It’s become increasingly clear to me that my job, which would have been difficult anyway, has been made much more difficult by the way things were done before I came along. On one level the challenges should feel really stressful - but I am still feeling remarkably calm and cheerful.
Partly it’s because these mistakes are not my fault, and anything that I can do to rectify them is therefore positive. It’s also clear that, though I am relatively inexperienced in this job, my inexperience isn’t really a problem - that my experience in other areas and willingness to ask questions and find things out, is enough for me to do at least as good a job as my predecessor.
But it’s more than that - I seem to have got a lot better at having realistic expectations of myself, and allowing myself space to make mistakes and be uncertain. I’m also noticeably better than in previous stressful situations at self-maintenance and stress-management.
It is so encouraging to notice these changes, and know that I have learnt from previous experience, including - indeed often particularly - from the most difficult and painful experiences.
Few things are more disheartening than feeling that you’ve made the same mistake again, or fallen into an old pattern. Few things are more encouraging than comparing past and present and seeing clearly how far you have come.
On my way to a tango class last night, I was thinking about comfort zones and stepping over boundaries. In order to open yourself up to learn new things and have new experiences, you have to step out of the comfort zone and in doing so make yourself vulnerable. It’s often uncomfortable, and often requires bursting through a layer of “I can’t do this/it’s all going to go horribly wrong/wouldn’t it be embarassing if”. But the rewards are great.
And this led me to realise that at the moment I’m outside of almost all my comfort zones simultaneously. Which is perhaps not the ideal way to do it, as it’s draining. Which is part of the reason I’m doing a lot of retreating into the one comfort zone I brought with me - my books, and to some extent my writing. But if I look at my life as a whole, I’m actually spending most of it doing new and challenging things:
Comfort zone - hanging out with friends that you have known for ages. Outside the comfort zone - being separated from your close friends and forced to go actively looking for new ones.
Comfort zone - doing tasks that are within your control and expertise at work Outside the comfort zone - constantly being forced to improvise and make decisions and plans on the basis of insufficient information, as well as dealing with an endlessly challenging interpersonal situation.
Comfort zone - doing what you know you enjoy, in places you’ve been to before. Outside the comfort zone - going to new places, to learn new things, never being quite sure what to expect or how it will turn out.
Comfort zone - doing things the way you know best. Outside the comfort zone - always examining what you do, considering how it could be different, challenging your conceptions about who you are and what you can do.
Comfort zone - often don’t use all your energy and resources Outside the comfort zone - often find you’re drained and weary and in need of down time to recover.
Comfort zone is staying static and cosy. Outside the comfort zone is being challenged to grow and change.
Though it’s not always comfortable, I feel that being this far outside my comfort zones is actually suiting me rather well.
One of the most beautiful songs I know is le Colibri by Chausson. I’ve been unable to find a version of the song that I can upload, but here’s a link to someone singing it on youtube:
This is the text…
The green hummingbird, the prince of the high hills,
seeing the dew and the clear sunlight
shining into his nest woven of fine grass,
lifts into the air like a brilliant dart.
Hurriedly he flies to the nearby spring
where the bamboo rustles like the sea
and the red hibiscus with its divine scent
opens its heart to light and moisture
Down to the flower he descends, and hovers
and drinks so much love from the rosy cup
that he dies, not knowing if he could ever exhaust it.
In exactly the same way, my beloved,
on your pure lips my soul wished to die,
drowning in the fragrance of your first kiss.
I was reminded irresistibly of this song by a poem by Paisley on a hummingbird who exhausts himself jealously defending the nectar feeder from other hummingbirds, when actually the supply of nectar isn’t going to run out, and he’s only cheating himself of the pleasure of fully tasting the gift!
Sometimes we don’t believe in our own good luck, in our own worth to be offered the full depth of joy and bliss in the heart of the flower. And so we become jealous, or pretend that we don’t actually want what is offered so freely.
And yet, having been myself in the position of offering a love very close to unconditional, I know how good it feels to have someone to whom we spontaneously wish offer that bounty. A joy that is, in the end, more powerful than the pain of having that gift rejected or abused.
As JM Coetzee puts it in the Age of Iron, “to be full enough to give and to give from one’s fullness: what deeper urge is there?”
For me intelligence is one of the most beautiful things there is. To see that spark in someone’s eyes that shows they’re alive to the world, that they are dedicating themselves and whatever capacities they have to living life to the full. The delights of one of those conversations where two minds dance together in a world of ideas - serious or plain silly, it doesn’t matter - what matters is that living intelligence. The essence of humanity.
That light seems to shine brightest in young children, with their endless curiosity. I think it’s sad that, for some people, that light gets turned off as they grow up. They learn to feel stupid, or are told that certain interests are not for them. They are told not to ask certain questions, or give up asking questions because they never get answers.
Some types of elitism do have the effect of stifling that interest. But actually I think anti-elitism has a far more serious effect. In a society where knowledge and learning is valued but kept for the few, it is still there to be aspired to, and the excluded can fight for their just deserts. In a society where knowledge and learning is not valued, people learn to hide their intelligence in order to fit in. (I remember crying my eyes out on receiving the results of a school chemistry test - because I felt that everyone would hate me for getting full marks!). And this limits everyone. It strikes me as very patronising to dumb down for someone because it says implicitly or explicitly that their intelligence is insufficient to go any further.
