Perspective

Never before have I found it as easy to lose perspective on pretty much everything as I have since I became a mum. Motherhood, the most important, all-consuming job I have ever taken on deserving of our very best efforts – no pressure!

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It would seem that it’s not just me that’s struggling (she says, putting things into perspective), ordinarily level-headed women around me appear to be struggling with this too. I think much of it is magnified by sleep deprivation (my hubby keeps joking that there’s a reason it’s such an effective form of Chinese torture!), but possibly also by lack of support… And that’s a strange thing to quantify, support. How much one is getting, how much one needs.

One of the reasons I feel lucky to have grown up in a village is because I was part of a relatively close-knit community that comprised people of all ages and many different walks of life. Observing many different people in action offers perspective, and my friendship circle has always been made up of people of all ages and backgrounds, good, interesting people that help me view life from a different perspective. Yet here I am, in a city, surrounded by so many friends, but mainly hanging out with new mums of a similar age, from similar backgrounds… And I fear we’re just tying ourselves up in knots as our mums aren’t down the road, Aunty Soandso isn’t around the corner, Old Mrs Jones isn’t passing by, those friends that have known us since school aren’t around, we’re not bumping into our old babysitters… And so we’re lacking perspective, and I don’t think this is a great thing.

I watched a programme the other night about the war artist Paul Nash. In it the narrator looked at the influence of surrealism on Nash’s work when he was struggling with psychological problems after the Second World War. Made me think of Dali’s twisted reality, out of perspective…

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A few weeks ago I had an exceptionally low day, but was snapped out of it by a lady who picked up a slug from a busy thoroughfare so it didn’t get trampled to death. This is the sort of thing that I would usually do, but I hadn’t even clocked the slug. I was, and remain, so grateful to that lady for the perspective that she showed me that day, saving a precious life.

My Gran used to say to me, “There’s allus someone wuss off than yaself.” She was right, of course. That’s not to say that it’s not ok to struggle, that’s not what she meant, she was just trying to give reassurance, help put things into perspective, and she always did. I miss her.

This morning I read a blog entry, the last blog entry that Charley would ever make.

Blog: Life as a semi-colon

If that doesn’t offer perspective I don ‘t know what does. Hope you’re enjoying those chocolates and that Piña Colada, Charley. Thank you for your words and for sharing your admirably clear perspective. x x

The Journey

Oxford artist Diana Bell devised and presented a new piece of work at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August 2014 based around the simple symbol of a big question mark. The Journey takes viewers and participants on a physical and philosophical journey through a public participatory installation that asks the below listed questions and invites people to describe their journey in their own idiosyncratic ways.

1. Where do you come from?
2. Where are you going?
3. How will you know you’re there?

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Listen to Diana talking about the work and watch people interacting with the work here (it’s beautifully simple, and really quite emotional)…

The Journey by Diana Bell

To find out more about Diana Bell’s work visit www.dianabell.co.uk

The Filthy. Rich. Spoilt. Rotten. working in creative industries in the UK

An interesting article by Nick Cohen in The Guardian today written in response to the opening of the film The Riot Club. The article asks if the “niceness” of the “Filthy. Rich. Spoilt. Rotten.” is a noose that is strangling our ability to talk to ourselves and to the world? Cohen remarks,

“No Premier League football club would give contracts only to children with private incomes and expect to remain in the premier league. The arts, broadcasting, serious journalism and publishing are coming dangerously close to doing just that, and its class-based culture is becoming a second-rate culture.”

Tragically, I suspect the answer is, yes it is.

Robo Baby

Woke up this morning imagining an army of Robo Babies, I typed ‘Robo Baby’ into Google and found that such a doll exists!!

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Pretty hideous! Started thinking about dystopian societies, The Handmaid’s Tale, The Stepford Wives… And the one size fits all guidelines laid out by the likes of The World Health Organisation.

Projections

So, I’m currently spending a lot of time around new mums, and it makes for very interesting listening. Not having spent much time around babies before having my own I’d assumed, wrongly, that babies were pretty passive personality-wise for the first year or so.

However, it was clear from the very start that our daughter has a lot of personality. In terms of personality type she’s pretty demanding on the NOW not in 30 seconds side of impatient screams; that said she seems to take most things in her stride in terms of social interaction, and it’s clear that she takes great pleasure out of some things and is captivated by others. To me, she is perfect, and 99% of the time she seems entirely reasonable, which I reckon is pretty good going and doubt I’d fair so well! That said, I’m trying to veer away from declaring that ‘she LOVES or HATES this, that or the other’ or that she is definitively this sort of person or the other. She’s 4.5 months old, it’s pretty early days, and she’s only been exposed to the environments that I’ve introduced her to which, whilst wide-ranging, are still pretty limited to having only been breathing oxygen for such a short period of time.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I’ve recently heard mums say things that have surprised me. “I feel as though I don’t know my baby.” and “I can’t work my baby out.” and “As soon as I think I’ve worked my baby out, everything changes and I’m back to square one!” I’m wondering why people are battling with this. It’s as if ‘knowing’ their babies, being able to predict their every move, will give them an element of control over their babies – like a well trained dog. Though there’s so much going on with babies, so many variables at play that are going to impact on a baby’s behaviour. Is it not better then to expose, observe, listen, and respond accordingly to one’s baby rather than try to master the baby? Kind of like Baby Led Weaning for personality/interaction? I don’t know, my experience of babies is incredibly limited, but I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea of exercising control over a new, developing mind.

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I suspect I’m particularly conscious of this as I wonder if I subconsciously project my energy on my daughter. I say that because whilst I try to be Chilled-Out-Mum when I take her to the doctors for her injections she is clearly tense from the moment we walk into the surgery… And whilst I’m completely oblivious to my feelings, my blood pressure indicates that I have white coat syndrome. Equally, our baby is often unsettled around a few people, and whilst I try to play it cool, I know fine well that those people stress me out.

I appreciate that this isn’t revolutionary thinking, but it’s made me think about the way in which we project onto individuals from birth. It’s astonishing really quite how happy we are to shoe-horn, categorise and shelve… And a bit frightening. A primary school teacher once said to me, “Well, you’ll never make a mathematician, but you can draw pretty pictures.” I was about seven, and I remember being quite upset by this. It was true, I wasn’t naturally gifted with numbers, but I wasn’t bad, and I wonder how much that comment undermined my confidence in my ability. Adversely, my husband believes that he has an excellent grasp of mathematics, and studied Maths electives at University, yet he didn’t do as well as I did in school maths exams… And still trips up with his calculations now.

I dunno, I just find it a bit unnerving I think. All these projections on tiny little humans just starting out in the world. Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see. Que sera sera!