Cats and Change

11 Oct 2020, Lockdown at home, Melbourne

 Last week, my Dad found an old letter he had written to my Aunty, dated Oct ’97. He wrote of how, in response to my pestering (like the persistent widow in Luke 18…) they were resigned to getting me a cat. He then outlined the rules: ‘We shall have one if it lives outside the house. At worst downstairs but NEVER upstairs… Esther will have to make a long term commitment…. We shall have a CONTRACT!’.

Fast forward 20 years. Guess who has been looking after my cat for the last 5, as I’ve travelled the world and moved to Australia? And guess who roams the whole house at leisure? My sister went home last weekend and reported that Dad now warms up a hot water bottle to entice the cat onto the ‘correct’ side of his bed. Oh, how tables have turned!

Our family had a good laugh (I’m still laughing as I write!) - cheap and priceless lockdown entertainment. But what it highlighted was how humans can change over time - often unconsciously and often unwillingly. And sometimes its for the better (definitely better, that cat says).

I’m sure we can all think of changes in habits, mindsets or actions in ourselves over the years, whether it be standards of cleanliness, fashion (I never thought I’d wear skinny jeans – flares til Jesus returns I vowed!) or attitudes towards another person or people group. But let’s zoom in on the last few months. The major, external changes forced upon us have created some havoc - humans are creatures of habit. But what changes within yourself have surprised you? And could they be for the better? Perhaps you’ve been surprised at your ability to work/study from home, in spite of the distractions from the fridge and flatmates. Perhaps you vowed you’d never be caught dead in a mask, and now you feel naked without one. Perhaps, if you’re me, you could never imagine yourself staying home on weekends and staying sane… but far from insanity, its bred productivity and creativity (including things like this post). Write these down (or even better, blog about it...) – in two decades time you may find it amusing, if not encouraging.

I’m certainly not suggesting we wear rose-tinted glasses in a very challenging year. But noticing small, positive changes reminds us that we are an adaptable species. We can move forward, even if it’s no further than 5km. We do surprise ourselves and can have a laugh along the way.

Open your bed to your cat and your mind to change. It might just be for the better.

Grateful for Government

18 October, 2020

If Coronavirus has taken centre stage this year, politicians have been not too far behind. 

New Zealand's Prime minister has been praised for her handling of the Coronavirus, and rewarded with a landslide victory in the country's recent elections. Australian Prime minister Scott Morrison was scoffed at for allowing 30 min haircuts during the peak of the pandemic. Victoria's Premier Daniel Andrews faces court charges over his 5km radius restrictions and 8pm curfew. They're still hunting for who was responsible for hiring security guards whose slack and unhygienic interactions with infected travellers sparked the state's 2nd wave. (Update: currently its no-one's fault. Not even the security guards....??). Donald Trump and Joe Biden are now mutable when engaged in debate.  

Suddenly those who 'don't know don't care' about politics have taken interest (offence) and found themselves protesting on the streets. We've all got an opinion on how our country/state/city should be run and are not afraid to share it on social media. I know we're tired, we're cooped up, we're broke. I also know we shouldn't be comparing country to country, but I think sometimes it can give us perspective. 

Prime minister Jacinda Ardern, by her strict measures, reduced NZ's Coronavirus daily cases from peak 89 to currently  <2-3. What a dream result. There were, however, a few things working in the country's favour: the fact that it is an island nation; its small population of 4.8million relatively spread out over its 268,000km²; natural social distancing since most Kiwis live in houses with big backyards; the relatively low reliance on public transport due to high car ownership (and... lack of efficient public transport!). Ah, New Zealand. We love New Zealand (hence over 10% of us are in Australia...??)... could there be a more heavenly place on earth? (Answer: currently, no). 

This side of the ditch, Premier Daniel Andrews, by his strict measures (too strict, according to some... even though they were incredibly lax compared to NZ), has reduced Victoria's daily case numbers from peak 715 per day to the current 1-7. Remember, this is the 2nd wave, where the horse of community transmission had bolted. Victoria is a non-island state of 6.7 million unevenly spread over approximately the same land area as NZ. 4 million (nearly the entire population of NZ) are concentrated in Melbourne, where people live in social housing towers, apartments and townhouses. (You know, I didn't know what a townhouse was until I moved to Melbourne!). These things make it hard. Very hard. Yet I can't help thinking our leaders have done a bloody good job to get us where we are now. 