Yes, some artforms or fields of study do require quite a bit of time and effort before you can really appreciate what is going on. But I do believe that often the difference between people who enjoy “elite” artforms and those who don’t is twofold - a feeling that it’s “not for people like them” and a lack of the experience needed to get into it. That’s not to say that they “ought to” enjoy these things… but I think it’s sad when people are cut off from things that they might enjoy for such limiting reasons.
I would like to live in a society filled with adults with the curious and unselfconscious fascination with the world that children have. A world where intellectual enquiry and pursuit of excellence is valued - not just because of the results, but because of the journey. Where everyone, regardless of their basic intellectual capacity, is inspired to become more, to bring their own special qualities to fruition.
For me this is expressed beautifully in the very famous Nelson Mandela quote:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure….
“It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?…
“Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you…
“And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
I encourage you to follow up the links above - I think Dana’s still looking for more contributions now and in the future. In the meantime I thought this quote from Dana rather neatly explains what the carnival’s about:
“…Elitist Bastards, who have no trouble simultaneously being common as muck and smart as all get-out. We’re not a pretentious elite, but a more populist one. We think intelligence is something to be celebrated, but I doubt any of us think it’s something reserved to a select few, and we certainly don’t think it has to make you a stuffy, proper, boring git. Calling ourselves bastards is a joyful way of announcing we’re out to have fun with our elitist tendencies.”
The beautiful photo was taken by Jose Maria Tan and uploaded to flickr.
I’m getting back to doing real singing practice again after a fairly long hiatus, and it’s throwing up some interesting challenges.
I recently commented on a poll over at readwritepoem, comparing the pleasure and naturalness of my experience of singing and of writing poetry:
The difference is the expectations I place on myself. Poetry I write for myself, principally, and thus it gives me great pleasure. Singing had become something I did for others and so it became an effort. Hard to judge whether my poetry gives others as much pleasure as my singing - but I feel it certainly achieves more pleasure in others at a cost of much less pain to me - that’s what I mean by it coming easily.
I’m working my way back to singing naturally and easily too - but it’s a slow process once you’ve lost that sense of freedom and ease.
I think I’ve done less singing in the last six months than any other time in my life. Which was partly a combination of emotional fallout from the breakup and the challenges of moving to a new job and a new country. But I think more importantly it’s been to do with the pressure I put on my singing in an attempt to become a professional singer. The high standards I set myself. And the blows to my confidence of receiving a succession of rejections - including rejections from courses and companies working at an amateur level. Anyway, with all of this I lost the confidence in my own ability to sing.
For a while, I just floundered, feeling I was betraying myself by not pursuing this dream that had been part of me, yet finally realising that there was no way I could pursue that dream at that time. I had to give myself space. At the same time, I was rediscovering writing, which felt like a far more natural and personal way of expressing myself, without the pressures of singing. I even started writing my own songs, which is a fascinating and satisfying process.
Now I think it’s time I started reclaiming my voice, and my singing. Recovering the joy and the naturalness - while at the same time not being lazy about technique. I have learnt a lot over recent years about finding my natural voice and trusting it to sing. My expectations got in the way there - I kept trying to produce the sound a particular way, rather than doing some basic things that free the voice to express its full resonance and communicative potential.
But it’s hard. Expectations get in the way of everything, but without expectations you don’t get anywhere. It’s a zen-like paradox! Somehow I must find the middle way in my singing. Wish me luck!
I’ve done a little tweaking here and there, but they’re basically their words, not mine, so many thanks for permission to play with these great poems. You can find out what these poets have done with the same original material and learn more about patchwork poems at the Patchwork Poetry blog.
Post 101 seems a good milestone to reflect on what I’ve been blogging about over the last three months and where I want to go with my blog next… a lot has happened since I started this blog in February.
Loving - When I started this blog I was still very much preoccupied and miserable following the break-up. In particular, I was deeply frustrated at being unable to express, to my ex, what I had been feeling and learning. The blog has really helped me here - somehow expressing these things in a public forum has helped me to feel that I have said what I needed to say. And while there’s no reason why he should ever read this blog, the fact that it’s theoretically possible for him to read this honest and frank version of my experiences, has had some of the same effect as writing to him would have done. Already I find I am writing about him far less than at the beginning, and I suspect there won’t be much more. Though I am continuing to write the “Songs to heal a broken heart” cycle and will be posting the recording of one of the songs shortly, as promised.
Singing and Writing - In February I was confused and frustrated with my singing - finding that most of the music I was used to singing was too emotionally loaded for me to be able to sing it without crying. And feeling deeply frustrated that this came about at a time when I should have been trying to make progress professionally, doing auditions and so on. Both through blogging itself and through posting my poems, I have discovered a new creative outlet in my writing. This, and my newly discovered song-writing, seems to allow me to express myself in a way that’s even more important to me. I’ve also relaxed about the professional singing - it’s not the only thing that matters to me, and I think I would probably find it deeply frustrating and demoralising to do it professionally. I’m exploring a new creative path, and somehow doing it with a new integrity. My writing, and the singing I do, are much more intimately connected to who I am. There will definitely be more poems - and I’d like to start writing some short stories as well as the poems. And as I start to get back into my singing again, and try to find performance opportunities here, I think I will be writing more about singing too.
