tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20424138694720115512024-03-14T15:44:40.613+11:00Girl With a SatchelErica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.comBlogger1233125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-34889295344212936752020-01-15T16:21:00.000+11:002020-01-15T16:21:40.269+11:00Fashonomics: Ankiti Bose, 28, on the Zilingo story, sustainability, transparency, bravery and via Fortune<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/E6SRwQUAHuU" width="480"></iframe>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-38871837735813562272017-11-12T14:13:00.000+11:002017-11-12T14:13:15.658+11:00Thinkings: On fashion disconnect<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">“Fashion’s current feminist question is an intersectional one - when a rich, white woman buys a t-shirt with a feminist slogan on it, but that t-shirt was made by an underpaid Bangladeshi woman working in a factory like Rhana Plaza, it cannot possibly be a feminist act...the physical and geographical distance between where clothes are produced and, and where they’re presented, exacerbates the disconnect.” </span></i></div>
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- ‘How did we get here?’ journalist <a href="https://brileework.com/" target="_blank">Bri Lee</a> (of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/hotchickswithbigbrains" target="_blank">Hot Chicks with Big Brains</a>) interviews <a href="https://www.clarepress.com/" target="_blank">Clare Press</a> for the Arts Centre Gold Coast newspaper supplement promoting <i><a href="https://theartscentregc.com.au/gallery/coming-into-fashion/?utm_medium=homepage_slider&utm_source=website&utm_campaign=coming_into_fashion_homepage_slider" target="_blank">Coming into Fashion: A Century of Photography at Condé Nast</a> </i>(November 25 - February 18). Clare Press will appear at the Arts Centre Gold Coast talking about her book <a href="http://girlwithasatchel.blogspot.com.au/2017/03/book-shelf-wardrobe-crisis-how-we-went.html" target="_blank">Wardrobe Crisis</a> with author/editor <a href="https://au.linkedin.com/in/alison-kubler-1133b718" target="_blank">Alison Kubler</a> and “how we make, sell, and market clothes” on Saturday November 25, 2017, from 1:30pm to 2:30pm. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-88564724489599617342017-03-08T13:50:00.000+11:002017-03-08T13:50:23.537+11:00Mrs Satchel: Let's grow old together <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RdStz7PrmSk/WL9hhNyVR1I/AAAAAAAAgGI/IatrvRi8djojReeV1NfsDlkkFoTeqyVZQCLcB/s1600/16939244_10210200915191711_8522905183789107278_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RdStz7PrmSk/WL9hhNyVR1I/AAAAAAAAgGI/IatrvRi8djojReeV1NfsDlkkFoTeqyVZQCLcB/s640/16939244_10210200915191711_8522905183789107278_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Sabine Bannard, Tugan Beach, Australia</td></tr>
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If I can get to the end of my married life and still desire to just sit and be with him as the tide rolls in, then I would consider that a true accomplishment. The journey is fraught with trials to overcome; waves of worry, hardship, disappointment and grief threaten to overwhelm, but if you can somehow move together as one, and have your sights set on the same horizon, the view is surely sweeter when taken in with a true companion.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-49717942094847742392017-03-08T12:34:00.000+11:002017-03-08T12:34:52.730+11:00Essay: The precarious nature of the self <b><i>This is a longer version of an <a href="https://whitemag.com/blog/self-discovery/?white_access=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzUxMiJ9.eyJpc3MiOiJodHRwczpcL1wvd2hpdGVtYWcuY29tIiwiZGF0YSI6eyJwb3N0X2lkcyI6Wzk4MTcyXX19.pCA1hoT6WDSOTLwhC8gdxWms5gGDInXwpNCEWc_lRsRmA4s793Oer5Qh6jTSGoOMtNuVxA-JcNKdgsEV4kPFKw" target="_blank">original piece</a> published in issue 34 of </i>White<i> magazine.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dKsSYVlFVDk/WL9fSHTOXjI/AAAAAAAAgGA/-ms43mBE2pgAL-DnImaPrl5TMiNFPFDWgCLcB/s1600/98172981934958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dKsSYVlFVDk/WL9fSHTOXjI/AAAAAAAAgGA/-ms43mBE2pgAL-DnImaPrl5TMiNFPFDWgCLcB/s320/98172981934958.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Photo by Amelia Soegijono - Pictures and Hearts Photography</td></tr>
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It’s risky business, this writing about the “self” because it is always in a state of flux. Many a time an author has penned a book, having arrived at some conclusion about life, only to have found that what they thought their life to be would soon take a turn: a divorce, for example, or, in Elizabeth Gilbert’s case, a divorce, change in gender preference, and a new girlfriend.<br />
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All this is only to say that when considering yourself, you have to be a bit wary, cautious, perhaps even coy, at the very least discerning, because, oh boy!, can the self do a turn when least expected. It is wise to consider what can be made public and what should remain private. In this age of the over-share and rampant media speculation, I wonder that perhaps there will be a swing back to discretion?<br />
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Lore Ferguson Wilbert recently wrote in an <a href="http://www.christianitytoday.com/women/2016/september/save-your-soul-stop-writing.html" target="_blank">online piece</a> of “the personal narrative that readers, writers, and publishers worship at”. But at what cost? “All together, we’ve grown fat on a feast of viral blogs, short-lived bestsellers, and pithy articles,” she wrote. Sometimes we need to go “offline” in order to get the deeper self-work done; and it’s simply not for public consumption.<br />
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After making self-disclosure, opinion and blogging my game for a number of years, I was truly ready to hang up my boots and hand over to someone else. I’ve often thought of putting up a sign that reads, “IN CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT”, to ward off anyone who dares ask, “What have you been up to? Are you still writing? Still blogging?”, because for the past few years my deepest need has been to create a home sanctuary, to support my husband, to support my father through prostate cancer treatment and to nurture my baby girls. This has left little ground for gratifying self-contemplation, reflection or personal writing.<br />
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So where to begin when propositioned by <i>White</i> magazine with the question, “Who were you when you married your husband?” Truthfully, I don’t think I had a clue. At 26, I had many pairs of nice shoes, a plum job in magazine publishing, exciting career prospects, European passport stamps and gorgeous girlfriends, but I was also incredibly restless. I had a lot of questions.<br />
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Subsequently, leading up to and after I walked down the aisle to Vanessa Carlton’s “A Thousand Miles” to marry my husband I filled approximately 25 journals with scribblings articulating inner wrestlings over everything from my body image (ah, the wasted years!), to my parents’ divorce, to God (where were you all those years ago?). And I’m not sure that those dealings should ever see the light of day (they remain locked away in a cupboard at home), as cool as it is to have the Amy Schumers of the world unleash their selves in tell-all book form and the Taylor Swifts translate their experiences into catchy song lyrics.<br />
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Once I was asked to write a book. The deal fell through – I couldn’t deliver the goods because I was numb to what I had to offer and didn’t want to churn out something predictable or, worse, that would suggest I had it all together because, “Hey, I wrote a book!”. There’s a fine line between bravely sharing your story because you deeply believe it may help someone else, or to simply give others pleasure, and self-gratification or masochism under the guise of “Seize every opportunity!”. Self-expression is a necessary thing, for we were created to create, but surely not for the sake of simply expressing every single thought and feeling?<br />
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The world can be very cruel, taking what we create and stamping on it , as the blogger Natalie Holbrook found out after publishing her own delightful tome to the scorn of GOMI (Get Off My Internets) readers. “It legitimately put me on anti-depressants,” she told <i>The Guardian</i>. “I had this disgusting weight in my stomach, because I knew it would be torn to shreds, not because it wasn’t good, but because I knew it wasn’t going to be what they wanted it to be.”<br />
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Now, Brene Brown would discourage us all from turning away from being vulnerable, or hiding our “authentic selves”, because vulnerability is what makes us human and it’s not weakness but strength. And so is learning. And the “journey” of life. You’ve got to be in the trenches with everyone sometimes, not simply protecting your veggie patch from insect invasion. It takes courage to show up and be counted. To be seen and validated and embraced by one’s fellow humans. To be included is an essential part of the human experience.<br />
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But I do think we have to be a little bit choosey about who we invite into that vulnerability; and our spouse and closest friends should be the primary receptors, not the online world. “Daring greatly” (even somewhat reluctantly) sounds like a noble endeavor, but if you know yourself well enough, and love that self, then you also want to add a layer of protection. You do not have to share, like or tag everything. And if you are feeling especially vulnerable in any situation, you have to count the cost: is it really worth it?<br />
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“Since the false self is fabricated on secondary things we idolize, like reputation, success, status, family and jobs, it is always vulnerable,” writes Adele Ahlberg in <i>The Spiritual Disciplines Handbook</i>. “Things that can be here today and gone tomorrow provide a precarious mooring for the soul. Our truest identity can never be something we accomplish, earn or prove on our own.”<br />
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I’ve often thought of writing a piece like this as handing an editor a little bit of your soul and saying, “Here, please be careful”, and then entrusting it and letting go. It’s in the “letting go” that we become vulnerable. We cannot predict how others will receive us or how our thoughts will be misconstrued or appreciated. But letting go of our selves is what marriage is all about. It’s what you sign up for when you say “I do”.<br />
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This doesn’t mean losing yourself in the sense that your new name (if you so choose) becomes you and you are now Mr or Mrs and not yourself anymore. But it does mean knowing your motives, your heart’s desires and likes and dislikes, and being prepared to let them fall away if it’s necessary to sustain the marriage (notably, this should be done willingly and joyfully, and not with overtones of doubt or regret), such as acknowledging that your online shopping habit may impinge on your financial security, or that your jealousy issues or lack of personal hygiene could be a bit socially isolating.<br />
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Discovery of each other is such a privilege and wonder – we get to see the nooks and crannies of each other’s feelings, emotions, thoughts and actions, and to explore them with an intimacy that no one else will enjoy. With this obviously comes an enormous responsibility to protect and not project what is told or seen in private while you are both “in character development”. This should be a mutal agreement with humble acknowledgement of your often fallible, awkward humanness and the deep desire to see one another flourishing. <br />
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Complementarianism, which is the marital creed I subscribe to, requires a definite sense of self in order to be accomplished within a marriage. You cannot be complementary if you have no idea what it is that you bring to the table, and nor can your partner. You both have to have an awareness of the strengths, weaknesses, skills, habits, personality quirks and relationships you bring to the marriage, and then to negotiate how they can best work together to achieve things you simply could not do alone. YOU ARE PERFECTED IN YOUR UNITY AND YOUR INDIVIDUALITY.<br />
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“The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image,” wrote Thomas Merton in <i>No Man Is an Island</i>. “If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them.”<br />
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Would Hugh Jackman be the super guy he is without Deborrah Lee? Christ Hemsworth without Elsa Pataky? Hamish without Zoe? George without Amal? And conversely? (I once attended an awards ceremony in which the female recipient failed to acknowledge the unfailing support of her husband…if the shoe had been on the other foot, he would have been chastened for his oversight).<br />
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When <i>The Sydney Morning Herald</i> ran an article titled “Hamish Blake’s wife tells of life behind The Wrong Girl scenes”, commentator Mia Freedman replied, “Zoe [Foster-Blake] is an accomplished, self-made woman in her own right, and has been since long before she married anyone. She’s proud of her husband, proud of her son, loves being a wife and loves being a mother. But first and foremost she is a person not an appendage.”<br />
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(Cue feminist applause.)<br />