Through lockdown, as part of Christian Veterinary Mission, I have been doing lectures online for Indian Veterinarians. Its been lovely to get to know some of the participants, and heart-breaking to hear of their ongoing crisis. One vet said there were 300 cases that day in his small village as he showed me the peafowl he was looking after.  'Esther, pray for India,' they said. 'We need God to intervene. We need healing on this land'.  'There is no lockdown in India anymore,' they explained. 'Our government is not like your government. There is no money to support people with welfare payments if they stay home. There is no choice but to keep our country open, to keep the economy going...and infection keeps spreading..... we need your prayers.'

I was taken aback, and ashamed, by this. Here in Melbourne, we complain our human rights are stripped because we cant go to visit our fav coffee shop 6km away or our mother-in-law 7km away (which is worse I am not sure).  Mandatory masks restrict our life giving O₂ (because smoking doesn't...?). Job keeper payments are being cut whilst our hair is not (again which is worse, I'm not sure....). 

But India has none of those terrible problems. They have worse. Note - this is not an attack on the Indian government. In my limited knowledge, its not that they don't care. They simply cannot afford to lock down the country. But they also do not have the means to accommodate such a high number of infected people. People are 'free' and so people are dying. 

And so with little hope in the government to fix things,  the Christians put their only hope in God. They are praying as if their lives and their nation depends on it, because it does. They are asking us, whiny, sour-faced Melbournians, to pray for them too... geez, how desperate must they be? 

And how desperate are we not?. Instead of praying, we protest. Instead of compliance, we complain. Or we comply and complain. We look inwards instead of outwards and upwards. 

To end, back to NZ: being the nerds that we are, my family stayed up late last night watching as our nation's election results rolled in. Then we phoned each other to discuss. Now, us Fans aren't 100% fans of Labour party policies. 'But its not all bad', Dad said in his wisdom. 'I'm just grateful we have a stable government'. Again, comparison to those less fortunate isn't always recommended (I'm addicted to donuts and 100kg overweight but hey at least I'm not anorexic...). But in a world of 'entitlement' and 'my rights' it is good to not take things - like our leaders - for granted. Remember, India looks at our lockdown with envy. We need to train ourselves in gratefulness. Start with the small. Look outwards and look up. You might even find yourself 

Grateful for government. 

 

Multi-tasking, Messaging and McDonalds

6 weeks ago I took a break from social messaging. I feared I'd crash and burn if not. Say what? We know that over-working, over-training, or struggling to keep 8 kids clean and fed can lead to burn out. But which weakling burns out from sending a few text messages? Me. And, maybe, more of us than we realise. 

‘Attention is a precursor to love’,  said John-Mark Comer in his series on 'Unhurrying'*. That is, 

We give attention to what we love, and 
We come to love that which we give attention to.

Pause. What have I given my attention to today, this week, my whole adult life? Does it scare me?

Note the verb give. Though many things vie for our attention, in the end its us that decides who - or what - gets it. We can blame distractions in all their subtlety. But attention is given, not stolen. We think we give it freely, but underneath it often costs.

If I placed any given minute of my life under the microscope, I’d see my attention split between several different things. After all, I am a woman: I pride myself in multitasking. I’m not about to give up this super-power any time soon.

But whilst multitasking may be the hallmark of efficiency in many areas of life, I’m not sure if we should be applying it to our relationships, namely, our messaging. Multi-tasking whilst messaging surely isn’t the hallmark of loving relationships. And  surely ‘efficiency’ isn’t the goal of loving relationships. But this is how we function; what we have come to accept as normal – because… we see no other alternative. 

Think for a second: the difference between typing an assignment or typing is condolences is… merely switching tabs on your internet browser. The difference between scrolling on Facebook, scrolling through meeting minutes or scrolling through the conversation on your family chat is…just flicking between apps. Our brains treat them all the same way. Our brains don’t have time to treat them any differently. The default setting is to filter, skim read and pay only partial attention - lest something more interesting pops up. 

