Reindeers wrecked our roof!

We hand fed some day old lambs today. They were all the third siblings and Peter (the farmer) remarked how the mothers would visably relax once he'd taken the third babe away. Awww. isn't that sort of sad? He said they get flustered and it seemed (to him) that they could not cope. That and only having two 'milkers' I suppose. We bottle fed them raw cow milk. Isaac and Fe climbed into the pen, and were overjoyed - Felix practically lay down in the straw and let them climb all over him! The mothers were only a couple of metres away in little fenced off bits and were content and lying snoozing or letting their other lambs nurse. The thin sounding 'maaa-ing' of their 'lost' infants didn't seem to concern them. Peter said he thought their sense of smell was much stronger than their hearing. Still, it was pretty wonderful to hold them and feed them. Peter talked about the powdered lamb formula, how he thought it just the biggest scam. How once it was watered down as suggested on the bags it was just a horrid 'milk' which didn't help the lambs put on weight - then the biggest test of all, once they were switched to solids (grass) their digestive systems couldn't cope at all and many died. Terrible terrible stuff. Like human milk substitutes then I said, basically indigestable. The raw cow milk, he reckoned, was great, they hardly ever lost a lamb and they all coped brilliantly when put to pasture. He thanked us for helping him feed the six little stragglers (ahhh, I was just about to thank him) and said, come again, come again! It's funny, we hardly see him. He is always off busy busy and not seen around the yard but at lambing, he always finds time to feed the little 'triplets' :) One year he said there were sixteen of them. All survived and were healthy as butter, wooly balls. Still 20-25 ewes to lamb so we'll have more to hand feed next time I think.

This afternoon we spent in the garden. Isaac with odd clothing!
Fe playing with the hastily made sandpit 'kitchen'

The results of my afternoon of 'homely' domesticity (folded pile of line dried night- nappies and spelt, maple and coconut cookies - what I left out of the picture, further over on the worktop was my chicken stock 17 hours of simmering)

We had a roofer around later this afternoon. Isaac ran in to tell me their was a man on our roof, yeah, daddy called him to fix the tiles. Isaac ran around and introduced himself and proceeded to shout up and tell 'Nick the roofer' that the missing and broken tiles were the result of Father Christma's visit. The reindeers were pretty messy up there!

The shining sun made me feel like taking some pics of the new greenery in my teeny tiny garden. Last yrs garden shoots up some forgotten garlic
The lavender, rosemary, sage, fennel, chives, lemon balm. The beautiful apple smelling chamomile is further over with the mint. You can see how dry (er... 'well drained') the soil is, I don't water it at all but still the green :)

Embodying Space

I keep having these flitting fleeting thoughts. I stand on the sawn off trunk of a gigantic old tree. I stand there and think how a year ago standing here would have been impossible, the very space my body is occupying was occupied by the tree. I stand for a moment and before I know it I am in a loose and dreamy trancy state and I get so peaceful and strong feeling. Standing there my feet begin to buzz, unlike standing on the grassy earth or on concrete. Softer. I had this same feeling last summer leaning up against an old oak, time stood still and the droning sound of bees filled my head space and I felt I might tip into the tree, I was so relaxed and soft, loose, my mind totally unfocused and drifting. Such awareness of the tree and its awesome huge, still, strengthening life force. It sounds so hippy dippy and really I don't mean it to at all. So, I have been having these whisper like thoughts that seem to go as soon as they arrive. That the space something living embodied for such a long time period (compared to our brief human lives anyway) can have a vibrational quality, almost - leave a feeling in the air of it having been. Like the creepy spine straightening feeling of being in a place where something horrid happened (or you feel it did). The atmosphere in a room where two people have argued and spoke bitterness -they have left but still the air is tinged with unease. I have often rolled my eyes at the notion of folk talking about 'cleansing' their new homes of those who have left; walking around clapping loudly to banish old 'ghosts' of feeling, ringing bells, wafting burning sage, tying ribbons and herbs and leaving out salt. But now it seems like it might be a good thing (my children would certainly like to walk around ringing bells and clapping into every dark corner!) for one to be able to embody the space for themselves and rid the past. For surely if we stand and feel and listen for long enough in any particular spot we could perhaps get a feeling for what once was.

'....months would pass and a bee would alight near the spot where the lotus had blossomed, and its essence was released again, momentary but undeniable.'

