January: Love!

Grew: zucchini seedlings, carrot seedlings, sweet corn seedlings, spinach and lettuce.

Wrote: two weddings, a letter to no one about the river, the first chapter of ‘My Magic Garden’

Discovered/ learnt/ wondered: I loooove weddings; bliss ball recipe; why isn’t photography a major part of ‘The Plan’?

Read: “Big Magic: Creative living beyond Fear” by Elizabeth Gilbert

Successes: 300,000 + steps, 2,000 + squats, booked six new weddings, walked up Durie Hill steps and didn’t die.

Struggled with: sugar cravings, faulty pedometers, lack of sleep.

Highlight: A friend’s wedding

Seeing the first completed month of the plan laid out like that is pretty awesome! What a great start to the year it’s been. The sun is shining, weather is sweet. Yeah.

A major part of The Plan is cultivating a garden, and the sweet January weather has been simply stellar for this. The small picture is the veggie patch, but the big picture is cultivating a life that is more sustainable, putting our land to good use, and creating a relationship with nature. The simple act of planting vegies is having a huge number of benefits for me and my family, like it does for anyone who has a wee patch of their own. It’s saving us money, first and foremost. It gets me outside for longer. I have a sense of purpose and responsibility. I’m learning about seedlings and fruit trees and different ways to deal with those damn slaters, and Alice is learning about it all, too. Alice and the garden is probably the best thing of all. And it wasn’t until our beautiful tomato plants were mauled by the next door neighbours’ scary razorback pig that I realised how much I’ve enjoyed taking care of those little plants.

By crikey, I love gardening. Who knew?

I didn’t only start work on the garden this month; I started work on the creative flow, too. The first weeks of The Plan coincided with my wonderful sister buying a book for me, Big Magic. It is one author’s take on creativity and, essentially, how we can fall in love with our art. I devoured this book and its wisdom. ‘Big Magic’ is the term used to describe the enigma of creativity, inspiration, and our desire to allow the ideas that visit us to manifest. This book, if nothing else, reminded me of how prolifically I wrote as a child and teenager, when I felt ideas flow through me on seas of words that I sailed at my leisure. It reminded me that writing never used to be hard work and that ideas were free. It can be that way again!

When I finished the book I said out loud; ‘Hey, inspiration, I’m gonna need you to start visiting me more often, if that’s ok with you.’ Because this book isn’t a ‘how to create’ self-help book, it is a book about how we open ourselves to the new, the unexpected, the scary and the life-changing. I’m going to need all those skills in the months to come not just for writing but for the physical challenges, too.

So, since I invited inspiration in, she’s visited every Tuesday. She sails in, hands me an oar and pulls me on board, and I feel the sea rush me again. Before she leaves I say thank you; I don’t want to seem ungrateful for her help.

I love the writing process. It’s as much an affirmation as it is a revelation.

I have used Big Magic to help write and edit weddings, delivering five this month and preparing for four that are coming up. And even though I’ve been doing this for five years, the depth and significance of these moments that I am so privileged to be a part of is only just starting to sink in. I hear couples in love declare all kinds of wonderful promises to each other all the time, but do you know what got me? It was a man who, as he slipped a ring on to his wife’s finger, said these words with all confidence;
“This is my greatest gift of love. And it’s only for you.”
I was so close to his self-assurance and complete commitment to those words I felt it spark in the air. I am not saying that those before him didn’t mean it, I’m saying that something inside me has opened up enough to see the weight of their words.

And then on the last Saturday of January, I was a guest at my friend’s wedding, a guest at the first wedding out of 35 in the past five years. A series of events and mistakes on my part meant I was not their celebrant but I think if I was, I would not have seen their wedding for what it really was. I don’t know why, but hearing them pledge to stay together forever – and knowing they are two individuals that will honour that pledge – shook me so much that I still can’t put how I felt in to words.

I love weddings.

This is why January can be summed up with the word ‘love’. Mostly those weddings, but those words I’ve written, too, and all that life around me. It’s all love. I can take that love I discovered in Paul and Alice and apply it elsewhere, find it elsewhere, feel it elsewhere.

Love is sweet. Makes you wanna move jah dancing feet, yeah.

The Look

I read somewhere that, for a better chance of achieving personal goals, it’s best not to tell anyone.
Screw that.
I’m like, tell anyone who will listen.

I’ve told people because it’s important to me, and because it’s what I’m focusing on at the moment, and because I’m excited. I’ve told people because fitness is what we have in common, because writing is what we have in common, or because we have nothing in common and large scale goal planning is just something to talk about. I’ve told people to fill up the silence or add to the noise or move the conversation away from complaining about the weather. I’ve told people for the express purpose of asking for their help. Sometimes I talk for no reason and the plan just kind of slips out by accident.

