This is the most unlikely corner of the garden. The little courtyard is just one metre from the fence, and then the back of the house is a metre from the other fence.
For some reason, I thought it was a good idea to plant a full-sized lemon in the corner. For some other, equally bonkers, reason the lemon loved the spot and would grow to enormous proportions if allowed.
Unfortunately, the lemons on the rooftop clog the gutters in winter if allowed, so I am constantly apologising the to the poor thing and cutting it back. It seems pretty happy about it all, considering.
The passionfruit is actually growing on the neighbour’s property. I have gone through at least 10 passionfruit vines trying to grow them in our yard, but THIS one has decided that the spot-with-no-sun is where it will fruit. If we beat the rats, and we usually do, we manage to nab the fruit for ourselves.
From my reading in the last year, I have drawn a few conclusions about kindness. Kindness must be voluntary and discretionary. It involves an act of help of some sort. There needs to be a beneficiary and (my contention is) when the benefactor performs the act, they must aim for a positive outcome and more benefit to the beneficiary than to themselves.
At the core, though, along with all those features there needs to be a simple test, which is “is this a good thing?” If it is not good, then it is not kindness, it is something else. The test may be simple, but actually knowing what “good” is, and how one tells if this act is good, working out “good for whom?” seems ridiculously complex to the point of impossibility.
Now, if we look at the case of Barnaby Grub and the Lucrative Concessions, many of these elements are there. Yes, he voluntarily used his discretion to benefit a set of beneficiaries. It is possible that with political motivation and back scratching involved, there was ultimately greater benefit to Minister Grub than to the individuals helped….but it quacks a lot like the kindness duck.
Researchers have used the term “service nepotism” to describe how some ethnic groups in a market (in this case a group less well-off than others) favour people socially similar to them, challenging ideas of egalitarianism and competition in the marketplace.
In the latest Carnegie publication on kindness, which was released along with the movie embedded below, they discuss the idea of “radical kindness”. Within organisations, there may be people who choose to bend or break rules in order to do good, increase social cohesion and help others. It’s key to remember that kindness is something done by individuals, unobliged. Radical kindness comes in when there is systematic acknowledgement across the organisation that some people’s needs are greater due to structural disadvantage… and there is a social environment and norms where unobligated acts of doing good by individuals are more frequent, to try to level out this inequity. This goes a little way to guiding my “is this a good thing?” test.
The idea is still nascent, but I think all of the examples described above rely on there being a background social environment of unfairness. Of inequity. Of some having more than others. With “radical kindness”, the outcome of the act would be fairer redistribution. With political trough-feeding, inequity would increase.
This links kindness very much to power. Anyone who has opportunity to be kind will have more power in that situation than the potential beneficiary. A key element of kindness, discretion, means there always needs to be a choice by the benefactor to act or not act.
Does this mean that the largest acts of kindness will be found in the most unequal societies? That actually we should aim for a world with less opportunity for kindness? While kindness will always be a good thing (or else it is not kindness, it is something else), possibly finding “more kindness” also says something about the background power relations as well as the level of social cohesion??
I don’t have answers, but I am loving the journey.
Here’s the movie that goes with the latest Carnegie report, outlining ideas arising from the last year of the Kindness Innovation Network across Scotland. Kindness at the University of Glasgow library is mentioned at 1:46.
1. I turned off desktop alerts – no more audio or popup messages when I get a new email. (Only took me 30 years of using work email…)
2. I close Outlook when I am not actively using it.
3. Filters, filters, filters and folders, folders, folders. Only about half of my email goes into my inbox. The rest is filtered automatically into one of 30 or so folders sitting under the inbox. I have:
A filter for mail from each co-worker, with a separate folder for each person
A filter for new mail coming from each Blackboard unit that I teach, each in a new folder for each unit
Filters for alerts from journal databases, library catalogues, listservs and other informational resources – each one with its own folder
Filters for important work distribution lists that would otherwise go straight to my inbox – each one with their own folder
Filters for emails I sent from my other email addresses to myself
4. Prioritising when I check filtered folders.
I monitor email from students from my Blackboard units every time I have my email open
I prioritise emails from co-workers
Journal alerts I would look at maybe once a week during quiet periods, when I deal with my reading backlog…
5. Each day I set aside two blocks in my calendar of one hour to deal with email. These are appointments marked “busy”.
6. I set aside one three hour block in my calendar at the end of the week to deal with any backlog. Most weeks I get to inbox zero and make sure I have either completed, or know when I will complete, each task associated with each email from that week.
