Wednesday, April 21, 2010

The calmness within

There are some things that you just can't take your eyes off of.

Like these stone sculptures.

There was something about their still presence that captivated me.

Someone had spent the time to find the right-sized, right-shaped stones that could be aligned perfectly. Stacked them up. And then left them there for others to enjoy -- or destroy -- as they pleased.

Here were these smoothed-over rocks lying around randomly that someone had picked up and turned into artwork.

They sat there gracefully. Enjoying the view from their new vantage point.

Eliciting smiles.

The volatile ocean in the background providing a stark contrast to their quietude.

They looked unmoved. Resolute. Strong.

Yet so fragile.

Later that day I found myself experiencing the same swoop of silence.

A large cement ship, christened The Palo Alto, stoically resisting the throbbing sea.

A haven for birds. A sightseer's delight.

Built for one purpose. Cherished for another.

Abandoned as they were, the stone sculptures and the ship shared a sort of silent bond.

Witnessing time fly by.

There was movement all around them, yet they stayed unruffled.

Each of them with some history and an unknown future.

Inanimate objects that somehow managed to inspire a deep sense of calm.

The longer I looked at them, the more grounded I felt.

Invoking a sense of calm.

I saw a parallel with the demands of life.

Every day a series of turbulences. Big and small waves.

If we could learn to stay cool and collected -- face the crashing tide with equanimity -- life would be so much easier.

And we could appreciate the beauty of it all from a unique vantage point.

An inanimate frame of reference.

Experiencing the rough seas but not reacting to the turmoil.

Finding peace within.


Copyright protected by Digiprove © 2010 Mansi Bhatia


Also posted on my blog.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Twitter Delivers

I’m enjoying Twitter. Most days I am tuning in to other people’s thoughts, complaints and shared information because I am chained to my computer for up to 8 hours a day.
And because I’m working from my home I have lost that angsty space that exists between work and home-The Commute.

I think I must really miss it because lately I’ve caught myself following the tweets of a 20 something Australian girl as she is homeward bound on an (often late) Brisbane train.

At 4.04pm she tweets: Why the hell am I only at Bowen Hills when I left work 50 minutes ago?! Goddamn #bnept.

4.08pm She then tunes in to the conversations around her: This yuppie across from me on the train is gossiping about someone jumping on the tracks near her house. I really don't want to hear it :(

4.10pm : And apparently gay men tip better than straight men. I'm assuming the girl is a waitress. #traintalk

4.17pm She receives the following complaint about Sydney train passengers by another commuter - Seriously. Can Sydneysiders please learn to put their bags on their laps or on the floor? I would like a seat too.

4.17pm She advises - ask them to move. I also glare at people or talk to others there about it loudly.

4.21 pm (I imagine an exasperated, weary tone) Finally approaching train station. Long trip home this one has been. Stupid.

Then nothing for an hour or so and I imagine her off the train and walking towards home, checking the mail, letting the cat out and kicking off her shoes.

*Sigh*- I really do miss coming home.

Hat Tip @nicolejensen

Diary of A Fading Rockstar — Episode XII: NEVER TRUST A MAN IN A BLUE TRENCHCOAT Or, You Kids Get Off My Lawn | CWG Magazine

Diary of A Fading Rockstar — Episode XII: NEVER TRUST A MAN IN A BLUE TRENCHCOAT Or, You Kids Get Off My Lawn | CWG Magazine

The Inspirational Cynic


Afternoon all. Thank you Kathy for allowing me to join your merry band of scribers. I am truly delighted to be here.

When I was 9 years old I read a book called Little Ed by Ed Tully, and from the moment I had finished it I knew that I wanted to be a writer. When I was 8 years old, we moved from the north of England to the south. I had a little typewriter and I would correspond to Toni Smith, my northern best friend, who I have known since I was 5 years old (and we are still writing to each other 30 years on but via email now) using my clumsy fingers on my clumsy machine.

