The beauty of ageing

Hi there everyone,

I have been thinking about ageing, a common preoccupation.
I wonder if we are actually as accepting as we think we are. Or if fashion has changed as much as we imagine.
Being on the older side (although there is always someone who is older who would dispute that), I feel able to comment.

Take the phenomenon of older models springing off the success of blogs like Advanced Style.
I notice they all seem to be an extension of our current obsessions. Yes, these people have grey hair and wrinkles, but they also have small waists and abundant locks as well as firm jawlines.
Where are the models with thinning hair, thicker waists and sagging necks?
I am currently post menopause, and all these are my current reality.
Wouldn't we do ourselves a favour if we gave ourselves role models with these realities as well?

Celebrating our differences by playing dressups at Halloween

I also have a beef with the way we speak about ageing.
Many times I hear being a grandma used negatively. Recently for example, I read a blogpost discussing why we should support craft, and not use disparaging terms to describe it. They mentioned someone saying they looked like a grandma when they knitted. Their argument being we should support craft more and stop using negative comments such as this around it. While I take their point about craft, my gut reaction to that is,
Why is being described as a grandma seen as negative? 
Surely we can be grateful to reach Grandma status and longevity? What is wrong with being seen as a grandma? Does it mean we have given up in caring for ourselves? Or do we just care in another way? Do we care more for relationships than looks?

I feel our acceptance has only scratched the surface and is just a subtle extension of our current mindset. Maybe we can try a little to examine our own thoughts and realise the reality of ageing.
Sometimes these days, although I struggle with all this as much as the next, I find myself being grateful for the saggy skin and the grey hairs appearing because it helps me viscerally realise my mortality. The response to which has to be not depression, but joy in the moment. Because we are not guaranteed the next. Anyone who has had sudden disasters befall them would attest to this.

How grateful we are for our wrinkly fingers when we hear of someone who has arthritic joints and can't use them.
How grateful we are for our thinning hair when we hear of someone who has had brain surgery. 
I know this seems drastic but it really can change your mindset when we realise how privileged we really are, even in our golden years.

Have you ever seen those photos of old people with multiple wrinkles in their cheeks? Like their life is written on their face? They are often the ones chosen by photographers. Aren't they fascinating?
I for one hope to be ageing on the outside but not the inside. To have a smile and a genuine love for life and those around me. To be the person others want to spend time with.
So lets hop out there into the world and celebrate our ageing and fragility. It really is a beautiful thing.

Lots of love,
Jazzy Jack

Christmas treats

Thankyou my dear friends
for being so kind and sensitive to my last post. 

Here I have a video of my boys doing some Geocaching and Aiden playing with his drone.

I also have a fun little musical treat for those who listen to the end.

We have had/are having a super Christmas with many fun family times, lots of good food, and days of lying around doing not much except sleep and read. The best kind of holiday in my opinion.
Mind you we are in the middle of a heat wave with most days over 35 deg C this week, so lying around is just about all we can do!
I really feel Summer here is like Winter in the northern hemisphere with all the hibernation involved.
We did manage a trip to the lake and a sunset picnic when the temps dropped under 30. We plan to do many more.

Our Christmas also contained the inaugural riding of Miles' custom built bike (self built vintage quirky design).

And Aiden's new folding bike which needed a few tweaks, but is now running beautifully thanks to the budding bike mechanics in our family. It is now sporting brand new lights for after sun adventures (when it is cool!)

Closed

Open

Winter scored a new bed this year after having eviscerated her last one.

Which Smart-Blue was never seen near or in...never! Why would I want to do such a gauche thing as that?

Hoping your Christmas or celebrations were just as fabulous.

Much love,

Jazzy Jack

Spiritual cracks

Greetings!

I am going to be very personal here, so please be kind.

Lately I have gone back to church, specifically Christianity. It kind of surprises me that it's all happened so quickly. Forgive me if I don't explain this well.