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For every He who something there is a She doing similarly. They are inextricably connected through the bond of marriage, but all the stronger for their mutual support, affections, encouragements, sharing of talents and knowledge, and childcare.<br />
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How wonderful to think that you will know this person better than anyone else on earth; and that they will know you in this way, too, and help you to become the best version of you?! In fact, through their unique point of view, your spouse may get to know you better than you do.<br />
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I am always startled by my husband’s ability to nail my flaws and show them up for what they are before they have a chance to settle into habits that leave scars. It is often incredibly uncomfortable, and I may sulk occasionally, but he, in turn, is constantly humbled by my unique ability to downplay his obvious strengths (good looks, strong mind, resilience) while buffering his weaknesses.<br />
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One of my recurrent shortcomings as a human being is the inability to handle a certain level of stress – usually a deadline compounded by multiple other needs; primarily my child’s or my husband’s, which throws me into a state of conflict that I cant conceal, least of all from those in close proximity. Herein the problem: my own desire to do good work and a good job in competition with the time constraints of motherhood and the necessary sacrifices entailed by wanting to be a supportive wife and a nurturing, attentive mother.<br />
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Ahlberg Calhourn writes, “Each of us has a beautiful true self inside of us. It is God’s gift to us. But many of us can hardly take this in. Somewhere life taught us that our true self wasn’t welcome or safe or wanted. Consequently, we learned to hide our true self. In its place we constructed a false self. This self has a defensive, non-resilient, mistrustful, reactive core. This reactive core is at the centre of our disordered relationships. It sabotages our ability to trust…others.”<br />
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For some, this means scrambling toward outside things – Facebook, Instagram, the shops, jobs, the gym! - looking for some understanding or validation of who we are and the life we are living when really it’s the core of you, your very “youness” that is the thing you could be most afraid of and are trying to conceal or run from.<br />
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When you envision “your narrative”, you don’t particularly entertain the pitiful moments, the self-defeating attitudes, the sorrow you cause others or the characteristics you deplore in yourself (and others). You think of the ‘ideal you’, the one in the best light winning at life, high-fiving your goals and being feted by family and friends who are proud as punch to call you their own.<br />
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You are not someone defeated by their demons sleeping rough on the street; not that poor, feckless soul all wrinkled and old whose pension is poured into the pokies; not the ‘unrealised genius’ who was never able to overcome self-doubt and realize his potential. In your daydreams you see victory. And because you rather fancy yourself, you think this is how it should be.<br />
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But then you stumble across someone who is succeeding at life on every possible front and the word ‘FAILURE’ enters your periphery. So you slink back into yourself, like a snail retreating into its shell, and sluggishly carry on with the life you’ve been dealt, never daring again to imagine this self who you put up on a pedestal – less a victory march, more a walk of humble acceptance with occasional glimpses through the window into a starry sky full of promise. Perhaps some day you will reach perfection?<br />
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What is our response? There are no tidy conclusions, no linear storylines in life. It is complex and often defeating. But the best thing we can hold onto is this idea of who we are and why we are here – our “purpose”, if you will – and ride the rough terrain with our partner navigating. But first you need a compass: your value system. Do you place a priority on people or productivity? On achievement or humbly serving others? On exciting experiences or simple pleasures? In what ways can you complement or encourage each other’s mental, spiritual, intellectual, physical or creative development? <br />
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To reconcile your weaknesses and your strengths, to take an objective view of yourself as best you can, to reconcile the ideas manufactured by the world that don’t suit you…with these come freedom. A life lived in harmony with one’s fellow human beings (starting with your spouse) starts here; in the knowledge and unconditional love of self but the willingness to override selfish desires for the greater good. It is equally applicable at home as it is in the community or workplace or the realms of politics, economics and humanitarianism; in fact, that sort of human generosity starts at home.<br />
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As Aristotle once said, “Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.” So do the work, for the sake of yourself and your marriage - ditch the stuff that doesn’t suit, file away the precious if you can’t bear to part with it, but keep the good stuff – the things that make you feel wonderful and so very “you” at the forefront. Plough deep into your past and make friends with your mistakes and forgive the wrongs done against you, too. And, importantly, don’t for a second think that you are not worthy of your unique personality, hopes and dreams.<br />
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But don’t be so caught up on “self discovery” that you forget about everyone else, least of all your spouse. Because we truly become ourselves in relation to others; and, in fact, you will become the best version of yourself because your partner is doing the self-work with you.<br />
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Some simple take-home ideas to cut n paste…<br />
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-<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Take care of yourself;<br />
-<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Speak up honestly about your needs;<br />
-<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Acknowledge and admit your weaknesses and mistakes;<br />
-<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Don’t let your vulnerabilities become your creed; <br />
-<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And seek out ways to meet others’ needs; to bless the world with all you’ve been given (singly and as a couple); and be the best you that you can be.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-62226155996650811932017-03-08T12:11:00.000+11:002017-03-08T12:11:08.676+11:00Book Shelf: Wardrobe Crisis: How we went from Sunday best to fast fashion by Clare Press<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OjxULrk_s20/WL9ZBN1910I/AAAAAAAAgFw/Yuq7v8FJq1sqWO_bF1Yy0ANfG8pqJECKACLcB/s1600/wardrobe%2Bcrisis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OjxULrk_s20/WL9ZBN1910I/AAAAAAAAgFw/Yuq7v8FJq1sqWO_bF1Yy0ANfG8pqJECKACLcB/s320/wardrobe%2Bcrisis.jpg" width="256" /></a>Anyone who has ever wrestled with wanting to do the right thing, ethically speaking, at the shops, but who has then been confronted with the very limited options that "doing the right thing" apparently entails, will be enamoured to find a friend in Clare Press and her second book, <i>Wardrobe Crisis: How we went from Sunday best to fast fashion</i> (Nero, $29.99).<br />
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A former features editor for <i>Vogue </i>Australia, one-time '<a href="http://girlwithasatchel.blogspot.com.au/2010/05/chictionary-by-clare-press.html" target="_blank">Chictionary</a>' columnist and current fashion editor-at-large for <i>Marie Claire</i> Australia, Press is well versed in fashion speak, but also has the wonderful ability to convey her ideas with lucidity, humility and disarming candour. This is less a treatise, more an investigation to which we are all invited to take part.<br />
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Press admits to owning leather goods, designer handbags, "a surfeit of clothes", a drawer just for belts, and all manner of sartorial items that may seem at odds with living with a clear conscience, and we must thank her for doing so, for who of us can admit to having a wardrobe that is 100 per cent ethical?To buying one more item than is necessary because of minor differences in detail (it's grey marle tees for me) or owning several pairs of "favourite" jeans? To secretly coveting a luxury item that equals a month's rent? To shopping without thinking as if in a daze of endorphins that cloud your better judgement?<br />
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Indeed, one is left wondering: how can we possibly live a life completely free of animal and human cruelty in this post-consumer society in which everything is so freely available, and tantalisingly so?<br />
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"There's a sophisticated marketing machine behind the fast fashion boom," writes Press, "we didn't just wake up one morning in the '90s and think 'I wish four times as many clothes would be produced and sold."<br />
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But that is the sad reality into which Press delves, confessing to playing her own part in the designer collaboration hype and "democratisation of fashion" (which led to the fast fashion phenomenon) that sees impossible amounts of clothing disappear off shelves, as with the grotesquely display of human consumption and greed that is the Boxing Day sales.<br />
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And she calls us out for the dunces we all are: it's consumer gullibility that has seen us buy into "Cornflake chic" (courtesy of Anya Hindmarch), "logo mania" and the It-bags and silk scarves of <i>Sex and the City</i>, and certainly not need, though the media, marketing and fashion industries have a canny way of making things <i>seem</i> altogether necessary.<br />
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"When this happens, fashion becomes unmoored from reality: its beauty is diluted because it has no soul. It's just a quick fix of instant gratification - empty calories," says Press.<br />
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"We buy clothes on a whim, because they are so accessible and seemingly so affordable (though the true cost of the garment is rarely expressed by its retail price...). Sometimes we buy clothes with the express intention of wearing them just once or twice; we buy clothes to throw away." <br />
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Press paints the bleak picture: Australian national credit card debt of $51 billion in 2015; $500 million of clothing sent to the tip each year; the average woman wears just 40 per cent of her clothes; 92 per cent of clothing sold in Australia manufactured overseas; and 1,133 people killed and 800 children orphaned at Rana Plaza in Bangladesh. <br />
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This volume has considerable research behind it and is peppered with Press' highly palatable anecdotes, which make it altogether an interesting and endearing read. She comes by her penchant for clothing honestly: her grandmother, she says, was too busy shopping and having her nails done to cook dinner.<br />
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"She was what used to be known as 'clothesy' (a word used most effectively while raising one eyebrow). She grew up in a flat above a lolly shop with her mother and a cranky old aunt."<br />
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From the front row of Fendi's Spring 2015 show to a clandestine Fashion Revolution Day talk in a pub and uncovering the covert operations of fur production, Press peeps under every gilded rock in the fashion industry to see what she can find.<br />
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Press has done her homework and then some. Into the manufacturing maelstrom she goes, asking us to think about how and why and where we buy our clothes. "How is it possible that we can buy a brand new garment, even one bedazzled by hand with sequins, for less than the cost of a cooked breakfast?"<br />
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No one brand, from Hermes to H&M, Gap to Galliano, is unmentioned, while sustainability and slow fashion superheroes Livia Firth, Lucy Siegle, Liane Rossley and Stella McCartney rank highly in the new era of conscious consumption that now follows the conspicuous (for fashion is nothing if not extreme in its pursuit of polar opposites).<br />
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Some of the best insights come courtesy of interviews with those embedded in the fashion industry itself, such as Simone Cipriana, founder of the Ethical Clothing Initiative, who hints at "the notion that steady, fair work could change communities for the better".<br />
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Press is not a party pooper: she adores clothes and the fashion industry and through her enthusiasm encourages us to engage with it differently.<br />
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It did hit me as ironic that as soon as I heard of the launch of Press' book, I hot-footed it to a book store, toddler in tow, to purchase my copy of <i>Wardrobe Crisis,</i> like a crazed fashionista hearing the words "collection by Alexa Chung" (or Gigi, as Tommy Hilfiger would have it). <br />
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For those trying to abide in a more conscious approach to shopping, there will always be the occasional hiccup on the road to sartorial Utopia where everything is fair and fairly made. Buying less, choosing wisely and eschewing the rest is not an easy task when navigating the precariously frivolous rag trade.<br />
