who were in attendance at the convention and were able to read their stories. I tried to explain to the room that the words written were actually our hearts in written form on the page and was unprepared for the impact of reading my own story to the room had on me. We have almost sold out of the first printing of the book which was so exciting for us all. Not only that, but many other potential wriers have also been inspired to tell their own stories as well, so we look forward to the next volume of Letters to Myself in two years time.

But yes, I am experiencing anxiety (and even some paranoia) since getting home. I've thought about this and realised that although I had a wonderful time I also deliberately placed myself in situations where I am normally uncomfortable. I spoke up when I was passionate about something, challenging processes that have been in place since the association's inception. I taught, facilitated, led....even though I don't feel confident in teaching. I challenged and confronted when I am no way comfortable about doing so...and when it was all over and I came back home the stress caught up with me and manifested in anxiety that is only relieved when I sleep, although pottering around my house and putting my environment to rights is helping too.

I know this is only a temporary thing; one that will resolve with the passage of time and reflection, but it is still something that needs to be endured right now.

What do you do when you are experiencing anxiety?

My Sliding Doors

Source

*Spoiler alert - If you've never watched Sliding Doors and don't want spoilers, go away and watch it and then come back. I can wait....*

I teased you all yesterday and said I was going to talk about my own Sliding Doors moments. You didn't think I would...didn't you? Ha! Well here I am.

I have to admit to being fascinated by the concept behind the movie Sliding Doors. I've often, throughout my life, found myself wondering "What would have happened if....?"  and in this movie you get a glimse of it. I was totally engrossed - kind of even forgetting I was watching two alternative realities and only one of them was actually real. (well, that's what I thought anyway) It was when one Helen died and the other didn't that I realised that the one that died was only a possibility rather than a reality and I breathed a sigh of relief. 

Anyway....I digress. I realised that there are Sliding Doors moments throughout our lives. I guess every day has alternate possibilities and pathways, don't they? There are even Sliding Doors moments throughout childhood really, although I suppose other people - our parents in particular - are responsible for those. I often find myself wondering what my life would have been like if we had've stayed down in Gippsland, or what would have happened if my Dad did actually join the RAAF rather than take the job that led us to move where I remain to this day? In fact, what would have happened if my Dad had've been deployed to Vietnam after I was born? Wow! So many moments I could sit and ponder. That last one I'd rather not ponder to be honest...

I've recently contributed to a book that's about to be published (it's at the printers as we speak! Eek!) called Letters to Myself. It's a compilation of letters that each author has written to either their younger self or future self. Naturally, anyone over the age of 20 has written to their younger self and the two younger authors have written to their future selves.  During the writing process I found myself looking back to when I was thirteen years old and realised what a pivotal time that was for me. I even wrote in my letter that I realised that it was a time that really shaped the rest of my life. 

The impact of that floored me to be honest.

It was at the age of thirteen that I was given a choice. My parents had heard about a camp for short statured teenagers that was being held not too far away. They really wanted me to go, but did leave the final decision to me. They thought it would be good for me to meet other teenagers who were also short statured and perhaps find some understanding and support. Most of me didn't want to go. I used to get dreadfully homesick and the thought of being away from home for a week with a bunch of people I didn't know was terrifying. At the same time there was a curiosity and a sense of possibility. Curiosity won out in the end and I decided I would attend, on the proviso that if I hated it and wanted to come home my Dad would come up and get me. 

I went. 

Had the time of my life. 

And met my future husband. 

The impact of that really hit me as I was writing for Letters to Myself. What would have happened if I decided not to go? Would he and I still have met? In the movie Sliding Doors it was interesting to note that the two different alternatives for Helen's life eventually had a similar outcome - that Helen finds out that Gerry is cheating on her and she meets James. Is life like that? Regardless of which choice we make does life eventually find a way and lead us to the place we are always supposed to be?

Pondering this kind of stuff does my head in sometimes. 

Would he and I still have met and still had the four amazing children we have now? Would life throw other opportunities in front of both of us so that our paths would eventually cross? I'd like to think so. 

I think deciding to go to the camp was my first, and possibly biggest, Sliding Doors moment. I'm so glad I picked Door A. 

There are other times where I wonder what would have happened if I had've picked the door on the left rather than the door on the right, kept on walking instead of waiting, waited for the appointment rather than consulting Dr Google.  All of those choices come with alternate endings that I have pondered and wondered about. 

Then I look about me and see the life that is RIGHT NOW. It is good. I am so grateful that I chose the doors I did, picked Box A rather than Box B, played on rather than taken the cash. Each decision I made has shaped me into the me of today....and you know what? Leisa Version 1- 2014 is a pretty OK chick. I don't know the other alternative me.....and in fact, I'm glad she doesn't exist.

Taking Stock; September

Image source

Hi there my lovelies!

I owe you all a blog post. I've been sitting on one for a while and blow me down if Carly Findlay didn't beat me to the post with her Sliding Doors post! Ha ha! All I can say is, "Great minds think alike!" Love your work Carly!

Anyway, stay tuned for my musings on my own Sliding Doors moments....