I grew up in a very religious environment. My parents were missionaries in Papua New Guinea with Missionary Aviation Fellowship, a wonderful organisation that flies people around the world especially in small hard to reach places. My Dad was an aircraft engineer. I lived there from the ages of 4 to 19, so my whole life was imbued with Christianity.

When we returned to Australia I went to University and then married, still keeping up with my Christian traditions. Around the time of my eldest son's birth we both decided to leave the church, and I found myself unable to believe the way I had growing up. So for quite a few years I remained outside the church but still searching for a way back.

One way I tried was when we moved to New Zealand, I joined a "happy clappy" church for a while and explored that philosophy. I wanted to see God at work and they claimed to see miracles all the time. I even joined the music group and played keyboard in the band. But it was not to be. I confessed some of my doubts to the Pastor and was ordered off the stage. Apparently the music leaders had to be extra believers or something. No doubts allowed. This soured me on the whole thing and I left the church again.

So from that time to this I have been away from the church, but underneath feeling a huge grief about it all. I was still subconsciously searching for a way back in. Every time I ended up in church for a singing performance or visiting family, it was like visiting someone's grave. It was all I could do to not burst in tears. Clearly something was not settled around my spirituality.

I tried investigating Buddhism and the tenets of yoga, but somehow always felt something was missing. I realised I was too indoctrinated with the concept of God being a friend, being family. I still instinctively went to pray during moments of stress, and then had to talk myself out of it. But at the same time I really didn't think I could believe all the weird and wonderful things Christianity brings. Could I believe in the actual virgin birth? Or the fact that God could live as a man? What about the resurrection? These are very fundamental truths to the faith!

So I muddled on still feeling there was more to this life than meets the eye and craving it. Until one day it occurred to me to have another look at a book I had read many years ago when I believed. Written by Kathleen Norris called "Amazing Grace", it is a study of all the hard words in Christianity and her take on them. I thought this might be a way to start. She herself had a similar story. She was raised in the church and then spent many years away, only to find herself being drawn back inexplicably. She is also a poet and I found her writing to be perfect for my needs and delight. Somehow in all this reading I realised that I didn't have to believe everything to be allowed back to church. I suppose I had been thinking it had to all be a done deal before you could enter into the worship service. It sounds a little crazy to me now, but maybe my New Zealand experience had put that thought in my head, or maybe just having grown up so convinced of it all I had no experience being the doubter in church.

Anyway, I started reading the Bible and praying, giving myself permission to see it as an outsider, and to experience it in whatever way I could. I found the experience to be liberating. Allowing myself to pray as I instinctively wanted to, and also allowing myself to question and disbelieve as I wanted to.

So currently I am going to a "high" Anglican church, which is similar to an Episcopalian church I gather. They do the incense and the robes and the processing etc. which I quite like. They are more liberal in their views on women and gender and sexuality. I can gently attend without great requirements being placed on me, and I'm finding it a lovely low key place to explore my faith. I don't go every week and they don't mind that. It also is where my choir performs as the music directors are based there, so that is convenient!

All in all I am so happy to be able to slide through the cracks in my belief system, through the stringent rules I somehow put on myself, to find a joyous mysterious expansive place beyond. My spiritual life looks different to anyone else's as we are all individual and will come to God in our own way, if at all. But I am so enjoying exploring beyond my physical senses in a poetic way.

I am continuing to explore Kathleen Norris' writings and others. Currently I am reading "Wearing God" by Lauren F. Winner talking about using uncommon names for God in the Bible to explore different ways to relate to God. I suppose I am drawn to the writers who write from a poetic mindset, exploring metaphor or who themselves have gone through a struggle or are marginalised in some way. But then again that is where I sit in my everyday life too!

So I hope you found this little story interesting and maybe enlightening too. I would love it if I could encourage one person to sit with their struggles and be gentle with themselves, to not give up and continue to explore.

I know there are people who read this who have no interest in Christianity or any faith, and that is absolutely your business. I am so not trying to convert anyone here. I am really just wanting to tell my story and in the process someone else may see themselves in me and be encouraged, as I am by the writers I am reading.

