a book to hold our stories - miecat

Submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for a degree in Master of Arts by Supervision in Experiential & Creative Arts Therapy

MARCH 2011

MIECAT Melbourne Institute for Experiential & Creative Arts Therapy

Melbourne, Australia

A book to hold

STORIES

OUR

A M A n d A W O O d f O R d

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A BOOK TO HOLD OUR STORIES

ABSTRACT

A Book To Hold Our Stories, an arts-based research project, is home to three chapters of life stories offered by three women about their experience of ‘what it is like to live in a different culture’.

As the pages turn, as the threads of the story come into view, we come to know ‘what matters’ for these three storytellers. Meaning is released as the storylines are explored. Life patterns begin to emerge.

It is about ‘story’ – the telling of, observing, entering into, walking around, sharing and responding. These stories are real, lived and known. They are from women who live in the same residential community. There are similarities. There are differences.

Told by the researcher, we come to know part of another’s story and possibly more about our own. The threads of the story reveal the diversity of lived experiences held within our communities. Some threads poke out, vibrant, colourful, looping outwards. Others are tucked away, smooth, blended-in, barely visible.

What do we come to now know when a story is told?

dECLARATIOn

I certify that this research project comprises my original work except were indicated. due acknowledgement has been made in the text to all other materials provided.

name: Amanda Woodford

Signature:

date: March 2011

COnTEnTS

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ACKnOWLEdGEMEnTS i

fOREWORd iii The story-holding-basket v

PREfACE ix Exploring the tools-basket x

EnTERInG OUR STORIES 1 Story strands 3 The story-filter 4

CHAPTER 1 Jackie Youle 9

CHAPTER 2 Patricia 65

CHAPTER 3 Butterfly 99

ExITInG THE STORY 143 Coming to know 145

POSTfACE 151 Our final words 153

RESOURCES 163 The story of Perseus and Medusa 165 Mapping a topic or theme 166 The group workshop running sheet 167

REfEREnCES 169

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ACKnOWLEdGEMEnTS

My first thanks go to ‘my women’ who so generously and courageously shared with me ‘their stories’. Without them it would not be ‘ours’.

from here the thanks reach far and wide, from family to MIECAT, work and to friends – all of whom have been supportive in so many ways. To my family for nurturing, listening, reading, understanding and being honest! Thank you Mum, dad, Aunty Gaylene, Uncle Kevin and nana for listening and responding to my ‘drafts’. A special thanks to nana and Mum for sitting in front of a warm fire one winter, turning through pages of photo albums and sharing memories, to trial the research question.

To my MIECAT companions, staff and students, who offered practical and emotional support – thank you. Hells Bells, Yarnos and Marita, an encouraging and supportive mutual care group. Yarnos, extra thanks for accompanying me in the group workshop. To my supervision group – it was so lovely to journey with you. To all the women in the Masters’ programme, our time and connections together will also be strong in my heart. What wonderful women you are. Jan Allen and Edwina Entwisle, I cannot thank you enough for your encouragement, support and (at times) challenging questions.

Thanks also to Sue Harris and the crew at Sussex neighbourhood House who continue to support my arts-based ideas and projects.

finally to my patient friends, who did not give up hope on my friendship as ‘social times’ evaporated. for those that read drafts, sent me encouraging messages and emails, mowed my lawns or sent me home with dinners for the freezer… You are truly great friends and I am so grateful to have you in my life.

Thank you to you all!

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fOREWORd

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The story-holding-basket

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As I write this introduction I hold gently what I have named a holding-basket. It is part of a silk-thread, crochet-piece I have crafted as a creative ‘coming together’ of this research story.

As I twisted and wove threads, I recollected the events, interviews, responses and possibilities, which emerged during the 10month duration of this story’s life. It begins with this highly textured basket. It is my anchor. Sitting in my hand I can feel its weight, despite it appearing light. It is soft and complex, it is made up of many parts, but it is one. It is connected to greater things but for now I focus only on this unified piece. This is my story-holding-basket.

The story-holding-basket

A BOOK TO HOLD OUR STORIESvi

It holds a collection of stories that have been lived and felt over life times, selected, offered and entrusted to me by my research participants. Three women. Three storytellers. Three stories. I handle the contents, the stories, with care, although they are quite robust. I do not want to box them in. I do want to keep them safe. Safe within a circular pocket secured to an outer edge by braided strands. There is an inner and an outer space.

The inner space is warm and contained, the base is solid. It is in here the stories are gathered and held. It is their essence that rises-up to the surface as single strands. Petal-like strands twist and turn around the basket’s top in their own natural form. It is these forms, these story strands, that are presented to the world to be viewed.

Although the basket appears full, there is space. A circular hole runs through the middle, allowing the interchanging nature of lived stories to travel through. It does not restrict but provides a channel for the stories and their tellers to ‘live-on’, outside of this paused story space.

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Connected to the inner and outer space is the researcher’s strand. I am the stories’ guardian. I manage and care for the delivery of these precious stories for others to read. I collect and craft using a set of tools. These tools hang discreetly off to the side in my tools-basket. The fabric is the weave of the Melbourne Institute for Experiential & Creative Arts Therapy (MIECAT) ‘form of inquiry’. Tucked deep inside for stability, at the base, is a set of procedures of an ‘arts-based inquiry’. It is the foundation on which this research project is built.

The tools-basket

(held in my fingers)

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PREfACE

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A BOOK TO HOLD OUR STORIESx

Exploring the tools-basket

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THE OuTEr BASkET STruCTurE

• the MIECAT form of inquiry •

‘A form of inquiry’. I have become so used to this terminology after studying for 4 years at MIECAT that it initially escaped my thinking, that the language that I am now so used to seemed so foreign to me when I began. I recognise that this may be the same for you. So as I rummage through this tools-basket I will be as clear and as descriptive as possible.

So I begin with the MIECAT form of inquiry and from my handwritten notes on my study cards:

‘A form of inquiry: To seek information by questioning - to ask.

A systematic investigation, especially a matter of public concern.’

This is indeed a clear description of an inquiry in its barest form.

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What the MIECAT form of inquiry seeks to uncover is the meanings embedded in and constructed through life experiences. To discover what matters in a person’s life. It is an inquiry into meaning.

‘Meaning: A significant quality - value.

Special significance’

The ‘investigation’, which on reflection seems like a harsh word to use for such a gentle process, explores life stories. The inquiry peels back the layers to get the essence of the ‘thing’ that matters to people. This occurs within the space between the researcher and the participant, through conversation and engagement with different art modalities. It is a process of coming to ‘know’ together, through experiencing creatively.

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THE OuTEr BASkET knOTS

• the arts •

As an arts-based inquiry the MIECAT form of inquiry uses all forms of artistic modalities within its ‘gentle investigation’. These may include any creative art form, from drawing, painting or ceramics, through to movement and dance, music, voice and sound, drama and play, and written forms such as poetry and narrative.

during this research story you will see a variety of modalities used, including Artist’s Books,1 drawing, craft, storytelling and drama. We have also used postcards and small figurines as ways to visually represent feeling, thoughts and experiences.

Why use the arts? A/r/tography (2005) an arts-based research method describes the arts as having, “the power to open our imagination and endow experiences with more than one meaning” (“Relational Inquiry,” para. 1). Warren Lett (1992) describes the arts as a way to gain access to areas of the self which are ‘disconnected’. He describes disconnected, stored images, emotions and felt meanings as being released into awareness through the arts – accessing ‘expressive selves’. James McMullian (2010) writes about the process of drawing as an “engagement for the artist, a period of both time and struggle that pulls the artist deeply and intensely into his subject and his ideas” (“Getting Back to the Phantom Skill,” para. 12).

1 An art form using a book format as the canvas

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for me the arts move me out of a ‘head-strong-space’ and into an open field of possibilities and unrestricted imagination. As I create, as my body moves, I focus on ‘being-in’ the creation. Slowly feelings and emotions rise to the surface and connect to ‘things’ that matter for me at the time. I engage and explore, usually through metaphors, and discover a personal knowing which for me is stronger and more clarifying than the spoken word alone. In this story the arts feature throughout. As researcher I have used the arts, as Kristin Baxter (2008) suggests, to problem solve and to probe areas of the inquiry. An example of one of these instances is presented on the next page.

I reached a place of ‘stuckness’ whilst writing this book. I questioned ‘why’ I was telling these women’s stories? I was stuck in one of my ‘head spaces’, surrounded by a pile of books referring to storytelling. I was tunneling kilometers away from the essence of the project. I had written down numerous times in my notes the word ‘threads’, from others’ accounts. This word was important to me but I wasn’t sure why. I purchased some yarn and began to knot. As I created the crochet-piece the story began to form in front of me, in my hands. I could see the shape of the ‘spaces’, the different baskets and strands. With the piece complete I wrote a poem as a way of bringing together what I had come to know.

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There are threads, as they are worked in, they still poke out,

but they are changed.

It starts with a fabric, woven into its own form.

The stories are separate but connected. This is private. The stories are from life.

They are quiet.

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I hear background noise.

I try to block this out. There needs to be respect for the personal.

I look around at the outer world – listening, looking. Yet I sit on the edge, gently weaving threads.

The stories make it solid. Wrapping around and supporting

my relationship to the stories, our relationship to them.

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What I came to know was that this story is personal. The arts offered me, in a tangible way, what I had felt all along. I wanted the reader to ‘feel’ the stories, for you to respond with your own emotions. This is a quiet place, a place of entering into another’s story, where the outside world ‘hushes’, as a story is told.

