by tashmcgill | Jan 31, 2015 | Bodies, Culture & Ideas
“What can I do with these small hands?”
There are a few things about my body I’ve always been self-conscious about, not the regular things but little details. I always aspired to have elegant hands. The kind with long, graceful fingers and delicate wrists. But very little in my body is shaped that way. I’m compact, with bold and sure lines. I’m formed of curves and muscle. My hands reflect those same short but strong characteristics. Square palms, straight, squat fingers. My hands are working hands, they are not beautiful.
My hands, can’t seem to stay still while I’m telling a story or expressing a point. I imagine my gestures are as graceful as I’d like for them to be. I would be satisfied with a perfect manicure, then practicality takes over; for the sake of knife speed, guitar playing and heavy lifting I cut my vanity down to a short, unfussy length and splash them occasionally with bright colours.
I know those long, elegant fingers wouldn’t belong on my body. I can see for myself how my father’s more delicate wrists would look strange at the end of my arms. My hands are small, generally speaking, but not with a natural deft flexibility. I have to work hard with delicate tasks. They are covered in tiny knife scars, the way that chefs’ hands often are. Just this morning, I glanced a too sharp blade against an unwary finger. There is a blurred spot from my knuckles brushing against concrete in youthful exuberance. A trace of where a lighting rig stole some skin, a pocket where a nail got a shot in. Some fade over time, others remain. But I see them all.
I turn my hands over for a new set of callouses. A knife scar might be mistaken for a number of things but these callouses tell you what I do. The actions I’ve repeated over and over. What I do tells you something about who I might be. So these callouses I’m more fond of, because they are telling a story I don’t mind so much.
There’s no mistaking the callous of where my knife blade rests against the base of my index finger, or where my pen sits pressed against my middle finger for hours of writing at a time. And at my fingertips and the side of my thumb, my skin is made tough and worn smooth by guitar strings. These marks have corresponding stories on the rest of my body. A scar hidden by my tattoo, from a sweaty summer night where a blister formed and burst under my strum. A near permanent bruise on my right thigh where my guitar sits inside my arms. In the same way, an indentation on each of my wrists from where I sit at this laptop cataloguing my thoughts.
All these stories, telling you something. That I am a maker of things, I hope. That from my functional, sturdy, un-beautiful hands something beautiful is being made.
But there is something more. If I look at my hands the way a palm-reader would, I can see what is possible. I see these clear lines, soft valleys. What is unseen, what leaves no mark is touch. My touch is strong and warm. My hands are almost never cold. I twiddle my thumbs without irony. They are endlessly curious, exploring new territories. They almost never stop moving, even at rest my fingers curl around themselves. I love to touch.
There is one thing, though, from these practical, unbeautiful hands. My hands are capable of making something that lives inside of my flesh and yours. My hands can make home. A safe place, a healing space, a comforting space. My hands can show you my love in silence. I feel it when I take a newborn into my arms, or when my 10-year-old nephew climbs into my lap and asks for tickles. When I walk in the forest I place my hand on the totara and the pohutakawa and say thank you. My pulse warm against the aging bark, I say a thousand things with these hands that could never make their way into words.
When moments come and my hands touch you and hold you, other human – I thank you too, for letting me make something beautiful.
by tashmcgill | Jan 27, 2015 | Poems
Occasionally there is an idea that can only be expressed in sentences and phrases that run on and over each other in extraordinary syntax.
They leap out as fragments, then couplets until finally you have a stanza and a verse. This poem, in three parts, is about being alone and not alone.
i.
Some people will tell you to listen
Listen and learn from your own body.
It’s good advice, to master your body, learn it.
But no one says also, here is a warning –
And a notebook to write it down because –
if you listen
to your body
You will hear everything in
one voice but a thousand sounds, plucks, scrapes, clicks and thunders.
The body makes a dozen slow, deep, thundering sounds.
Then the bzzt of a hair standing on end
The stubborn grip of the womb
moaning in protest before letting go
each month. The delicate, tiny sounds that only you can know.
The pop of hidden bones
in the ankle you rolled
Age 14, before you knew what it was like to listen.
ii.
Now you hear the wind brushing your skin;
the ice crack of goose bumps rising in response
– you think ‘I might survive on the wind’s caress’.
So now you believe you are at one with the night air silence,
and Light touches you from the moon, distant and cold.
You are bathed in mist coming off the sea
into the valley of peat and stone,
A dozen hands come close but cannot hold
– you think ‘I might remained unanchored here.’
You and your body, in a long communion.
Listening and talking together.
Sighing, your body does not sigh but a kind of hum dimishes
Slowly, like the sky sinking to earth.
iii.
Then the wind turns and grows warm,
after a long silence; in a moment I am not alone.
I feel my body’s voice rise again.
The whoosh of hidden skin pulling tight,
Calling my senses to attention.
