Living within the margins

Remember that phrase “If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up so much space”? No? Cast your mind back to the early 2000s… (check out the styling of this book cover for inspiration). It was inspiring: take risks! Go all out! Don’t play it safe!

But over the long-term, living on the edge is tiring and dangerous. Because on the other side of the edge is bad stuff: burnout, poor health, broken relationships, despair, just plain crazy and overwhelm. While you don’t want to play it so safe that your life is so much smaller than it has to be, there’s no point courting burnout by living right up at the level of your limits.

Because those limits will be tested; something always happens. Whether it’s sickness, an unexpected transition, or even a new opportunity you just have to take. If you’re so close to the edge, anything extra tips you over.

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How to avoid the dreaded toy aisle

I hate the term “life hack”, though I’m not too sure why. Perhaps because it’s one of those modern constructions that sound so important when really previous generations were getting along fine without. And perhaps because it feeds into that myth that there’s somehow a better way to be doing everything, and it’s all the same way…. like that phrase “parenting (or whatever) done RIGHT” that I see bandied around on the internet. There is no RIGHT here, people.

Possibly I’m just a bit oversensitive to this because I’m resisting my innate urge to do things RIGHT. I’m a 1 on the Enneagram, and I am constantly looking to improve. This is a soul-wearying task when it’s playing out unhealthily, but when you’re healthy it can actually be a super power.

So in the spirit of that super power, I thought I’d offer a few of my favourite life hacks. Suggestions for a better term are greatly appreciated.
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On Monarchs and metamorphosis

This summer my two eldest daughters (Miss 11 and Miss 8, I’m yet to choose them fancy semi-anonymous blogger children aliases) ran a fairly successful small business. The year before one of them had been raising monarch butterfly caterpillars on a swan plant, and when the caterpillars literally ate themselves out of house and home she had to buy another swan plant. It was not easy to find, and it was not cheap. I could tell she was scheming something when she asked, “Mum, do you think we could grow swan plants in the greenhouse?”. We talked through outlay and expenses, marketing and selling points, and their eyes grew wide as they did the math and calculated the profit they could make on each plant. When your pocket money comes in gold coins, even $40 seems like a fortune.

And so in early November I advanced them a loan for seeds and potting mix, and they got to work. Well, WE got to work; there was a fair bit of parental input at the beginning, seeing how they’re not really proficient plantswomen at this young age. There were quite a few weeks of effort invested with little return, but it soon came time to sell them, and they sold easily. Again, I had to help out a bit here, seeing how, again, they’re not on Facebook Marketplace at this young age, nor can they drive, and their bookkeeping needed some assistance. But they bartered cleaning chores for my services and we were all happy. Happy customers, happy caterpillars, happy mum at providing such a great teaching experience (yes, I’m impressed with myself too), and happy daughters when they made over $100 each.

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Some white what?

That’s my backyard, midday in midsummer. Just looking at those cool greens relaxes me (when I don’t let my eyes be distracted by the work that I can see needs to be done). But it’s also kind of… empty. The reason we have a big backyard is for children to play in. That baby swing? It’s there for the baby. But when I took this photo the kids were at school and the baby was in bed, and I was at peace.

And oh, I long for that peace. That no one touching me, no one speaking to me, no one demanding anything from me PEACE. Especially after a wearying school holidays–6 weeks with 4 kids at home, and more than once I found myself asking “why did I have all these children?”. Like, why would you do that to yourself? But I did, and I consciously chose it, I fought for it. If I didn’t have all this, I would be longing for it. But I’m too often feeding a discontent of the soul, shifting my gaze, looking for more, when really it would be better to let my eyes drink in all that I have before me already.

I’m not going to pretend that the juggle isn’t real–the struggle in the juggle even (I’ve been reading too much Hairy Maclary). I see so many ways I could be doing it better, and not just doing it better, but making it look effortless at the same time. But I’m wondering if perhaps we’ve got the metaphor all wrong here. Instead of juggling a million things, passing from one to the other, not pausing for a moment, and certainly not dropping an item… in fact, how about you chuck me another thing? I could take that on board too… it’s a flaming torch? Yeah I can handle that! Anything to up the performance value here, because I want you all to think that I am awesome. Or at least I want to be able to judge myself as AWESOME.
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