The arts ‘companioned’ me as researcher, the crochet and then poetry, opened my imagination and reconnected the ‘disconnected’. In the coming pages you will also see the arts used in companioning. ‘Companioning’ the other knot in the outer basket of the MIECAT form of inquiry.

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• the companioning relationship •

Companioning is the term used in the MIECAT form of inquiry to describe the researcher in relation to their participants. The researcher is a companion to their participation during the inquiry process, in the most uncomplicated sense of the word.

‘Companion: A person who accompanies

or spends time with the other’

The MIECAT companion as described by Lett (1992) “stays with and in the experience” (p.16) of the other. This is to come to know and understand the others experience, the best she can. A companion listens, responds, questions, assists, encourages and shares (her responses). She needs to be fully present to enter into an attuned relationship with the other, to trust her intuition, to have courage, empathy and compassion.

Those undertaking the MIECAT form of inquiry believe, that the participant is the expert in their lives and therefore the companion does not interpret but seeks to carefully understand what is being said. As companion the researcher will offer responses back to the participant which say ‘this is what I think I heard you say’, which leads the way for further questioning or verification. In ‘our stories’ you will see that I have used mainly drawing and poetry in this way.

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To me, being accepted as a companion in a research story is a real privilege. I am invited alongside another as they explore what is meaningful, sometimes painful, or at other times joyful in their life. The following journal entry describes how I felt after one storytelling session, when I felt the interacting worlds of my participant and I come together, side-by-side. As described by Lett (1992), it is a process of making sense together.

Journal entry 17th May

Walking along, side-by-side, searching for what it all means,

walking together to clarify.

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THE InnErS Of THE BASkET

• a set of procedures •

As the MIECAT companion collaboratively treks off in search of meaning, she is fully prepared with a set of tools. These tools open out a story and focus down on a ‘strand’, continuing on until an approximation to meaning is found. I always like to draw the picture below to explain ‘how’ the cycle of inquiry works. It is like an hourglass, flowing through wide spaces and narrowing down.

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It is the use of the procedures that carves the ‘story’ route. firstly ‘description’ might walk around the story, describing the events, the feelings, the people. during this time the companion is looking for ‘access points’, points in the story where there is a sense of importance. A potential access point is then paused at and possibly explored in-depth (narrowing down). from here, this one point in the storyline is again opened out and the cycle continues. This is demonstrated in the following simplistic, metaphoric example.

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Imagine this is the story thread in its entirety. The beginning of the story.

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There seems to be something important in this central area. It is teased out to see what is within.

It is the gold thread which appears to jump out for attention.

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Gently the golden thread is lifted aside for further exploration.

The process begins again, with this golden thread. Or perhaps this is the place to stop for now, as meaning is found?

Or maybe the dark blue thread off to the side will be explored?

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The use of the procedures, as described by Lett (1992) are emergent and dependant on the flow of the storyline. If I were to ‘tip’ the tools out of this tools-basket we would find:

description stating what is seen or heard.

Keywords reducing-down large bodies of speech or text to ‘key’ words.

Clustering creating groups of images or words which ‘belong’ together.

Bracketing-in deliberately bringing something of importance into the inquiry.

Bracketing-out deliberately holding out something, putting it aside.

felt sensing a bodily response, where is it felt in the body?

Intersubjective responding a response offered from one person to another.

Representations multi-modal art forms.

Topics something of importance or interest present in experiences, ie. happiness.

Mapping to ‘map’ a topic to explore how it appears in every day life.

There is no order or rules for the use of these tools, they are there to select as needed. They are a companion’s best friend to keep an inquiry flowing.

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There you have it, my tools-basket examined and emptied out. It is a flexible, open weave basket, consisting of the MIECAT form of inquiry; an arts based inquiry into meaning, knitted together with a set of procedures and a companioning relationship. I realise that up until now I have not included the word ‘experiential’,

‘Experiential: the process of making meaning from direct experience’

(Wikipedia)

Again this is something I have taken for granted after being within this ‘world’ for so long. The MIECAT form of inquiry is experiential. It does not pigeon hole itself into one worldview alone, hence the flexible weave, but as described by Lett (2009) it does belong in a postmodern qualitative research culture.

A BOOK TO HOLD OUR STORIESxxvi

AddITIOnAl TrInkETS In THE BASkET

A postmodern culture embraces multiple ways of knowing and multiple ways of getting there (methodologies) all in the search for new knowledge. It is acceptable, in this culture, for researchers to borrow and be inspired by other forms of inquiry. Sommerville (2007) suggests that this borrowing is influenced by the researcher’s personal experiences. In this research story I have borrowed and ‘tweaked’ from two other forms of inquiry, from Peter Reason and Peter Hawkins’ ‘Storytelling as Inquiry’ (1988) and Laurel Richardson’s (2005) ‘Writing as a method of inquiry’.

from ‘Storytelling as Inquiry’ I was inspired by the idea of ‘walking around and wandering into’ a story. Reason and Hawkins (1988) describe a story as containing “many stories interwoven within” (p. 86) and that through exploring in this way the story is opened up. In my way, I drew around and into my participants’ story-threads. I found I gained greater connection to emotions and feelings, with surprising accuracy. When offered back to participants as ‘this is what I think I now know’, I received comments back such as, ‘that is exactly what it was like!’ As hoped by Reason and Hawkins, this method opened up the ‘threads’ rather than being tied down to one tale. I have called this ‘entering into the story strand’.

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‘Writing as a method of inquiry’: I feel guilty even having the thought of reaching for Laurel Richardson’s article (2005), to assist in describing this. She would instead encourage me to ‘just to write’. Her focus is one of ‘realness’ in research writing. Where the researcher’s voice, full of emotion and embodiment is present. She inspired my writing style. I was encouraged by her emphasis on the use of ‘normal’ language and that research should be read and not scanned “its meaning is in the reading” (p.960). She describes these ‘writing-stories’ (as she calls them) to be about “ourselves – our workplaces, disciplines, friends and family” (p.966) rather than subjects ‘out there’, disconnected. In her own writing she uses a mix of different narrative styles, which I enjoy reading and most importantly learn from, as I engage and immerse myself in her text. It is my hope that my account of this research story will achieve the same for you.

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Entering

OUR STORIES

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Story strands

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WHy STOrIES?

I like stories. They inform, helping me to know more about my own life and the world around me.

I have read a great deal about stories, as I have become submerged in ‘our stories.’ Polkinghorne (1988) and Payne (2000) both describe stories as a way in which we describe our own and others actions, “our history of relation to events and people” (Payne 2000, p.41). Who we are, where we have been and where we plan to go are all told through stories. They define a sense of identity, open up possibilities and provide first-hand knowledge and understanding. Stories select and link events and actions, from different times and experiences, which are “threaded into a unique narrative sequence” (Payne 2000, p.71). They are the framework for making greater sense of our and others’ experiences.

Payne (2000) describes ‘local’ knowledge, as expressed in stories, as worthy of respect, as a genuine form of knowledge. Sartre (1964) writes of coming to understand others and ourselves through the stories we write. In collecting these stories, in listening, responding, writing and retelling, I have come to know the ‘narrative’ as woven threads. These are the threads of meaning, possibilities and identities, interlocked; one does not stand apart from the other. I have arrived at ‘what I think I now know’, but as you turn the pages towards ‘our stories’ I invite you “to interact with the text” (finley 1999, p. 319), so that you too can come to your own ‘knowings’ by the close of this book.

As you enter I leave you with some words on story by Clarissa Pinkola Estés (1992), “Story cannot be ‘studied’. It is learned through assimilation, through living in its proximity. There is an integrity to story that comes from a real life lived in it” (p. 505).

A BOOK TO HOLD OUR STORIES4

The story-filter

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THrOugH TO yOu

I am unsure who controls the story-filter. I think maybe it is both the participants and myself. But what I want to make very clear is that this is my telling of the ‘our stories’. It is my recollection, my account.

The story-filter

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during the data collection process I relied on my memory. I chose not to use a tape recorder during the ‘storytelling sessions’, as I wanted to respond to what I ‘took-in’ at the time, rather than dissecting words at a later date. Instead after each ‘session’, alone, I wrote a story. Through writing I revisited the story differently. It was like ‘moving in slow motion’; finer details were brought to my attention. As I wrote the final stories for this book I came to ‘see’ or track the unraveling of different threads. These are shown in bracketed subheads; ‘bracketed-in’ to the storyline. St. Pierre (2005) describes this writing as thinking, analysis and a method of discovery. The process of writing itself became a way of knowing.

These are “stories from the field” (Richardson 1995, p. 191), as I experienced them, trickled through a story-filter.


THE STOry BACkgrOund

It begins in the february with a 2 hour group workshop, to ‘tell your story of what it is like to live in a different culture’, as experienced by women in my local residential area. I place the ‘call for participants’ advertisements in local shops, the local community house and email local contacts. during this recruitment process I came to know that previously established relationships were a factor in my participants coming forward. All of my participants knew me, although they did not know each other.

The workshop, held at the community house, consisted of a warm-up, a walking meditation (reflecting on the research question), noting down of reflections, group sharing of ‘different culture’ stories, Artist’s Book creations and closing with the final book presentations. A fellow researcher was also present to assist; she noted keywords and photographed works. As the women created their Artist’s Books from folded sheets of paper, pictures, glitter, stickers and ribbons, I too created one. My book was in response to each story, I had heard. It was a lovely morning and although it was I who companioned each storyteller during their 20min ‘story window’, I got a real sense of us all companioning each other. All seated in a circle leaning in towards the ‘teller’, looking at photos, asking questions, listening. There was interest and intrigue in what was told and seen.

