I loved this year’s Edinburgh Festival & Fringe. It felt like mine as well as everyone else’s, for the first time. My annual bout of imposter syndrome somehow didn’t arrive. As my kids start to think of futures outside the city I’ve grown in mindfulness of what we have while we’re here because, as an accidental rolling stone, the sense that change is doing warm-up stretches is a twinkle in my eye. The idea that I’ll return one day to the fringe as a tourist, sparking with happy memories, is fuel and shelter.
I don’t rage against the dying of the light in a Scottish Autumn. I like putting on lamps in the afternoon and seeing into people’s windows from the bus; stealing details for stories. I relish the warmth of the house in contrast to the new chill outdoors.
I’m letting the idea that, ‘what’s in the way is the way‘ guide my creativity since hearing it on a podcast. It’s illuminated a lot for me about further tuning victim narratives into survivor stories; I’m enthralled with the empowerment born from simple cognitive adjustments.
I’ve been trying out listening to classical music after enjoying the dancing fingers of piano playing guests this summer. I wondered out loud what it was about classical music that makes it so relaxing. ‘It’s the lack of beat’, answered my husband, ‘it’s arrhythmic’.
I think there’s a surrender and engagement with classical music when you’re hearing it for the first time; a bit like watching an unreviewed, intriguing performance.
Maybe when time’s unmarked by a beat I keep myself uncharacteristically still, so I can mentally lean in a little more.