Boxes

I am comfort re-reading The Red Tent. It becomes a twice yearly event I think. The desire to steep myself in women. Driving this morning into the dreaded supermarket car park all I could see were boxes. Little cubes of prison. Cars, houses and the invisible boxes people walk around in -managing to keep themselves locked away, eyes glazed, defying one to smile. How did we get so fast from the communities of past, the communal living of extended family and kin to living in such isolation behind our 'civilised' walls...? I read about Dianh and her mother's tents, the self sufficiency of their lives. It seems idyllic. Of course I am the women with hands and feet that are soft with leisure (actually my hands are raw and chafted from dish washing) but really I am a lady of leisure with water running luxuriously from my taps, food aplenty; keeping chilled in my fridge. I don't yearn for this to disappear, I would be quite sad without long hot baths and electricity for night time-light reading. I think a part of me misses the women I might have had around me, day to day, to lighten the load of being so often alone.

Our box. Our ahem, home, is going to be re-painted this long Easter weekend. Our estate agent pointed out that not everyone might like a hot-pink kitchen. Our bright green sitting room walls need to be 'toned down'. How dull. Well, I picked our a lemony zesty primrose colour for the kitchen. Neutral is supposed to be the key word for selling houses. The rest of the downstairs including major task hallway is going to be painted in that pale pinky peach of the Waldorf kindergarten. But much lighter. My choice of course. It will all look very plain and neutral. But Don reminded me that it will not look like our home, no, but that is just it -we don't want it to be our home anymore.! True, true, true. Silly to get sad over my hot-pink walls being blanded over. I can always take that trusty tin of pink with me :)

Competition -comparison (Part II)

Thinking more about competition, or more specifically, comparing oneself or ones situation with another - imagined or real. This is really depressing. Really I can't see how it can lead to helpful thoughts and ideas on how to get where you want to be, or achieve what you desire if you are hampered by the dragging self-pitying thoughts of - look at X doing Y! Oh, I wish I was doing Y, or even I wish I were X, she's got life so sorted... blah blah. Does this comparison help anyone? Does it make you feel better about where you are right now? Do you feel appreciating of all you have now and can you be fully aware of what life is offering? Does this sort of thinking close you off to possibility and creativity or crank you open wide - ready to see and experience...? Well. Obviously the narrow and self doubting thoughts of comparison would close off even Buddha. The other day I found myself in this particular situation, and although it makes me look ridiculous and judgmental I will put it here, just to highlight what I am saying.

Isaac had fallen and hurt his head. I carried him into the kitchen and was soothing him with hugs (and the Mr Bump cool gel pack). But still the sorrow and tears and wails of pain. Don comes in carrying Felix and proceeds to dangle Felix upside down. Now, Felix likes this and laughs out loud, but I get the feeling Don is doing this to 'jolly' Isaac along. Suddenly I am in this whirlwind type of headspace remembering all of those times I was told as a child 'Oh come on! It can't have hurt THAT much!' and other unhelpful things; it's just a scratch, you're not bleeding to death, pull yourself together girl!' I remember the jollying along, the attempted distractions, here have this cookie, come on now, stop crying!'

(On a side note, as typing, I am reminded of another sort of comparison and children - how children live so bodily In The Moment - they are quite unable to compare this particular hurt to another imagined greater one, or a previous one. And so we are confronted with the raw emotion of life being lived without comparison, just total feeling)

So, I was starting to get irritated at Don and was wondering what to say to put an end to this (my) unbearable feeling of 'forced joviality'. When, Isaac bursts out laughing and smiles and says, 'Claire, Don is making me feel so cheerful now!' I am suddenly so ashamed of my irritation. It was all MY comparison! My comparing what Don was doing to what I remembered happening to myself. I had transplanted Don into the position of my own father - which he is totally unlike in every possible way - and not liking what I was seeing/remembering. Of course, I had forgotten in that whirlwind moment that Isaac has never been made to feel that his hurts should be pressed down and ignored, trivialised so as to make everyone else feel better. So he never for one moment felt the resentment towards his daddy for 'jollying him along'. And it is VERY true, Don does make us all feel cheerful. Which I pointed out, right then, in all truth. So we had a happy/smoochy family moment instead of a horrid one.

The more I think about it, I feel that competition and comparison in every sense are truly to be avoided. Often it is the unconscious source of much mis-communication and subsequent anger.

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Side note II - I mentioned to Don about my dislike of competition and it's use in sports. He said, yes that's all very well, but what about the individual who LOVES competitive sport? You would attempt to stop them/dissuade them from playing/seeking to play because of your ideals? Hmmmm.... I'll have to think about that one. But perhaps the non-competitive nature of life from a young age might counteract the desire for competition?