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Post the workshop I sent the participants personal thank-you cards. The collaged postcards responded to each story and were sent out in the mail.

The next seven months consisted of individual ‘storytellings’. These were held either in my home or that of the participant. The following stories are separated into chapters, one chapter for each story. names have been changed, with participants selecting their own alias.

Welcome to my ‘tell’ of our stories.

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chapter

1 JACKIE YOULE

telling her story

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Story threads

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Two thoughts ran through Jackie’s head, she tells us. The first a tram ride, a smelly tram ride, years ago as a new mum, with a new friend, in a new area of town. It was all new, new and new. This was also her first encounter with the Aboriginal community, which was unpleasant and quite scary. A group of 5 men were drinking, being loud and rude. She felt unsafe, threatened and afraid for her daughter. At the time she was thinking, “Why are they representing themselves like this?” This was her first impression. This was different for her, than at home, with the Maori.2 She says she feels racist saying this, but she just didn’t understand, she lacked knowledge.

Her second thought was of growing-up in a white household, without much Maori influence, without a mother. She tells how her mum was Maori and died when she was young, her dad white. He was hard working. She tells us, the Maori culture is lost. Her words stop there.

Jackie takes us through the light-green pages of her Artist’s Book.

2 Indigenous new Zealander


There is wondering.

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The ‘new’, the no.109 tram, her daughter and the men.


‘Black meets white’, her mum and dad.

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first and lasting impressions. The men were loud and disrespectful.

She wondered why?


Her children, surrounded by ‘love’ and hearts.

Pages full of ‘thoughts’ some spoken about at length others not. Some pages opening freely, some requiring care to open.

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I respond to Jackie’s story. The words questioning, protection and unknown, are written. A painted face, covers the owners true identity. Black fingerprints smear the page.

Jackie tells us, “It was quite scary.”


Before leaving Jackie adds a ‘smile’ to the back page. This she says is to show she is a good person.

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Sent in the post

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A Chamber nautilus, to symbolise growth, the head of the figure. Country sits on her ankles with the word gathering to the side. In the blue the words, ‘we all gotta have dreams, harmony’. Small hands sit beneath they are black over white.


Two sides

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We begin by looking at her Artist’s Book. Jackie remembers well that day on the tram. I ask her, “What did it feel like?” She describes it as ‘unease’, as if the whole tram was ‘on edge’. She tells me the men were behind her, she could hear them but she could not see them. She had the pushchair, which was restricting, her daughter was looking at them and she wished she wouldn’t. She felt that she needed to protect her daughter.

I pause her here, to pick-up a ‘thread’.

{A ‘protection’ thread?}

I ask, “What did she need to protect her daughter from?” firstly she is unsure, then, from someone in that state interacting with her innocent child. She wanted them to ‘get away!’ They were erratic, which made her fearful. She is silent. I wait. She tells me she wanted to protect her daughter from being disfunctional, like them, like her – the two sides, black and white, good and bad.

{loosening the threads}

I ask can she find some postcards to represent this? She is unsure – ‘them’, her, the black and white...

We empty the postcards onto the floor. She finds her cards. Clustering them into groups, she talks me through them.

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This is the hazy and dark.


And, the two sides, in between is the little girl.

{focusing on one thread}

I ask can she show me what it is like to be in between both sides? She searches and finds a new card, adding what she describes as ‘haze’, with a pastel.

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I focus on the little figure and offer Jackie a response, “It looks like the little figure is struggling to stand up. It looks like hard work.” She agrees. I ask if she knows the figure? She tells me, maybe it’s her daughter, maybe it’s her... With certainty she says, “It’s the little girl.”


{The little girl}

I ask, “What does the little girl need?” She responds, “Protection.” She turns to the postcard pile. “What sort of protection? A gun?” I ask. “no”, she tells me, “It’s a shield. I saw one,” her hands sifting though the cards. She finds ‘it’ and cuts it to shape. “It’s a love shield!” she declares and places it over the little girl. She gently rubs away the haze covering the little girl, with her finger. I ask how the little girl feels now? She tells me, “It doesn’t feel so isolated.”

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{The heart}

I notice there is also a small heart formed out of the shield’s inner. I ask, “Can they move?” Referring to the shield and heart. She responds, “The shield never moves, but the heart can.”

{Haze}

I ask about the haze. She tells me, “It’s the black and white, the good and bad.” This concerns her, she tells me she worries about her daughter. She tells of times in her past when she was disrespectful, bad (but not really bad), when things were hazy. “Probably because of this” she says, opening her Artist’s Book at ‘black meets white.’ I nod as she closes the book and the thread is tucked away.

{A vibrant thread}

“But, it’s different now with my son”, she explains, in a brighter tone. I ask, “How is it different?” She tells me, “There’s a newness.” I ask does ‘newness’ belong ‘here’? It does.


She finds a bright red cherry and the words ‘new cool’. She locates its position on the card, “It does not belong in the hazy browns and greens”, she tells me, “And, it shouldn’t cover Australia, it’s all about Australia now.”

{gathering-in}

I read aloud the words on the shield, “Take it easy, don’t cry, time, new.” We’re both surprised, what an appropriate selection of words.

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{A thread pokes out}

She starts to tidy. She shows me a card she did not use, explaining there is something about it, about the blue... Perhaps she can use it next time? I agree. What an intense card, I sense my unease. What is this ‘blue’?


{A heart-response}

Jackie lies down on the floor, watching me draw. I draw two sides, which blend in the middle. I wonder aloud, “What lies in between?” I answer, “A heart.” I can sense Jackie’s approval. Later she tells me she was thinking, “Yes, yes, about the heart.”

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{What we think we both now know}

What lies in between two sides amongst the haze is a heart.

I find her an envelope, golden in colour, she places her pieces in and heads home.


Entering into the story strands

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Between two sides

It’s about old and new, it’s about two sides. Alone in the valley between two sides.

Are you alone? Or is someone there with you?

I look from afar.

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To shield

Protecting your young. Are you going into battle?

Or are you defending?


Perseus and Medusa

Just like Perseus and Medusa... the shield,

the old and the new.

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The past, the present, the future

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I show Jackie my ‘wanderings’ and read her Perseus and Medusa. The shield in the tale surprises her too.

We chat, both ‘wandering’ in words, I’m unsure where to head. My journal page is open at ‘between two sides’ she refers to it so I grab hold of a ‘thread’ hoping for the best.

I ask Jackie if we could explore her experience of being ‘between two sides’, with small objects. With a questioning look, she agrees. As she searches for her objects I draw the ‘hills and valley’ on a piece of paper. She places her objects and then tells me of each ‘side’.


{Telling her story}

To her left her dad’s side, the white side. She grew up here, she knows it well. There are three pebbles – Jackie, her older sister and younger brother. They are two years apart, she was closest to her brother. Her dad is the large orange pebble, he was hard-working and sits on a chair, which represents visiting. They used to go visiting, by car, a lot. Mostly ‘up north’ to visit her grandparents. ‘Up north’, is also where her mother’s grave is, the white flower. They hated going to the grave.

I feel a swirl of sadness churn in my stomach; I bracket it out as she carries on.

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There is a truck, a reminder of drives with her grandfather and brother – they would stop and look at trucks. The green frog is her grandmother. This is her white up bringing, her dad’s side.


To her right is her mum’s side. She doesn’t know much about this side. The green pebble is Pounamu3 this she knows is Maori. Her dad gave her a Pounamu Tiki4 for her birthday once. She lost it that night, accidently. Her dad seemed disappointed but she felt it wasn’t the right stone for her. They say the stone has a mind of its own.

There is a bird, which she says, “Could be Maori?” She looks at me, I agree. I too am a new Zealander. I bracket-out my thoughts of birds and death in Maori myths, to stay with her story. I wonder if she has had the same thoughts?

The final ‘object’ is a pink rose, her mum.

3. Greenstone, a type of jade.

4. A carved figure.

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Moving to the middle she explains, “This is Australia,” there are two snakes. She tells me she did not realise it when she left new Zealand, but Australia had a purpose. I question this. She responds, “It was about new beginnings, a new start.”

I go back through the items, naming each aloud. I end at the three small pebbles, saying, “Yourself, your brother and your sister. You were always together.” “Yes”, she affirms. She explains she was probably closer to her brother, because her sister took on the mothering role, with her grandmother. I nod. I wonder where to go to next.


{Possibilities?}

I query if her pebble can move to her mum’s side? She thinks, and then explains that she would have to take her brother and sister with her. She tells of how they never fitted into the Maori side. At school they saw it, but they didn’t fit into it. She could have taken Maori studies, but didn’t. She wanted to; to understand, to know the culture, but it made her feel uncomfortable. no one would have objected, not her dad nor grandmother. Her grandmother’s friends were all Maori.

{A strand of discomfort}

I inquire into the discomfort. She touches the white rose, “Because of this”, she says, “It was not spoken about at home, when we were growing up.”

She produces from her handbag a piece of paper. On it she has written reflections from last time. It is the word ‘blue’ twice underlined which captures my attention. I ask Jackie, “ Is the ‘blue’ in this scene?”

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{Blue}

She draws a blue line around the white rose, of her mother’s grave.


{Shielded}

Returning to her handbag she produces the ‘golden envelope’ lifting out the ‘love shield’. She tells me if the pebbles were to move then they would need this. She moves them to her mum’s side and places the shield on top. The orange pebble is also moved and given a little bit of the shield, “But only a little”, she explains. Her grandmother is moved there too.

She tells me her cousin is learning more about the Maori culture, she would go there if he were there.

{now – in the middle}

She takes us back to the middle, to Australia. She tells me there is ‘love’.

