29th January, 2010

Dear Reader

I am writing the beginning of this letter to you in my office at school. Life throws up curve balls at times, and although I was an Otago representative cricket player in my teens, I have no idea how to play baseball.  I seem to be having trouble sorting out my life, and my usual reserves of positive energy seem to be exceedingly low.  Do you ever have times like this?  You feel that you are able to cope on the surface, but inside there is a seething torrent of conflicting emotions that feel as though they are going to drown you.  What a melodramatic, self indulgent way to start a letter to you!!  This is at odds with my usual bubbly epistles which talk of the love I have of life, of my family and friends in general.  I know I have so much to be grateful for, and I truly feel blessed with all the treasures I have around me.  I love my life, my school and the vibrant staff and students who make up this amazing extended family.  I love my seven children, their partners, my seven grandchildren, and never take their love for granted.  I love my cottage, and the section I have across the road, both of  which have trees which  stand tall with strong roots and wide branches to shelter me.  However, nothing can protect me from my inner thoughts, from the “black dog” which inveigles my mind in the early hours of the morning, and threatens to derail me.  Do you ever wake in those small hours and feel that the world is a harsh place in which to live?  It is in some ways, and we have to work out the best way in which to cope with the daily grind. 

One way I cope in such times is by listening to music and reading books.  I have read The Secret, by Ronda Byrne, many times, and I love its inspirational notes, affirming statements that all will be well if you truly believe in the power of positive thought.  Singers, such as Carol King, inspire me with the strength of their lyrics, and there is an affinity through seemingly shared experiences.  Through the breakup of my marriage, the illness of my second daughter, and the sudden death of my only sister at the age of fifty, in the space of four months last year. I seemed able to deal with life’s challenges.  I was called “inspirational,” and never let the image slip.  The mask was well in place, and I believed that I was coping well.  Through the division of matrimonial property, I adopted the stance that it was important to exit the marriage with dignity, and while others thought that I should fight for what was mine, I preferred to take the path of least resistance. 

Now I live in my humble cottage, content, on the whole, surrounded by reminders of happier times, of places visited, of friends, and special events. The paintings on my rimu-lined walls greet me every morning, and the rimu table I had made for my first cottage is a special place at which to sit. The chairs were bought by a dear English friend as a thank you for having him to stay in our home, and the first sofa I bought for the house next door sits in front of the big open fire.  I light the fire often, a ritual I do to calm my mind and warm my spirits.  Since I was first propped up in a chair as a baby, I have rocked backwards and forwards, not autistic but perhaps bordering on being so!! It is a form of meditation, and although I curbed the habit when I saw the strange looks of my young stepchildren on first meeting twenty years ago, I now indulge in the habit in the solitude which the cottage affords me.

As I write, I am listening to canned music provided by Telstra Clear as I try and contact them. It has been well over half an hour, and I fear there is no one manning the phones.  I was so upset that they hadn’t connected my phone in the promised time that I cancelled my contract yesterday. They offered no explanation, no apology, but just said that “it was the customer’s choice,” and hung up.  When I phoned Telecom to sign up with them as a provider, they told me that my phone had indeed been connected and today I received a modem from Telstra!  This is very strange marketing in the competitive world of telecommunications!  I hope Telstra do not bill me for not having tried to connect with them, but with this experience behind me, I wouldn’t be surprised.

I seem to be plagued by inefficient providers at the moment.  I spent many hours trying to alter the details of my credit card, but the BNZ bank seemed incapable of following my instructions.  Usually, I am very patient, but I am finding my fuse becoming shorter and shorter these days!  Do such inefficiencies upset you?  I really should just “let it go,” as I read in an email from a Filipino friend, but I am finding this message easy to say to others, but less easy for me to do!  Do as I say and not as I do, is probably a better description of the situation.  I always say that life is 10% what happens to us and 90% about our attitude.  Attitude is critical in our daily life, and it is incredible how two days start out exactly the same, but are approached so differently depending on our attitude.  I try and “walk the talk,” about being accepting and positive, but sometimes I let my armour down and feel very vulnerable.  Of course, in these times, the negative feelings attract other negative feelings, and we destroy the beauty of the day and the relationships around us.  At that time, I feel increasingly guilty, which only adds to the misery!