There is the beat and throb of my pulse
Rising to match another,
Blood pushing blood.
Coming into tune for a cadence
pores humming in trumpet song,
A thousand tiny pressure valves released.
I make no noise but hear
my fingertips sigh gently as they land on
other skin, burning, singing.
Laughing aloud, saying,
‘No, no, I cannot be alone.’
I have learned my body sings
and I will let it.
by tashmcgill | Jan 25, 2015 | Culture & Ideas
I saw an article posted on Facebook the other day and I couldn’t help but click on a link. One of those headlines meant to draw you in, with the promise ‘12 Qualities That Mean You Should Never Let Her Go‘.. or something to that effect. A young woman I know had posted it with a message to her male friends – they should be paying attention, she said.
While I know she didn’t really mean it as a passive-aggressive criticism, I sighed and clicked the link anyway.
I read about a woman who I want to be. I don’t really care that this woman they are describing is practically a super-hero and seemed far less pre-occupied with sex and self-indulgence than I am.
It’s not scientific, nor particularly egalitarian or even politically correct, but in this instruction guide for men, the writer states that if you think a woman is….
- Smarter than you
- Beautiful in your eyes
- Kind and nurturing
- Vivacious
- Loves you with all their heart
- Willing to make compromises
- Feels like home
- Is happy to tell you when you’re wrong
- Strong, but feminine (which aren’t opposites, anyway)
- Passionate
- Driven
- Means the world to you
… then you should hang on to her.
This woman sounds like a good one, to me. The kind of woman I’d like to be, but I’m not sure I am yet. I’ve been trying to be a good woman, but that also means trying to decide what that is! I don’t think women are doing a great job of defining it for ourselves or the world.
I was momentarily confused as to what to do as I read the comments. This is a man writing to other men, to say ‘Here’s what a good woman is,’ and the world could use a few useful descriptions. But if we want to seen that way, we really ought to try to be that way. A woman isn’t born good anymore than a man is born bad, so we ought to be more interested in the ‘becoming’.
I’m disturbed that the response of women to that article wasn’t ‘Oh boy, how am I doing on that job description.’ I know I certainly did, so I don’t feel confident asking any man to see me that way unless I feel confident enough that’s who I actually am. Instead, women posted, commented and shared the link saying, ‘Yeah, that’s how you should see us!’.
Here’s the sticky truth: you can only really be seen as you are. Anything else is a myth.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting we should sit around each morning chastising ourselves on our failings, neither men nor women need any further checklists or admonishment in that regard. However, we should at least be chastising ourselves on the right kind of attributes.
I’ve realised that what I think makes for a good woman isn’t what most men seem to be looking for. That’s not a criticism of men, by the way, because I’m not sure that we women have figured out what we think makes a good woman either. We’re the ones populating Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest and the blog world with snapshot images of what we think perfection is, in a confusing, contradictory kind of way.
I might post photos of delicious home cooked meals, deep soul ponderings and my earnest efforts at the gym; but I also love to laze in bed on a weekend morning with unkempt hair and slight stubble on my legs. There’s a big part of me that would rather throw all that other stuff to one side and be simply declare good womanhood to require 20% laziness, 30% domestic skills and 50% sex goddess flagging any other kind of fiscal, social or emotional responsibilities.
A shallow glance still says a good woman falls into two stereotypes; the nurturing, homemaking, nice girl and the self-sufficient, comfortable in her sexuality career girl. Both come with dollops of sex and always just the right amount of sassy. I suspect that a good woman is in fact, closer to that 12 qualities list than Instagram can aptly communicate with one exception; a good woman apparently has her crap together. And fair enough, it’s a significant starting point.
Further to that, really – what’s the difference between being a good woman and being a good human? Not much I’d wager. Society spends a lot of time propagating mythology around gender stereotypes. It’s unhealthy and unnecessary. I’m much more interested in becoming a better me – in my instance, a better woman.
Swap out the pronouns in that 12 qualities list and it’s a pretty good indication of what a great man might be too. Seems like we could all just work on being better humans and appreciating each other more.
*Image features the beautiful Dita Von Teese, reportedly shot in her own kitchen.
by tashmcgill | Jan 9, 2015 | Leadership, Strategy
My ambition and my ability are not often in alignment. One exists in my present reality and one is beckoning to me from the future. Thankfully, I can change my present to get to the future.
Ambition is like a call. An innate sense of who and what I am or intend to be. It’s as much part of my blood and mindset as my DNA markers. What I desire or imagine becoming is vital to my sense of purpose and identity. So I don’t work on changing my ambition but I can improve my ability to achieve those ambitions.
Everything between where my current ability sits and what is required to achieve my ambition is simply the process of Becoming. Becoming the person who can achieve it. Simple.