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She adds a little sparkling heart and two roses, pink for her daughter and green for her little boy. She nestles her grandmother between them. She tells me there is ‘love and support’.

{On the edge}

I notice on the edge of the table, with it’s back to me, a little bronze frog. I’m surprised; I had not seen it up until now. I ask about it.


She tells me this is isolation. I ask if it wants to move. “no”, she tells me, “It’s fine, sometimes it’s good to have isolation.”

{Isolation}

She looks at my drawing of ‘between two sides’ and answers my questions. She tells me, “My brother and sister were there but I still felt isolated.”

With certainty she explains, “Isolation is ok. It can just sit there. It just is.” The little bronze frog remains unmoved from the edge.

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{now and into the future}

She looks over the scene and from her envelope she adds to the middle her Artist’s Book and the ‘new-cool-cherry’ postcard. She explains these represent possibilities and wondering for the future.

As I look over the scene I notice that the little girl in the postcard is without the love shield. Jackie tells me this is ok because the heart is next to her. I relax.

I ask if there is anything she would like to add? She laughs she had forgotten her partner. She finds ‘him’ and positions him on top of the ‘red dress’. She explains that they are each other’s family now, as neither have parents in Australia.


{Stepping back}

I ask Jackie what she thinks she now knows? She tells me, “Australia is now. It’s about new opportunities. It is multi-cultural. It is free. It is an Australian culture.” She tells me she is not sure what all this means? I reassure her and ask if I can respond. She accepts.

{In response}

Whilst searching for the ‘blue’ card I find the remnants of the ‘love shield’, I combine the two on a collaged card. On offering Jackie the card I read out the words and apologise that the edges of the paper are torn, it’s not neat. She comments, “That’s ok, what is (neat) in life.”

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She places her pieces in her golden envelope and before leaving checks-in with me. She is concerned for my project, about her story in relation to culture. Before I have time to answer she continues, “Actually it’s all about culture.” I agree.


Becoming clear

q

{A researcher’s search for meaning}

In the weeks leading up to the final session I read through my ‘recollection stories’, selected keywords, clustered and re-clustered to form ‘topics’. But it didn’t seem right. I felt myself moving away from Jackie’s story. So, moments before leaving home for our last ‘session’ together, I discarded them, instead re-reading the stories in full. Without over-thinking I wrote a list of the strands I saw come into view. This is what I ‘saw’:

A new country Isolation

Love Support family

Loss of culture Two sides

Loss and grief

I take these with me to meet with Jackie.

{Our final meeting}

I show Jackie the list. She looks at me and says, “They are all there.” I ask are there any she would like to know more about? What stands out to her? She points to ‘love’ and looking down at the page and back at me, says, “And I guess, loss and grief.”

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A special love

q

Our mapping of ‘love’ begins with the question, “What does love do?” She tells me it protects from isolation. “Who does it protect?” I ask. She tells me, “Her daughter.”

{love protects, protected, protector?}

I draw a red heart on a page and write her daughter’s name. She tells me it also protects her son, her partner and herself – it protects those she loves.

She tells me, “Love protects the heart from loss and grief.” I write ‘loss and grief’ on the page beneath, but she has moved on. “Love”, she tells me, “Protects against sadness, but it does not block others out.”


I ask, “Where does this love happen?” first she responds, in private, then no this love ‘happens’ in public, in threatening situations, around strangers. It happens when she senses a potential attack, it is defensive. She tells me a story.

{defending those she loves}

When her daughter was young, a lady who had been sniffing paint came to her close to her, putting her face into the pushchair. Jackie wanted to yell at her, “Stay away!” But didn’t. I asked, “What was happening inside your body?”

Instantaneously her arm shot out straight, fast and strong, with an upward ‘stopping-hand’. Her hand flew towards me with such speed that I was surprised, I moved back in my chair, we both laughed (at my response). The action was quick, strong, reactive and defensive. She explains that this was how she felt, but didn’t actually do it, she didn’t want to offend.

She describes this feeling of defensiveness when around strangers, where there is potential harm, it is unpredictable, random – it is hazy. She feels anger and hate. We move around the map to ‘values and conflicts’.

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{Values and conflicts}

She values honesty and open communication. She does not like secrets but did lie to her daughter when she asked, “Why did the lady have paint on her face?” She lied because she wanted to protect her innocence from the truth. She doesn’t like lying to her. I offer that this seems like a conflict, she agrees.

She tells me there is also conflict in that she might defend, feel anger and hate, but she also tries to keep calm and be peaceful. She does not want to offend. She is a good person.

{final words on a special love}

I ask “What does she think she now knows about this love and how does she want to be with it?”

She tells me, “It is fine. It is not needed everyday. It is special. It is only needed to defend, it is not attacking – it is a defense.”


Loss and Grief

q

Jackie leads the ‘loss and grief’ mapping with certainty. I struggle to keep-up.

She tells me, “Loss and grief happens in death, it is an end. It’s lost, unexpected. When it happens you cry, you need the love shield for protection. nothing is clear, there are the thoughts of trying to make it clear. You need love and support. There is the (colour) blue, there is sadness and anger.”

I am struck by, ‘it is an end’. I resonate with her words. I had not thought of loss and grief in this way before.

for my own clarity I need to slow things down, look closer. I ask if she can show me with the postcards? She agrees. She selects and clusters her cards, then describes.

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This is anger, the threat.


It is random, unexpected.

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The green is hazy, unclearness, nothing is clear.


There are the thoughts, attempting to make it clear.

I am curious about the ‘green’. I ask, “What is the difference between the ‘blue’ and the ‘green’?” Jackie tells me, “Blue is sadness and green, unclearness.” Both colours are named.

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{Coming to know}

We are coming to know that in loss and grief there are feelings of anger and sadness. It is unexpected, random and threatening, it is unclearness, with thoughts attempting to make ‘it’ clear.

I ask, “Can you draw what it’s like to be in loss and grief?” She doubts her drawing abilities, I reassure her. I watch as she carefully selects her pastels.

{describing the picture}

She describes the large outer circle as ‘life’, with loss and grief as the swirling blue circle. The space in the middle of loss and grief is ‘isolation’. There is also love, the heart and the ‘day-to-day’ life that goes on, the tree.

I ask about ‘isolation’. She tells me, “It only comes from loss and grief.” I ask, “Where is she in the picture?” She explains, “If you are in loss and grief, then you are in the center.” She draws a figure in ‘isolation’.

{Isolation in essence}

She explains, “Isolation is only a small part.” I respond, “I notice the space isolation provides, it looks like a ‘clear space’, away from the haze and the emotion.” Jackie reduces this, “Isolation is needed to help make sense.”


{Blue threads unravel}

I comment on the three shades of blue, in the loss and grief swirl. Jackie identifies these as sadness, anger and underneath – the haziness.

{Missing emotion}

‘Hate’ appears to be missing I question this. Jackie adds it with brown pastel to the edge of ‘loss and grief’ and to the edge of ‘life’. I respond, “A hate of the picture.” She agrees.

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{A different landscape}

I ask what the landscape looks like when you’re not in loss and grief?

She draws a tree with a large heart overlapping the trunk and branches. Loss and grief is still there, but it is a smaller.

I ask about ‘loss and grief’, she tells me, “It always remains part of the landscape, it never disappears. There is just life and love, and memories of the loss. It is a small part of the bigger picture, there is everything else.”


{With whom, values and conflicts}

She tells me, it is private, it is about the ones she loves, ‘her little family’. She values love, which does conflict with the hate. There is also a conflict in not being able to make sense of the situation.

{Jackie’s final knowings, for now}

The intensity of loss and grief passes, it is big and then it gets smaller – but it never goes away. It is fine to be however you are in loss and grief, as it is not permanent – life still goes on – life, love and the memory of loss.

Silently, my own experiences of ‘loss and grief’ enter. I respond with a poem.

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{Time}

Swirling around, blue sadness, green haze, making sense, sense of what? I can’t see clearly, there are tears, there is sadness pushing in on me.

Space.

Clear white space.

Isolation. Time.

now I look up at it, floating in the leaves, it’s still up there, it will always be there. I can see love, I can feel love, overlaid, on my branches, my trunk, my leaves. The love is in the middle of my growth. A beautiful full heart shields, a growing tree.


I am unsure about a title, so I offer it ‘untitled’. On hearing the poem Jackie informs me, “It’s there.” She points to the word on the twelfth line, ‘time’.

“It is all about time”, she tells me. With surprise in her voice she continues, “This is not just about me, this could be anyone!” I agree. She explains that the poem captures it and it should go on the wall, as a reminder to others.

It’s all about time.

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Closing the chapter

v A researcher’s reflections

at the end of telling Jackie youle’s story

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One never knows when the unpredictable wind will blow in.

The trees sway, the memories of loss look down, surrounded by blueness, of sadness, down upon a little figure protected by love, a love which surrounds, but does not block. deeper than the surface, beyond a soaked red ground.

It is strong. It provides strength. Courage to go on.

The little figure is alone, that’s ok she needs the space, to make it clear. Others are near, those on the ground and those nestled in the trees, connected by a special love.

With time, loss slowly soaks underground. Into the roots of the trees of life, an unseen sustenance filtered through, to trunks and branches above. Homes and shelter, protective, protected, in view but out of reach.

Memories live on.

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chapter

2 telling

PATRICIA’S STORY

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The invitation

q

On receiving the invitation Patricia responds in an email. She writes:

‘looks fantastic and wish I could attend. Would six months as the live-in cook/companion to the lady in Waiting to the Queen Mother in the uk in my 20s count?’

What is culture? Her question provoked me to explore the word.