I’m no psychologist, but I imagine that our brains are meant to function differently when we are engaged in something relational vs tasks such as work/chores/study. Perhaps different settings are required or the emotive centre gets an extra boost of blood - surely something should change. The problem is, we spend all our waking hours engaged in multiple conversations and other non-communicative tasks at the same time. Everything – all the input - looks the same to our brain: we don’t so much as change body position or take a breath between clicks and taps. No wonder we feel frazzled and all-over-the-place. No wonder we can’t remember which jokes/comments/photos belonged to which conversation. Of course we thought we sent confirmation to the boss (when in fact we replied our mother).

There is a lot of talk of mindful eating nowadays. Rather than snacking 24/7 or wolfing down McDonalds in the car, we’re encouraged to cook a nutritious meal, sit down to eat and chew >20 times before swallowing (wow, we’ve got to the stage where we take courses on how to sit down and eat???). We’ve realised (gosh, how smart scientists are these days!) the physical and mental health benefits of eating how our ancestors did.

What snacking is to nutrition, fragmented messaging is to our relationships. In small quantities, to tie us over, and get something done, they’re absolutely fine. Fun, even. But if they make up the bulk of our diet or communication, it leaves us feeling, well, how I felt two months ago. Saturated, but empty. Like I can’t keep up, and I never will. Most of us know the how it’s like to ‘fail’ at a diet. I feel like I’m ‘failing’ my friends. They deserve better than my partial attention, but how else do I manage the inbox overload? 

Whilst my Facebook feed is bombarded with suggestions of healthy meal kits, nutrition workshops and raw-food vegan diets, what I really want – and perhaps what we all need - is a course on ‘mindful messaging’. Is there a realistic alternative to dismembered communication?

If the opening definition of attention is true...could it be that we are losing our capacity to love?

____________

*https://bridgetown.church/teaching/unhurrying-with-a-rule-of-life/the-case-for-a-digital-asceticism/

Play

In the last two weeks, Melbourne's playgrounds have sprung to life again, much to the delight of the city's children, and the relief of their parents. There’s something about playgrounds that kids never find old –a hundred different games that can be imagined on any given day.  And there’s something about watching kids play that brings a smile to the soul, regardless of your parental status.

But what is it about play that gets old? As we age, we replace playgrounds with PlayStation. We slide from swings and seesaws to solitaire and swiping.  I mean, not that being sedentary and glued to technology is all bad … but it certainly doesn’t produce delight in onlookers (nor participants, it would appear) like playgrounds do.

Perhaps it’s us that gets old, not play itself. Caught up in the (legit) worries and necessities of adult life, have we forgotten how to play? How did we let the bark beneath our feet, the rope in our hands and the grazes on our knees become something so foreign; feared, even? 

This week’s challenge is: Turn off the technology, take a break from the chores and do one thing (just one!) that brings you deep delight. It might not be swinging on the swings, (but it might be!). Maybe you need to be reminded of how fun – or at this stage, therapeutic – seesaws and sandpits can be. Maybe you need to be reminded how satisfying a cat nap or a good book really is. Just like made-up games around a fort, there are a hundred different ways to 'play'. The only limitation is ourselves. Set aside pride, find your inner child and tell me if it doesnt bring a smile to your soul. It might even inspire others. 

Go on, play is waiting. 

Largo in Lockdown

 I first learnt this Largo from Bach’s Sonata III two decades ago. It was the simple, accompanied version. Much like life back then: simple and social.

And then 2 months ago, as if something got into me, I suddenly decided to re-learn the piece. This time in its original solo - and much harder - version. How fitting and descriptive of lockdown, I thought.

A short time in, it sounded so terrible that I gave up and switched to something more ‘manageable’. The result is the Sarabande which I posted earlier . 

In my childhood music theory lessons, we learnt ‘Largo’ means ‘a very slow tempo’. I passed my theory exams alright, but looking at the flurry of my life from then til now, did I actually know what that definition meant? And did I deem this too hard because I never slowed down to sound out the chords, repeat one bar over and over or pay attention to the pauses?