7. When checking the filtered folders or inbox, emails are either:
If they can be done in under 2 minutes, dealt with then
If they are urgent, categorised with a red “Pending my action” flag
If neither, manually moved to one of my “to do” folders. (see left hand side of image above)
Once I have done the “first pass” of my email, I go back and deal with the red flags, and then get to work on the “to do” folders.
8. Some tasks need more than just a reply email. I have other regular blocks of time set aside in my calendar (e.g. for teaching or for course admin). I add the task to the calendar description for the next block of time I work on that area.
9. I never delete emails once I am done with them. Either they remain in their original filtered file (so all email from co-worker x is together) or email from my inbox or a to do folder is manually dragged into just one of five folders:
10. If I want to locate previous conversations, I just use the search function.
I originally had a lot of categories in my Done list. Then for the last five years I had a “Done2019Month” folder for each month. This year I just started using these five, and will continue for the year.
11. At the end of the year, the whole lot of folders are transferred to a single folder called “[year]Archive”, keeping the same file structure. Then I set up a whole lot of new, empty folders ready to receive filtered messages and the cycle starts again for the new year.
Boil the oranges whole in a pot of water for 2 hours. (We made two cakes one day, one skipping this step and one including it, just in case it was being a bit precious…. who has time to boil an orange?? One kid much preferred the non-boiled version (more tart and tangy), while one preferred the boiled-version (far creamier texture).
Puree and ALLOW TO COOL.
Preheat oven to 160 degrees and grease and line a 22cm spring form tin.
Beat eggs and caster sugar until combined.
Stir in puree, then meal, then baking powder.
Bake 1 – 1 ¼ hours until skewer comes out clean.
Allow to cool before dusting with icing sugar to serve.
In December 2007, five months after the first iPhone was released, a year after Facebook first allowed people with non “.edu” addresses to create profiles, I wrote about my decision to try not to tell other people’s stories, in a post about Drawing the veil … .
Chiefly I was thinking about co-workers and my kids. My decision was not only about privacy for others, but I reasoned that even if the person in question had given me permission, or even wanted me to tell their stories, publishing it on this blog altered my relationship with other co-workers. Would they think I was looking at what they were doing as blog fodder? I didn’t really want to add that layer to my work relationships. Likewise, I respected my kids’ privacy, and that of their friends and schoolmates, so minimised how much I discussed them.
I didn’t tell the story at the time, but it was actually in response to an incident at work where I was extremely confronted. I’m OK with telling it now because I can anonymise it, and if it makes my current workmates feel worried that I may tell a vague story about them in 12 years time, I can live with that impact on our work relationships today. The incident made me feel about 100 years old and like the world’s biggest fuddy-duddy.
I was running a “23 Things” project that involved staff blogging, and a member of staff far younger than me was taking part. The blog they linked to as part of the staff project was used for posts other than for the project. Mentioning work. Including a conversation with their supervisor. One that revealed information about them, their supervisor and work circumstances that had not been revealed to their co-workers.
It was my job to explain to them, with the help of supervisor, why it was not on. As I tried to explain I was seeing a nodding head, with a look of total incomprehension in the eyes. What seemed obvious to me about workplace decorum and social media evidently was not universally apparent.
Even worse, this was the days before organisations had grappled with social media, so I had no idea what was a reasonable (and even legal) way to ask this person to deal with the posts. Today, it would be much clearer. Then, I tried to appeal to their better nature and explain the likely impact on their co-workers if the co-workers stumbled across the posts as I had. What I did not do was request that they remove the posts from their blog, or tackle the issue of why they should not have made them in the first place… although the supervisor and I did work toward a solution that the person in question agreed with.
THAT was what led to me trying to articulate a personal policy on my blog.
It sounds unbelievable now, but many bloggers, like me, had not thought about the issue in any depth until something like that forced us to.