“Culture: the conduct, traditions, language, mores5,

customs, beliefs, institutions, art, literature, laws, religion, dress and so forth

that are passed down to community members from generation to generation”

(SAGE Glossary of the Social and Behavioral Sciences, 2009 para 1).

Living in a British Royal household as opposed to an Australian household, would this be a difference of culture? With different traditions, values, art, customs, beliefs and even dress… common sense says ‘yes’ and Patricia has identified with the research question – of course her experience counts.

5 Societal norms, customs, virtues or values


Re-telling Hambleden

q

We huddle around to look at her photos. Patricia introduces us to the English village of Hambleden with pictures of cottages and descriptions of meandering countryside lanes and of the time when it snowed. She tells us it was historical, beautiful, gorgeous and peaceful – it was idyllic.

She shows us a photo of a ‘rather proper’ lady with her dog. This, she tells us, is the dowager Viscountess Hambleden, Lady H. She laughs as she explains Lady H was actually just plain old Mrs. Smith.6

Patricia never really knew what her relationship with Lady H, who was quite old, was supposed to be. She was ‘just there’. She would make Lady H a Bloody Mary 7 every Sunday night and each week receive her pay in the post. This amused her as she lived under the same roof, yet never received it from Lady H herself. She has brought one of the envelopes to show us.

The residence she describes as large with many rooms, including servants’ rooms. She recalls areas of the floor, which were alarmed to protect paintings on the wall. She remembers thinking, “Crikey!” when she realised one was a Turner.8

Patricia knew when things were ‘stirring’ in the Royal household as Lady H would be requested to go to London. Patricia was in Hambleden when Lady di and Prince Charles became engaged. It was very exciting.

6 Her actual surname was Smith.

7 An alcoholic drink.

8 William Turner an English Romantic landscape painter, watercolourist and printmaker.

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It was fascinating to watch, but she knew she would never be a part of it. It was a different world. She talks us through her Artist’s Book which itself has differences.

Postcards and souvenirs from a time living in a Royal household are pasted onto the ‘royal side’. In the centre there is a piece of Lady H’s watermarked stationery. This is the first time Patricia has used it. A purple ribbon is tied in a bow and stitched to the page above a photo of Lady H and her dog. Across the base in purple are the words, dOWAGER VISCOUnTESS HAMBLEdEn.


flipped over and the words ‘fun’, ‘happiness’, ‘friends’, ‘just visiting’, ‘participate’ and ‘observe’ are scattered amongst pictures of, keys, love hearts, passport stamps, Hambleden village and Patricia’s pay envelope. A postcard with figures with thought bubbles reads ‘everyone here belongs except me’, all except one which reads ‘everyone here is cool and groovy except me’.

Looking down into the middle of the book and a sparkling glitter filled scene is revealed. This represents a time and place Patricia shared with her friend Judy. It is of walking through the village, at night.

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Her friend Judy was an ‘American baby-sitter’, they are still good friends. At night they would walk through the town and talk about being away from home, about the differences and the similarities they experienced.

Patricia explained that these evening walks were a time to talk, fulfilling the need to talk, to share with someone whose life was similar. It was a time of processing. She explains that, “There is something about walking down the road, which brings two people together.” Walking and talking, supporting each other.

The two red figures, Patricia and Judy, are on a path beneath a starlit sky.


The stars were a reminder to Patricia of how far away from home she really was. She saw unfamiliar foreign stars. Both Patricia and Judy were in a completely different world.

Patricia also walked alone. She describes this as her place, her comfort. It was her walk.

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After sharing her Artist’s Book Patricia realises that Judy is missing from her book. She adds a photo of her, next to the word ‘friends’.


I respond with a drawing and a postcard. The drawing consists of two lines, two paths, one yellow, one red, travelling alongside a central track. The words, ‘same track, let’s wander and chat, connection’, run through the center.

I explain that I’m not sure why I selected the postcard, something to do with the foreignness of the two characters.

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Patricia laughed, surprisingly she had considered using it herself. She shows us the card she selected instead, it is pasted onto an envelope from Lady H’s personalised stationery set.

Two people seated side-by-side, under a starlit sky. It reads ‘A story about two strangers. One a little stranger than the other...’


Patricia folds up her reflection sheet, slipping it into the envelope. It is then ‘housed’ in the middle of her book.

{from Patricia’s reflections}

them there us here me here me myself fine about sharing yours there over there out of reach not me not mine that’s ok too so much don’t need all of it

take opportunities make choices so much going on. what’s here what’s now

that’s good – observer. join in. an experience.

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Sent in the post

q

I respond to adventures in ‘foreign lands’. It is about giving; in the telling and of receiving; as the listener. Like an explorer returning from a voyage laden with riveting tales of what they had seen – lots of stories to tell.


Entering into the story strand

q

Vastness

A cool, clear, snowy night, peaceful.

Gazing into the sky, there is nothing the same.

The stars... I am far away from home, yet here, I am here and they are there.

An empty but full space – this is my place, a universal space.

I am held by the earth.

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different landscapes

A sky and land not recognised. Yet recognised,

as a sky and land.


Walking

Her friend, her walk,

similarities, comfort.

Her place.

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Stories to explain

q

We begin with a cup of tea, sweet cakes and a chat. I show Patricia ‘entering into the story strand’. She responds to ‘vastness’ and ‘walking’. She explains, “That it is exactly what it was like... the driveway leading out from the house and the hills.” In fact there are three places she relates these pictures to. She describes these as her ‘quiet places’.

{Quiet places}

She tells me these are the places where ‘noise’ is removed. There is space and time to observe, to just be. “It’s a state of mind”, she explains. It’s a place of wondering, of slowing down and stopping, of contemplation.

I share with her the place I went to in the drawing, my place. This for me is looking out at the ocean. The vastness makes me feel closer to my family in a different country, it makes the distance seem less. Patricia agrees, “They are just over there,” she says, arm outstretched, pointing into the distance. I agree.

{Connections}

She tells me of her own ‘connections’ to home, when she was overseas. She explains, when she felt a strong connection with home she did not feel a need to return. The stronger the connection the more comfortable she was, confident and safe.

However, when the connection was not strong then she wanted to return home.


{decisions}

She tells of her return from the UK. She wasn’t really ready to leave but an Australian friend suggested it, so they did. She laughs as she recalls that they didn’t travel together overseas, only the trip home. It was an idea and she went with it. It was the same when she left Australia. Her sister suggested she travel with her, Patricia said ‘ok’.

Once in Europe Patricia and her sister, joined a Contiki travel tour. She tells me, this was when she experienced a ‘growing-up moment’.

{A growing up thread}

One day on the tour they arrived at their destination. Patricia soon discovered that this was the only location in the town that the tour had intended them to see. She knew there was more down in the village. So, having checked group departure times, she boarded a local bus and found her own way down to the village. She explored independently and returned at the end of the day as planned. She had proven to herself that she could do it. from this time on, she explains, she began to live as a grown-up, to have responsibilities.

Her focus returns back to the drawing of vastness. She tells me, this is a space where decisions are made about opportunities. She could do anything but always with safety in mind.

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I ask about this thread, ‘safety in mind’. She explains.

{A safety thread}

during her European travels, whilst travelling with a friend, they found themselves in an unsafe situation late at night. They were in a foreign country, in the middle of nowhere. Her friend was not responding well to the situation and so Patricia took the lead. She made some quick decisions and then told her friend what they were both going to do. Her actions took them to a safe place that evening. She explained that although she had an outward confidence, underneath she was thinking ‘holy cow!’

She tells me these overseas stories are different from travelling in Australia, when she returned. I ask, “How are they different?” She tells me, overseas was special, Australian trips are ‘nothing special’.

I ask her if she can show me with the postcards. She selects and describes the cards.


The cast and scene

q

The superhero

The superhero has an outwards confidence, with safety underfoot.

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Holy cow

Holy cow is the feeling inside the superhero.


The special

Setting sail in a paper boat. A boat she made herself.

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Putting a ‘fork in it’

The world globe with an eating fork pressed into the top.


The nothing special

The ‘meant to be’. The average journey.

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{Belonging together}

I ask Patricia if she can cluster the ‘characters’. She tells me that the superhero and holy cow belong together. The superhero is on the top, with holy cow underneath. I hold the superhero card above holy cow, “Like this?” I ask. She agrees.

She clusters the special and ‘putting a fork in it’ together on the ground. ‘nothing special’ sits out on its own.

{Special v’s the nothing special}

I ask Patricia the difference between ‘the special’ and ‘the nothing special’. She explains. The ‘special’ journeys are hers. They are different. She likes to be different. They consist of times and places where there are no expectations, they are just about discovery.

The ‘nothing special’ fails to engage Patricia. They are expected, they are ‘supposed to be’. They are ‘ho-hum’.

She relates this to a recent television show, I’m not sure I follow, until the threads unravel.

{discovering an experiencing thread}

On the show the contestants did not taste or try the ingredients and as a result they got it wrong. She explains, “If you don’t try something, then you don’t know. You need to put your fork in it.” I acknowledge the world with the fork in it. She nods.


She describes a rich experience as discovering things she didn’t know before. She points to the ‘paper boat’, the intellectual rigor of knowing what she is talking about through experiencing. She tells me, “It’s invigorating.”

{A different view}

I’m curious about the ‘ho-hum’. I inquire. Patricia explains that this is the ‘fake veneer’. “There’s nothing wrong with this”, she explains, she has a little bit of this now also, living in our suburb.

I am curious about what values might be held in what she had just explained. I ask can she show me in a drawing.