Here is a poem I wrote on this topic:

 Poetry may give me 

A way back to God

The way poems can be

Open ended

And using metaphors

Can create rich

And complex ideas

Is the way I could

Look at God

Not knowing all 

The answers

Not believing

All the creeds

Not having everything

Black and white

But feeling my way

Through the beautiful

Cracks

There is a reason

God chose to speak

In parables

16/10/18

Okey dokey, I will leave it there.

Much love to you all,

Jazzy Jack

No Comment

Hello darling ones!

Don't fall over, it's me again. Ha!

I have been thinking lately about comments on blogs. That lovely tangible evidence that someone reads and sometimes likes the words we send out. The meandering thoughts we gather and tie up with a bow. How much we long for them, at least I do. But lately I've been wondering if my relationship with them is a little needy. I wondered about switching off my comments box, but then I would miss the real connections that can be made.

When no one comments I am tempted to think "they don't like me", or I sit there making up excuses like maybe it isn't daytime yet, or people are busy.
I often feel online like I do in real life. I think I've said this before. So when I don't get comments I feel like an introvert trying to put myself out there at a party and nobody notices.

I wonder how many comments would be "enough". If I felt no comments meant I wasn't a worthy blogger, how many comments means I am? It seems rather silly when put like that.
Maybe it's not about the number of comments but how deep our conversation goes. How much we can share of our lives and feel supported, or enlightened.

Here I must admit to delight when I have visited more prominent blogs which have no comments at all. It almost feels freeing. "See they don't have any comments either!"

Of course we all know that seeking external validation is never a wise move. But I am a born performer, despite my introversion, and love an audience. I love the give and take and the sense that more has been created by our interaction than I could ever do on my own.

This is the crux of why I blog. To have a connection with another and to somehow together create something in each other's lives that enlarges us.

To put our random thoughts together and pile them up until they create a wonderfully idiosyncratic sculpture against the skyline. Leading our eyes towards the setting sun.

Having taken this as my topic today I am fully aware it may seem like I am begging!

While I am so totally grateful to those who have visited and shared their stories, I am also aware that I don't always have words to share on others' blogs, so I do understand.

I leave you with a lovely image of the sea and my gorgeous man with his faithful friend. We could take a tip from the sea. So many waves, but not every one is greeted with shouts of joy. But still they come. Maybe this is a little fanciful, but you get my drift. Ha! Drift?

Many hugs to you all,

Love,

Jazzy Jack

Working together

Hello again! Fancy meeting you here again so soon.

I thought I'd check in and let you know how the singing went.
Last night we had our 9 lessons and carols service which we have been practicing for for weeks.
As I said in my last post, I had some meltdowns during a couple of practices due to ...life!
So this performance although less involved for me personally, was also much anticipated.
I did do a solo verse and was in a trio which was a little stressful due to lack of practice opportunities and last-minuteness. However, all went well. We didn't stuff up too badly and the sound was glorious. Somehow the carols were my favourite part, because the congregation joined in with gusto. It really felt we had a cathedral's worth of people singing in our tiny church. Of course the choir is full of trained voices, so it packs a punch as well. The whole thing was a lot of fun and my family came and enjoyed it too. We knew it would all go well, or suspected, but the real triumph was the resourcefulness and stickability required to get there and perform. If that was the story in my family, I wonder about all the stories involved in the choir and even the congregation to make that triumphant moment part of all our lives. 

I really do have a hard time sometimes with my "art" being so ephemeral. I want a tangible thing to remind me of the moment and to have something to boast over. It seems hard to allow it to disappear into nothing. But maybe it doesn't. Maybe it is released into the lives of all who were there. Life after all is just a series of ephemeral moments which make up our story. If I can be involved in others' moments in such a pure and joyful way, then I am grateful.
I am thankful my body recovered enough to allow me to stand in amongst the noise and not immediately start crying. 
I am grateful for my training that helps me through my nerves during solo moments.
I feel the hand of my teachers resting on my shoulders as their words of wisdom are brought to life.
And I feel the audience buoying me up with their expectation and delight.