Living - I was also deeply frustrated at work, not feeling challenged or stimulated, and feeling dragged down by the boredom of doing things that were routine. I also felt that there was nowhere for me to go in that career path, but didn’t feel ready to move on to anything else. Suddenly an opportunity came up, and I was successful in getting a new and challenging job which has brought me to a new country. The new life has its challenges, but I’m already making progress in tackling the loneliness inevitable in the early days (a social engagement almost every day this week which is great!). And there is a satisfaction in finding myself up to the new challenge - it requires me to go beyond my comfort levels. This isn’t really a work blog, because describing too much of what I do would completely blow my anonymity, but I will probably continue to reflect, in general terms, on things that might be of interest.
Sharing - A very important part of this journey has been making connections with other bloggers and watching their thoughts or artistic endeavours or emotional lives develop day by day. I have particularly enjoyed the collaborative writing - it’s fascinating to see how other people respond to different material. And the encouraging comments I’ve received have been a deep satisfaction. The listeners are an an important part of the storytelling, and to have an audience both perceptive and supportive is a real encouragement. I look forward to continuing this dialogue and meeting new blog-friends!
My job is really very challenging, with a lot to learn and a lot to manage. Because of my role I’m also quite isolated within my team, though they are a friendly lot. And I’m in that stage of not really being settled into my new life here - it always takes time to establish new friends and new social activities, and I’ve only been here less than 3 weeks. And though I brought quite a lot of books out with me I’ve read and re-read them until I’m fed up with them, and the rest of my library hasn’t caught up with me yet! On one level I should be feeling stressed and demoralised and lonely and bored.
And yet I feel this strange feeling of relaxation, of sufficiency. A feeling that the waves may be big but I’m a tough little boat navigating the best course I can.
Perhaps this is another bonus of the heartbreak and turbulence of last year, and the enormously strengthened self-confidence with which I have emerged. Some of my worst interpersonal nightmares came true in an intense period of self-doubt made almost unbearable by the strangely physical agony of heartbreak. And yet I survived, and not only survived but came out strengthened.
I can’t imagine anything at work that would approach that level of deeply personal pain and stress, so it seems silly to worry about what this job will be like. And I am doing my best to keep to the advice I gave myself on my first day, which is basically about having realistic expectations of myself. Yes, it will be difficult, but I have confidence in my own ability to not only survive difficulties but learn and grow in the process.
On a pyre of sandalwood and aloes,
My heart burnt with bitter tears
Perfumes and dreams dwindling in smoke
In the consummation of my deepest fears.
The fire exhausts itself at last
Unable to believe in burning again.
All the brilliance of our love
Turned to ash-caked tears and pain
Yet somehow one crystal tear
Strikes fire from the vanishing sun
And in a rainbow of sudden life
A fledgling life breathes, ember-spun.
New life arises, gold and scarlet
With strength hard won from the heart of pain
Amber and indigo feathers reborn
Wings remember how to fly again.
And I awaken to glorious day
A life where hopes outshine fears.
My heart knows a mystery old as life;
I was weeping phoenix tears.
This poem was inspired by the monday mural at poefusion. Do visit the site and have a look at the poems other people have written based on this picture.
Today I start my new job, and it will be challenging. Which is good - it’s what I wanted. But I know myself well enough to know that the biggest danger ahead is that I will have too high expectations of what I can do. So I will try to remember that:
There will be no time in this job when I will know everything I need to know. So I will have to ask.
There is no way that I will be able to absorb everything that people tell me first time round. So I will have to ask again. And again, if necessary.
There is no way that I will ever be able to speak Spanish like a native speaker. So I will have to be patient with my mistakes, extra cautious about possible misunderstandings. And I will try to recognise that people around me will value the effort I am making far more than an ability to speak and write perfectly.
I will forget things, and do things wrong. And the quickest way to deal with this is to be very upfront about it and get on with sorting out the problem. The longer I try to kid myself that things are OK, the longer it will take to sort out.
Some decisions will be difficult - I will not have enough information to make the choices I need to make, and often the two alternatives will be difficult. So I will try to remember that sometimes taking no decision, or deciding too late, is a worse alternative than making the wrong choice. Sometimes someone has to make a choice. And often that person will be me.
I cannot be more than I am. So I will just be myself and do the job as myself. And nobody, not even myself, has the right to expect more from me than that.
Lirone means "song is mine, joy is mine" which seemed rather appropriate...
I'm blogging anonymously to give me the freedom to express some personal thoughts on living, loving, writing, singing and other things that are important to me. It's also a place where I share the poems and the songs that I have been writing.
The first post, Breaking the silence is a good place to start as it explains why I started to write this blog. More recently, 100 posts and counting summarises some of the changes that have come about since I started blogging, and how I expect the blog to develop as a result
lirone