I discovered among the comments for that post my speculation:
“I wonder what we’ll be thinking about my self-imposed limitation in ten years, or even five? I wonder whether I’ll seem like I was being terribly fussy and prim.?”
It’s kind of nice to look back and think that I probably made exactly the right choice for me, one that has worked to help me decide what I share in my online life.
It also makes me wonder what other challenges to privacy or communication or …boundaries??… are around the corner as work/life/social media …even government policy and governance…blur further. What other things that seem self-evident to me about navigating this world would cause a 20 year old to gaze at me with total incomprehension?
The weeping mulberry in the rear courtyard is kept trimmed to the height of the rear fence, as this is the direction that the prevailing winds come. The house is designed to catch the breeze through the kitchen window. If it wasn’t, then the tree would be much, much taller and wider.
There is a Gedye compost bin at the very base of the tree…hidden most of the year by the leaves. The chooks eat most kitchen scraps, but citrus, onion skins and eggshells go into this bin. Rather than composting, it is more a large cockroach and worm farm, full of creatures that wriggle and crawl en masse every time the lid is lifted.
I take out a top layer or two of worm castings every so often when I pot up something new, but generally the system works really well to make all our scraps disappear. The tree seems to like the arrangement too.
In summer, the tree is full of mulberries, generally on the inside branches, which create quite a cavern. I usually forget that it is near fruiting season, then spot maybe a small berry on the outside, before going under and discovering a huge harvest.
When making mulberry icecream, it is important to de-stem absolutely every berry. I learned the not-so pleasant way, when we had a batch with green crunchy bits that simply should not have been there.
You know how there are life events so big that you divide life into “before” and “after”?
One of the joys of Blogjune is insight into how other people live and think. I really appreciate the careful storytelling this year, where people like Fiona, Sean, Graeme, Cath and Hana have been sharing their journeys with ongoing health issues and the impact of big life changes and taking on a caring role.
Their posting confirms for me that I am now living in “after” time…. and I am very grateful that they had the wherewithal to share with such generosity, to help me treasure the quiet wonderfulness of my everyday, right now.
But it also reminds me that most, or all, of us are probably living in “before” time as well, so it is worth loving every minute of it and joyfully appreciating it.
I spent several years where every day I knew that the ONLY thing that would help me heal and cope with where I was now…was time.
I knew I was overwhelmed and hurting and had to just do the best I could, in circumstances I did not choose, nor want, nor really understand well. As years passed, my life would heal and grow around the scars from what was happening now, even if it would not be the life I planned.
Several times a day I repeated “this too shall pass, this too shall pass”. Sometimes my aim was to get through the next minute, then the next one, then the next … I could cope if I only had to keep it together for the next 60 seconds, hour, half a day….
One day this would be behind me and fading, loss no longer so gaping. I would be able to make future plans without waking every day wondering what fires would need fighting today, and whether I had resources to rise to it. Where I would no longer be running in ever decreasing circles trying to do what I could, with energy I did not know I possessed, to make things better. To wait for this doctor or that specialist to tell me barely-understood numbers. To try to keep people I loved safe. To make decisions about matters I did not feel qualified to make, that I did not want to have to face.
Nowadays, I can have several very uneventful days in a row and feel utterly grateful that … NOTHING HAPPENED. I can make plans and have goals other than sleep, shower, be there for the kids, perform at work. This feels miraculous and something I should rejoice in daily.
The way I look at my everyday life has changed for the better. In most circumstances, that could be upsetting to most people, I can now use the yardstick “Is this as bad as THEN?”. If it is not (and it never is), I can sail through it with ease and grace. I would, of course, probably rather not have the yardstick.. but it does infuse me with a sense of calm I simply did not possess before.
It also involves accepting that some things that I wanted, that everyone else seems to have and not appreciate, I will not have, ever. And understanding that what I see as mundane and sometimes annoying in my everyday life (like a kid leaving a wet towel on the chair in their bedroom), someone else may consider to be the height of desirability. And to not assume that, just because someone seems functional and is not talking about issues in their lives, they have capacity to do more than put one foot in front of the other.