I also really loved the end of the service where we all file out to the courtyard where the supper is ready and sing "Silent Night" to guitar accompaniment. This is where having Christmas in Summer makes sense.

I leave you with a picture of our Christmas tree from last year (because we haven't got around to it yet this year!)
It is a picture for me of how a slightly wonky imperfect life can light up the world.

Much love and Merry Christmas!

Jazzy Jack

Vulnerability and shame

Hello my friends!

I am reading a book about being vulnerable called "Scary Close" by Donald Miller. It is a quick flowing easy read, and yet packs such a punch.
I have been so conflicted about my blog and internet commitments as you know. It seems every post I write lately has been about how to streamline my life and use my energy more wisely.
I felt my blog added too much pressure to my days and I was lacking in inspiration. I felt like I'd said the same thing over and over and I was judging myself.
My perfectionist inside was standing up and pointing out the less than perfect photographs, or the repetitive subject matter, or the lack of comments. Every time I wrote something it didn't seem important enough or life changing enough to share with the world.
"Who am I to be telling this to the world?" or "Who wants to hear about my week?"were some of the phrases besides many others that flowed through my brain.
But in the midst of reading this book I've been convicted with my judging attitude towards myself. And so I would like to continue writing and showing my warts and all. I will share my imperfect poetry and my random sewing adventures. You will see my videos that are not really very professional but just home movies for my kids to enjoy in the future.
I will share myself with you in short and long ways. There will be no rhyme or reason, and I will give myself permission to have no readers at all!
This is all to help me learn to be vulnerable and to turn down the volume of my internal judge. Ultimately I want to connect with love and grace to myself and those around me. But I am so good at writing scripts of how things should work out that I struggle to let go and let it flow.
I want to feel the words and life and love flow through me.

This last week I have been mostly resting and unable to join in family activities too much because I am singing in a carol service on
Sunday. Somehow my ultra sensitive autistic system has become overactive, and I have had a couple of meltdowns during practices. So now I feel like my life is on hold until Sunday night. This is not fun!
Maybe I can let go a little, and instead of holding myself tight to every perfect note and every perfect moment, I can allow the music to flow through me. Maybe I can let go and not require perfect relaxation?

Of course even being vulnerable can become a stance and an act to perfect.
We'll see :-)
How do you cope with this? Have you had similar thoughts?
Thanks for reading and hopefully we can connect again sometime.

I leave you with my latest creation to celebrate 100 years since the end of World War 1.
My dog statue has a new poppy necklace!

Love,

Jazzy Jack

Hello and video

Greetings my friends,

Here we are after months with no action on my blog!

I am struggling to know what to write these days as I have no interest in my BeautyScopes and fashion. 

I have done a video recently so thought that could make a blogpost.

Here we are with Miles' photography experiments (hopefully you won't get seasick), his latest building project, and Aiden's new electric scooter which has given him back the world.

(Due to his chronic illness his fitness has really dropped, so he was even having trouble walking. Now he has explored with his scooter, he has also started riding Cris' electric bike, and a teeny tiny bit on a normal bike. His fitness is coming back, and with it our sparkly eyed boy. Such a great investment, and something I think people should accept as a mobility aid. Currently they only accept wheelchair type vehicles which are cumbersome and not as cool for a teenager...or older person! OK, enough ranting.)

Here is the video:

Behind the scenes I have also started work on a book of poems. Don't hold your breath, but I write it here to keep me accountable :-)

Here is one I wrote recently:

Away from the sea

I crave endless space

Space to take a breath

And play

No crowding

Or expectations

Or hard edges.

I need an enormous sandpit

Big enough to run in

To put my life

Into perspective

The waves don't care

If I hit my deadlines

Or have a clean house.

I can settle back

Into the groove

And flow

20/11/18

Til next time,

keep on creating!

Love

Jazzy Jack