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"Shopping ethically" is often seen as the expensive, unattainable, pretentious habit of the educated and wealthy minority who also eat all organic foods. The key to fast fashion's success: accessibility. Press' writing is splendid but I wonder how relevant to 15-year-old girls who will lead the charge with their credit cards in years to come?<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-10227300638885763952016-07-17T13:34:00.002+10:002016-07-18T16:40:07.868+10:00Mrs. Satchel: On passion (in White magazine issue #32) <h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><i>Mrs Satchel.: <span style="color: #8e7cc3;">On passion (for WHITE magazine)</span></i></span></h3>
“All thoughts, all passions, all delights,<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>White</i> issue 32. Cover by Lara Hotz.</td></tr>
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Whatever stirs this mortal frame,<br />
All are but ministers of love,<br />
And feed his sacred flame.”<br />
“Love”, Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br />
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In the Greek language, there are four words to describe love: “eros” (sensual, passionate, erotic love), “philos” (affectionate, virtuous love for friends, family and community; loyalty), “storge” (natural affection and empathy and acceptance, as with parents and children) and “agape” (selfless, unconditional giving; to want what’s best for the other). In a marriage, it’s “agape” love that we’re shooting for (aim at the stars and you may land on the moon).<br />
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Passion, in a sensual sense, is a strange bedfellow in a marriage; a perplexing paradox requiring some serious contemplation. On the one hand, you absolutely need it to have a healthy marriage. Your sex life is like a garden that needs constant maintenance to preserve intimacy and protect the marriage from any outside pests in the form of another person.<br />
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But, at the same time, this whole matter of passion also puts a lot of pressure on marriages to be spectacularly on fire – <i>hot, hot, hot!</i> – all the time, which they cannot possibly be, because as humans we are prone to just want to mooch around the house in our comfy Bonds clothes, not get all Victoria’s Secret sexy about things (and, gentlemen, at certain times of the month, it’s wise to grant your lady a reprieve and opt for a cuppa and cuddle instead).<br />
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According to the eminent psychologist Elaine C. Hatfield, who with her research partner Ellen S. Berscheid has studied passion for more than 50 years, people in passionate love show activation in brain areas associated with motivation, euphoria and reward, which is similar to the pattern of activation seen in another all-consuming condition: drug addiction.<br />
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In those heady days of a new relationship, when your every waking thought turns to the object of your heart’s affections, you’re as close to getting a glimpse into the life of a drug addict as you’ll ever be. Preoccupied, irrational, paranoid and full of despair when things don’t quite go right (or you can’t get your “fix”), common sense is thrown to the wind in pursuit of passion.<br />
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Exhilarating and exhausting, isn’t it, those all-consuming early days of a blossoming relationship where you are driven more by desire than common sense, so eloquently phrased by the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge? My husband and I often joke that we simply do not have the energy to go through all of that again (great insurance against divorce!).<br />
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During the 18 months we dated long-distance, bursting with youth and hormones, my husband would drive 12 hours to Sydney during the night after work to spend the weekend with me, and return bleary-eyed to work the next week. Each and every interstate meet-up was full of intense, exuberant anticipation, only to be followed by the gut-wrenching, back-to-reality check as we said goodbye for another month or so.<br />
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I would fall asleep with my clunky Nokia phone in my hand, drooling over the pillow, as we filled the intermissions with long phone conversations and endless text messages covering all manner of topics and variations on “I love you” (this was pre-emoticon, SnapChat and Skype!).<br />
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Attraction, and subsequently passion, might fuel the early stage of your burgeoning relationship, which serves as the Clag glue between you, but they alone will not sustain it. As with our work lives, passion will only carry us so far in our relationships: that's where commitment, conviction and dogged hard work come in to pick up the slack.<br />
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Yet we of the Gen's X and Y and Z, are set up to believe though our Disney-fied cultural conditioning (thanks, Ariel, Cinderella, et al) that passion is where it's at. But, as CS Lewis once wrote, "Mortal lovers must not try to remain at the first step; for lasting passion is the dream of a harlot and from it we wake in despair." To make passion your foremost marital mission and expectation is to set yourselves up for an almighty fall (see also: <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>).<br />
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The philosopher Alain de Botton, author most recently of <i>The Course of Love</i>, says, "In a secret corner of our mind, we picture a lover who will anticipate our needs, read our hearts, act selflessly and make everything better. It sounds ‘romantic’; yet it is a blueprint for disaster.” Just ask any exhausted couple who's tag-teamed nappy changes, cuddles and feeds into the wee hours of the morning.<br />
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This makes married life seem very ordinary, a characteristic that has become the butt joke of many-a Hollywood film. But it’s absolutely not. Dedication, tenacity and wisdom together with passion make for a formidable team. Hardship and difficulty only causes our passions to become refined; not quite so unwieldy. Passion needs to be put on a leash.<br />
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While commitment without passion or intimacy looks like a goal sentence and intimacy without passion or commitment looks like friendship, when you get the balance of passion, intimacy and commitment right, you’ve reached the pinnacle of what psychologist Robert Sternberg, in his triangular theory, calls “consummate” love.<br />
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Consummate love differs from “companionate love”, in which the couple is intimate, in a long-term commitment and has deep affection for and mutual understanding of one another but no passion, and “empty love”, in which there is commitment but no intimacy or passion.<br />
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The hallmarks of consummate love are delighting in each other, having a high regard for one another, the mutual desire to make each other happy, communicating, helping, nurturing, overcoming difficulties gracefully, increasing in devotion and…passion!<br />
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“The truth is, it does need a bit of work to bring back that spark in your love life once you have kids, a mortgage and renovations to attend to,” says photographer and popular Instagrammer (#housefrau) Sabine Bannard, who has been married to her school teacher husband, Martin, for nearly 20 years.<br />
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“My solution is just decide to bring it back whenever it gets lost. As simple as that. When you think everything is dull and grey, just put flowers on the table, wear something pretty, cook a nice meal and, most important, make time for each other and listen! The key is not to grow apart from each other, but to grow together with simple pleasures like mini road trips through the glorious countryside creating happy memories together while listening to a mixtape. Martin can spend hours creating a mixtape for a road trip. That alone can be a reason to completely fall in love again.” <br />
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When entering a marriage, you have to have a remedy for those times when passion has given way to the mundane (think pedestrian sex, zoning out after dark on Facebook, rarely smiling at each other, let alone flirting) before the disconnect leads to actual marital issues.<br />
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In her excellent book covering the fleeting nature of creativity, <i>Big Magic</i>, Elizabeth Gilbert writes of one couple, both illustrators, who rise an hour before their children to sit in their studio and draw before the household becomes busy and they trot off to their respective “real life” jobs. That is both sacrificial (of sleep), marriage affirming and intimate. And I bet they are better parents and human beings for it.<br />
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Fulfilment of a passion, creative desire or dream isn't always convenient; but better still if you can find that fulfilment together or at least support each other wholeheartedly on the journey.<br />
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The idea of the "sweet spot" or “flow” can be transferred to a marriage, I believe: those times when you are both operating with a singular sense of purpose and revelling in not only your relationship but also your work, friendships and extracurricular activities.<br />
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It is possible to reach some sort of "climactic"*, complementary human experience driven by passion for each other, and your marriage, which in turn creates benefits for the world inside and outside your home. With passion, impossibilities seem not so impossible.<br />
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But passion misdirected can get us into an awful pickle. I'm pretty sure Hitler and Stalin were passionate people (passion + egomania + ideology = yikes!). Jealousy, rampant ambition, outrage, addiction, selfishness and hate coupled with passion have led to some heinous human atrocities. <br />
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But what happens if passion is stifled? Not able to manifest? Constricted? Not given freedom of expression in some material, physical or emotional form, as would have been the case for many-a-woman pre-Suffragettes under the proverbial thumb, or the breadwinning bloke who brings home the bacon from the insurance firm but really wants to write books for kids. I think you might explode.<br />
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And your marriage might implode for lack of it.<br />
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A passionate marriage - one of dogged, I'll-de-damed-if-we-do determination to see it through until you're old and grey and saggy - allows us to reach our full potential. From the safety of knowing we are hedged in within the security of our marriage, we can find solace in our weak moments, encouragement for droopy spirits and belief when our personal stores of passion run dry.<br />
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It is our partner’s role to help us flourish, to see what we cannot see, to look us in the eyes and say, “I DARE you to dream that dream that lies dormant because I know that if you don’t at least TRY, you will die a thousand times every time you think about it.” And dying in any way, shape or form - other than to purposely subvert one's will ("I want to eat all of my hot breakfast, so get your mittens off!") for the good of another ("Okay, I can see you're <i>still</i> hungry, dig in") - is not good for our relationship.<br />
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Of course, some dreams and passions simply must fall by the wayside as we go about creating a home, bringing children into the world and investing more of ourselves into other relational avenues. Often, your passions will have to shut-up while you devote more of yourself to practical matters, such as sick children and parents or getting the house cleaned. Real life together is a whole bunch of inconveniences, troubles, hardships, clusters of disappointments, uncertainties and domestic necessities.<br />
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But without passion, those flying sparks and tremors of the heart that occasionally occur when your partner enters the room or you glory in your partner shining like a disco ball in their moment of achievement, we would be bereft of a wonderful human feeling and the opportunity to be fully alive. And while it can come and go, we shouldn't expect that passion will pass completely beyond our honeymoon. Passion matures, like a good wine, and serves a greater human purpose than simple self-gratification.<br />
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<i>*See what I did there?</i><br />
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Read the original piece <a href="https://whitemag.com/inspiration/passion/?white_access=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzUxMiJ9.eyJpc3MiOiJodHRwczpcL1wvd2hpdGVtYWcuY29tIiwiZGF0YSI6eyJwb3N0X2lkcyI6Wzg1MTQ2XX19.r3veXQu0xAbPUriGYCP-u6zrIDhSDrpjSlPV1SRYfdz185mQ30ih2Ls65nG0VqfoXfr2cP5kUwnrtKrK10E68g" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-4160390516800838832015-12-14T14:48:00.002+11:002015-12-14T14:48:24.847+11:00Media: FLOW magazine issue #11<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QXoppiviWYM/VjwaS10HphI/AAAAAAAAf3M/WGeEajJaHzo/s1600/flow%2Bissue%2B11.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QXoppiviWYM/VjwaS10HphI/AAAAAAAAf3M/WGeEajJaHzo/s400/flow%2Bissue%2B11.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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"Everyone has a dream. To write a book, travel the world, or quit your job and do something completely different, such as create some groundbreaking art, for example. Often, the dream doesn’t come true. But is this such a bad thing? We don’t think so. Some dreams are best left as dreams. Maybe that B&B in France is better in your dreams than in reality. And realizing that we cannot fully control our own destiny humbles us and helps us to accept that sometimes things go differently than we had hoped they would." </div>