As I got older my passion for writing grew but I it was always underpinned by a need to make money from it. I have never been very good at writing creatively just for the joy of self-expression. In fact, when I do such endeavours invariably the result makes my toes curl, and I hope and pray that they are never discovered. If they are, then at the very earliest, after I am dead and ideally completely dead, and not hanging around in some transitional plane having to endure the criticism, but not having the means to defend my intentions. A bit like Joe Orton’s diaries, I am sure that he never expected to have his shorthand decoded and the world to read about how often he bashed one out. In my teens I had heard that you could make £200 per Mills and Boon novel so I thought this was an ideal way of writing to formula and earning some easy cash. My friend’s mum was a Mills and Boon member and had hundreds of them, so I read a few, which was very entertaining and then began my first draft. The problem was I just couldn’t take it seriously and it always ended up as some stupid parody, full of sexual debauchery and drunken frolics that amused me, and my school chums, but didn’t really stand any chance of earning me the coveted £200.

While I was at university, my housemates and I, on rainy, cash strapped days, would pen erotic fiction stories about each of us in compromising positions with celebrities of our choice. Again, they just turned into stupid parodies, which were hilarious. The olives and the pool table were a nice touch. Anyone who has seen Priscilla Queen of the Desert will know what I mean. As I was studying a PR degree we thought it would be funny to try and sell them to men’s magazine Maxim. It was my first pitch into a features editor and it wasn’t my crowning glory. It went something along the lines of, “Hi, we have written these really funny erotic fictions stories and as Maxim is a glorified porn mag with words we thought they might be your cup of tea.” Click, as the features editor put the phone down.

After graduation I started working and was given the opportunity to work with the press photographer for Lawrie Smith’s yacht racing team, Silk Cut, who were participating in the 1998 Whitbread Round the World Race. I became privy to an inside look at these globetrotting, womanising, yachtsmen. At a summer bbq at my parents, I was introduced to a literary agent who had given up the big smoke for life in Middle Earth. I pitched the idea ‘Silk Sluts – The Inside Tale’ to her and we began the proposal writing process. The book looked like a winning combination and Silk Cut were definitely the team to watch when it came to debauched behaviour. It wasn’t long before they made the tabloid front pages when boat driver, super sexy Gordon Maguire, left his wife, and began a year-long affair with Page 3 hottie Jo Guest. However, my literary dreams were once again shattered, when I broke my leg, while watching the start of the race, onboard a speed-boat and spent the next year learning to walk again.

I next came into contact with the world of publishing when I was managing the communications programme for, British yachtsman, Mike Golding. He was competing in a yacht race called the Vendee Globe, a non-stop, circumnavigation of the world. As he approached Cape Horn his winning strategy looked like it might deliver, and so, in-conjunction with The Daily Telegraph sailing correspondent, Kate Laven, we began drafting a book proposal. She introduced me to literary agent David Luxton, from Luxton Harris ltd, and he agreed to represent Mike, with Kate Laven as the co-writer. Kate wrote a great proposal and David managed to muster some interest from publishers. Mike eventually, after a dramatic finish, secured a brilliant third place but he felt that third didn’t warrant a book so once again my brush with publishing dissipated.

However, I stayed in touch with David Luxton and kept my ear to the ground. On another gig as Communications Director of the Velux 5 Oceans, a global solo yacht race with stopovers, the sailing legend Sir Robin Knox Johnston, who in 1969 became the first man ever to successfully complete a solo circumnavigation of the globe, decided to enter. He was going to be a big media pull and was in a severely under funded campaign. In order to boost his income and on the back of a front cover of the Sunday Times magazine, it was time once again to pull in the dynamic trio of Luxton, Laven and Macnaughton. Before the proposal was even drafted we were beginning to get offers from publishers. I managed the relationship between Kate, David and RKJ, just because of the complex logistics involved with RKJ trying to co-ordinate his sailing campaign. Kate drafted a fantastic proposal and it went out to tender. There was huge interest and the book finished in a bidding war between two publishers. In the end, in a nail biting board level sign off, a six-figure advance was offered which secured the book deal for ‘Force of Nature’, with Penguin. Our editor was to be Rowland White, the author of bestselling aviation non-fiction novel, ‘Vulcan 607’. Before Kate got stuck into the writing we all went up to London to meet Rowland, I shook his hand, we chatted a little and I mentioned that I had married a Chinook pilot in the RAF. Rowland, who obviously has a keen interest in aviation, he mentioned another Chinook pilot, who was a mutual friend and it was all very jolly. I then walked away from the publishing world once more to get on with my very time-consuming day job.