Becoming is the most important task in all of this and yes, it can be the most daunting. The trouble is that we expect to find a straight forward process and follow a set pattern. We’re just not wired that way – unique and individual, we can learn from the becoming process of others, but we each need to follow our own journey. So here are a few tips on where to begin.
- Accept that true growth isn’t linear. Growing of any nature doesn’t happen at a slow, steady pace. It’s really not like working at a university degree, pace by pace as you go. Much like through childhood, growth comes in fits and starts, sometimes taking the long way round and other times shooting up fast as an arrow. You have to grow towards your ambition and it won’t likely be a straight line path. Get into a learning posture and accept that there will be curve balls along the way. The attitude you take towards personal growth is as important as the growing.
- Understand the difference between your goals and your overall ambition. We confuse ambition and goals all the time. A goal is something we want to do, an ambition is much closer to the person we want to be. My ambition is to become someone who helps people think well. If we change the way that people think about themselves, their relationships and our communities. I believe that when we change the way we think and approach problems, we can make more significant change to our world. My goal is to be a great communicator. There’s a difference here, between the what, who and the how.
- Embrace your ambition. In some parts of the world (New Zealand for example) we are intimidated by ambition. Our increasingly egalitarian view of the world struggles to separate an ambition from a desire for personal gain. It’s the stereotypical characteristics of ambition that we dislike – ideas that an ambitious person will be self-seeking, ruthless, untrustworthy in a team, always looking for opportunities to improve their position, climb further up the ladder. In other parts of the world, the attitude towards ambition is more positive. Ambition is a driving force that people can gather and collaborate around. Those who are ambitious are encouraged in their ‘Becoming’. Embrace the future-forward focus ambition gives you and surround yourself with people who can embrace it also.
- Pursue Self-Awareness. Do everything you can to learn about yourself, what you’re good at and strategies for improving and increasing your ability. Look for opportunities to learn what you do not know by keeping a close watch on the skills and talents of those you interact with. Surround yourself with people who have different and diverse skills from you. Learn from them – learn how they learn, how they teach, how they interact. Adapt, adopt and incorporate anything useful that fits your natural style. Understand your natural operating strengths by reading and practising.
- Use these practical tools for developing self-awareness:
Myers-Briggs Temperament Indicator.
Clifton StrengthsFinder.
Use the Johari Window exercise to get a sense of how you perceive yourself alongside how others perceive you. Engage with the unknown and the alignment gaps you discover.
- Behave as if you already have the ability to match your ambition. The other word for this is ‘Practice’. This is not free-for-all permission to become arrogant and over-confident but if your ambition is to be someone who teaches and educates, begin teaching as you go. If your ambition is to be a great team builder, start building teams. You’ll likely fail. That’s a vital part of the growing process. You won’t become a great novelist by publishing a book, you have to practice writing and character development first. So practice, whatever it is you hope to become on a daily basis.
by tashmcgill | Jan 8, 2015 | Food & Drink, Recipes
Time to prepare: 15 min
Ingredients – salmon fillet, zucchini, whole grain mustard, lemon (cream & fresh garlic, optional).
Easy to prepare with just a pan and good knife skills or a new favourite kitchen gadget, this will be a favourite weeknight supper. You can easily make this dish for one or four, simply increase the number of fillets and allow one medium size zucchini per person.
- Salmon, in the pan. Heat the pan to medium (I prefer a heavy case steel plan), melting a knob of butter and splash of oil. Place the fillets skin down and let cook for 4-5 min for an one inch thick fillet.
- Zucchini, into ribbons. Using either a spiralizer, mandolin or a sharp knife, prepare your zucchini into ribbons or noodles. Very fashionable food, right on trend. I love this one from The Home Store. It has two cutting widths and even deals with tougher carrots and hard vegetables which is great for making homemade pickled vegetables and garnishes.
- Swap the salmon for the zucchini. Let the salmon rest momentarily out of the pan while you place the zucchini in the pan with a tablespoon of whole grain mustard. Gently cook for one minute. If you like garlic, now’s true time to add a freshly crushed bulb. If you like cream, add a splash. Otherwise, add an extra tablespoon of butter or extra virgin olive oil. It should make just enough sauce to coat the vegetable. Stir til combined, sprinkle with salt and pepper.
- Put it back together. Push the zucchini to the edge of the pan and place the salmon skin up in the centre of the pan. Squeeze half a fresh lemon over the pan – half a lemon per two fillets. The sauce should gently bubble. Leave to cook for three minutes, then take the pan off the heat but leave to rest for 3 min.
- Plate up, using a shallow bowl. You can use a large carving fork to twist the noodles or just tongs to make a nest in the centre of the bowl. Place the salmon skin up, nestled on top of the zucchini. If you have fresh parsley or dill, roughly chop and sprinkle on top. Enjoy.
Will also keep well overnight for lunchtime leftovers the next day.