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- the editors, <a href="http://www.flowmagazine.com/product/flow-issue-11?kl=2348&ku=165422&utm_source=SIM&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=20151021_FlowNewsletter_issue11&utm_content=&utm_term=a_99" target="_blank"><i>FLOW</i> magazine</a>.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-57578568981248560272015-12-14T14:47:00.000+11:002015-12-14T14:49:37.321+11:00Media: White magazine kickstarts global distribution dream<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pn211v-HK7A/Vm428J7b00I/AAAAAAAAf4w/iu9Mr5bHFTA/s1600/078f634480aabecbc610cec95515831d_original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pn211v-HK7A/Vm428J7b00I/AAAAAAAAf4w/iu9Mr5bHFTA/s400/078f634480aabecbc610cec95515831d_original.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
When I first met Luke and Carla Burrell in an Oxenford cafe, their little one Milo in tow, I was mesmerised by their earthiness and dedication to the beautifully produced magazine they kindled into being in Newcastle nine years ago; she with a background in community support services and he in advertising, marketing and publishing.<br />
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Since then, I've been a semi-regular contributor and staunch advocate owing to the consistent high quality of the magazine and also its editorial mission of helping couples stay together long after the wedding day. To achieve this end, they commission raw and real content discussing the manifold complexities of sustaining a marriage made of two very unique individuals. Think of it as <i>Frankie</i> for marrieds.<br />
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"In our eyes, if we can help couples to draw closer together, year after year, and if we can give them the tools and inspire them to work hard at their relationships, then we can say we’ve succeeded," the Burrells say. "Our goal is for couples to experience the daily joy of intimacy and loving commitment."<br />
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Now, with number three child on the way, and several more independently published wedding magazines on the stand, the couple is hoping to take <i>White</i> magazine further afield with a plan for global distribution that encompasses greater reliance on good quality editorial and less on advertising revenue.<br />
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You too can support <i>White</i>'s foray into new frontiers via <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/whitemag/white-magazine-2016" target="_blank">Kickstarter</a> with some lovely rewards awaiting.<br />
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Girl With a Satchel<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-87879322161985586652015-11-06T13:59:00.001+11:002015-12-14T14:49:19.296+11:00The Satchel Review - The story that stopped a nation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
"Be the heroine of your life, not the victim," said Nora Ephron. And isn't that true of Michelle Payne, the female jockey who put the wind up the sails of Prince of Penzance and performed a precision move at the last to conquer the Melbourne Cup on Tuesday, beating the boys at their own game.</div>
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"Queen of the Sport of Kings" sang the front page of <i>The Courier-Mail</i>! "Tenacious country girl makes history aboard roughie - then tells doubting blokes to get stuffed."<br />
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Michelle's story is remarkable; the stuff of Australian folklore, a true triumph over adversity in the land girt by sea. The youngest of 10 children, Michelle's mother, Mary, died in a car accident when she was only six months' old. Big sister Brigid, then 16, and father Paddy brought the baby up. There was no choice but to work hard and work together to keep the family's head above water.<br />
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“I’m just so grateful for my upbringing because I wouldn’t be here without that,” said Michelle.<br />
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Under Paddy's tutelage, the kids learned to ride; eight of the 10 would become jockeys. All the girls, except Michelle, retired from the saddle and the boys, too weighty for the saddle, became trainers. Brigid, an accomplished horsewoman, died in 2007, aged just 36, of a heart attack while recovering from a heavy fall.<br />
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So it was brother Stevie who partnered with Michelle on the day to defeat the odds, drawing the number one barrier and predicting the horse would be "in front at 200 metres [to go]". As strapper, feeding, grooming, rigging, swimming and saddling the horse for track work and races are all in a day's work.</div>
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"<a href="http://www.theage.com.au/sport/horseracing/melbourne-cup-2015-stevie-payne-making-strapping-cool-again-20151103-gkprvu.html" target="_blank">Stevie Payne making strapping cool again</a>," declared <i>The Age</i>. Stevie has Down syndrome, by the way.</div>
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A dynamic duo, for sure, this brother and sister, the youngest of the Payne tribe, who grew up playing together. But without trainer Darren Weir, who runs the whole show, they'd be up the proverbial creek without a paddle (or a horse without a saddle?). He was lauded by co-owner John Richards and his jockey in <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-11-04/michelle-payne-compares-weirs-ability-to-cups-king-cummings/6911752" target="_blank">a post-race interview</a>. </div>
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"I've worked for some great trainers around the world, including Aidan O'Brien, Luca Cumani, Gai Waterhouse and Peter Moody," said Michelle. "Everyone does things a little differently. He [Weir] is such a horseman, he knows what horses need - not just one horse, but all of them."</div>
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The horse must be mentioned, of course, of course. He, too, overcame several setbacks to make it to the track and is now mentioned in the same breath as Phar Lap. A six-year-old gelding bought for $50,000 and given 100-1 chances to win the race, the Prince, too, defeated the odds (a bowel operation, surgery on joints, illness) and the doubting bookies to boot! </div>
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Oddly, but fitting for such a story, it was a consortium of blokes chipping in $5,000 each, reportedly unbeknownst to their wives, who helped bring the Prince to the track with a 10 per cent share of the takings. A podiatrist, two engineers, an IT consultant, a solutions expert and a producer walk into a bar and... </div>
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So, a horse, its owners, its trainer, jockey and strapper. What a team! What a dream! This is the stuff of Australian history. And we'd do well to celebrate such sporting feats in times such as these where we are questioning notions of national identity. The last words must go to Michelle, who had this to say to the kiddies:</div>
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"It's just a reminder that if you work hard and you dream, things can happen...You've got to believe in yourself, and for some reason I've always had great belief in myself, I don't know why, but I always thought I was going to be a good jockey and one day win the Melbourne Cup. It just goes to show that fairytales do come true and you've just got to stick to your dreams and keep striving for them."</div>
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Girl With a Satchel</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-73751446898678245232015-08-27T11:30:00.000+10:002015-08-27T11:43:06.047+10:00Perspective: A short reply to Stephen FryIn <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-suvkwNYSQo" target="_blank">an interview with Irish broadcaster Gay Byrne</a> on a television show called <i>The Meaning of Life</i>, Stephen Fry takes God to task for the pain and injustice of the world. His intellectual reasoning is utterly convincing and convicting. And this I say as a Christian.<br />
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“Bone cancer in children? What’s that about? How dare you. How dare you create a world in which there is such misery that is not our fault. It’s not right. It’s utterly, utterly evil. Why should I respect a capricious, mean-minded, stupid God who creates a world that is so full of injustice and pain?”<br />
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He goes on to say, “the God who created this universe is quite clearly a maniac, utter maniac, totally selfish…yes the world is very splendid, but it also has in it insects whose whole life cycle is to burrow into the eyes of children and make them blind …why, why did he do that? He could have easily made a creation in which that didn’t exist. It is simply not acceptable.”<br />
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He’s RIGHT. It is simply NOT acceptable. We should be ANGRY. Full of RAGE.<br />
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About HOMELESSNESS.<br />
About MURDER.<br />
About the SELLING OF CHILDREN.<br />
About DISEASES.<br />
About CRUELTY.<br />
About NEGLIGENCE.<br />
About POLLUTION.<br />
About DICTATORS.<br />
About SELFISHNESS.<br />
About GREED and GLUTTONY and ALL MANNER OF AWFUL HUMAN THINGS.<br />
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These are the exact human responses God would want us to feel toward these injustices…to propel us to DO SOMETHING about them. Because if we sit on our laurels and just accept that that’s the way things are, then we too are utterly responsible for the misery we see around us.<br />
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There is SCIENCE and MEDICINE.<br />
There is DOING GOOD TO OTHERS.<br />
There is HELPING THE POOR.<br />
There is LIVING RESPONSIBLY.<br />
There is KINDNESS AND CIVILITY.<br />
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When my husband goes away to Cambodia to build the business he’s created to liberate girls from their misery of sex slavery and build better lives for themselves, their families and their offspring, he faces so many challenges he could just about GIVE UP. What is the point? Better to just build your own fortress, buffet your existence with fluffy pillows and the comforts of home. But he doesn’t. And what keeps him going is the ABSOLUTE CONVICTION that if he turned his back on these girls, then he will ultimately be held accountable to the God he believes in for doing so. It is a WEIGHTY LOAD.<br />
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And I get ANGRY for him.<br />
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Angry at the Cambodian government for not taking care of its poor; angry at the funds leached by the corrupt at the top and those who drive around in Porches and Mercedes while others don’t have enough to eat; angry that my husband works like an absolute dog to fund this business and help these people; angry that things aren’t easier for him; angry that my own selfishness and needs and emotional wellbeing often present a challenge to him.<br />
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But FESTERING ANGER is a cancer. And so it must be redirected. And so I need to write all this not only to save my own soul but to honour my God. A God who does not grow weary under accusations that he is unjust, a God who has an immense capacity to forgive even those who hate him, a God who has saved my life and given me the gift of my own child, a God who has restored my marriage, broken destructive habits and has given order and purpose to my life.<br />
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I’m sorry, Stephen Fry, but if there’s anyone to be angry at, it is ourselves, for the demands we place on the omniscient God when we are each responsible for taking care of the world and the people who dwell within it. It is a privilege to have such work to do and it’s our duty to do it. To do anything less is to sniff at our humanity, to belittle our personhood and the God that gave it to each of us to dispense for the greater good.<br />
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As William Wilberforce, the great slave liberator once said, “true Christians consider themselves not as satisfying some rigorous creditor, but as discharging a debt of gratitude.”<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-6752315329008651712015-06-01T12:50:00.002+10:002015-06-01T15:04:06.534+10:00Media: WHITE magazine issue #27<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JE_BXQqSGVU/VWu8_fWDB8I/AAAAAAAAfxQ/5U7RfXmpipI/s1600/white%2Bissue%2B28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JE_BXQqSGVU/VWu8_fWDB8I/AAAAAAAAfxQ/5U7RfXmpipI/s640/white%2Bissue%2B28.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
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How LOVELY!<br />
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Mrs. Carla Burrell and her team at WHITE never cease to delight with an issue. While the lace and broderie anglaise, melodious studio images, woodland wedding settings and lovely flat-lays captivate aesthetically, it's the articles that give this wedding/bridal magazine a unique twist and more grist.<br />