After the race had finished, and Force of Nature had been published, Kate, David and I met up for a celebratory lunch at Soho House. David and I were talking and he mentioned that non-fiction military history was very much the books of the moment. He asked that if I got a sniff of a tale in this field, knowing I lived amongst the military, in a military house, as I was married to a Chinook pilot, that he wanted first refusal. I didn’t think much of it but agreed that I would only do so if I got to write it.

About six months later I was having a cup of tea in the living room of a fellow wife, who lived two doors up the street from me, and her husband, a Major in the Royal Marines, on an exchange tour with RAF, came home with a book in his hand called, In Foreign Fields by Dan Collins. He threw the book at me and said, “read that – it’s about me” alluding to a chapter in it. Her husband had earned a gallantry medal, called the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) in Afghanistan, and his endeavours were described in it. I said to him that I thought that I could get him a book deal. He agreed to let me try but only because he didn’t believe that it would ever happen. I contacted David and the machinations began. We, in-conjunction, with the Major drafted the proposal and then it was submitted. Somehow it ended up in front of Rowland at Penguin. At first, he turned us down, but he did agree to a meeting to see if we could expand the story a bit further to give it more substance. At this meeting we did so, I then wrote a sample chapter, and it was with great jubilation that I received a call from David to say that we had an offer from Penguin.

The contract was signed and I was the co-writer. I couldn’t believe that finally my dream to write a book was finally going to come to fruition. Then I found out that I was pregnant and we were being posted to Dorset. Penguin gave me a deadline of March 1st, this gave me time to grow the baby, move, have the baby, get the baby to nursery age and then have 6 months to research and write the book. No problem. Thankfully, the world had invented Skype and I was very resourceful. On the 1st January 2009 I declared myself teetotal until handover and began my writing marathon. Against all odds, and under some pretty extreme endurance writing sessions, ‘Immediate Response’ by Major Mark Hammond was drafted.

After a series of edits and a faff with the MOD, it was released on the 6th August. In it’s second week of sales it debuted in The Sunday Times bestseller non-fiction chart, at number 9, making it an official bestseller. The next job for me is now to publish a book in my own name. I am working on a non-fiction look at life onboard a superyacht, through the eyes of a stewardess. It’s going to be like Hotel Babylon but with teeth and I am loving every minute of it. It is a comedy noir and I guarantee it will be a page turner. However, I am currently still looking for a publisher to agree to take it on so watch this space. One day my dream will come true and I am not going to give up trying.

Immediate Response by Major Mark Hammond DFC RM with Clare Macnaughton Michael Josesph 2009 ISBN 0718154746

Hardback:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Immediate-Response-Mark-Hammond/dp/0718154746

Paperback:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Immediate-Response-Mark-Hammond/dp/0141039043/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271776405&sr=1-2

There is nothing more disappointing then discovering, no matter how much you were born to scribe that becoming a bestselling writer and earning tonnes of money from my dream career is an enormous mountain to climb. I am still looking at the summit but I am not daunted by the prospect of never reaching the top. I don't choose to write. I have to write. I look forward to sharing, and receiving your words.

Please follow me on:
http://claremacnaughton.wordpress.com/

Tweet me:
http://www.twitter.com/thesauce237

Facebook fan page:
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Clare-Macnaughton/183239909321?ref=ts

Sunday, April 18, 2010

I sweat the small stuff...



Here is a list of some of the worst things that can happen to you: (Author’s note–This list is not all-inclusive as there are many, many I will leave out for the sake of space and time available!)


Being five minutes late.

Getting stuck behind someone who does not think they can make the light.

Spilling something.

A lost button or broken shoelace.

Children acting up or being loud as they play.

Not getting everything I want.

A broken fingernail.

Running out of hot water in the shower.

Someone eating the last of the peanut butter.

Your jeans not fitting as they once did.

Rain.

Sniffles.

Stains.

For the sake of progression, I will move onward...

As you can see, or hopefully see my point is that for me at least, these things I listed can often derail us as if they were indeed “the worst things that can happen to us.”