Therefore, I think it is better that I wipe what I have written and start again on a positive note. However, having said that, I always feel reluctant to delete what I have written, as it is a reflection of the feelings at the time, and should therefore be acknowledged for what they are, even if they are feelings that were better altered before they manifested themselves.  I think I will keep them to be shared with you, and you can throw them in the rubbish bin where they belong!

Over the past week, I have been reading pages of poems I wrote when I lived in Japan.  This was a special time in my life, a time when emotions were heightened as they are at the moment, but at a time in my life when I wanted to have a child.  It is amazing to think that that child is now about to have her third child at the age of twenty five.  So much water has gone under the bridge since that time in Asia.  I wonder what you were doing twenty five years ago.  It was half a life time ago for me, and I experienced the boom times in Japan. I have been told on more than one occasion that I lived in Japan in a former life, and as strange as it may seem, I believe it.  For some people, there are countries, other than their birth place, which feel like they are their true, spiritual home, and Japan is that country for me.  Have you ever had that feeling that you truly belong in another country?  Although times were tough in many way while living in Japan as a “gaijin,” a foreigner living in Japan, I never felt “the outsider,” as the word literally means. 

I was in my mid twenties when I arrived in this seemingly exotic place, and from the moment I landed at Narita airport, I felt the inner excitement of arrival being replaced by an inner calm of knowing everything was familiar.  Everything seemed possible, and in this total faith that all would be right, everything was! I found a fabulous government job within a week, which allowed me to get a working visa without leaving the country, something very rare in those days, and chanced upon an amazing abandoned house which we filled with special friends, and its own ghost!  How lucky is that?  I made friends with many hard working Japanese who had never spoken to a foreigner, let alone welcomed them into their home, and although I had a Kiwi accent, picked up the language very easily.  I would have loved to have spoken with a real Japanese accent, but my tongue had already lost its elasticity by the time I reached Japan’s shores!  My two daughters, who visited Japan in their teens, kid me about my pronunciation, but I don’t care.  Well, I do when they have me on, but the most important thing is clear communication and I know I do that.  I did it even when I had so little Japanese.  It was as if I just tuned into the Japanese heart and mind, and understood what they were saying without any need for words to clarify the thoughts.  I learnt most of my Japanese in “izakaya,” bars where I could only listen to noisy conversation, but with continual listening, I began to understand.  I truly believe that through listening we pick up so much.  Only later, with some excellent intensive Japanese teaching, which gave me the necessary grammar, did I start to speak in more than just disconnected sentences.  This gave me the platform and I was so excited when I made myself understood with more than just a memorised line.  I had found it so hard to connect the sentences, but when given the skills, I felt so proud of myself! 

My Japanese is now very rusty, having been back from Japan for over twenty years, but when I go back to Japan, I love communicating in Japanese.  Thoughts flow again, although my vocabulary is more limited, and my inability to read as I used to, is certainly a frustration for me.  In 1998, when I was back in New Zealand working at the Otago Polytechnic, I was encouraged to do postgraduate work in the Teaching of Japanese as a Foreign Language.  There was a Japanese teaching fellow at the University of Otago who wanted a New Zealand qualification, and he encouraged me to study with him.  I felt this would be a huge challenge for me as I had never studied Japanese formally, and was at about pre-intermediate level. However, he was insistent, and I didn’t want to let him down. As it turned out, my eager study mate dropped out, leaving me to battle on alone, as I refuse to give up once I start something.  I have Distinction written on my degree, but my proudest achievement was getting B+ for the unseen Japanese translation paper. I could never do that now.  Always fearful of examinations, I always did badly, but for this test of my reading ability, I approached it calmly by having a coffee in a café before the examination, and believing that I could do it.  That power of positive energy was certainly at work.  Through this experience, I feel equipped to advise students sitting the IETLS examination, and my advice always works!!  Obviously, you have to put in the hard yards, but the way you set your mind for the examination is critical to your success. 

I am waiting at school for Shahan to arrive as we are going to go to the movies tonight.  This will be the first time I have been to the movies in over three years! I watch movies on planes, but never seem to make it to a movie theatre.  I have been recommended to go and see “It’s complicated,” although I told Shahan that I wanted to see “Uncomplicated.”  I wish splitting up were so.  However, I am not going to become self-indulgent again and wallow in self pity as I did at the beginning of this letter. It is amazing how letting off steam through writing blows away the cobwebs, (two idioms back to back is a bit extreme!!) and makes me feel much better.  That inner tension in my chest has gone, and I notice the sunshine pouring into my special room. 