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Issue #27 showcases the work of creatives, including Meredith Gaston (illustrator), who says, "To this day, I still remember the first illustration of mine that was commissioned. It was a painting I created at 19 when I worked for boutiques in Sydney. It was called 'Toffee Apple Town - a series of rolling polka dot hills in rich apple greens and soft pinks... I love capturing uplifting moments of joy and love, and quiet instances of tenderness and peace."<br />
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Further in, Lace Cogan tackles the issue of identity in the context of her new marriage and her parents' separation; Laura Jackel reflects on the tyranny of distance between girlfriends; Nikki Wright tells us how she deals with having a husband who is a policeman; and Richard Miller asks, "Can parents raise our expectations of our future spouse too high just by folding socks?", in which he celebrates his mother's excellent character and expressions of love for her family in tangible ways, such as sock folding (aka "cotton origami magic"), from which he derived high expectations of his future wife (notably, not a sock folder).<br />
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Amy Lovat talks moving house to accommodate a long-distance partner, two couples discuss their expressions of love and Jacqui Henderson goes on an adventure with her husband in France: "Our relationship became concentrated, with higher highs and lower lows. But we felt more like ourselves than we had in a long time," she writes. Val and Don, married 60 years, tell us to "learn to accept things as they come and don't get upset over small things - cherish each other." </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-27889472208866877032015-06-01T12:49:00.000+10:002015-06-02T14:59:39.900+10:00Mrs Satchel: The Office of Wife <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BiOPJ5BjDVM/VWu66QIVyUI/AAAAAAAAfxE/SHHMU3V4qrM/s1600/the_office_%2Bof_wife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BiOPJ5BjDVM/VWu66QIVyUI/AAAAAAAAfxE/SHHMU3V4qrM/s400/the_office_%2Bof_wife.jpg" width="298" /></a><b>A younger but perhaps wiser friend recently pointed out to me, "It doesn't naturally follow that if you are a mother, you also have the role of a wife, and even if you were, the role of a wife is different to the role of a mother. They are two separate things that don't necessarily need to be seen in the context of the other. They stand alone."</b><br />
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Well, obviously, you might say, but not so if you are performing both roles in a haze of sleep deprivation and cognitive conflict. So, my apologies to readers of <i><a href="https://whitemag.com/" target="_blank">WHITE</a></i> magazine, because what I have given you, in my latest first-person piece, is a conflation of the role of wife and mother. And given readers of <i>WHITE</i>, for the most part, are, I imagine, embarking on the journey of marriage and not always with a child, my thinking and writing were a little misguided; as tangled as a pair of earphones in a handbag.<br />
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This is one of the perils of working with words. Thinking changes but you cannot always take back the words that appear on the page. It's hard sometimes to negotiate those limitations and the imperfection of this craft called writing.<br />
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For those wives who do have children, perhaps the original will resonate (pick up your copy of <i><a href="https://whitemag.com/" target="_blank">WHITE</a></i>!). But what follows is a piece I am much happier to publish about the challenges of wifely status from where I sit...<br />
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I am just off the phone to my husband who is in Cambodia battling with a broken chain-stitch machine and a myriad other issues revolving around the denim start-up he helms when he is not running a welding business. He sounds stressed. He asks how my day was. “Fine, fine,” I lie.<br />
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Now would not be the time to mention that my mind is a tumult of conflicting, cascading emotions that I’d really like to download on him for husbandly analysis and advice. Instead, I filter pictures and videos of our little girl performing random acts of cuteness to his phone.
He would do the same for me.<br />
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Graduating from fiancée to wife isn’t always an easy transition. While fiancée means ‘wedding!’, ‘excitement!’, ‘star!’, ‘wife’ is forever…you are forever engaged, entangled and entwined with your husband. An ability to discern, intuit, listen and respond is vital to the marriage’s survival.<br />
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The world doesn’t readily buy into the idea that there’s nobility in the notion of sacrificing one’s own feelings, thoughts, ideas and ambitions for the sake of keeping a marriage, a family and a home together – maintaining the emotional equilibrium at the expense of your own “stuff” being neglected.<br />
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As Hillary Clinton, that stately beacon of wifely loyalty, once said, “We must stop thinking of the individual and start thinking about what is best for society.” It is the same for a marriage; it starts at home.<br />
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There is constant negotiation and sacrifice: thinking of the husband and what is good for him, and the marriage, in this moment, this week, this season, and not necessarily with the idea in mind that you’ll be repaid in kind (though, obviously, that would be nice!).<br />
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From the mundane negotiations around who will wield the mop to the larger philosophical issues such as the values you want to instil in your children, each matter requires a certain amount of emotional discipline and a willingness to acknowledge your husband's sovereignty as an individual deserving of respect, love and everything you wish for yourself.<br />
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Marriage requires as much diplomacy as the White House, but also a willingness to be raw and real and to handle each other's humanity in a way that is tender, though sometimes lovingly tough. My husband and I have never shied away from telling each other like it is; the good, the bad and the ugly. <br />
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We cannot anticipate on our wedding day what issues we might confront as a wife, especially if our husband is the knight-in-shining-armour type, and we are young and fearless and not battered by life.<br />
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Your husband could be diagnosed with a brain tumour at 32, like a beautiful friend of mine, or Parkinson’s, or lose his job, mind, or joie de vivre for life in general. Let it not be so, but at that point, you may have to choose. Will it be him or you or the both of you?<br />
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As I imagine Hillary well knows, wifehood is not always comfortable or flattering or fulfilling or fun-fun-fun. The Office of Wife requires commitment, courage, compassion and a tolerance for his imperfections as well as an awareness of your own.<br />
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As Sade sang, "When you're on the outside baby and you can`t get in, I will show you you're so much better than you know. When you're lost and you're alone and you can't get back again
I will find you, darling, and I will bring you home."<br />
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Two weeks after my husband returns from Cambodia, I’m under the pump with a sermon to deliver and this story to write. So he takes our baby girl and entertains her for a few hours while I string my thoughts together. It’s a pocket of time in his busy schedule allocated just for me and I’m grateful.<br />
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It’s only when the deadlines have passed that he tells me about the churned up feeling he’d been experiencing all that weekend. A wife has got to know when to shine and when to be supportive, but so too does a husband.<br />
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Facing personal challenges in a chaotic world, especially when the chips are down, is so much easier when you have a friend to count on; one who’s willing to put self-interest aside and just be by your side championing your cause, like a presidential candidacy, or caring for your child.<br />
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<b><i>WHITE</i> magazine, Issue #28, is out now.</b><br />
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See also: <a href="http://girlwithasatchel.blogspot.com.au/2012/05/video-two-souls-one-life-husband-and.html" target="_blank">Video: Two souls, one life = husband and wife </a>(plus <a href="http://ianandlarissa.com/blog/" target="_blank">Larissa's amazing blog</a>)<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-53186983803775494312015-02-04T15:33:00.000+11:002015-05-16T12:56:15.087+10:00Mrs Satchel: This woman's work<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1qJsq-ZzEis/VNGghOx0pSI/AAAAAAAAfpk/rYlUXPgV-nw/s1600/tina%2Bfey%2Bfor%2Bamex.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1qJsq-ZzEis/VNGghOx0pSI/AAAAAAAAfpk/rYlUXPgV-nw/s1600/tina%2Bfey%2Bfor%2Bamex.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I can understand why some mothers might retreat into the ether-land of nothingness once their children are at school, floundering like a fish in a puddle that's drying up under the merciless afternoon sun in a desert land. Because once all is invested into the little ones, then what is left of mum?<br />
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She is tired, she is flailing, she is disappearing...unless. Unless she is able to somehow wrench from this whole motherhood business a sense of self so purposeful and so strong that anything can be overcome because she knows - knows to the depths of her soul - that this child, these children, are utterly dependent on her for nurturing, strength and security as they find their feet in the world, and tumble and tumble and fall and fall, and get up again and seek mother's approval for a job well done.<br />
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It is hard work; harder work than you will ever know. Harder for me than labouring over words at a computer, because that is something you can control. Little people are unpredictable, unfathomable, unwieldy creatures. As one mother puts it to me, "That is why God made them cute, right?", because though you get up to them night after night after night, and cuddle and coo and caress and feed them at your breast, there is also pure, utter delight.<br />
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The way her eyes alight in the morning and seek out your face for assurance; the way she snuggles into your chest after waking from a nap all bleary-eyed; the way she goes with you everywhere, like a human appendage affixed to your side, agape, free-wheeling, careening about the place. There is joy. There is laughter. There is a mutual bond so deep and so strong that the very idea of any harm coming to her makes you rile up like a lioness protecting her cubs. You will do anything to defend her.<br />
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Most of all, you want to shelter her soul, her spirit, from what is awful in the world. The fight starts early. The cruel child in the playground who will not let your child take their turn going down the slide; the towering toddler standing over a smaller one and demanding a toy.<br />
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All you want for your child, deep down, is for them to be kind. To say, 'Hello', to strangers and also, ‘Goodbye’. To wave at passers-by. To care for the poor, the elderly, the downtrodden and not think that life is a free ride. To give abundantly, to receive graciously and appreciate all the good, simple things. To stay true to her convictions, to love with abandon, even when it hurts so much she wants to throw the towel in. To rise and shine. To take the world, or a pocket of it, and make it her own. To turn rain clouds into opportunities for gumboot wearing and splashing and not to feel down. To beat back bad headlines and troubling thoughts and horrible things that threaten her peace in the world and beautiful individuality.<br />
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To sing. To giggle. To throw caution to the wind. Because, this life thing? It's for living. And living - really living, not just existing, is hard. It's tiring. It's frustrating. It's monotonous, but also exhilarating. And not just when you are young.<br />
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The trick is to look up. Look up! LOOK UP! At the clouds as the storm comes in. At the rain drops that form on silken leaves in the garden. To notice things. Children are excellent at noticing, as another writer has said. Adults, not so much as they go about their routines - coffee, newspaper, train, work, lunch, work, train, workout...check! (Though not all, as <a href="https://tullyzygier.wordpress.com/2014/12/16/mateship-by-jason-maggs/" target="_blank">this young man</a> attests). And some will check out completely.<br />
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But apart from the natural things in the world, she must notice people. Look them in the eye. Give them a firm handshake. Treat each and every one as if they were the most special person in the whole wide world. Because that is what her parents thought of her. And God, too. But how is she to know that if she is not seeing you being you? If you are a copy, a counterfeit, a shadowy presence in her life? What will she learn about you? And what will she take from that to make her own? Did she believe you valued your own life as much as hers?<br />