Recently, there have been circumstances that have challenged me. I have been absent from writing for a week, as these issues have kept me away from one of my passions and pastimes that allow me to recharge, reflect, and simply keep me in conscious contact with that which energizes me.

I have found though, and with a degree of peace, that the things I often write about: acceptance, checking my expectations, releasing results to powers better qualified to handle them– to name a few, have paid off. I have been pleased that many of these situations I have been dealing with, which are considered “bigger stuff,” have not taken me down or out. I feel blessed that some of my insight on these matters, and keeping a calmer demeanor in the chaos has allowed me to be of better support to my loved ones, and also to be able to maintain my own serenity and stability.

I find that through an ongoing awareness of myself, as well as the stuff I continually need work on, allows me to cross the chasm with a greater degree of agility. Chance favors the prepared mind. I also find that it is better to practice first aid prior to the bleeding, and for that awareness sometime back, I am thankful. I still need work, the situations at hand can use some prayers, the future is unpredictable but I have faith, but that is not the reason I write today.

I have noticed that through my self-work, I still need some major work. Normally I would not think so as in my recent tests, I have fared better than I thought as far as how I am coping. What came to my attention is the fact that I have "termites."

What I mean by this is this analogy: As with termites, there are things that creep beneath the surface that can slowly eat away at our foundation. It is sometimes the little things, the “small stuff” mind you, that can cause an erosion of us that can eventually weakens our resolve–our foundation. Like termites, being small, they are often seen as either harmless, tiny, or something to attend to later. However, if left to increase in numbers, they can cause large-scale and sometimes permanent damage. Often this damage is done before it is recognized as a problem.

These little situations often surface as “little frustrations”, but often it is the reaction to them that starts the erosion. If I come undone over my kids’ misconduct, but then try to counsel them on their behavior, I am not being a good role model. If I get upset over being a few minutes late, but try to send a message of patience to others, I must heed my own advice. It is the stuff that lurks in the shadows that can often take us down, and it is those things that are patient– very patient to get their turn to infiltrate our space.

I now realize that because the “big stuff”, although a formidable opponent does not have to consume me, I do realize that the little things can also weaken us. If I am able to become aware a little quicker, I can intercept the “termites” before they cause too much structural damage. This way I do not allow my foundation to crumble causing me to topple on top of those I love. I need to be aware that although I am increasing my spiritual integrity, I cannot forget the nooks and crannies, and to dust in the corners.

Like everything else, this requires practice. Practice I will. But just for the meantime, until I get my rhythm, don’t eat the last of the peanut butter.



Repost from Artisan of the Human Spirit ~ Awakening to life's lessons

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Love Thy Self

“If you aren't good at loving yourself, you will have a difficult time loving anyone, since you'll resent the time and energy you give another person that you aren't even giving to yourself.”

Barbara De Angelis

I have loved someone very close and dear to me for near on half my life. This person is an incredibly intelligent person who also has a pure heart and is one of the most thoughtful people I have ever know. This dear friend is also an incredible musician with natural God given talent and has a photographic memory that can recall details 15 years old as if they happened yesterday. They have completed a Bachelor of Business externally while working 60 plus hours a week and helping to run the family house and raise their child and in her spare time she both trained in Martial Arts and instructed.

Sounds like an incredible person ? I certainly feel and think so !

Not that what I think matters because having said all of that, my friend hates herself ! Why, no one really knows. Yes she had a terrible childhood but her level of self loathing is incredibly profound.

Her despair and self loathing combined with her non existent self value has driven her to self harm over the last 3 years and attempt suicide twice in the last 12 months.

We all love her, we all want to help her and share this beautiful world with her but she is so convinced that she is worthless and irrelevant that any attempts to help her or share love with her is simply rebuffed and stone walled.

How do you convince someone that they are beautiful and a treasure to the world when every cell in their body screams at them otherwise and tells them that the world lies and that they are a bad person and that they don’t deserve to be happy or healthy.

When someone believes with their very existence a belief, even if it is totally baseless and unsupported by facts .. It is true to them !

Night may as well be Day and Black be White.