I hate my children seeing me upset, in the same way as I hate them seeing me ill.  When I was a child, my mother was often sick, and when she became very unwell in the 1960s, life became very difficult for my father, sister and me.  I remember swearing to myself as a teenager, that I would never put my children through such suffering.  Unfortunately, my sister was three years younger, and she followed my mother’s path, which led to her early demise I feel.  We have to be responsible for our own actions, but sometimes those early decisions are made to the detriment of our personal happiness.  Vicki had patches of happiness, but never reached a state of total fulfilment, for which I feel desperately sorry.  At her funeral, I wondered how I could best give a eulogy for her, and naturally found it easier to write her a letter.  I will share it with you, if you would like, as it gives a sense of who she was.  She and I were very different, in so many ways, but I find I miss her incredibly and have thought about her daily since her passing in July.  It seems surreal now.  You never think that your younger sibling will go before you, although, funnily, I didn’t think she was meant long for this world.  Vicki lived on the edge and pushed many boundaries with her health.  She paid the ultimate price, and I sometimes get angry with her for leaving us all.   Still, it was her time, and she lived to see her grandson, and all three children in loving relationships.  Her new home was her haven, and she was very proud.  Robyn, our teacher, bought it from the estate, and has continued to cherish it as a special place.  My sister’s death reminds me we must live each day to the full, and not take anything we have or more importantly, anyone we love for granted.

 On this positive note, I will end this letter, wishing you a wonderful week ahead.  The sun is shining outside, but more importantly, I can feel the rays beginning to emanate from within me as well.  Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts, and follow me through a part of my day which began with inner angst and feelings of doom of gloom, to the point where I can smile again as my being feels charged with positive energy.  May you feel that special energy.

Sunday 31st January.

It is seven o’clock, and I awoke early to a glorious day. I went to bed with the full moon shining into my room, and awoke to a still morning with the birds welcoming me with their chorus.  A majestic cruise ship has just docked in the harbour, and the day beckons us enjoy.

Last night, I went for an early dinner with Shahan before going to the movie called It’s complicated, starring my favourite actor Meryl Streep, and Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin.  All the actors were perfectly cast, and it was one of the most hilarious movies I have ever seen. I have never been to a movie where I laughed, and cried, from beginning to end.  I have always related to Meryl Streep since I saw her in Out of Africa, and in fact had my wedding dress designed on the wedding dress she wore in that movie.  Shahan and I were blown away by how similar some of the story was to my actual life experiences, and some of my friends had told Shahan that it was probably too soon for me to see this movie.  However, it was just the tonic I needed, and I came out of the movie feeling recharged.  The house in which the character Meryl played lived, and which she was having renovated, was my dream home, and the way she lived her life was very similar to the way I live mine.  Her relationship with her former husband was similar to mine, in some ways, and he even had some physical similarities. Their marriage ended after nineteen years, as ours did, and although in the film the husband took on a little boy. Meryl had a love of cooking, and enjoyed sitting around the table with family and friends, as I do.  She was well known for baking delicious bread, and I am complimented on the bread I make weekly as well. (I always find it difficult to blow my own trumpet, but it was only to show the comparison!) Her husband had accused her of working too hard in her own bakery business, in the same way as Han had criticised me for my involvement with the school. When she laughed with her closest friends, I laughed as well, and was really drawn into the movie.  It is such a tonic to truly laugh, and I can’t remember the last time I did it in quite the same way. Thank goodness I wasn’t the only one, although I think I was the noisiest!  Meryl laughed in the same way when she smoked a joint which her ex husband gave her, ostensibly to share with him later. There was a hilarious scene when she became stoned with her architect, and went to a family gathering where her husband glared at her, with jealousy and love in his eyes, having fallen in love with her all over again.  There was a scene where croissants were made in her gorgeous bakery, and I loved the attention paid to detail, and the “uncomplicated” simplicity of friends falling in love.  The “complicated “ situation of breakup and possible reunion was told with such humour that I felt a heaviness lift, as I further realised that others had lived through my ordeal.  The character Meryl played said it had taken her four years to recover from the breakup, so I am almost a quarter of the way there!  I kept thinking I had to get over it quickly, and move on, but I now feel I have permission to grieve a little more.  If you are going to see the movie, don’t read on, but I loved the ending where…..no I won’t tell you just in case you want to go.  However, I loved the ending, and hoped from the beginning that the ending would be as it was.  I could imagine some people may have wished it otherwise, but I could read Meryl’s mind, so much of me I found in her character!

