New Year's morning, twice, in Sydney - How to change a mood, all year long

New Year, New City

This is the view from where I sit now. Its my latest front garden, an outdoor 'office' for my laptop and I.
If I stand up and look down the slope, I can see the sparkle of Sydney's harbor.

I had two New Year's Mornings this morning.
I'm going to tell you about them, because they show how my whole year, whole life might turn out. Or not.
They will remind me that putting 'The right thing in the right place' can rescue me.

Image from Google image search

Take One...
I awoke at dawn, knowing I'd had some kind of defeat.
What defeat?  Where? The details hadn't yet clarified in my fuzzy mind.

Ah, the woes of Sydney's New Years Eve Midnight fireworks.
It was being so small in such a big crowd. It was the seemingly endless march to the ever-receeding train station.
One ear hurt.
Oh, and my poor purse, all my treasures, buckled and ruined, sloshing around in soft drink some goon had poured into my handbag.
Me, actually.

Once bad brain chemicals from what happened in the past get a hold, they have a party working on ruining the future too.
"A New Year?   Oh no!
A blank page for me to hesitate in front of, to make a mess of, to squander"!

I made tea,  had First Breakfast, did some more fretting.
Then I noticed something useful - A sleep mask Id put under the pillow.
Then, I recalled my sister's words: 'Thoughts conjured up under the influence of bad brain chemicals are off limits for later use. Straight to the bin".

Alongside the purse.

With darkness, with permission not to fret, I returned to sleep, for another try at a Happy New Year's Day.

Trish's veranda & Bach: Concerto After The A Minor Violin Concerto - 13. Allegro Assai

Take two...
A few hours later I was having  second breakfast, viewing the park, while the breeze softly came in and arranged my hair.  Those sunny brain chemicals kicked in.  Bless them.
But why did they?

Just last night my brother and the gang had turned up with a basket of goodies, and the muscle to haul Trish's dining table to the 'conservatory'.
Having people who want to eat with you is reason to be happy.
Having allies who carry out wishes that seemed beyond your strength, that's reason to be happy.

Being in dappled light, in lively air, surrounded by swishing green and birdsong is a sadness-repellent. Gets pretty much everybody happy, for free, for no good reason.

 

There was perfect leftover potato salad. He cooks it just like I would.
Hey, a potato-salad gene.
There was brushcetta with basil and rocket from the newly-planted doorstep garden, my first harvest.

Two weeks ago these plants were bitter and distressed, confined to their containers.
Just two hours ago so was I.

And the crowning glory - on my little Apple Mac I've got Bach's Trumpet Concerto.
Explosions of glory, fading with exquisite slowness. Fireworks in Audio form.
Anytime I want.


So, very small things saved me.
Without .....

• The sleepmask 

• Remembering the 'permission not to think' rule

• The balcony-table move (just two meters, but another world from its usual spot)

• The 10 minutes for planting (with Trish's BBQ spatula)

• Bach in i-tunes

..... I might have got stuck somewhere awful. People do.

As for my dread with the blank new year - Hey, I draw. If anyone knows it, I do:
Mistakes are the only way to get something creative, something worth doing from a blank page.

Make drafts. Refine them. Fix mistakes, do second drafts. Be surprised and proud.

 A dwelling to choose

I can do that.
That's what I do.
I can have yet another worthwhile and interesting year, worth the work, and different to all that have come before.

Tale of two Tokyos - Domestic Robots and Permaculture bathrooms.

Roving, roving.
I'm now staying in Central Tokyo, at my usual home with the Ota family.

Robot and charcoal-fired tea ceremony brazier

This morning I reached for the broom, I got a surprise. Professor Ota came running out "No No!"
He bent down, fiddled with something on the floor, and out it sprang - the floor-sweeping robot.

I'm not a squealy girl, but this was festive, and a squeal was the natural response to having a robot scampering around. I'm living in the miracle-world future. The Jetson's cartoons I watched when tiny are now my life.


We sat and enjoyed our whisked macha green tea, with Chestnut sweets. It it bounced around irrepressibly, gobbling dust and fallen petals, then wiggling into its dock when it decided its task was complete.

Moss-eating bathroom snail

Here is a solar-powered, silent version, spotted the other week on a visit to my friend Phil Cashman's place, in Zushi, Tokyo's outskirts.
Its a particularly well-designed snail, cleaning the bathroom slowly but steadily.



Phil made his bathroom himself, from an old Miso barrel, and other reclaimed timber.
To reach it you cross a bridge, the lively stream below flows from the greywater-reclaiming system he is constructing. Unwanted nutrients are removed automatically by useful micro-organisms and plants. No recharging, all on site, and again, silent. Oh, and free.