In the interim, here's a round up of September so far - even though we're only in the middle of it. It's been a busy month already!

Making : Lots of art! Paintings to be exact; plus sketches of the process of the paintings so I can teach others how to paint in a workshop I’m running next week.
Cooking : As little as possible. I’ve forgotten how. It’s all, “Get your own!” at our place!
Drinking : Water and coffee.
Reading: Game of Thrones 3: Part 2.
Wanting: Nothing much
Looking: At places to rent on realestate.com.au
Playing: Lots of make-believe stuff during Weave Dance workshops on Sundays!
Deciding: How I want my hair cut.
Wishing: That I had asked for a fortnight off rather than just a week.
Enjoying: Swimming and having a week off running. (Although I’m not enjoying the injury!)
Waiting: To see what our book looks like when it comes back from the printers!
Liking: More daylight hours.
Wondering: How long it’s going to take me to drive to Adelaide on Saturday.
Loving: Exploring my own creativity.
Pondering: New directions.
Considering: Submitting a scholarship application.
Watching: Nothing. TV is way too boring.
Hoping: Things get better.
Marvelling: At how much my cardio fitness has improved. (40 laps of a 50m pool without stopping this morning!)
Needing: To eat better.
Smelling: Oranges.
Wearing: Leggings, dress, black shirt, teal jumper and boots.
Following: The beat of my own drum.
Noticing: How terrible my eyesight is getting!
Knowing: It will all work out in the end.
Thinking: That I should really order kitchen supplies for work!
Admiring: A dear friend, who dreamed a dream, invited a number of us to dream with her and then watching her work tirelessly to see our shared dream become a reality!
Sorting: Supplies for the painting workshop.
Buying: Supplies for the painting workshop!
Getting: Excited about the convention next week!
Bookmarking: Websites I need for work.
Disliking: The commute home.
Opening: Mail.
Giggling: With excitement about our book launch!
Feeling: Creative
Snacking:  On fruit and nuts.
Coveting: Hippy clothes.
Wishing: I had a job close to home or that I could work from home.
Helping: People explore their own creativity.
Hearing: Different music from different genres. 

If I were to join you....

The following came about after passing a place of worship this morning - one that seems pretty active and funky and with it....yet traditional.

It got me thinking about groups...specifically groups and communities I have been part of or are still part of.

If I were to join you

Would you still let me be me?

Would you still love me if I were different to the rest of you…?

…thought differently, acted differently?

Would you make me follow a list of rules – 

what to wear, 

what to read, 

what to listen to, 

what to watch?

and who to love?

Would you embrace my wildness? 

Or would you seek to tame it?

If I was down in the depths of the pit, would you just come and sit with me there for a while and just lend me your comforting presence?

Or would you berate me for my sadness, telling me to simply have faith, to cheer up and keep soldiering on?

If I wished things were different what would you think of me?

If I were living with another out of the boundaries you put around the word “Holy” would you pressure me to make it legal and binding or sanctified?

Or would you embrace the sanctity of the beauty of commitment, devotion and trust that already exists?

Would you love the one that I love even if we were the same?

… love me for loving in ways you don’t understand?

Would you show me love in action, or would you bog me down with doctrine and borders and things that are too lofty to contemplate?

Would I have to join you on a scheduled day at a specific time on a regular basis, or would your doors and arms and heart be open to me whenever my feet brought me to you?

If I didn’t join you…but still needed you…

Would you feed me if I were hungry?

Clothe me if I were naked,

Comfort me if I were bereft?

Could I come to your parties and dance with you?

Have an opinion about things that concern us both?

Or would you only do all these things

or allow me to join in if I met the expectation that I would become one of you?

Started thinking your thoughts?

Talking your talk?

Believing your beliefs?

Could I ask questions that have no answer…ones that make you uncomfortable?

Would you be okay with me objecting?

Interjecting?

Protesting?

Suggesting?

Would you hang in there with me even when you want to put me in the too hard basket?

If I were to join you

Would I still be me?

Dancing like nobody is watching

I've always loved to dance.

When I was little - like, perhaps, five years old, I went to ballet classes in one of the halls in my home town. I wore a bright pink, long sleeved leotard and pink ballet shoes. I still have the leotard stored away in a box of treasures. It has faded with time but is still one of my most treasured possessions (along with my Brownie uniform). I remember our teacher's name was Mrs Stoddart. She called my friend Adine and I her, "Little professionals." I think we were possibly anything but!

I learned to skip by taking ballet lessons. I still remember all the feet and hand positions. If I close my eyes I can still hear some of the music Mrs Stoddart would play as we practiced our skipping and our gallops. The year I started ballet we also put on a concert at the Regent Theatre in Yarram.

Source

It was a real community event! It wasn't just the ballet school involved, but school teachers and a number of local people. We did an adaptation of Alice In Wonderland. I played the Dormouse and an Oyster.

Apparently I had the only solo in the show. I also had three lines. "Treacle!" "Teeth!" and "Treacle!" Before my solo I was supposed to say "Treacle!" I knew I was supposed to say "Treacle!" but I just didn't. I don't know why. Who knows the mind of a five year old anyway?