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Because life is a gift given by Him to be used and not frittered away in fear or playing the waiting game – waiting for the right time, the money, the green light; just sitting, stagnant, in that nothing-place of in-between living and dying; surviving but not fully human, crippled by anxiety, nervousness and indecision; until the frustration grows so great in strength that it must COME OUT.<br />
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And it does. But not in a way you’d like her to see. Mummy not coping is distressing. It is worse than stubbing a toe or taking a fall onto asphalt. It bruises and confuses and throws her world into a spin. And so decisions must be made there in the Nothing Place, which is neither north nor south. Do you become a half-person, barely realised, always unsure and uncertain and very, very small. Or do you become fully yourself?<br />
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It’s risky. Easier to tow the line, follow the pack, hold back, retreat. Others might judge you. Eek! To choose your own adventure, your own life’s course, is hard, that is for sure. But whatever else did Christ die for? To allow you to wallow away, to rot, to hang, or to live fully with passion so deep and resounding that all the world seems to sing because YOU are making your own music.<br />
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Not all will like the sound.<br />
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So what will it be? Life is not easy, no simple thing that can be packaged up and sold in a single glossy magazine on the newsstand. It is messy, chaotic, unpredictable; troublesome, irksome, unfathomable. The key is to find your peace, that deep well of love inside of yourself and to pick up your cross and carry it, not looking back but forward.<br />
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Onwards we go. Because while you clean up and fix up her every mistake – the milk spilt on the kitchen floor, the broken tea cups, the chalk drawing on the floor – and explain away that which she cannot yet understand, like the toy baby mauled unrecognisable by the dog, Christ is doing the same for you.<br />
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For every fault and shortcoming and moment of sheer ugliness; for every poor decision, hurtful word and deception, there is grace. You still want to know her even if her behavior has been abominable and out of control. And He still wants to know you. When she comes to you, puts her arms around your neck and says, “Sorry, Mummy”, you melt. He does the same. You will forgive her and take her back again and again and again, and you’re grateful that she repays you in kind.<br />
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Love truly conquers all. To love thy neighbor, to love a child, one must love thyself.<br />
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Erica @ Girl With a Satchel<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Qz12MstBihw" width="560"></iframe><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-35269236432376376992015-01-16T12:53:00.000+11:002015-05-16T12:54:19.315+10:00Mrs Satchel: A long-awaited update<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IQgNU920wkQ/VVatDbATmNI/AAAAAAAAfwY/wd09iAg6UOQ/s1600/bartlebees%2Bat%2Bthe%2Blost%2Bworld%2Bvalley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IQgNU920wkQ/VVatDbATmNI/AAAAAAAAfwY/wd09iAg6UOQ/s400/bartlebees%2Bat%2Bthe%2Blost%2Bworld%2Bvalley.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Our little family of three at the Lost World Valley!</td></tr>
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Well, this is embarrassing! There you are, checking in occasionally in the hope that maybe, just maybe, I might be here writing something remotely interesting and...tumbleweeds! Well, today, friends, that changes! I am here, momentarily, wedged into a cafe corner on Main Street, Mount Tamborine, to shed a little light on where I've been and what's happening in the world of The Satchel. Are you ready to roll? I am. Wheeeeeeeee!<br />
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Firstly, mothering. Exhilarating. Exhausting. It has catapulted me into a stratosphere formerly unknown to me; a parallel universe that revolves around tiny little people and their schedules, and the conflicts that presents, in terms of ego and desires and needs, is worth another post that I've been working on but has not yet come to full fruition because the more I dig, the more I turn up, and this molehill has turned, unexpectedly, into a mountain of paper clippings, books and research material. It's a mother load!<br />
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In short: my old, free-wheeling life is gone; my new life revolves entirely around the wellbeing of my little family of three. Any spare time I have in my schedule, when Isabel is napping (an ad-hoc affair) or her Mama steps into the breach (like now) or the Satcheling is asleep and Mr Satchel is elsewhere, I use to read to keep my brain from atrophy and journal, to just GET WORDS OUT. Or I help out editing material (no easy thing on just a few winks of sleep, I must say).<br />
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I am remotely abreast of what is happening in the world outside ("outside" is, by the way, is Isabel's favourite word, because that is her favourite place to be; something I indulge quite happily!). But the other "outside", the one presented to us via the media, is quite inhospitable, isn't it? While we have become a family that Does Not Watch the News, in a televisual sense, I'm quite mindful of not forgetting about the plight of others while I go about preparing meals that go uneaten (the food wastage!) and hanging the washing and gardening and playing entertainment co-ordinator and educational facilitator to our little one.<br />
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What I do want to do is to show Isabel is that despite the atrocities on a grand scale that connect us all as human beings, as well as the natural disasters that appear out of nowhere, that surely evil cannot ultimately prevail if we do something - anything - to show kindness and love to others. Like buying a bunch of flowers for a sick friend. Or writing a letter. Or inviting someone to dinner. Or buying a pair of ethically made jeans.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cRAMlmPRTIU/VIFONSo2C7I/AAAAAAAAfoI/vzJZgSonZDM/s1600/7ff74a09-3a4b-4129-9955-a320a1e45a8c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cRAMlmPRTIU/VIFONSo2C7I/AAAAAAAAfoI/vzJZgSonZDM/s400/7ff74a09-3a4b-4129-9955-a320a1e45a8c.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The community of Mount Tamborine, Eat Street Social, in support of the JC Denim Project, 2014.</td></tr>
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It's easy, I believe, to stay inside your delicious bubble of baby and home and family without ever daring to venture outside; the docile life of domesticity. To that end, I am very grateful to play a very small support part in my husband's work on the <a href="http://www.jcdenimco.com/" target="_blank">JC Denim Project</a>. His passion inspires me, as does his young, energetic team. Finally, I feel as if my feminism (aka "satchelism") and Mr Satchel's mission are coming together (what a fight!). We recently watched <i>Desert Flower</i> together, and he cried. Isn't it wonderful when our men are on the same page as us when it comes to women's issues (am I right, Emma Watson?). But, more than that, when we can work together to be a part of the solution?<br />
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This Project constantly reminds me that not every child has the privilege of a protected, caring, loving childhood, nor, as my husband says, the niggling worry, "Will there be food on the table tonight?". There are children such as this in our own neighbourhoods, which makes me grateful for organisations such as <a href="http://www.thesmithfamily.com.au/" target="_blank">The Smith Family</a>, <a href="https://www.lifeline.org.au/" target="_blank">Lifeline</a>, <a href="http://www.givit.org.au/" target="_blank">GiveIt</a> and <a href="http://www.ozchild.org.au/" target="_blank">OzChild</a>. But then there's also the global village of kids to think about. If every child (girl or boy) were given an opportunity to thrive, to rise above poverty and violence and insecurity, oh, Louis, what a wonderful world it would be!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/91681394" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe><br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/91681394">JC Denim Project // Part Two</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/jcdenimco">JC Denim Co.</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
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Bye-bye! Take care!<br />
Erica/Mrs Satchel<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-65207126546312582972014-08-27T11:30:00.000+10:002015-08-27T11:31:15.115+10:00Mrs Satchel: What faithfulness looks like<br />
Two years ago I fell head-over-heels in love with two older men known to me, surreptitiously, as GK and CS. I would spend hours cuddled up on the couch with them on alternating nights as my husband slept upstairs in bed.<br />
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Seemingly benign, this clandestine nighttime habit of mine, accompanied by other horrible habits, such as eating trail mix (which often falls by the back of the couch and goes squish), ate away at my married life.<br />
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Truthfully, GK and CS (aka Gilbert Keith Chesterton and Clive Staples Lewis) had stolen my heart, my mind and my time. You might call this marital unfaithfulness.<br />
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Ironically, it was in the search for a sense of myself, and in making sense of the world, that I was led to the books and their affable authors, but away from my husband, who is not the bookish type.<br />
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Even before we tied the knot, we had begun to go our separate ways, sensing, perhaps, that the person we had married was not the person we desired to be with for a lifetime.<br />
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How many people wake up on day three of their honeymoon and say, ‘What have we done?’, I wonder? What ensued, for the first six long years of our marriage, was a turbulent time imbued with worries and fears; nary a happy moment can we recall. Isn’t that pitiful?<br />
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For my part, I had started to stray down the long, winding, precarious road of an eating disorder in a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of control while my whole world seemingly tipped itself upside down in a new home in a new town.<br />
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My new husband was unwittingly dragged along, doing the best he could to survive in a war zone. I went a very long way away from reality before I finally woke up one day and saw him again, thankful that he was still there and no longer the enemy.<br />
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When one partner figuratively departs the marriage to embark on an existential journey, to find purpose and meaning, or veers off track into a world of their own, a vast chasm in the marriage can appear like an iceberg in the mist.<br />
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While your inner dialogue resembles a Woody Allen movie (think Owen Wilson in <i><a href="http://girlwithasatchel.blogspot.com.au/2011/10/film-review-mediocre-but-pleasant.html" target="_blank">Midnight in Paris</a></i>), reality gets further away. Your partner remains on Planet Earth RSVPing to social occasions, paying bills and generally tries not to have a nervous breakdown.<br />
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Doing an Elizabeth Gilbert within the marriage context is not uncommon, I think, in a world that calls on us to be fully realised individuals and all things to all people (including Facebook, Twitter and Instagram followers).<br />
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But to remain faithful to a spouse while they embark on a journey of self-actualisation is no easy thing. You may find your partner in the departure lounge. Alternative sources of companionship might be sought out. It can leave them very vulnerable to letting someone else in to pick up the slack.<br />
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If you are a sensitive soul, perhaps given over to melancholy moods, who has to regularly retreat from the world and into books and such things because life can be a bit much, really; or who has a lot of healing to do because something went awry in your early life, fidelity can be especially difficult for a spouse, I think, because you are not always present or pleasant.<br />
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This is where faithfulness steps in. Faithfulness is the lighthouse when love is lost and hope has given way as two disparate souls living in the same house go their separate ways, like ships passing in the night.<br />
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It is possible, and quite normal, to feel very lonely in a marriage at times. But a faithful spouse will bring you back to reality, ever-so-gently, and remind you that you’re in this together; that this life you’re creating, and everything you’re negotiating, mentally and emotionally, is to be shared.<br />
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As GK once said, “Marriage is an adventure, like going to war.” Alas, some get more war than they bargain for. But war is easier to weather with a faithful friend by your side. And, thankfully, beauty can come out of the struggle: good things, like our darling baby girl Isabel.<br />
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We are so very grateful to still be sharing a marital bed (often with Isabel sleeping between us, kicking us in the head!).<br />