Wooden Tub

He's become so skilled at recruiting mirco-help, he put together this daisy-fresh compost toilet.

And while he was at it, he put in an outdoor shower, probably with water caught from the roof and warmed by the sun....
Its a Toilet Tower, actually, to make sure there's room for everything. Instead of flushing, our contributions are followed by a cup full of sawdust, to get the carbon/nitrogen balance just right, heat-treating the mix below. There are two old bathtubs, the second one full of crumbly humus, happy earthworms.
The toilet tower and other buildings are veiled by this Egyptian bean vine, which Phil said just thrived over the hot summer holidays, with no watering. It scrambles up the sunniest walls, just where its needed, a self-installing, self-directing awning. Solar powered.


But wait, it does more.
This bean employs microbes, right at its roots. It trades them sugars, in return for converting air-nitrogen into usable nitrogen for itself and its neighbors in the soil, making it a rich community down there. Its beans are also good for people, making them happy at dinnertime. And its strikingly beautiful.

Phil Cashman

Robust, pro-active, productive, and multi-skilled. And gorgeous. A real treasure.

My friend YumiBear babysits Phill Cashman's daughters.

Resourceful Beachcombing in Tokyo, Homeless Halloween style

Most of the materials for our enchanted edible garden have already made their own way to Asaba Art Square - plant cuttings, timber that fell of a truck, mountain mulch and more.
To gather the finishing touches, pebbles and driftwood, we set of for a peaceful beachcombing picnic on the Miura peninsula.
The days are now cool, and the beaches deserted.


We emerged though the tunnel of bamboo to the beach, to discover a tiny little dwelling.
Look what was coming from the bit of poly-pipe sticking out of the roof:

Inhabited.
And look, a splendid balcony garden. After its Autumn Harvest, I suppose.

It was driftwood-powered, flotsam-harvested waterfront lifestyle living.

At the front door was a tinkling bead curtain. The doorpost was dignified by a ticking clock, richly decorated with aluminium and plastic scrolls. Possibly put in place to assist in catching the rush-hour train to work. But probably not.

As I'm living a vagabond life myself these days, I'm able to look with complete admiration when seeing someone else do a good job of it.
So who made up this household?



For starters, a chicken. Just to set the tone.


One guard-cat.


One fishercat.

One hulking friendly wildcat


And look who's sitting in MY bucket - a stowaway cat.


This is Yoshiko-san, she is my friend, and she's a ghostwriter. She is amused.

I'm still waiting for a householder to appear, and I'm getting pretty interested by now, because with cats like this, the owner would be not your average guy.

These cats were stars.
They were enthusiastic risk-takers, leaping deftly from one stack of rickety boxes to another.

Note the bead curtain

They were socially graceful, making my acquaintance immediately, and entertaining me with a good play fight. Claws were politely retracted, as is proper when beating up a new friend. And it goes without saying, they were dainty in matters of personal hygiene.


They were also generous, giving their mates a lick in the hard-to-wash spots.


They were chivalrous, taking turns at mealtimes.

So engaging, they were, that I almost missed the drama behind me.

Five men in crispy shirts. Official men. Dangling ID's were in full swing.
It wasn't looking good for the three bears, or whoever lived here.

I've never been able to resist a chance for some caped crusading when I think I'm seeing bullies in action. Up I strode from the waves, botticelli's blonde in in combat mode.

Reaching the party I bowed politely, wondering what I was going to say. Four astonished men bowed back.

In English I'm only funny by accident. But in Japanese I have to make a few words go a long way,
so it comes out witty.

"O-hikkoshi (moving day?) desu ka"? I enquired politely
It came out as a gloriously multi-layered rendition of the neigbourhood sing-song greeting "Having a little Outing are we?" and it got a full-spectrum response: the sidewards stare that says 'who's this dork', to the smile of fellows very interested in whats going to happen next.

We had a brief, though one way conversation on world-class Japanese resourcefulness. We discussed (again, one way) how this example of domestic irrepressability might be giving hope to the hope to harried teens and salarymen of Tokyo. Life-saving hope.

I left them to it.

It was the chicken though who eventually showed four men out.

The remaining man was the householder.
"I've been here for 10 years now" he told me. "Sometimes the local government get complaints, so they have to come and check up. Mothers worry I might hurt their children".

I told him that if the daffy mothers took a proper look at the clues, the well-adjusted cats and little garden attempts, they'd work out for themselves if there was danger here or not.

"You are the only one who says so".
But the officials seemed to get along with him just fine.