From my bed where I am writing, I can see the harbour through the cabbage trees, and the harbour is as still as a millpond.  The sun is just rising and the light mist is clearing from the hills opposite.  I want to indulge myself today, and do, uncharacteristically, very little.  Yesterday, I moved a lot of soil from one side of my garden to the other, but the smell of burning plastic from Han’s chimney drove me inside, and forced me to leave it till another day.  I don’t want anything to spoil this precious day, and I am determined not to have any negative thoughts.  I may go for an early walk, and then potter in the garden again.  Tonight, I have been invited for dinner at close friends who live in a glorious home in Macandrew Bay, looking out over the harbour.  I won’t indulge in too much wine as I want to be bright and bushy tailed for you tomorrow. I am really looking forward to teaching you next week, and although Jo is a hard act to follow, I will try my best to make it enjoyable for you.  Please write back to me when you find the time.

Love, Sharron

PS

I just got home, and like last night, the moon is shining brightly.  Last night, there was a full moon, and I love going to sleep with the man in the moon watching over me.  In Japan, they say it is the rabbit that is in the moon, so what do you see?  There was the lowest tide I have ever seen this morning, and I felt I could walk across to Port Chalmers from here.  I have just returned from a fabulous evening with friends, and Jan joined us after working as a waiter at his sister’s café.  At sixteen years of age, he is very interested in economics and marketing, so enters into the adult conversation so naturally.  I am very proud of him.

What a glorious day we had today, and it is amazing to think that the east coast of the North Island reported a deluge of rain, which caused havoc in the region.  It makes a change for us to be bathed in sunshine!  I spent most of the day in the garden, and I loved it.  I hope you had a wonderful day.  It is now time to sleep, and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.

Koru lounge

Auckland Airport

3rd January, 2010

Dear

We are sitting in the Koru lounge, having gone against my gut feeling, and taken the advice of our travel agent to wait for a later flight to Dunedin.  The agent feared we would miss our connection, but even with us having to hand in the Thai triangular pillow to be sprayed by bio security, which unknown to me was stuffed with straw, we would have had time to board the one o’clock flight.  Luckily, I joined the Koru Club last year, and having had a shower, and been in the same lounge as Helen Clark, (which means absolutely nothing except that it is wonderful that she is such a down to earth person,) I am able to sit and write to you with a glass of wine beside me.  Jan is furious that he left two books on the plane which he hunted for, and finally found in Thailand, and they were really interesting books on human behaviour and economics.  Although he returned to the international terminal, it seems that they haven’t been handed in. The power of positive thinking must prevail, however.  The reason I believe this is that when Jan, Chris and I had a 2 hour massage after our dinner on our second night in Bangkok, I vividly remembered folding my clothing, and placing my expensive Citizen watch on top, before lying down to have a hilarious first hour in which Chris was massaged by a “lady boy” who was an expert, but who had Chris in fits of laughter.  His laugh was infectious, and it felt good to really belly laugh.  After the Thai massage, in which pressure was applied, we had a one hour relaxing massage with oil, and we left after a refreshing cup of tea with the owner.  Only in the morning did I realise that I had left my watch on the floor, but we left too early for the north for me to check if it was still there.  However, I wrote the owner a note, with my business card, saying that Chris would come back and check on New Year’s Eve, which he slipped under the door.  Han and I had given each other the same watch a number of years ago, and I loved the gold time piece with the mother of pearl face.  Part of me felt that it was a sign of our separation that I no longer had it, but part of me was upset with myself that I had been so negligent. Part of me felt that it would not return, but a much stronger part of me felt that it would be returned to me.  When we arrived back in Bangkok on New Year’s Day, Jan and I passed the massage place to find it closed.  I had forgotten my rolls of film to be developed, and on our return, we were greeted by the owner who called us over, and wished us “Happy New Year!” I replied with, “Suwadee bi mai!” which I had learnt, and I was given an all-embracing hug.  I pointed to my wrist and Praew immediately told me that she had given my watch to my “son.”  I felt tears well in my eyes as I hugged her again, and I said I would return for a massage the following day.  She said she would be open at ten o’clock, but changed the time to nine o’clock when I said we were leaving before midday.  However, arriving the following day after an early morning swim, the shutters were still down, and it was just before we caught the taxi that I returned in the hope of giving her some money as a thank you for returning the watch. The massage team in bright green t-shirts were waiting outside to encourage customers, and they greeted me warmly when I arrived.  They took me in to meet Praew, and when I opened my wallet she looked shocked, and dismissed the offer with a smile, saying that I had to return for a massage within the year.  Such was the generous, open, honest spirit of the Thais whom we met in the two weeks we were away.  Friends and family had warned Jan to be careful with his money, but we felt as safe in Thailand as we do in Dunedin.  We were lucky in that we were chauffeur driven everywhere, and were able to leave our valuables with the driver, so we were cocooned to a large extent, although we did negotiate the markets with no one attempting to snatch our bags.