She begins with horizontal and vertical multi-coloured lines. A box is drawn, with layers and lines. She explains, “It is a through-view, with levels of transparency. It is three-dimensional; there are layers and paths. It is neither, good or bad. The box can move, it can twist and flex.” Patricia likes these qualities, the twist and the flex, which, she explains, is probably why she likes working with glass.9

9 Patricia is an accomplished glass artist.

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I comment, “I can see the different layers.”

{Opportunities}

She tells me she likes exploring options, even if they don’t eventuate. She nearly went to Antarctica once. One trip, to South Australia, which was in the ‘nothing special’ category, did however reconnect her to an old friend.


{reconnecting}

She had loaned one of her t.shirts to someone on the tour. He wore it into a pub where Patricia’s old friend worked. Recognising the shirt her friend asked where Patricia was. Through this their friendship was rekindled. Travel experiences like these are all about the people, she explains.

{Comfort v’s discomfort}

Telling of work opportunities brings Patricia’s storyline back to the present. She recollects recent work related events and explains, when something is uncomfortable enough then she will do something about it. She laughs, she tells me that she is actually quite lazy and won’t do something if it is too hard. But, if she wants it she will do it! But, she will do it safely.

{retrieving the cards}

The word ‘safety’ brings our attention back to the postcards laid out on the floor. I ask Patricia, “What do you think you know now?” Pointing to the cards she explains. She puts her fork into the world, with intellectual rigor and an element of comfort. The superhero appears when she is unsure if she can achieve ‘it’. She wraps the ‘I can do it’ cape around her shoulders. Underneath there is the ‘holy cow’ panic, yet she knows not to panic, that she can always rely on instinct on the day. fear keeps her on her toes, but, even though she is being a superhero, she does it safely. She finds this invigorating. “It’s the Guru Bravado!”10 she declares.

10 guru – is one who is regarded as having great knowledge, wisdom and authority in a certain area and who uses it to guide others. Bravado –a pretense of bravery. The quality or state of being fool hard.

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{guru Bravado}

I ask how the Guru Bravado fits with the postcards. She tells me, “They are the Guru Bravado.” She positions them together to create the ‘scene’.

She describes the intellectual rigor, the experiences and the superhero with the outer confidence, underneath the inner fears. To the side, half-on, half-off the page, a little bit of the ho-hum.

She tells me, “not too much of the ho-hum or the superhero.”


She picks up her Artist’s Book and tells me her time, with Lady H was the starting point. It is her history. It was a time of inner reflections and that this, pointing to the Guru Bravado, is where she has ended up, the outwards reflection.

I ask if I can respond to her story with a drama enactment. She agrees.

{description of the enactment}

I begin by surveying the area, exclaiming, “This is not a safe situation, I need the superhero.” I spin around in a circle and put on my imaginary cape. “da-da!” I declare, I am the confident hero. I launch into action rescuing my (imaginary) ‘distressed friend’. I tell her what we are going to do with certainty. I pause for a second and ‘fess-up’ that I’m afraid, “Yikes!” I then launch back into action. I reach an area of the room and say, “This looks safe.” I’m about to settle when my dog decides to makes an improvised entry. I tell him to follow me, but no, he has other ideas and walks off. I tell him, “That is fine. do what you like! doesn’t bother me!” Then I rest, sitting quietly. I tell my ‘audience’, “It is quite exhausting being a superhero. I’m pleased the danger is behind us and we are safe at last.”

Patricia is laughing by the time I finish and explains that she particularly liked the part when the dog did not follow my lead and I told him he could do what he wants. She tells me she would have said the same thing.

As she leaves she tells me that when I am finished with Guru Bravado she would like it back – she really likes the two superheroes and of course the safety.

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Closing the chapter


at the end of telling

Patricia’s story

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Within one body, one mind, inner reflections, and outward calm.

formed from life experiences, a unique landscape, the individual, the experiences. no other landscape can be the same.

Experiences flow all around, wisping through inner thoughts, holy cow, vulnerability on bare arms. Sweeping over, caught, pushed into, to create definition, on the outer form.

Becoming one with the experience, The individual becomes strong.

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chapter

3 telling

BUTTERfLY’S STORY

101

Wings that softly flutter

q

Butterfly brings to the workshop the story of her friends. These are her special group of women, from different cultural backgrounds. Through a photo she introduces us to them by name, where they are from and some of their religious beliefs.

She explains that they came together as a mum’s group through school (one is a grandmother). They gathered every day after school and began to chat, even do activities like yoga. Butterfly describes it as a very special friendship group.

This group threw a surprise party, which she knew about, for her recent birthday. They made her a beautiful butterfly cake and all wore fairy wings – she likes fairies and things that glitter.

She shared with us her key words; happy, feelings, friends, comforting, noise, helpful, surprise, the best ever, laughter, freedom, kids, fun, food memories, birthday, special.

Her Artist’s Book holds her story, which she reads out aloud, as we huddle in to see.


This is a book about her special friends.

.

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These are her special friends that she has found recently. They have entered into her world.

She would not change it for anything.

They are a multi-cultural group, which Butterfly says is ‘very exciting’.


They are special to her each in their own way, just like the glorious vase of flowers.

Each different and beautiful.

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There is the wonderful butterfly cake made for her birthday and surprise in realising how much love and support

they have for each other.

Living on her own now, as she goes through a divorce, Butterfly’s friends tell her she will never be alone

– they will always be with her. Which is just the way that Butterfly wants it.


As the glittering pages close and the storytelling ends, I am filled with admiration for these women, who support each other.

‘Giving’, this is the word I think of when reflecting on Butterfly’s story. no differences come between them regardless of culture. They are together, filling in the gaps with love and support. The vibrant red ‘out colours’ the black.

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Sent in the post

q

I wanted to capture the beauty in the story, the act of humanity, people supporting one another. The card features hands, palms outreached towards birds in flight. The words read, ‘Oh, the humanity, the women of hope of a beautiful possibility, every flower says so’.


The landscape of a special group

q

This time it is I who reads aloud. I read and turn the pages of her Artist’s Book as Butterfly looks on. She acknowledges with a nod, a smile, or the words, “That is right”, as pages turn.

When we finish I tell her that it is the word ‘always’ on the final pages, which hold my attention – always together, always there for each other. I ask Butterfly, what is it like to know that your friends will always be there for her? She replies, “It is like a rock.”

{A rock}

I ask if she can find an image of ‘the rock’. We search together and find a mountain, which she says, “Will do.”

I ask where would she be in the landscape? Butterfly draws herself on the top of the middle mountain. She then adds each woman from her group, she carefully considers who stands next to who. They are all standing on the shoreline except one, the eldest in the group, ‘the matriarch’, who stands beside Butterfly.

{The matriarch}

She stands on an adjacent mountain ridge. Butterfly tells of the support she received from her during ‘the transition’.

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{locating what matters}

I ask if there is anything missing from the picture? She tells me, “Love.” She adds love hearts, which overlap.

I am curious about what might be in between Butterfly and her women? She responds, “Specialness at the base and happiness in the sky, in between there is respect.” I write in these keywords on the page.

I ask how does she think ‘the matriarch’ might feel standing next to her? She tells me she would be proud.


{looking, seeing}

I hold the picture up and ask Butterfly, “What is it like to look at this landscape?” She tells me that she sees herself from the place of the others and to see the others, to look down the mountain and back up.

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{Without = lost}

I ask, “What would it be like if someone was missing from the group?” Butterfly explains, “It would not happen, without one we would be lost.”

{Together = support}

She looks down at the picture and talks of support. She tells me about the varying ways the women have supported her during difficult times. She describes these women and their generosity as unbelievable, unique and special. She tells me, “They are a truly amazing, spectacular group of ladies.”

{Holding soft threads}

I ask, “What do you think you now know about your special group?” She tells me. “They are unique and special. There is support and everlasting love.”

I read out the keywords I had noted down, she composes them into a closing statement:

“Respect leads to uniqueness which results in happiness. Without each other we would feel lost because we are always there for each other.”


I respond with a babushka doll. I draw little rectangles, filled with different colours and add floating, overlapping love hearts.

I explain, “Just like a babushka doll no one knows what is inside. But the closer we go we find a support network within. not visible from the surface, many women make the outer one strong.”

113

As we tidy, the emptied out postcard box, Butterfly stops at an exhibition guide for the state art gallery. She explains that she is looking for her uncle’s work, which is in the Cunningham dux collection.11 I am surprised, I had not expected this to emerge. She tells me her uncle had difficulties when he arrived in Australia from Romania. She had a special connection to him. She talks of his carvings, of identifying his work and yet they still appear as ‘artist unknown’ in the collection. I ask how does this make her feel. She tells me annoyed and sad.

This ‘thread’ appeared out of nowhere and disappeared as quick. I don’t want to pull at it, or tangle it, so gently let it go.

11 The Cunningham dax Collection consists of creative works created by people who have experienced mental unwellness or psychological trauma. In Butterfly’s uncles situation this artwork was created whilst he was in a psychiatric facility.


Entering into the story strand

q

A secure bubble

A group of wise women, all different, from different elements, nature, brightness, quiet, gentle, loud, soft. Standing together, holding hands – hovering above the darkness. This is a safe place. There is lightness,

if only for right now, that is all that matters, they have each other.

There is blue, a clear sky, but it is a long way away. Together they float. Always, together.

115

Special connections

q

It has been four months since our last interview. I show her ‘a secure bubble’. She tells me that this is exactly what it is like to be with her group of women. I am curious to know what it feels like to be in the middle of this bubble? Butterfly tells me “It is special.”