I tell people because there a certain amount of accountability when an idea is shared with the universe. The commitment is to yourself only, sure, but to have people innocently ask ‘Hey, any new recipe ideas for me?’ or ‘Can I join you for walks this week? I need to get off the couch,’ or even just ‘I didn’t see a blog this month, did I miss it?’ can provide a little bit of focus and make you realise that actually, other people care about you and they value what you’re doing.

There have been quite a few people that have said ‘good luck’ and ‘what a cool idea’ and ‘what website was the plan on?’ there have been a select few people that have said, ‘holy crap, Batman in a petticoat, I’m going to do something like that, too.’ Maybe not in so many words but you get the picture and it’s awesome sauce nonetheless.

And lots of people look at me funny. I can’t even describe it, it’s a mix between disbelief and confusion and even a little bit of disgust, for some reason. It’s clear that they think I can’t do it. It’s clear that they think what I’m planning is too big, too hard, too much, just “too” in general. And it’s clear, in some people, that they are taking bets with themselves to see how long it takes me to fail. They might not even think they are thinking these things. Maybe they think it’s pity – ‘oh, poor Tiffany, setting her sights too high like usual.’ But I see it.

Why wish that one someone? This is myself we are talking about here, do they not think I’m worth it?

On one hand, those looks put me off telling people. I literally and figuratively don’t need that negativity in my life. This plan is challenging enough in itself, I don’t need people betting against me, waiting for the day to give themselves the smug little ‘I told you so’ smile. So it would be easier for me to not tell them, to just keep it a secret or only tell a few people who I know are success focused and optimistic by nature.

Because the truth is, I might fail. And that’s a bit scary to know that already, only two weeks in. So it would make sense to surround myself with positive, glowing conversation about the plan and pretend the other doesn’t exist.

But on the other hand, I realise that those funny looks are a motivation in itself. Anyone who knows me when I’m tired, hungry, pre-menstrual or passionate about something knows that I’m argumentative and I hate being wrong. Well, I’m passionate about this plan (and those other factors will make an appearance, too). So I’m going to do everything I can to prove to everyone – myself most importantly of all – that this plan is well within my capabilities and I will be a better person because of it.

The more people look at me with that confused, disgusted, disbelieving face, the more I’ll smile and say ‘well I’m going great so far and it’s just going to get easier!’ The more people talk about the obstacles I’ll face, the more motivation there is to step, to read, to focus and to write.  I get off on people telling me I am wrong and I can’t do it – just fucking watch me.  

What I actually want, in my heart of hearts, is for them to forget that there even is a plan, and for them to start thinking, ‘That Tiffany, she’s got a pretty cool, healthy life’ when they think about me. Because that’s what I want for myself, too.

The Plan

With such high hopes for myself, I decided I needed a plan. What I have in mind is not a new year’s resolution as such, but a process of change that has a time frame of one year. The world of education is all about strategic planning and goal setting, so I’m going to use what I know and set some SMART goals for myself.
A SMART goal is;
Specific
Measurable
Action-based
Realisitic
Time-bound

So my aim is to be better at being me. This is not a smart goal. It’s kind of comical little telling off for being a dork. But this is the idea that sits loftily in the clouds, shining brightly with a gold hue and glitter dropping from it like unicorn snot.

How I will get to this idea in the clouds is via a staircase that I will build from SMART goals. Some of the steps are small, some I’ll need a stepladder and platform shoes to climb. But put them all together, and they will be my path to a brighter, shinier new me.

I have a big wall planner that has the foreseeable events for this year all marked out, including the goals I have set myself that you’re about to read. As you’ll see, this is a pretty big commitment to myself. I’ve thought a lot about this, about what is important to me and how I want my lifestyle to change. The thing is, I already do a lot of these things, in fits and bursts or without paying any real attention to it. What this plan does is make time for it. It helps me stay accountable to myself, to remind myself of the bigger picture, and to show me how rich and wonderful a life – my life – can be.

Weekly – This is important:

• Add to the ‘Blessed with Awesome’ jar.
• 10,000 steps a day, five days a week.
• Write something – a wedding, blog, portfolio reflection or work on the novel
• Play the ukulele
• Save ten dollars, five in to savings and five in to Alice’s account.
• Study
• Gym it when you can – aim for three times a week.

Monthly -  This is also important, especially the first one:

• A date with Paul, with or without Alice.
• A weigh and measure at the gym.

January

• Squat challenge
• Plant leek, sweet corn, and lettuce.
• Do those weddings!

