My son is a dreamy little boy. I'll often see him just gazing off into the distance. I know, for good or for bad, that he and I are alike. My disposition, you see, is often to daydream about the future, and to view the past in the golden glow of nostalgic longing. I struggle to fully inhabit the present, although I've learnt to do this better these days. Running, gardening, spending time with the kids, all mean I am here more fully in the moment.
But the world of action also poses its own challenge: not enough time for reverie, not enough time for enjoying the present. It's easy to get so caught up in all the things that need to be urgently done that I forget to daydream, or forget about the dreams I do have. Occasionally, it's helpful to have an object that reminds me of these 'dimly perceived possibilities'.
Others in the 'Thing People' series have already offered beautiful accounts of how their objects are talismans of sorts: Sandra Leigh Price with her photo of Sarah Bernhardt as a reminder to spend yourself to creative ends, and journalist and blogger katiecrackernuts' ring as symbol of kindness in the world. For me, this vintage linen Tasmania tea towel might serve a similar end.
For many years, I've had a dream to live on an island with mountains and overlooking the sea. Hobart seemed to be the perfect place. But this dream, which once seemed so concrete, and was almost realised, has receded in the face of everyday life: work, study, children. In other words, it's been replaced by other things I value more than what it would take to achieve my island home.
But when I found this quaint linen tea towel in our local op shop, I knew it would be helpful. It's bright and cheery colours work well in our 1950s kitchen. And as I look at its map, it allows me to probe that dimly realised possibility - that dream of earlier era - to work out exactly what it was that I was dreaming about, and to try to realise it in small steps, every day. To keep the dream alive.
this resonated so much for me Ruth - I never had an island fantasy ( as I have spent some time on a remote island and wanted to get off madly) but now you have painted a picture I would like to step into...( I have a fantastic collection of old tea towels, like an instant holiday)
ReplyDeleteIn the last 6months I have been out of my suburb only 3 times and sometimes getting out of the house is miraculous - I didn't realise how small the world can get with children in my life - so I think the time to muse is more important than ever - the Autumnal change of light I now gaze off into....
ps - what is the book being held by that gorgeous curly creature??
Thanks GG - always a relief to hear that it doesn't sound too self-indulgent (or if it does, that someone else understands it).
ReplyDeleteI've just started leaving our suburb too (post-illness). I think we've only had about 2 or 3 nights out without the kids in 4 years. (Partly that's our inclination.)
The curly one is holding a Rupert Bear book of short stories in prose - quite old fashioned and a tad scary in places, but he loves it. I
Hello Ruth. I grew up on an Island (South Island, NZ) with lots of mountains overlooking the sea. The Maori have a term 'turangawaewae' - which means your standing ground, the place where you are from. I don't live there now but it is still the place I think of, it is still in my fantasies. And even the thought of it gives me reassurance. I even have a teatowel to help remind me. Sometimes the 'thought' of my island is enough to keep me going. The 'thought' is one of my favourite things to have.
ReplyDeleteThanks Mary. Your childhood home sounds beautiful, fresh & crisp. I have a similar feeling for where I grew up - misty mountains, but no sea. I'm incredibly nostalgic for its lanes and walks, and recall them vividly. Perhaps, this appreciation of place comes from living away...
ReplyDeleteHi Ruth, I can just see you wandering around in Hobart. Different daylight casting different evening shadows. Different nightlight when the aurora flares. Lots of unfound precious things. It's still possible of course. Tassie dream can approach as fast or slow as it receded.
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Hey Terry, the dream is still kicking around, but it's far less important and urgent these days. But part of that dream was the things I actually do now: planting the new veggie patch, going to the park, reading the LRB, and getting a little time to think and write exactly what i want to.
ReplyDeleteI love the idea of having a visual reminder of a dream. Too often they can be shoved aside. I hope that tea towel ends up in its rightful place, if not an island home, than a place where the home is your island.
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