The whole show really must have made an impact on me because to this day I can remember rehearsing, getting to know the two teachers who played the Mad Hatter and the March Hare, the smell of the piglet we had backstage that played the part of the Duchess' baby and being wheeled down the aisle in my teapot during the show. I remember that this music was used for the painting of the roses dance. I can still hear the music in my head that we used for my solo, but for the life of me I don't know what it is. I wish I could hear it again.

With the moving of our family here, there and everywhere during the 70's I didn't get to continue with ballet...or jazz or anything. Most of that was due to financial reasons I guess. It didn't make me any less passionate about dance, in fact I longed to be involved in dance classes and performing to the point where sometimes a few friends and I would choreograph little routines and present them to our class at school. When I got to High School sometimes there was a dance component in the Physical Education curriculum which made me so happy because it was something I could participate in on a level footing with everyone else. Other than that, there were no dance classes for me. I used to often put records on and choreograph some dances in the play room upstairs at home. Most of these dances were pretty dorky, I must admit, and my sisters and I often have a laugh about it.

Recently though, at the ripe old age of the wrong side of 45 I have finally found a place where I can finally indulge my passion for dancing. This year I have joined the ensemble of Weave Movement Theatre - a talented and diverse dance and movement company comprised of people with and without disabilities. Weave has quite a reputation and has performed at the Melbourne Fringe, Scienceworks and Artshouse, At the moment we are currently engaged in a series of intense dance training workshops with instructors such as Yumi Umiumare, Kat Worth, Michelle Heaven and Caroline Bowditch.

I can't even begin to tell you how much these workshops have meant to me. They are a highlight of my week. I get to hang out with the most amazing, creative people and together we get to play and imagine, create and move in ways I never thought possible. I have been challenged and confronted, amazed and inspired. I have soared the heights and explored dark places within. Through different workshops I have discovered that I am actually good at physical comedy. Who would've thought? I've also been able to reactivate the imagination I had as a child and am beginning to "see" the invisible scenarios we are asked to play out in our movement pieces. A couple of weeks ago we were asked to improvise a slow motion piece that involved escaping from a burning wreckage to Cochise by Audioslave. 

I felt the fear and the desperation. I saw the flames. We all seemed to dig deep and find experiences to use as a basis for our pieces.

One day we will put on a show. I am hoping for the honor of being able to perform with the ensemble, but even if I don't I am so honoured to be a part of the group. It has been a wonderful thing to be able to create and move in such a safe, embracing space and dance my heart out as though no one is watching.

August Roundup

Hi there people of the interwebz. 

Just thought I'd pop in here and do an August Roundup, even though it's September 2 and I'm way behind. You'll all forgive me won't you?

(That makes me want to break out into You All Everybody by Driveshaft!)

Making :

At the beginning of August I was feverishly working on a crochet blanket for my bed. 

It's a  bigg'un!

Now I'm working on a baby blanket for a little girl who will be making her grand entrance next month. I need to get a wriggle on.

Cooking :

What's cooking? Nothing! I rarely cook these days...well....nothing too complicated anyway. Most of the time I get home from work and it's, "Sorry guys! Not doing it tonight. You'll all just have to forage!" They're pretty good at foraging these days. Lucky for me they're all over the age of eighteen or else you'd be calling the authorities!

Drinking :

Coffee, thanks to my wonderful coffee thingo from Aldi. NO MORE INSTANT COFFEE!!!

Reading:

Face The Music - A Life Exposed by Paul Stanley. 

Anyone who knows me knows that I love KISS. I fell in love with them during the Unmasked days which, according to legend, was around the time things were falling apart. Peter Criss had been dumped and Ace Frehley was pretty much catatonic. Eric Carr came along and....well....I was hooked. 

Honestly, Paul was possibly my least favorite band member at the time, but reading his memoir has helped me see him in a new light. The man experienced such a lot of bullying and insecurities as a result of being born with microtia - a deformity of his right ear which resulted in deafness. His Starchild persona was and is very different to the man he is.

Wanting:

This runner wants a Garmin. Badly! Please Santa! I've been good. Really I have!

Playing:

I get to play every Sunday morning. No, I'm not playing a sport. I'm involved with Weave Movement Theatre and a series of intensive dance workshops they're currently running. To say that the workshops are a highlight of my week would be an understatement! How I have enjoyed them! As my friend Ariel says, "It's a place where we get to come and play!" Our creative sides and imagination get to run wild!

Wishing:

That my Disneyland Wishing Well wish would come true!

Enjoying:

Longer daylight hours. Now that we're on the other side of the Winter Equinox here in the Southern Hemisphere things are getting lighter. It's nice to still have a bit of daylight at 6pm!

Waiting:

For my tax return. I lodged it online yesterday. It appears that I'm not getting a refund....although Centrelink may owe me some Family Tax Benefit Part B. Here's hoping! I'm a bit skint on cash!

Listening To:

Lana Del Ray. I don't care what anyone thinks. I think she's amazing!

Wondering:

How I'm going to pay all the bills I have in my bag at the moment. Quite worried actually....