I am only 42 years old and to date I have personally known 4 people who have committed suicide. All four differed in many ways, age 19 – 50, Social Status ( Only child to comfortable family – Hard working grandfather ), Religion ( Atheist – Devout Christian ), Education ( Uni – Left at 16 ), Nationality ( Dutch, Australian, Scottish ) the only thing to date that any of them have in common is that they were all males. Depression and Mental health Issues know no boundaries.

Mental health issues are incredibly devastating conditions to deal with as it is not only debilitating to the sufferer but also places incredible pressure on the loved ones and carers of the sufferer.

Because of the profound beliefs that the sufferer holds as truths, there is no rationalising discussions with the sufferer for treatment plans or goals because the person doesn’t want the help due to their belief that they are not worthy of the effort or that they deserve to feel better.

The health care system even with its major advances in both medication and psychiatric practices, still offer very little relief from mental health conditions and due to the fact that each and every patient is different the process of trial and error in the treatment can mean years of hit and miss before limited if any relief can be found for the sufferer.

Mean while the sufferers loved ones and primary care providers are left powerless to protect their loved one and in most cases can do nothing but watch ( with guilt of inadequacy ) the sufferer self harm and hope that they will always be near enough to get help when required.

Mental Health issues reach every corner of society, it is non-prejudicial and non-discrimatory. It destroys both the sufferer and those who care and are associated with the sufferer, it destroys both male and female, young and old, rich and poor, black or white.

For the carer there is a profound sense of isolation and hopelessness. I believe on most occasions primary carers do not speak out about what they are enduring. This I believe is for two reason, the first being that they do not want the person they care for to be judged in any way by others who do not and can not understand the full picture and also because on most occasions if a carer does talk to someone they normally get the response of “ I don’t understand why they do it ” on more then one occasion I have pointed out to people that even the sufferer doesn’t understand and but for the grace of God I hope you never understand because to do so would put you in the same place as the sufferer, and that is something I would not wish on my worst enemy.

So if you know a sufferer or a carer, don’t run away ( it’s not contagious ) talk to them, support them but most of all Don’t Judge Them.


~~~~~~~~~~~

You may as well try to hold back the king tide or to shift the seasons as easily try to love someone who hates themselves.

Andrew Swansson

~~~~~~~~~~~

Article also posted on my Blog " The Soap Box Truth "

Thank You for sharing your time with me and reading my post.

G'Day Mate, Introducing Andrew Swansson


Greeting & Salutations from Brisbane Australia

The Andrew Swansson Story

First up I’d just like to say a huge G’day to you all and thank Katherine Jenkins for introducing me to Writers Rising.

I only started writing my Blog “ The Soap Box Truth ” about 6 weeks ago after being introduced to blogs by my sister Wendy.

I have always enjoyed writing and have been looking for a forum to share both my writing and my poetry for some time now.

I originate from large mining town called Mt Isa in Central Far North Queensland but have lived most of my life in the bright lights of Brisbane, Queensland.

I am a single dad to a fantastic 12 year old young man by the name of Dylan ( Alias “ Grub ” ) who lives with me since his mother and I separated.


I work fulltime in the steel industry as WHS / QA, enjoy writting / poetry / photography & drawing, I have been a Professional Massage Therapist for over 20 years, I am Spiritual but not Religious ....... tbc

I could go on and on about the smaller details of my life but truth be told, I am just an average working class dad nothing more, nothing less who has something to say and is willing to get up on his soap box to tell anyone who can hear.

One of the principle reasons I started to write was to share my stories, feelings, beliefs and ideas with my son. I honestly believe one of the greatest tragedies in life is to not know who your parents are as people and not just figures of authority.

One of the other reasons was to share my poetry with whoever will listen.

My blogs to date tend to be about the world through my eyes and can tend to cover any topic that is relevant to my day. I do write a lot about my son who is a constant inspiration to me and also about Depression and Mental Health Issues which has strongly influenced my life for the last 16 years as a primary career.

I sincerely look forward to contributing to Writers Rising and hope that you enjoy reading my entries even a fraction as much as I enjoy writing them.

I have read many brilliant contributions to Writers Rising and other individual Blogs to date and also look forward to any assistance anyone can offer in refining my writing skills.

Until then, ciao from the land down under.

Andrew Swansson
The Soap Box Truth