I also am keenly aware of the temporariness of this everydayness. Of the utter arbitrariness of the good fortune to not be in crisis right now. Some days it drives me to a deserted beach to swim alone – and hang the risk of drowning by myself or sharks or my wobbly bits being visible in my swimsuit. Some days I stay in bed all day and read and snuggle with my cats – because I can, and nobody will be impacted if I do not get up and be there for them.
Ballerina apples are dwarf varieties that generally have just a single stem, but I have allowed mine to spread a little. The red is a “Pinkabelle”, which is like a Pink Lady, while the green is a “Leprechaun” which is a Granny Smith. This is their first year fruiting.
Certainly this is unseasonal, so I am not sure whether they will just keep growing until they are full-sized fruit in a few months, or whether they are getting close to ready, but will be small sized.
If you have ever travelled in India and had “nimbu pani” (lime water), the dwarf in the pot is the variety of lime used for this.
I have planted lettuce for quick cropping at the base of the lime, then lobelia (because I like blue flowers) and viola (a lovely yellowy-white variety). Both flowers can be eaten in salads for colour, but the viola is also nice candied.
You can see the tail-end of some tomatoes and basil as well.
I settled in my suburb because community is a little more central here than in many other places.
It was built following “Garden Suburb” principles, aimed at giving soldiers returning from the Second World War a community to raise families. Most houses were located within walking distance of one or two parks or green spaces, houses are set well back from the road with wide green verges and generally are modest and timber-framed within ample yards. Many, like my family, now live in infill housing in what used to be gloriously large suburban back yards.
Streets curve with easy sight-lines instead of being laid out in a grid, and radiate out from a central oval block at the heart of the suburb containing:
a primary school
a large permaculture housing collective
child health centre
Police and Citizen’s Youth Centre
and a very understated community hall that was built with money raised by the local Progress Association in the 1950s.
So, it should surprise no-one that last night I walked down to the community hall with my adult son and shared a fabulous community long table meal with my neighbours.
Called “Cooking from Home Community Dinners”, a group of nine people from different cultures had earlier completed a course at a local neighbourhood house where they learned to cook each other’s favourite traditional dishes. This was food that was maybe comforting as a child, or unique to their culture, meals that they do not necessarily have occasion to share every day since they have been in Australia.
Over three nights in the last three months, the group has worked with a chef to serve a feast of selected dishes to the local community. We get to hear the stories of love behind each dish. And to sit with strangers and neighbours and maybe talk about the food-inspired questions to share our stories. “Who is the best cook in your household?”, “What was your favourite food as a child”, “What is your cultural background and do you practice any traditions now?”
In the last Federal election, 30% of voters at the local primary school voted for the Greens (compared to 16% for LNP), so this was naturally a zero-waste affair. The local primary school kids drew large tablecloths for many of the tables, and the others were covered with eclectic and funky op-shop kinds of table-cloths. 220 cloth napkins had been sourced via a no-waste community forum. Crockery, cutlery and glassware had been lent by locals, and we were all asked to bring our own coffee mug if we wanted a drink at the end of the night. Some dishes were served in bowls made from disposable leaves. At the end of the night, everyone stacked their plates and cutlery before leaving, and some of us stayed behind to clear tables and glasses.
And, of course, during the open mic in the middle of the evening where people could share, a local theatre director speculated about creating a work around culture and food in collaboration with the TAFE English as a Second Language teacher who happened to be seated next to him. And another person shared how the Repair Cafe movement fits beautifully with the philosophy of the evening.
Last night’s menu? We started with Cumin Puris from Rekha from Fiji and Bakwan fritters from Indonesian Martha. Francesca from Rome provided gnocchi with tomato sauce, followed by Martha’s Babi Kecap with pork, Rekha’s Gujarati curry with chicken and Vera from Indonesia’s Urab salad with coconut. For dessert? Francesca returned with Tiramisu.
To acknowledge the cultural traditions of the cooks, the evening started with a live performance of a mask dance from Fiji, followed by Bollywood dance clips on the screen over mains, and then an Italian duo with accordion and loud, joyous whoops as part of the vocals. You can see them near the stage on the very left of the panorama below.