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So while now I’m inclined to share passages from treasured CS books with my husband, sometimes leading to delicious discussion (other times the sound of crickets), I’m also more likely to put down my book, put on my boots, pack the trail mix and set out on an adventure. Together.<br />
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<b>This is an extended version of an article that appeared in <i>WHITE</i> magazine, spring 2014.</b><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-90747644580219511442013-07-23T16:52:00.003+10:002014-09-17T13:51:47.955+10:00Introducing Isabel Louise (aka The Satcheling) and a little story<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Saturday night before Isabel Louise was born, I had looked up at the stars with Mr Satchel by my side and exclaimed, "I cannot wait for our tiny baby to experience all this - the enormity of the dazzling universe God has created" (or some such thing), at which he said something <i>very</i> romantic along the lines of, "Yeah", and we set out for home in our separate cars (which <i>had</i> been a metaphor for our entire marriage), as I had been dining with friends (The Last Supper, indeed!) and he had been to a bucks party (the last hurrah?!).<br />
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The next morning we awoke and had a cuddle and, well, whaddayaknow, my waters broke! "You have peed yourself!" exclaimed Mr Satchel, as I've always been on the weak-of-bladder side. "Oh, ha, pregnancy is all glamour!" I retorted. But, really, there was so much water! Niagra Falls. And so he called my sister-in-law who suggested it might be an idea to call the hospital and then sent a text message to my father: "Erica won't be at church today; I think she's going into labour".<br />
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But here's the rub - it was still seven weeks before we were expecting to see our bub. Thinking it was all a bit on the funny side - <i>like as if we are about to have a baby right now this Sunday morning!</i> - we took our sweet time getting to Pindara Private Hospital, a 40-minute drive away. I packed my copy of <i>What to Expect When You're Expecting</i> in the car, thinking I ought to cram-read the section on Premature Babies (just in case), and Mr Satchel stopped to buy an Ice-Break and piece of fruit cake.<br />
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We arrived at the hospital, my obstetrician was called and he mozied on into the birthing suite in his Sunday best (shorts and a tee-shirt; so cool and casual is Dr Michael Flynn). An ambulance was called to usher me to Brisbane where I would wait out the rest of my pregnancy... but that was not to be! Our busy little Izzy B was going to make her debut early.<br />
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And then she was there, all of 20 minutes later. I think the entirety of my labour was 40 minutes or so. I feel terribly bad, like I cheated or something, because out slipped my little girl after a bit of push and shove (yes, there was pain!). But my darling Isabel was then whisked away; put into a humidicrib with talk of "abnormalities", all the while I was near fainting. Did that just happen? And where are you taking my baby?<br />
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Mr Satchel was a champion of Olympic proportions, staying in control the whole time, rallying by my side, despite his dying of fright at the sight of his wife nearly passing out and then our wee girl being taken away from us and transported via ambulance to Gold Coast Hospital. I had a shower, sat for five minutes and checked myself out of Pindara. We were at Gold Coast Hospital 30 minutes later, by the side of our Isabel.<br />
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The doctors and nurses assured us that she would be AOK despite her being a mere 32+4 weeks in production (in Special Care Nurseries, where the majority of the babies are "premmie", we talk in terms such as "32+4" - as in, "My baby was 32+4; what was yours?").<br />
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The next month was a challenging, testing, exhilarating time, full of emotion, long daily drives to and from the hospital, flicking through pictures of our baby in bed at night and jovial chats with the other mums in our room and the angelic nurses, too (Mr Satchel kept things light while I expressed breast milk for town and country - "Queen Cow", they called me!).<br />
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It was a full 10 days before we received news that our baby's chromosomes had, in fact, no abnormalities at all - that she was a normal, healthy little girl who simply had a squished nose because she was crammed in so tightly (poor little blighter). I cried BIG tears for the first time since her birth. I didn't realise I could be such a stoic; but there you go...<br />
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We took Isabel Louise home a month and one day after her birth. We were fists full of anxiety and excitement. But we had received the very best caring-for-a-baby education under excellent supervision. Nappy changing, breast feeding and bathing all nailed, we were ready to set sail!<br />
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Needless to say, as all parents do, nothing prepares you for the stupendous heights of joy, nor the stupendous lows of fatigue, but you do it, because this precious little thing? Well, you are the world to her. And she is my world, though I might be so bold as to point out that here I am, writing a blog post, sitting in a cafe while her grandfather watches over her.<br />
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The most contentious thing I have faced three months into motherhood is this idea of self-sacrifice. I had imagined I would be 100% MUM. The sort of mother who is All About Their Child. But while I am absolutely intent on making her feel safe, secure, cherished - so she might one day grow wings and do wonderful things in the world - and have done my very best to minimise myself (at least in a physical sense, getting rid of a lifetime of clutter), I am still here.<br />
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I am me. And she is she. And I think right now that that is how things will be. Enjoying my Little Izzy B is just as much about her being her as it is me being me. In fact, a better me is what she makes me. So perhaps I will post something here sporadically; when the Spirit takes hold, so to speak. Or perhaps I will rekindle GWAS, somehow. And, hey, maybe I'll start a mummy blog (<i>original idea! Go for it! It's a winner! No one has thought of that before!</i>).<br />
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In the meantime, it's nice that you have visited! And thank you for listening to my story. Signing off giving God all the glory for our little miracle baby, Isabel Louise Bartle (bee).<br />
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Girl With a Satchel<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-46435958347540576462013-04-08T17:10:00.002+10:002013-04-08T17:10:15.551+10:00GWAS Notes Part Deux: Hatching a satcheling<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i><b>Following on from <a href="http://girlwithasatchel.blogspot.com.au/2012/11/gwas-notes-gentle-long-winded-goodbye.html" target="_blank">The Long-Winded Good-Bye diatribe</a>, an update for those who still check in here from time to time (oh, ye faithful!)...</b></i><br />
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<i>Mr and Mrs. Satchel are expecting to hatch their first satcheling around the same time as The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge (just a week or two prior). Yes, we are "with child", and it goes without saying that this is the best news ever, though The Australian Women's Weekly is yet to note its world-changing significance in the light of the royal baby's arrival. </i></div>
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<i>What exactly does one </i>do<i> while pregnant? </i></div>
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<i>Well, one works at one's job while fighting fatigue, all-day-sickness (morning? ha!) and back pain; grows significant girth in the stomach region; shops for clothes to suit changing figure; fondles sweet baby things in department stores; picture-stalks 'Jools Oliver Pregnant'; reads Meg Mason's wonderfully hilarious </i><a href="http://www.harpercollins.com.au/books/Say-Again-Nice-Voice-Meg-Mason/?isbn=9780730495321" target="_blank">Say It Again in a Nice Voice</a><i>; visits the obstetrician as frequently as the loo; takes nana naps at every possible chance; friends women with little ones (in a sort of mad, me-too! desperation); avoids most media by instinct (protect, nurture, shield...); nests, nests, nests; calls/emails one's mother often; walks around caressing one's tummy; smiles graciously at those who like to touch one's tummy; thinks BIG thoughts about the tiny LITTLE miracle that is making a person and bringing said person into the world; thanks God MUCH for said miracle (His grace truly knows no bounds)...</i></div>
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<i>That is all. </i><br />
<i>This is my world. </i><br />
<i>And it is supremely lovely. </i><br />
<i>A new season of life, indeed.</i></div>
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<i>I won't bore you anymore with baby talk. </i><br />
<i>But... wheeeeee!</i></div>
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<i>Girl With a Satchel</i><br />
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<i>P.S. But, of course, it's not all about me! Since we last checked in... Georgie has taken her first classes at the University of Sydney, Beci has been to Fiji, Brooke has been to Egypt, Emma got married, Ellen-Maree became a News Limited journalist, Sophie got a new camera, Julia returned to Malaysia and </i>The Guardian<i> set up sticks on Australian shores.</i></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-6193533870084927012013-04-08T17:10:00.001+10:002013-04-08T17:10:04.009+10:00Video: The JC Clothing Co. Denim Project (c/o Cambodia)<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/iTU7liwFF4I" width="560"></iframe><br />
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Hello you! This is Mr. Satchel's latest project, and the video made by the talented young filmmaker Annika Salisbury on our trip to Cambodia last year (one of many for Mr. Satchel). I am very proud of him, of course. It's been a long, arduous, complicated journey to this point, peppered with an abundance of hope-filled moments, small graces (such as <i>not</i> losing our passports!) and people willing to sacrifice their own time and skills to help. That makes all the difference in getting a project like this off the ground. One of many campaigns aimed at liberating the poor, the captive and the vulnerable in Cambodia, the <a href="http://jcclothingcompany.com/stop-traffick-jc-denim-project/" target="_blank">JC Clothing Co. Denim Project</a> (aka 'Stop Traffick') is a work-in-progress - as much a learning experience for us as for the girls themselves (whoever thought making jeans - in villages with no electricity, no less! - would be so darn complicated?). And there's a way to go; but you have to start down the road in order to get anywhere, don't you? I hope you get something from the film, I really do! <br />
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<i>And if you want to buy the jeans, or recommend them to someone, you can go to <a href="http://jcclothingcompany.com/">JCClothingCompany.com</a>.</i><br />
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See also:<br />
<a href="http://girlwithasatchel.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/essay-to-cambodia-with-delicacy-how-to.html" target="_blank">To Cambodia with delicacy (how to make a small difference)</a><br />
<a href="http://girlwithasatchel.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/perspective-road-to-redemption-via.html" target="_blank">The Road to Redemption (via Cambodia)</a><br />
<a href="http://girlwithasatchel.blogspot.com.au/2012/08/snapshot-beate-and-willem-cambodian.html" target="_blank">Snapshot: Beate and Willem, a Cambodian Education</a><br />
<a href="http://girlwithasatchel.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/film-school-virginity-trade-girl-who.html" target="_blank">Virginity Trade & The Girl Who Spelled Freedom</a><br />
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Girl With a Satchel<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-15392248787643283252012-11-30T12:07:00.001+11:002015-11-06T14:22:10.054+11:00GWAS Notes: A gentle, long-winded goodbye<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Dear readers,</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>You might have guessed it, but Girl With a Satchel is taking a sabbatical (surprise!).</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am not the first media scribe to have headed to the not-for-profit/cha<span style="font-size: large;">rity</span>
sector for respite and gainful employment in an all-too-uncertain media
environment. But to say that were the sole reason for my exodus from