{Concern}

She then tells me things are better now with ‘the matriarch’. When her grandchild was no longer at the school ‘the matriarch’ had removed herself from the group. Phone calls went unanswered and the others felt hurt and angry. But Butterfly stood by her because she had helped her so much.

She explains that it was ‘the matriarch’ who helped her find a new home, driving her around until she found a place to live. Butterfly has a special connection to her. “A special connection”, I mirror her words and note them down.

{A special connection}

She asks me if she had told me about her nephew? I respond that she had not. She told me of his tragic death. He was propelled out of the sunroof of his car in an accident, they say he died instantly. She was very close to her nephew they had this special bond.


She then tells me of a dream, just before her separation. In the dream her nephew had visited Butterfly. He was showing her a house, which she did not know. He was telling her it was going to be ok. She tells me she was confused at the time, not knowing that only weeks later she would be searching for this place, the unit she is now in.

This is the special connection she had with her nephew and his brother. Listening to her story I feel very sad.

I find I need to bracket-out my own feelings to carry on.

There is a lot held so far in ‘special connections’, I ask if we can take a closer look? She agrees and represents ‘special connections’ with postcards. They are laid out on the floor.

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She talks me through them.


There is the spiritual, the cross.

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There is lost, the shoes on the beach.


The tiger’s eyes remind her of her nephew’s beautiful eyes. Everyone always commented on his eyes.

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There is rest seen in the baby. Her nephew is now at peace, resting.


The water and the violin represent wondering.

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There is the heart.


There is the beautiful person, the girl in the middle with the beautiful dress.

Her nephew was a beautiful person.

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There are ideas, with people and events. Her nephew always had alot of ideas.


The keys to her new life.

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A timetable of events.


There is a never-ending sky.

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The last card, the figure with the white face, red eyes and lips.

This is her nephew’s death.

I nod silently, acknowledging each card. Once finished I go back ‘around’, describing them aloud. There is one I am unsure of, ‘the never-ending sky’. I question its meaning.


{Picking up one thread}

Butterfly tells me, it represents her plans to visit her aunt in Romania, which would be a dream come true. Romania is her dad’s homeland. I ask what does she know about Romania? She responds, “There are mountains and it’s very cold.”

{Single or multiple threads?}

I ask Butterfly, “When you go to Romania would you need to take any of the other cards with you?” She moves the ‘keys to her new life’, ‘timetable of events’ and the ‘heart’, to join the ‘never ending sky’.

I question the heart. She explains the heart is connection to her family.

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{Connections to family}

I ask if she has family in Australia? She tells me, “not really.” Her brother is in Sydney; they only speak occasionally, when she calls him. Her sister lives in another suburb. She doesn’t ‘get on’ with her sister, ever since she decided to marry a Muslim and convert. Her sister didn’t agree.

{A shift}

We were seated on the floor and Butterfly now relocates to sit on the couch. I follow sitting opposite, I sense a shift in mood with the move.

Her voice rises with excitement as she tells me of the time her Muslim friend discovered that Butterfly was also Muslim. She tells me, “We were both so happy.” She threw her arms in the air, shouting, “Yay!” This is how they reacted. I copied her. We repeated it together and laughed.

{Happiness fills the air}

I tell her, I see she is smiling and relaxed, it looks like having a friend who is Muslim makes her happy? She tells me, “It does.” I sense the ‘energy’ in the air, so I ask Butterfly about her conversion.

She tells me she was not baptised. She was supposed to be, but her dad was drunk. She thinks she was supposed to be Catholic. She always wanted to be a religion at school, she remembers this. When she married she was young and innocent. She didn’t really know what being a Muslim meant.

But now, she can celebrate the same festivals with ‘her women’, it will be good. Last year she was angry and didn’t celebrate.


{gathering back in the strands}

As Butterfly speaks I am curious about ‘connection’. I share my thoughts. She tells me, “It is important.” I ask if we can map ‘connection’? She agrees.

{Mapping connection}

With the word ‘connection’ in the middle of page we begin. I ask her “When there is connection, what happens?” Butterfly answers, “There’s surprise.” I ask, “With whom?” Without hesitation Butterfly responds, “With special people, this could be anyone.” I ask “Where does connection happen?” She tells me, “It can be anywhere with people you meet.” I ask her “What happens when there is connection?” She tells me, “There is surprise, feeling and emotions.” We move then to emotions.

I inquire “Which emotions?” She responds, “Happiness, not just plain happy, but super happy – it is unbelievable.” I ask, “What values and conflicts are present in this connection?” This question is a little harder to answer than the others, she hesitates then responds, “Religion, faith and belief.”

{Multiple strands or just one?}

I am surprised these keywords, religion, faith and belief arrive ‘pre-clustered’. I’m curious, does the connection we map have a specific thread? I offer, “Could this ‘connection’ be a spiritual connection?” She responds, “Yes, it is.”

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{Connected}

I ask can she tell me more about the spiritual connection. She tells me that when her friend discovered she was Muslim the connection between them was stronger. I ask, “Would this connection be the same with anyone who was Muslim?” She responds, “Yes.” I inquire deeper, “If you were to go into a mosque would you feel this same connection with everyone in there?” She tells me, “Yes.” I guide her back to the ‘with whom’ of the map. She answers, “With someone who believes in the same as me.”

{Coming to now know}

I ask her, “Why does this matters?” She responds, “It brings a sense of belonging and acceptance.”

{Clarifying}

I offer Butterfly what I think I now know, I write: ‘Connection and spiritual belongingness occurs when you meet someone of the same faith’. She agrees, but tells me, “We’re not like those other Muslims.” She struggles to find the right word. I offer, “Extremists?” “Yes”, she says. She tells me they make her feel scared and silent. Because of their actions she feels excluded and afraid. I offer, “You are silenced through fear?” She nods.

I ask, “What do you think you now know about ‘spiritual connection’?” She tells me, “It is beautiful, special and indescribable.” I ask (the difficult question), “How do you want to be with this ‘connection’?” I sense this question stir inside of her. I sit quietly and wait.


{Threads clutched tightly}

Butterfly answers, “It is sad with no family support, alone with no guidance, searching for belongingness and love.” I am unsure if Butterfly is referring to now or in the past, I decide it does not matter when and bracket this out, instead focusing on the threads. I ask would she be able to represent this with the objects? She’s not sure, but she’ll try.

I ask about each object. She tells me, “The little lamb is innocent. The bird is social and flitters around. The horse is wise. The stones have lovely patterns, they are nature.” She tells me she likes the blue-green stone the most. The flower is nurturing, she says, “To watch something grow.” She likes the little pony with its blue and sparkles.”

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I ask if the pony and bird would like to come onto the page. The bird enters, she moves it around before finding the right place to put it. She explains, “It nervously moves around.” The pony, she tells me, “Is not ready to come onto the page yet.” “That’s ok”, I say.


Going with my instinct, I ask, “do any of the postcards fit?” She selects the ‘possibilities’ cluster and places it on the edge.

I notice the horse and lamb are looking at each other. I ask Butterfly, “If the horse could speak to the lamb, what would it say?” She tells me, “It would tell the lamb that it will be ok”

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{In response}

‘Belongingness’ stays with me after hearing Butterfly’s story, I offer this in a response. Golden-threaded fabric shows the beauty, as it is carefully hand stitched onto a piece of paper. It is not easy to stitch and it takes time. Butterfly watches patiently. A coloured shape surrounds it, holding it all together to create a full picture.

Butterfly comments, “It’s beautiful’.

{To close}

I ask her what ‘name’ would she like to be in this project? “Butterfly” she says, followed by, “That was easy.” I smile, sensing that it was the easiest question she had answered this afternoon. As she leaves I admire her strength and her strong wings.

139

Closing the chapter


at the end of telling

Butterfly’s story

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To belong, connection and warmth, in amongst the darkness.

To believe, in the same thing. Together connected, to something greater, something brighter. Solid and strong. Swirls of support, makes the dancers strong, and their cores warm.

143

Exiting

THE STORY

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Coming to know

q

As I bring ‘our stories’ to a close I return to my silk-thread, crochet-piece. This time I focus on my knowings-basket. It hangs between the story-holding-basket and the story-filter. To the researcher’s strand I have woven in individual threads of different colours. These I now know to be the threads of my women’s story.

My knowings-basket

These fine threads are woven into the two parts of my knowings-basket; the circle-of-knowing and the basket’s outer shell.


My circle-of-knowing

My circle-of-knowing contains the essence of what I think I now know about ‘story’. It is formed from a matte of story threads carefully knotted and crafted to ensure they are secure. The same can be said for collecting, holding and telling life stories. Each requires a different way of being with; soft, strong, somewhere in between. They take time to come to know, to feel comfortable enough to retell.

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Journal entry 20th April

Developing stories takes time. Each person has a story, told at one’s own pace. Teasing out the threads takes patience and care.

not isolated to the story circle-of-knowing these threads are now (and forever) woven into the outer shell of my knowings-basket. Kornberger (2006) describes how, “Our own story is embedded in the larger tale of our time and interwoven with the many tales of all those we meet.” (p.3). This poem holds the essence of what I have come to know about being with others – as someone who works in the community and as a human being.

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Threads of humanity, how delicate you are. Here to tell me of our similarities. I too hold your threads, although sometimes forget.

I feel loss and grieve, yes. I want to belong. Want to be loved. I want to protect and be protected.

I want you to know me, this is who I am. I look back, I have a past, I look forward, I have a future, what possibilities does it hold?

Yes, I want to feel safe, I want to take risks, I feel fear in the unknown, I trust my instincts, I should trust my instincts. I have instincts.

Born out of experiences.

Our shoes are similar, but are a different style, a different size.