It’s not completely finished. I have by no means perfected the piece or the pace. But I feel that in lockdown, I have indeed learnt Largo.

Unaccompanied Bach

There’s nothing that leaves a violinist feeling more naked and vulnerable than unaccompanied Bach. It was something only ever played to satisfy exam requirements or competition rules. It’s not that the pieces were bad, they just made you feel bad. So simple a score…so deceptively difficult. Every flaw in tuning or timing exposed. The double stops eroding what remains of your ego.

So you can imagine my mother’s surprise when I asked her to post me my 'J.S Bach Sonaten und Partiten'– that which I haven’t touched, or thought about, for nearly 2 decades. Yep, its strange times we live in these days.

I think if he heard my rendition, Bach might turn in his grave. My teacher might vomit. Lucky I have drugs in my clinic to deal with both situations. But through COVID-19 lockdown, this music has held my sanity. At first it was just for fun, something different (though, I suppose, anything is different from Russian Rock…). Yet the more I played the more I realised: these 17th Century works sorta speak into our reality today. Its almost as if Bach embodies lockdown:

Its unaccompanied.

Though solo, the work is complete.

It sobers and it stirs.

Its heavy with sorrow, laced with strength.

And did I mention its so damn difficult?

But if you’re still enough, there’s beauty that breaks through.

Lockdown has been all of the above – and more – for all of us:

A bunch of bad notes, but also beautiful moments.

I hope this is one of the latter for you

P.S If you make it to the end, listen out for my cat's contribution (still can't tell if its praise or protest...)

Mountains

Aug 2019, Sichuan Province, China. 

I love mountain tops. Could spend my life there, I say.
Fresh air and freedom. Adrenaline from the ascent. Sun on skin.
Glorious

But mountain tops are not for dwelling.
When the sun has gone and the chill creeps in
They are brutal, exposed, lonely places.

What goes up must come down:
The village is where we live.
In the valley shadows are long. It is cramped and cold. It is mundane.

But in the village there are people.
Creativity and colour. Feuds and fiestas.
There is life.
Nobody mourns a mountain like they do a mother.

Mountains may be breath taking
The village is life-giving.
Though I dream of one
I am content with the other.
Though I love the peak
I need people.

at 5200m, Siguniang Mountain, 

Progress

Calvings* are my most favourite procedure in the entire veterinary world (hence I am currently a small animal vet??!!) - so I was stoked to be summoned to one last weekend.

It was a small hobby farm of one paddock and 5 cows. By the time I arrived at 830pm, this not-very-tame heifer had already broken through two sets of yards. Very coincidentally the owner also had a side business importing tranquilliser guns. We ended up using one to dart her, not once but twice, in order to get close and personal.

The calf had already gone to heaven; the cow probably felt closer to hell. I gloved up and tried to convince her I was her angel in disguise (as the devil, she must've thought).

Now I'm by no means an expert. There are many cattle gurus that I would love to sit at the feet of. But with 6 calving seasons under my belt I feel I've learnt a thing or two. Actually, maybe just two.
See, the rules of bovine obstetrics drummed into us by my lecturer were:
           1) Lube, lube and more lube. You can never have too much lubricant.
           2) If you aren't making progress in 10 minutes, try something else.
I can't actually remember rule number 3). Maybe I feel asleep at the feet of that guru. Or maybe there wasn't a third. Either way, I've never needed it because, as it turns out, the first two always sufficed. 

So, we all know what lube is, but what constitutes 'progress'? We talk about career progression, progress on a project, progressive parties, nations, societies.  We tick boxes, hit KPIs, stay late, get up early, do push ups, give speeches, perfect our profiles - lest we be labelled as 'static', or worse, 'regressive'.

But that crisp, starry night, with mud in my boots and foetal juices in my face, it occurred to me that, in bovine obstetrics,  'progress' was something quite different: 

There I was

pulling a 50kg calf

out of a 500kg cow, 

in the 120th minute, 

    yet one centimetre 

          was enough to keep going.


