Monthly Archives: July 2015
There’s a religious story told about a drowning man praying to God to be saved and turning down all the help sent his way because he was looking for something specific.
I wonder sometimes whether this is the parable of my life. I feel like there’s something I’m ‘meant’ to be doing but not sure what it is and am hoping the universe will send me clues.
I’ve always claimed that I want more time to myself, to immerse myself in creative writing. And there have always been plenty of good reasons why I can’t find this time. Until now that is!
Here I am living in a beautiful pueblo blanco with no family around for me to focus my energy on. I have a few friends and am beginning to become involved with some community activities. I’m really enjoying looking after the home, exploring local markets, buying and cooking our food and growing an abundance of plants in our patio garden. But there’s always a niggling feeling that I ‘should’ be doing something else.
Today it occurred to me that I am that drowning man. Having spent years claiming I want the time and space to write – the universe has provided me with the most perfect opportunity and I spend my days on distractions and tasks that provide varying degrees of satisfaction without ever actually having to sit down and write.
In Vietnam my excuse was that while I was sitting in front of my computer I wasn’t out experiencing the wonderful culture and life all around me. A valid comment you may agree. And the same does apply here to some extent but …. It’s now so hot during the day that all my neighbours and friends escape to the beach every afternoon to cool off, relax and play. That’s not something that hubby and I particularly enjoy so at the very least I have several hours every afternoon to ensconce myself in my lovely study, turn up the fan and write.
A lightbulb moment! Eureka, Karen, you finally have the time, space, energy and commitment to writing – all at the same time. Stop procrastinating! As an author friend once wisely commented: writers write.
If I want to be a writer, I’d better get writing!I
First up I confess it – I’m a dreadful nurse. My sympathy lasts all of 5 minutes, 10 maximum, after which I think we should all just move on and pretend nothing untoward is happening. Given this insight into my empathy skills, you may have some sympathy for my husband who has been suffering from tooth ache for the best part of three weeks now. For the first couple of visits to the clinica dental, armed only with his 3-months worth of Spanish lessons and a few specific phrases translated via Google Translate and our impressively large Oxford Spanish Dictionary, he bravely set off alone and returned with a numb mouth and prescriptions for medication he wasn’t entirely sure how/when to take.
Showing a remarkable degree of pity I suggested going with him last week. Whilst no expert, my Spanish is marginally better than hubby’s and anyway, I figured two beginners are probably better than one.
Sure enough, we did seem to make a little progress in understanding the problem and likely healing time. I’m pleased to report that he is, slowly but surely, on the mend. Yes, yes, I know, tooth ache is horrid and you can’t ignore it and, and … But come on, if you can eat chocolate, it’s not that bad!!!
Where else this week are you going to read about teeth and babies in the same post? And not even the teeth of babies. I’m talking newborns. And more precisely the little girl born prematurely in Spain a few weeks ago to an English mother who was then separated from her daughter for 3 weeks whilst DNA tests were carried out. This story is still all over the media and it’s driving me crazy. The lady in question had her baby in Spain, not in a hospital but at ‘home’. She went to hospital the next day – to a place where she was completely unknown with a newborn baby and presumably no medical records, paperwork etc. In Spain the law (I believe) dictates that her and the baby should remain in hospital while tests are carried out to make sure a) they are both in good health and b) that the baby does indeed belong to the ‘mother’.
Had she abducted this baby – yes, I know she didn’t but bear with me. Had the baby been abducted and the media picked up the story and the hospital had to admit that yes some completely random woman had walked in with a newborn claiming it as her own and they had done nothing to check the validity of her claim – they would be being crucified in the media by now and everyone would be screaming about how this could happen.
My gripe is that, in my personal opinion, the media is making a big deal out of a non story. The lady in question was in a foreign country – she was not in England where she speaks the language and could presumably have explained her situation better. Don’t we have enough issues in Europe at the moment without creating divisions and demonising another country’s professionals for acting in perfect accord with their own laws? Silly season or not, watching a new mum saying she’s so traumatised she might never come back to Spain is just plain trouble making. Come on media – I for one expect better from you.