Ta-da! My first sock :)

The heel was sooo tricky - but it was a very satisfactory piece of knitting. Now on to the next one....

Competition

A while ago I woke from a dream in the dark of the night and the dream was so fresh in my head I sat and wrote it out then slipped back to bed and fell prompty asleep again. It was a dream of words and was exactly the follwing. (I just want to say that it is very one -sided and although I have given it much thought, I can't think of many reasons why being competative would be a good thing... so if you can think of any, please say so!)

To compare oneself with another
: To be Competitive

Are human beings intrinsically competitive? Or is it a learned behaviour? I am proposing here that it is a learned behaviour, and also to wonder if being competitive/comparing oneself with others, is a good way of being. I am realising that this is something I have thought about for a long time. Primarily this has been due to witnessing my children and their lack of desire (instinct?) to pitch themselves against each other (or anyone else). In fact I truly see the opposite to be true of young children; their social willingness and bodily gestures imitating and seeking to fit and be part of the larger environment to which they find themselves part of. I hear adults exclaiming, ‘Oh look! Children enjoy being competitive! See how they are enjoying their game of football (cricket/rugby etc)!’ But is that what they are really enjoying when we adults see them playing? Or might they simply be glad to be outdoors, moving their bodies and being with friends? Or, more negatively perhaps, are they seeking our approval, feeling our desire for them to enjoy (and win!) at sports of our choosing? When we strive to instil in children the notion of a ‘winner’ and a ‘looser’ – it is with a great injustice to them. If this model of self-regard is held by the child (or any individual) does it bring about happiness, a sense of satisfaction, pleasure, and achievement…? (Perhaps only if the child is the ‘winner’) Or insecurity, anxiety over approval and self worth…?

Imagine for one moment the young child who has no notion of this yet – the confusion he must momentarily feel when the adult exclaims; ‘Go on! I’ll race you!’ They both run, they both stretch their legs and bodies together and reach the side of the field. ‘You’re the winner! Yeah!’ Shouts the adult. Really. What has been ‘won’? What has been ‘lost’? I wonder this, really. Does the young child wonder too at how this ‘word’ spoken marks him out differently and in what peculiar way?

Of all the human beings in the world, to only have one ‘winner’ generally means that there are a LOT of ‘losers’. Masses more. Chances are that mostly, any given individual by this reckoning will be a ‘loser’ more often than the prized ‘winner’. Does it feel good to loose? (Sadness, disappointment, humiliation, anxiety, insecurity?) Might it spur thoughts of envy and jealousy instead? The young child who does not yet see how being a ‘winner’ is any better than being a ‘looser’ it is a real joy to behold. The joy for him lies in the exertion, the running, the happiness of the adult who runs alongside him. The marvelling at his body’s ability to transport him to his destination. Could we not learn from the young child and celebrate this instead! Celebrate how wonderful it feels that our legs can run fast, hold hands with a child and say; ‘Wow our legs are strong! I love doing that with you!’ That is surely all the well-meaning adult is trying to convey after all: Their pleasure in being with this child and their desire for fun and laughter with them. Unfortunately most of us were conditioned to hold back our truer feelings of – oh I loved doing that with you! – It leaves us vulnerable to be so open and truthful with our emotions, especially after so many of us have been hurt, humiliated one way or another in the past. Instead we cloak this in the playing of games, which, co-operatively (working together to achieve an end result) would be wonderful! Rather though, we inject this ‘fun’ with our own learned model of game/play behaviour: competition. So instead of expressing our joy we either pretend to lag behind and then shout – Oh! You’re the winner! Or for the overly competitive adults (I have really seen this!) they like to make sure the child knows that he is smaller/weaker and ‘wins’ the running race every time (thus ensuring in the long run that the child doesn’t enjoy running at all – thinking himself to be slow).


I feel sad that in truth we might be setting our children up to see themselves as ‘loosers’ (statistically if we hold this model of winning and loosing up as our ideal they surely will be) rather than celebrating and enjoying uniqueness – the diversity in their bodies and abilities. To run races with a child competitively whilst neglecting to notice the other aspects of games may on appearance seem harmless fun but it might also be the start of a lifelong of feelings of inadequacy and failure.