Life, however, is lived on the street for many people, and the difference between the rich and poor is evident everywhere, and there was a wish to give money to as many as we could. Jan would say, and in fact did say, that I “was far too cheap for that and demanded some material return for my hard earned cash,” and I agree that I didn’t just hand over any money, but gave to those who were trying to sell even a few trinkets, as I mentioned before.  I don’t believe that I am “cheap,” but I know that Jan finds my unpredictable frugality difficult at times.  I understand that my Presbyterian upbringing with its philosophy of “look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves,” is in stark contrast with my love of the finer (more expensive) luxuries that life has to offer.  Our first experience of begging in Bangkok was on the bridge where we bought our first “bargains.” There was a young boy of about three years old, wearing only a scruffy pair of shorts, lying prostrate across the steps, with his stretched out arm  clenching a bucket in his little hand.  His mother sat begging at the top of the stairs, and our hearts went out to these unfortunate members of a society which provides so little for them.  However, two days later, we saw the same family standing on the same bridge, but with the little boy standing beside his mother in good, clean clothes, holding a supermarket bag, a big smile on his face.  Using the boy as a begging tool is a form of abuse in my eyes, but I am not one to cast judgement on a country of which I know so little. Perhaps the money allowed him to be well dressed.  We will never know.

I am now writing as we pass over South Canterbury and the plains are tapestries of fields lined with two lane roads and bordered by braided rivers.  What a stark contrast to the concrete jungle of Bangkok with its looping skyways and haphazard construction.  The Southern Alps stand majestic guards to the west, still capped with snow and a covering of fluffy, luminous cloud, sitting comfortably beneath a blue, clear sky.  We have indeed left the grey film of Bangkok’s pollution behind us.  Karina and Chris are exhausted, asleep in each other’s arms after twenty four hours of no sleep. Jan and I have also had no sleep, but seem buoyed by our trip, and will no doubt fall into a deep sleep on our arrival home.  When I commented to the flight attendant on the stunning scene, she remarked, “it’s not a bad old country,” and I love the use of understatement among my compatriots. As we head south, the skies have cleared from grey and rain to reveal brilliant sunshine, and I look forward to flying over the spectacular Otago harbour and peninsula which welcomes us home.   My heart always fills with pride as we approach Dunedin, although I must admit to loving that feeling of stepping onto Asian soil and feeling the energy with pulses in through its veins. The cacophony of sounds assaults one’s ears, the smells of charcoaled meat is layered with wafts of sewerage, and people play Russian roulette with their lives as they negotiate the traffic which surges at erratic speed or grinds to a patience testing halt.  We live in our ordered houses with our carefully kept gardens, and they live on the street with the neighbourhood shrine and big urns displaying water lilies across the water’s surface.  Seldom do you fly over landscape without houses in Asia, the population sprawling across the land, whereas we fly for miles over pristine forest and manicured landscape.  The plane is now about to land, so I will have to finish here for now.  I feel very happy to be returning home, and as we make our bumpy landing, assured that this year will not be as bumpy as this arrival back on land!

Love

Sharron