He showed me how the cats go all floppy and purry when they hear the rhythm of a heartbeat, like being with their mum again.

People who suddenly have to give up their cats leave them in his care, he said. They give him a bit of money too.

Its an old fishing village. Plenty to feed the furry family, plenty of tumbledown sheds to keep the stove burning, and plenty of ways to use your ingenuity when you wake up each morning. To the darn rooster.


We go though life cowering at things that would never hurt us, while fearlessly committing mayhem on a daily basis.
Imagine if I could re-arrange where my fears went, like re-arranging furniture. "Creating a family - no problem." "Toast and marmalade - terrifying'
I could do amazing things. Till I was very, very old, very loved.

Get scared of the right things, is my message to myself this Halloween.

What scary things are you staring down these days? People doing scary things are my favourite kind of people. Tell me your scary story, and I will barrack for you.

New Life Garage sale

I must leave my darling home.

So, "New Life Garage Sale for Gardening Vintage-loving artists" is happening, because no matter how beautiful, you can't take it all with you.

When
Easter Saturday 3rd April 2010, 8am to 12.30 pm.

Where

1 Canning St, North Melbourne
Tram stop 17, tram 57. Look for the balloons.

For mates I already know, there is a BBQ afterwards RSVP by Wednesday, and bring a dish and a talent to share. Babysitting for boxes of unsold goods will be rewarded, so make some space in your car or garage.

I've put some sample photos and prices here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cecilia_macaulay/sets/72157622997733510/

So what might you come home with?

Furniture: mostly vintage: 20's dresser, 30's titanic style draws, pretty white girls bed, side tables. Ikea storage in perfect condition, more.


Permaculture Garden goods: Large Potted fruit trees, sweet smelling straw for mulch, for rabbits, lots of hoses, tubes and pumps to get water to your garden. Decorator white pebbles, terracotta pots, odd-shaped cut bricks for a mosiac brick garden path, crushed rock to go under the bricks, timber and boards, Glass for greenhouses, and a splendid potted persimmon tree.


Clothes: vintage including edwardian silk blouse, 1870s long-sleeved whalebone bodice, lots of hats, gloves, coats, gowns, Sixties retro and Gone With the Wind style costumes, and groovy stuff from Tokyo: Hotpants, glimmery coats. Mostly size 8 - 10, shoes size 7 (24cm)

Craft and sewing goods: Fabric, linings, patchwork materials, wheatbags ready to be cut and made, acrylic paint, tracing paper and huge grid paper rolls, stretched canvas, saris, japanese obis, Japanese flower arranging spiked holders (kenzan)

Household goods: lamps, air humidifier, kitchen goods, sheets, pots, candles, christmas decorations, art posters, Japanese culinary tools, Set of 30 party glasses.


Magazines: Earth Garden, Organic Gardener, Mindfood, Green Magazine, Japanese fashion magazines,

Books: Candlemaking, decorating, color, interiours, art Nouveau, Japanese language textbooks, novels, freebies.

Wierd stuff: soil Ph measurer, Air Humidifier, butter churn, priestly vestments, 1820s Documents, 200 year old books.

Have Fun!

Creative mess management for generative people

Next time you find yourself in the company of a mess you just can't face, be it a withered balcony garden or pile of taxation documents, I have just the strategy for you:

MessScapes.

Mid-March MessScape by Cecilia, Ballarat 2010

This one was created while waiting for my Rasberry breakfast cake this morning, at a lakeside Cafe in Ballarat. Well, waiting beside a pile of the last customers dishes would have been the drongo's option, but when you decide there must be other options, they always appear.

And once I'd finished with mine, I got the kids at the next table to have a go, to keep me distracted.


It turns out they were indeed talented MessScapers, much more figurative in style than me.

Green tounged red mascara MessScape monster


Jam Man with collar


Glasses with Glasses

Trouble and Freindship, master MessScapers

MessScapes and balcony gardens, whats the connection? They are both about making something out of nothing, seeing patterns, making connections, and joyfully wasting time.

Also, the most dramatic way to improve the look of your balcony garden is simple subtraction - saying 'this plant, this pot doesn't belong. I don't love it. Just because it ended up here doesn't mean I'm obliged to use it', and sending it on. All the remaining pots and plants can then relax into a harmonious arrangement, and you can say 'Im a balcony garden artist'.

Practice on mess first, its easier.

'Freindship' and 'Trouble' the MessScape artists, with Bruce (?) and Peanut.
Bruce and Peanut are the Dogs.

Best of all, a messScape is so much less scary to clean up than a mess. Divide and Conquer.


If you ever make a MessScape, I'd love a photo to add to my collection.