I do not wish my children to feel like failures simply because they hold this ridiculous notion of ‘winning’ as being the ultimate in titles. That is all it really is anyway; a name, a title. Too many people want to ‘win’ at any cost. Really I feel the true cost is to one’s own sense of self worth and to the kinship one feels with others.

The wrongs and ails of our social fabric can not be mended as a whole – with us working together as a whole group - if we are constantly endorsing the comparing of individuals. If we endorse and promote competitive behaviour with our children how can we reasonably hope for them to ever be united for any particular common cause? It is not possible. We can see all around us evidence of one man’s gain to the detriment of the masses.

Children try so very hard to please us, to be like us, to uphold the values of the society they are born into. While they are young and at home, it is we their family who are their society, their world. They can absorb so much from the casual language we use, for example, they may hear us asking, did you enjoy your game of basketball/cricket?’ and hear us reply, ‘no, we lost’. No mention of how we ran at such a fast speed or the joy we momentarily felt at being outdoors on such a beautiful day. Rather the listening child hears the reinforced message of the importance the adults around them place upon ‘winning’: that it is the only good option. Losing is failure. Even worse if a person only ever asks; ‘Did you win?’ Ugh! I cringe when I hear that. Do you remember the nauseating nervousness of sports day races with parents watching? Or the parent who likes to pretend, ‘oh it is just the playing that counts!’ while you sense from them something different: disappointment, however small. Children are marvellous at picking up how we really feel. It is no good announcing such a token gesture if with every other action you are really saying otherwise.

So what is the solution? Co-operation. Celebrating Uniqueness (Hey, his little legs are not fast but look at how long he can balance on one leg/do beautifully executed cartwheels!). We need to remind ourselves and our children about how different and beautiful we all are from each other. Talk and comment on this. So many areas of our lives can be enhanced by this and our willingness to co-operate rather than compete. I read something wonderful a while ago about a birthday party game of pass the parcel where instead of there being one winner at the last wrapping, each layer revealed a clue and put together at the end lead all of the children to the washing machine where a box of cookies and stack of stickers were shared around. All it takes is a little imagination and inventiveness on our adult part. I find mainstream school culture highly competitive (what really is grading all about anyway? How does it affect such young souls?). There are other schools available for our young children. Gentle, interestingly invigorating alternatives (Steiner for example, or 'Free' schools which are more child led). We can also choose to have a home-based education; the ultimate in freedom and self expression (and of course - of non competition :) )

Socks!

I am knitting socks! I finally decided I should just try. Using the four needles at once is so less tricky than I imagined. I am excited; what a geek I am! I have this multi coloured German sock wool which looks so nice knitted up. I'll post pics when I have one made. Don was baffled when I showed him how it worked. But he wants me to knit him a hat (Mianh I am going to use that lushous sheeny black wool you sent me - it looks like heaven to knit with) - which is a breakthrough as he is weary of my knits. However he recently buzzed his own hair off short. A little bit too short as it happens! So he needs one now :)

Edited to add pic:

Also, these are the first aluminium needles I have used, I am a bamboo freak. So I am comparing and of course it's probably no suprise to hear that I think the bamboo are tops. They are just so smooth and warm to hold. The metal ones are kinda squeaky and the wool does not slide so easily. So onto my shopping list are bamboo double pointed needles (3.5mm) :)

Plastic vs. Wood

I have recently had a Mango Mama marathon reading session after feeling interested in her and wondering about where/how she is. If anyone reading this has read Mango Mama's book then you'll soon see that most of the next bit is regurgitated from her book :) I don't mind doing this a) because it really does resonate with me and b) because I feel positive that topics such as this she would want continuing in circulation.

What's wrong with plastic toys?

Two things, specifically. Firstly- many plastic toys contain a potentially harmful chemical called phythalate which has been found to cause liver and kidney damage in animals after repeat exposure. This chemical is found in bath toys and teethers, squeeze toys. There is no way that this chemical would ever be allowed as food additive yet they make up 20-50% of plastic toys that children chew on every day (measured by weight). Supposedly toxins in plastic toys are not sufficiently bonded (and can thus be released to the surface of the toy as it ages). Most European countries have banned vinyl plastic toys and have asked for PVC toys for young children to be withdrawn from the market. They are all still widely available in the UK though. Also, these sorts of plastic toys (lets also remember that plastic toys break easily and are difficult if not impossible to repair satisfactorily) can be tricky to recycle (some depots don't accept coloured plastic) and during the recycling process emit toxins. Dioxin is one of the leading environmental toxins (related to breast cancer and other major diseases).