*that is, assisting a cow deliver a calf

May one flame remain

6 Jan 2020

Australia is burning and our hearts are breaking. Today's CNN reports 15 million acres has been reduced to ash - an are larger than Belgium and Haiti combined. In New South Wales, close to half a million animals - up to 1/3 of koalas - have been killed. Thousands have lost their homes and over 20 people their lives. Smoke in Sydney has caused air quality to reach 11x the hazardous level. You know things are bad when its not just Asians that don face masks.

Instagrammers and news reporters describe the images as 'apocalyptic'. Celebrities promise their thoughts and prayers; a sign on a noodle bar in China Town asks for ours. New Delhi's Hindustan times say #prayforaustralia has trended on Twitter over 1million times. People are opening their pockets and digging deep like never before.

And suddenly, this secular, post modern society that 'believes in themselves' has seemingly become very.... spiritual.

Which makes me wonder:
Perhaps I'm not so strange when I say I pray to a higher power on a regular basis.
Maybe I'm not completely crazy to give a portion of my salary to the church and other charities.
What if it's not so weird to believe in the end of the world, supernatural revelation and life after death?

Amongst the destruction of these bush fires, maybe - just maybe - the faith on which our country was built is rekindling.

        And if one flame remains
                Dear God,
                may it be one of hope

Prayer... not such a silly idea? 

红包

2 Feb 2020

Its Chinese New Year, when traditionally, the family gathers, we squeeze into red clothing, lions dance, we eat like there's no tomorrow (even though its just the start of the year) and the older married people give 红包* to the young and single.

As I unashamedly collected my 红包 (what a great incentive to not produce grandchildren...) it got me thinking. And perhaps its a question for all of us to consider.

Money is nice and makes the world go round. But aside from material wealth what else is important for older generations to pass on to younger generations? And not just once a year, but every week, every day, every moment (driving, eating, being on devices) they're together?

And what about me? I may not be dishing out cash or raising kids. But what do I have to give (time, a listening ear, life skills...can you add to the list?) to those younger than me, here and now?

Fig 1. Unashamed single specimens showcasing 

*hong bao - red envelopes containing money 

New Year Shout Outs

Looking back on 2019, there are two shoutouts that I want to give. Just two - and they’re not to friends and family (Friends and family: I love you - but you know who you are, and everyone else doesn’t need to). 

       Shoutout number one is to my lovely clients (only the lovely ones, who, alas, I wish made up a larger proportion). The ones who are always so patient and honest, who trust me with their beloved pets and don’t complain about costs.

       Being a vet can be a stressful existence (marked by our poor mental health statistics and high turnover rates) but a big part of what keeps me going is the joy of working with decent and dedicated pet owners.

        The other shoutout is to my neighbours. John and Jessie the sort of retirees I want to be when I grow up: 5 am swims, gym classes, DIY/GrowIY and community service. She’s always ready to give me food and he to lend me a hammer or hand with my bike. I try to repay them with baking and dog advice. But both parties know its the cuppas and yarns that matter the most.  

        When I was a kid, we played with the kids next door, knew which neighbours moved in and out and got together for annual street parties. It was part of who we were and what we did. Nowadays we live in townhouses and apartments but barely share a nod – we’re too busy sharing GIFs far and wide. I know times have changed and often for the better. But bring back neighbourhoods, I say.

These people I’ve mentioned aren’t my friends on Facebook (or don’t have Facebook at all). They will likely never see this blog. But I wanted to mention them for 2 reasons:

           1.     Some of the most important people in YOUR life might not be your Facebook friends. I know its hard to believe, hence this lengthy post. 

           2.  We are ALL are clients and neighbours. Yes, YOU. You, too, have the chance to be lovely and make a difference in the lives (and longevity!) of your vets, doctors, physios, dentists, baristas - anyone you wait in line to see. 
           And likewise, you have the opportunity to build friendships with those next door. It may not involve the swapping of cupcakes and coriander over the fence (though FYI, those things help). But how much richer would our lives be if driveways became bridges...Laughter filled lifts...

...If we were all the subject of these shout outs.