February

• Read and reflect on two articles from Child Forum or another source. Reward – Professional development in New Plymouth.
• Plant beetroot, cabbage, onion

March

• Durie Hill steps twice a week. Reward –  Manawatu Gorge walk with Paul. Write about what you hear.
• Plant Kale, cauliflower, and rhubarb
• Te Reo Maori course starts this month, too.

April

• Bridge loop twice a week
• Review teaching portfolio
• Plant garlic, peas, spinach

May

• Learn three new songs on the ukulele
• Plant silverbeet and wildflowers
• Enjoy graduation day, you earned it. Write about this day.

June

• Celebrate Paul’s birthday
• Walk up St. John’s hill and down twice a week. Reward – Rangi Hut Trail
• Plant Rocket

July

• Squat challenge. Reward – Live music night at Delicious Café
• Go to Rainbow in my Head, Wellington, then get your reflection on.

August

• Ten minutes on the bike five times a week.
• Read a novel, buy a new one if you must...
• See what’s available and plant that!

September

• Bridge loop twice a week
• Take the uke, a drum, and Alice, and go make music in the park. Write about it, capture her in the piece.
• Plant pumpkin, strawberries, broccoli, potatoes

October

• Celebrate Alice’s birthday! Three years old!
• Plant tomato, carrot, sunflowers, capsicum

November

• Focus on Te Ara Reo Maori, you’re nearly there!
• Happy birthday to me…
• If possible, have a stall at Ashley Park Country Fair
• Plant spring onion, courgette, parsnip

December

• Plant kumara, herbs, and catch up
• Go to the beach, write about how the sand feels.
• Make Christmas gifts again, remember how much you enjoyed it last year?
• Collect up everything you've written this year and call yourself a writer, for goodness sake.

Specific? I think so. Measureable? Sure. They’re definitely action based. Realistic, too, for the most part – I’ve tried to be accurate in planting times with the vegies but this will all depend on space, availability, weather… but I’ll try my best! And it’s time bound for sure. Come December I’ll be ready to evaluate the effect this intentional living has had on my life. I gotta say, I’m pretty excited…

The Rant

Every accomplishment starts with the decision to try – Anon.

This is kind of a hard blog to write, harder than it should be. Am I afraid people will say ‘pfft, whatever,’ when they read what I’m about to say? A little. Maybe it’s hard because I’ve not written something like it before. It’s a new topic for me, a new focus on something important and personal. And maybe it’s hard simply because once I put it to paper it can’t be taken back. Making the decision to try and committing to the possibility of failing.

But this is the time for massive change, I can feel it. I want to say I’m sick, but I’m not. I want to say I’m unhappy, but I’m not. I’m not actually sure what I am, maybe that’s the problem? But I do want more for me, I want to create and achieve goals and smile at myself in the mirror for the first time in my life, literally. No shit. I can’t tell you what I am right now, but I can tell you what I want – I want more.

If you don’t like something change it; if you can’t change it, change the way you think about it – Mary Englebreit.

I am the first to acknowledge my blessed life, so to say that I want more makes me feel sick with my own lack of gratitude. And that’s just it – it’s not my life’s problem, it’s me. It’s not my life that has to change, not my incredible family or my amazing job or my pets or car or hobbies or blah blah blah. I’m the problem. I am either too ashamed to grab life by the proverbials, I’m too stressed or worried about the future to truly enjoy the present, or I just feel completely disconnected all together. There is more for me if I embrace what I love about being me and work on what I don’t.


Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom – Aristotle

This year, I am going to connect to the world through myself. I’m going to change the way I think, move, eat, and live in general, and treat myself and all that I encompass to an adventure.
Part of this intentional change harks back to hypno-birthing techniques; that programme is the shit. I’m making a conscious decision to take responsibility for my health, my happiness, my success and my spiritual well-being. I’m going to make a conscious decision about what thoughts I dwell on and what I let go of. I have been sitting in the driver’s seat for a long time, hell, I even drove myself here. Well, now it’s time to change gear.

With freedom, books, flowers and the moon, who could not be happy? -  Oscar Wilde

This is not just a physical endeavour, although that is the most obvious and easiest way to make a change. But I know as well as anyone that the weight loss game is actually a mind game. So there is no point in making a ‘new year’s resolution’ to lose weight when, in actual fact, my whole way of thinking about myself and my worth needs to change, too. Do you know how weird it is, to love what you do but not like who you are? Lordy, how depressing. So yes, I will set goals around health and fitness, but also intellectual goals, and spiritual goals, and goals for my family. Because I am more than a weight loss goal and this year, I will embrace all of it.

I have the right to a life that nurtures the whole self, and the ability to decide whether to exercise that right or not. – Tiffany Wagstaff