Ok, the nice bit! The alternatives: Natural toys! The ultimate in natural toys are those found freely in nature, sticks (that can be transformed into wands and swords and spears) stones, pebbles, for building and 'cooking' as cookies. Rocks, coral, shells, wooden tree stumps, blankets and towels for den building. My boys love their wooden 'kitchen' with pots and pans, wood eggs, conkers, pine cones to cook, crystals for their wood diggers to move around, hand made dolls, sheepskins that transform into boats and islands, a cozy nest. Wood castle, pure dyed silk for tying into dressing up clothes, or lying down into fields, rivers..... felt and hand knitted finger puppets, wood balls, bean bags I have sewed with cotton. Wood smells lovely. It is warm and alive. It has natural patterns and interesting bark ridges. A wooden truck, when lifted is as heavy in the hand as the eye perceives it to be. A large plastic truck though, when lifted is light! How confusing might that be for a young child? I utterly believe that it is with the very young infants and children that the most beautiful and natural toys should be made available. Their senses are so brand new, so alive. Their hands, eyes, ears, noses, mouths all play a part in exploring their environment. Learning about the world. Do we find the harsh ugly colours of plastic toys in nature? Beautiful hand made, nature - the outside - brought indoors in soft muted colours (why do parents often paint their children's bedrooms in such garish bright primary colours anyway? - I know I could never sleep in such a harsh light - imagine the delicate and new gaze of the newborn!) and live textures are what are real. (Also, bacteria does not breed on untreated wood, unlike plastic which is a prime breeding ground. I once wrote this in my Dr's surgery on the 'suggestions' notes after seeing the mound of coloured plastic in the corner - with sick children surely wood would be so much more hygenic).

The 'real' aspect of wooden and natural toys is contrasted with the artificialness of plastic. What is plastic? Is it 'real'? Does it grow? Does it smell? Does it change, die? We hear around us 'it doesn't matter, it is just plastic'. What does that mean? What can we learn from plastic? We learn that we can be decieved by outer apperances, that we have very little effect on them, that natural laws do not effect them. It tells us nothing about the interactions in the world - it is there and does not change. We don't need to care for it. What we do does not matter. The plastic bottle is dropped on the floor, it doesn't break, it doesn't matter. Plastic glass is dropped by the child - doesn't matter, won't break. 'What he does doesn't matter. He doesn't need to be careful. But the truth is that people need to matter and we also need to develop the feelings of caring for things. The world needs caring people.' If our children live with us in an environment that doesn't matter - he learns not to care for things. Children absorb the environment they live in.

Plastic is cheap and doesn't need to be cared for. This is actually the most important consideration for some people when buying toys for their children! Other people feel that man-made, natural and wooden toys resonate with a feeling of specialness... the doll made with love by the mama for her child, the father who carves wood pegs for his son, the grandmother who knits finger puppets, the grandfather who builds a wood sand pit or brings home some sawn tree stumps to jump around with, roll in the garden.

One thing I have taken from the Steiner/Waldorf children's books I have read is the dedication children put into their play ('work') when given the raw materials. The imagination can run free with natural, unfinished toys. The wooden log that becomes the train that rolls into a bridge for little wood trucks to cross the 'river'. The log is flexable, becomes what the child imagines. Then later it becomes a 'log' again to chop for the bonfire. Plastic toys are too often 'finished'. There is very little for the child to do. Lots of parents end up with a heap of coloured-never-played with plastcic. Wooden toys never require batteries either. A real plus. Wooden toys are definatly more expensive. But quality is formost over quantity with toys. Get relations to club together for the one lovely bag of wooden percussion instruments. Or ask a crafty friends and relations to make a toy. What about the plastic toys recieved despite your wishes? Return the toy in packaging to shop for something else? Or get a refund? We do have some plastic in this house. We have a box of lego. A couple of plastic wands. The odd thing here and there. My son just yesterday bought a plastic 'workman' truck with some birthday money. I explained to him that I don't think plastic is very strong. That when it is made, there can be 'smoke' and gas which is nasty to breathe. He still wanted the toy, so that was ok (I don't much like it, but I trust that this can be a learning expereince for him in some way). He knows about it which is the main thing. Plastic is a novelty to him right now, he has hardly played with it! It is good that he gets the chance to compare, explore what this plastic toy can do. Before Christmas he happily helped me sort out such toys of his for a charity shop box. We usually end up tossing out the junk. Less is SO much more!