We walk confidently but underneath think ‘holy cow!’


TO ClOSE

I ask you to respect these stories, such personal, alive threads. Consider what stays with you now and how you want to be with them. It is with a tinge of sadness that I let them go but I believe in the wisdom of the story, I trust it will find its way.

Inspired by Susan finley (1999) who writes, “It seems that every story inspires another story, and so our dialogue grows” (p. 336), I invite you to take a few strands and head out into your community. Packed away in your knowings-basket you never know where the storyline may go once it’s been retold.

THE End.

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POSTfACE

v

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Our final words

q

This section includes reflections from both myself and the participants after the writing (and reading) of the ‘first draft’. As this book was viewed by my supervisor it was also in the hands of my participants, the storytellers. Each were given a printed copy and the opportunity to respond, make comments and/or adjustments.

It was suggested to me early on by dr Jan Allen, director of MIECAT, that it would be fitting to include the ‘women’s voices’. This invitation was extended to the storytellers – who accepted. They are present in the form of emails and a card.

I have also included a poem which captures my experience of working as a researcher in my (residential) community.

These are our ‘tellings’.

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frOM JACkIE yOulE • an email •

Hi Amanda!!

I know I read ‘A Book to Hold Our Stories’ a few weeks ago, or a couple, but every time I tried to write my experience onto paper I’ve end up with many ideas and thoughts but no actual flow or ‘story’. I decided I’m going to type it up instead. I hope it doesn’t make it, impersonal, not that my writing is very tidy anyway hahaha! ...Ok so this is what I came up with...

How was this experience for me? It was Easy. It was Effortless. It was surprisingly therapeutic. It was just chatting with my friend Amanda.

I had no idea really exactly what I was turning up to do (even though I was given information lol12) but it was easy to trust Amanda and know that whatever I was there to do was to help her with her studies. My friend needed a volunteer. I volunteered.

I think in the beginning I had the 2 thoughts, my ‘cultural experience’ as per the brief and, my upbringing. Also this hazy, dramatic, dysfunctional ‘headspace’ I’ve held onto since my teen years (all newly named, thanks Amanda).

12 laugh out loud


In the telling of my story bits of this emotional time came up. I thought it confused the story at times and took it in strange directions away from the initial question. I realize though that they connect because I am frOM both sides. I have been both sides. It makes my story, my story. It was a release to let some of the hazy, the dysfunction, and the drama from my past, go.

The first read through brought tears, not so unusual for some of these memories. Tears for Amanda’s untold words, for the sadness she felt for me and for her, but mostly the restraint to “bracket out” her thoughts and feelings ‘to let the story be told’. There’s just some of the WOW, right there.

My partner read it all too. He remembered the day our daughter and I came across the paint sniffer and how angry it made me. The funny thing is though, when recalling with him, I realized I’m no longer angry about it. I’ve let it go! There’s just some of the ‘therapeutic’! He was also glad that he “eventually” turned up in my story! Oops!!

Patricia’s story seemed such a world away while reading through. Even further away than hearing the story in person and her Superhero/Holy cow moment was so hilarious!

157

Butterfly gave me goose bumps where she mentioned her nephew appearing in her dream. I was sad for her grief and loss(es) and surprised at the use of the same card by us both, representing anger for me and death for her. I do love that she still keeps her energetic and positive outlook on life.

How it is told, is exactly how it all happened. Time heals.

A total WOW is my response to ‘A Book To Hold Our Stories’.

Amanda, you have taken more care with my story than I ever did. Thanks Amanda!

Signed (Jackie Youle)

xxxxx


frOM PATrICIA • from a series of emails •

EMAIL 1:

I have been thinking to say “thanks VERY MUCH” for Saturday. It was such a pleasure to revisit those times and remember to fun I had. Although I do feel for those who find such cross overs far more difficult. Could you imagine what it must be like to come from a place such as Sudan and then lose a child who just wanders into a hot car and dies from heat exhaustion; or a child who gets hit by an out of control car while playing in the front yard. It’s just not fair and must make the cultural changes just all the more difficult.

On that bright note... I’ll say thanks again, and speak to you Monday.

EMAIL 2:

... I am also prompted to email because just yesterday I received yet another treat related to my UK story - a letter from Judy with update on her life and photos! I had just be wondering if I’d lost contact - neither of us had written in so long and I knew that they would be on the move. They were always on the move with the Marines (gotta love an American with a husband called “Bob” who was a colonel in the Marines!) and he’d recently retired so I had no idea where they would end up. So it was a real treat to pull her letter out and see that they are now in Texas! Quite different from Washington and Massachusetts!

Synchronicity I think they call it!

159

Anyway, thanks again for a great day! And as strange as it may seem, after finding that I had very few souvenirs/artefacts from my time there, and that my time there was very definitely part of my memory, it just didn’t seem right to start collecting “souvenirs” now! It just didn’t seem right to take my story home! It was a story that I hold dear and enjoy sharing by giving it to others.

EMAIL 3:

As always, an absolute delight to catch up with you this afternoon. And as I drove I home I realised just what a treat it was - it is SO unusual these days to visit, sit and have a good chat over a cup of tea... it just doesn’t seem to happen any more.

EMAIL 4:

Thanks for the copy of the thesis to read... I was half a page into “Patricia’s” story before I realised it was mine!!! How’s that for being observant.

Can’t see anything that needs amending; and certainly no reason to pull out. A great read.

Thanks for including me. Good luck.


frOM BuTTErfly • a special card •

Butterfly selected a card created by one of her ‘special friends’. Her friend who had also read the first draft, helped Butterfly find the right design to send me. The accompanying note, which was inserted into the card, describes its meaning.

I have created each card with a unique technique that ensures its quality and originality. Burnt edges create an organic pattern; traditional carved wooden blocks are used for impressions. Hand rendered designs, marbled paper are some of the techniques combined with 3d effects to complete the art work. The art work is an insight into a rich culture of the subcontinent, with primarily using henna and Islamic patterns as an inspiration.

“ To make that special moment a memory, enclose your thoughts in these unique cards”

The envelope was sealed with a green heart sticker. Butterfly’s message reads...

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dear Amanda...

I would like to congratulate you on a tremendous piece of writing and art work... I am so grateful and honoured that I was ‘one’ of those special women stories. It took me back to when it all took place. 1st a group session, introduction to one another, then our one to one sessions! It is word for word, I love how delicately you protect us all, like in a

cocoon, nice + safe and loved :)13

I enjoyed reading all stories. I did cry in mine when going back :(14 It has been a very tough journey for me personally this year as you know, but also A VERY SPECIAL YEAR!!! I am blessed to have you in my life.

Love always

Signed

(Butterfly)

x

13 Smiley face

14 Sad face


frOM THE rESEArCHEr • a poem •

I see you around the neighbourhood, at the bus stop, walking your dogs, perhaps at a mutual friends dinner. Our paths cross in different ways, outside of the research, inside life.

How to be with your stories, to hold and know the content, for normal conversation to be.

At first I am blinded by the glare, the stories suspend in murky air. What am I meant to be? I have responsibilities, do I? Slowly I learn to catch and to allow what needs to gently fall. Asking for help, bracketing-out, supporting, being with.

We have wandered together for a while, threads mentioned once or twice, acknowledged with a ‘you know’ smile.

Stories, pages of a book, your life and mine goes on. Yet for me, forever changed.

Such courageous, vibrant women, who entrusted me with their stories, what more can I say except, thank you.

Your presence in my community, brightens my day.

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RESOURCES

v

165

The story of Perseus and Medusa

q

Perseus is charged with the task of beheading the snake-haired Medusa. This is an almost impossible feat, as everyone who looks at her is immediately turned to stone.

But he is helped by Pallas Athene with good advice and helpful tools, among them a polished shield with which he approaches the sleeping Medusa, walking backwards. Viewing her indirectly in the reflection of his shield, he is guarded from the impact of her gaze.

Using the shield as a mirror, he severs her head and hides it in a sack. At this point Pegasus, the winged horse, emerges from the monster’s body and takes to the air.


Mapping a topic or theme

q

What happens? How does it happen?

When it happens?

With whom?

Where it happens?

Which emotions?

Which values and confl icts?

depiction? (an example or story)

What do you think you know?

How do you want to be there?

TO P I C /T H E M E

Begin by writing the topic or theme in the center of the page. Then ‘visiting’ each question begin to map when, how, what etc... in life this topic has occured. Slowly a map of the topic/theme begins to unfold ending on ‘What do you think you know’ and ‘How do you want to be there (with what you now know)’.

167

The group workshop running sheet

q

STICK PARTnERS 10mins getting to know each other and working together Solo movements to music with bamboo sticks and then into partnering. Supporting the stick with only one finger each the pair work together to move to the music, without dropping the stick. (Bamboo sticks & music {Cuban})

WALKInG MEdITATIOn 10mins Bringing self into the moment Walking around to the music, bracketing-out the weeks events. Walking or moving slowly feeling the ground under your feet, wiggling your toes, walking on tip-toes, stretching etc... As you walk ‘think of a time when you experienced what it was like to live in a different culture’. Think of a moment as you move which stays with you. You may like to note down anything which stays with you or stood out for you. (Music {relaxing})

STORYTELLInG 30mins Telling the stories to the group Approximately 10mins each.

THE ARTMAKInG 40-50mins The Artist’s Book Pre-made templates to hold ‘what it is like to live in a different culture’

GROUP REfLECTIOnS 15mins Opportunity to share artworks and what the experience has been like. Approximately 5mins each.

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REfEREnCES

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REfEREnCES

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a book to hold our stories - miecat

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