online would be quite untrue. The reasons are manifold.</span></span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">P</span>arting is sweet sorrow, but excites me nonetheless. S<span style="font-size: large;">ometimes it is easier to hold onto the familiar than to finally let go a<span style="font-size: large;">nd s<span style="font-size: large;">ee what God has in st<span style="font-size: large;">ore</span></span></span>. All feels like a new beginning. Which is where the very "me" that has been "me" must end, and so to it GWAS (we are impossibly inseparable, to some exten<span style="font-size: large;">t)</span>.</span></span></span></span></span></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i> </i></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>A<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">s <span style="font-size: large;">Watchman Nee writes, God is not satisfied <span style="font-size: large;">with a simple exchange of interes<span style="font-size: large;">ts. A change from <span style="font-size: large;">economics and his<span style="font-size: large;">tory, media and cult<span style="font-size: large;">u<span style="font-size: large;">re, to Corinthians and Ephesians, for exa<span style="font-size: large;">mple. "<span style="font-size: large;">Origin determines dest<span style="font-size: large;">ination,<span style="font-size: large;">" he says, "a<span style="font-size: large;">nd what was 'of the flesh' or<span style="font-size: large;">iginally will never be made spiritual by any amount of 'i<span style="font-size: large;">mprovement'."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">No great revelation to say that i<span style="font-size: large;">t is hard here online to make your way – operating at a dismal loss<span style="font-size: large;">, ironically for the time I have felt least conflicted ab<span style="font-size: large;">out</span>, and most enjoyed, my work here, ha<span style="font-size: large;">s
been interesting to say the least! The site has been through many
revisions in its time, all reflecting my current state of mind.</span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">If the whole of life is based</span></span></span> around one's relationships – with God and fellow man – then I have to say I've not always do<span style="font-size: large;">ne a commendable job. <span style="font-size: large;">When your <span style="font-size: large;">heart</span> <span style="font-size: large;">is tugged in manifold directions, when your identity is in part tied up in your work, then it is easy to lose sight of what mat<span style="font-size: large;">ters most<span style="font-size: large;">:</span> marriage, friendship, children, community, good health, God. Yes, there is also worthy work<span style="font-size: large;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span>There is something about the journalistic profession (writing, blogging, wh<span style="font-size: large;">atever you want to call it) that posits the journalis<span style="font-size: large;">t in a preca<span style="font-size: large;">rious positio<span style="font-size: large;">n, forever negotiating whether the work is legitim<span style="font-size: large;">ately <span style="font-size: large;">beneficial to <span style="font-size: large;">others or not. The plumb<span style="font-size: large;"> line of tr<span style="font-size: large;">uth is blurred.<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Loss is incurred. Human <span style="font-size: large;">f</span>allout i<span style="font-size: large;">s inevitable. No one is accountable. <span style="font-size: large;">What of the Good News?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">To be libera<span style="font-size: large;">ted from the thought of 'this would make a top story' is probably not what a <span style="font-size: large;">practising <span style="font-size: large;">journalist
wants, and yet I cannot help but feel that all of life were not to be
experienced as such. At least, not at this point in<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>time. Not for me. <span style="font-size: large;">There is <span style="font-size: large;">very good journalism out there to be <span style="font-size: large;">found</span>.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">For now, I am happy enough to <span style="font-size: large;">sit on the ben<span style="font-size: large;">ch and ride out the tide of this conundrum as the media world goes through <span style="font-size: large;">its own growing pains</span> (regressing or progressing? I'm not <span style="font-size: large;">so sure). </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">The world is in a state of absolute peril<span style="font-size: large;">, as it always ha</span>s been post-Eden.</span> And <span style="font-size: large;">all of the wron<span style="font-size: large;">g that we still see <span style="font-size: large;">is sp<span style="font-size: large;">arked by this 'going it my way' mentality. Oh, <span style="font-size: large;">t</span>o be heard, to <span style="font-size: large;">be thought highly of, </span>to be proved right, to be loved! </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is very human to want to improve, to better ourselves, to reach new heig<span style="font-size: large;">hts and new goals, to think new thoughts, uncover new knowledge<span style="font-size: large;"> and accomplish some feat.</span> <span style="font-size: large;">B</span>ut as Tasmin Archer sings <span style="font-size: large;">in one of my all-time favourite songs, "Slee<span style="font-size: large;">ping Satellite", </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the rush of the race<br />The reason we chase is lost in romance<br />And still we try to justify the waste<br />For a taste of man's greatest adventure </span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">The indi<span style="font-size: large;">vidual is so often left behind in this relentless clim<span style="font-size: large;">b, sometimes to the point where there is nothing left of them at all. They are numb, irrelevant, dust. Or if the<span style="font-size: large;">y are the opposite, posited on high, the position is so often built on fleeting fluff; enough is never enough.</span> That is not how things should be. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">And, yet, the quest to contextualise, to order, to make sense of what we see and hear and read makes us <span style="font-size: large;">very much hu<span style="font-size: large;">man. That is a gift. Where is i<span style="font-size: large;">t appropriate to do so? The classroom of life surely knows no bounds. Or does it? </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span><i><i> </i></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">S</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">ometimes we have to w<span style="font-size: large;">ithdraw, decline, go offline, have some downtime to process what has been on rewin<span style="font-size: large;">d and work ou<span style="font-size: large;">r way back to the present tense with better sense</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">. And probably the best way to do that is in the comfortable pages of a<span style="font-size: large;"> journal</span> (I have filled dozens<span style="font-size: large;"> of pretty little jotters</span> in years), and not a public blog.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Which is n<span style="font-size: large;">ot to say being here, and writing here, has not presented me with an ab<span style="font-size: large;">undance of opportunities – I have jetsetted to Singapore (thank you, Nuffnang) and <a href="http://girlwithasatchel.blogspot.com.au/2011/12/essay-window-onto-new-york.html" target="_blank">New York</a> (thank you, Planet Blue) where I s<span style="font-size: large;">kated on ice and made lifel<span style="font-size: large;">ong friends</span></span>; I've been on afternoon kids' TV (yippee!) thanks to Re<span style="font-size: large;">becca Sparrow who wrote me into a script;</span> I'<span style="font-size: large;">ve seen and thought and asked things that I thought I never would<span style="font-size: large;">. Not all of them good.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span><i> </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I started blogging here six years ago with no clue as to how it would go; no agenda other than to write a<span style="font-size: large;">bout those things I liked</span>. <span style="font-size: large;">Sin<span style="font-size: large;">ce</span></span>
that time, I have done a great deal of sorting out. I have found my
truth, and it is wonderful and I hold onto it with all my might. </span></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">As a wise man once said, </span></span></span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">"The
kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found
it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and
bought that field."</span></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>T<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">he emergence of my burgeo<span style="font-size: large;">ning faith, <span style="font-size: large;">transparently accounted for here,</span> has probably<span style="font-size: large;">
for many readers been an uncomfortable, disconcerting, irritating
thing. That has troubled me a lot. To alienate is not the way, yet to
deny that something incredible has changed within, and therefore the <span style="font-size: large;">view without, would be inexcusable.</span></span></span> </span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span><i> </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now<span style="font-size: large;">, more than e<span style="font-size: large;">ver, I am confident in God, and so I lay down everything before <span style="font-size: large;">Him and say, 'Take what <span style="font-size: large;">you will<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">.' Should he choose to give GWAS back at some stage, then so be it. If not, I count it<span style="font-size: large;"> of no loss anyway. New assignments, not necessarily of the <span style="font-size: large;">work-economy kind,</span> await. <span style="font-size: large;">New sea<span style="font-size: large;">sons, new duties, new wonders to contemplate.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">There is so much to do in the world: so m<span style="font-size: large;">uch hurt, pain<span style="font-size: large;">, confusion</span> to alleviate and joy to create. Let's not forget that for a second, even when we are "off <span style="font-size: large;">du<span style="font-size: large;">ty" for a bit. No pro<span style="font-size: large;">ject with a <span style="font-size: large;">worthy aim</span> <span style="font-size: large;">is too <a href="http://www.praythedevilbacktohell.com/video-media.php" target="_blank">big</a> or too small. I look forward to collaborating with my husband on a project or t<span style="font-size: large;">wo, serving my church, doing a good job<span style="font-size: large;"></span>.</span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span><i> </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Thank
you so much for being such dear and true readers, without whom there
would be very little point of posting anything here at all (and for
bearing me with patience, e<span style="font-size: large;">xtra gratitude!)</span>. <span style="font-size: large;">Your patronage at the site has not been taken for granted. </span></i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">The handful of kindred spirits whose 'offline<span style="font-size: large;">'</span> discourse I have cherished so much, thanks to emails exchanged on GWAS top<span style="font-size: large;">ics of interest</span> (media, culture, faith), have warmed <span style="font-size: large;">my heart. You know who you are!</span> </span> </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>To contributors such as Georgie Carroll, <span style="font-size: large;">our teen blogger who is now off to univer<span style="font-size: large;">sity (wow!)<span style="font-size: large;"> via <span style="font-size: large;">a trip to the U.S.A</span>; Brooke Lehmann, whose brilliant book reviews often made my day and who <span style="font-size: large;">embarks for Egypt soon; Beci Culley, illustrator and girl-out-for-my-own-heart (off to Italy!)<span style="font-size: large;">; </span>Emma Plant <span style="font-size: large;">whose wit <span style="font-size: large;">is always e<span style="font-size: large;">ntertaining; Sophie Baker, whose photography is taking her places; Liz Burke, who is now an <span style="font-size: large;">award-winning</span> <span style="font-size: large;">journalist at the Women's Weekly (ACP 'Rising Star'!); the al<span style="font-size: large;">ways-</span>lovely Alison Stegert, Julia Low and Luc<span style="font-size: large;">y Brook... </span></span>and <span style="font-size: large;">Bloke with a Bag who<span style="font-size: large;"> is just a great dad<span style="font-size: large;">,</span> thank you.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">To my fairy-blogmother<span style="font-size: large;">, Diane, <span style="font-size: large;">whose big, golden heart can melt the <span style="font-size: large;">coldest of ice-capped<span style="font-size: large;"> personalities</span>...
you are a Cinderella's dream (and could teach those ugly step-sisters a
thing or two) and your words of wisdom have been a beacon of light unto
me.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span><i> <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span></span></i><i> </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>If you would like to be kept in the loop, might I suggest that you sign up to the Girl With a Satchel Mailings List (s<span style="font-size: large;">idebar; right – though </span>I confess, not a lot of mail goes out... the current newsletter is so detestably ugly that I can't bear to sen<span style="font-size: large;">d it, and I've simply not had time to get it up to standard). </span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Y</span>ou never know what you might find one day in your inbox out of the blue.<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>I<span style="font-size: large;">f you would like to say hello or good-bye or good riddance (if you simply can't refrain), email <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1472695920">satchel</a><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="mailto:girl@gmail.com">girl@gmail.com</a>. </span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>If you still would like to send us something, because snail mail is <span style="font-size: large;">a nice way to do things, </span>then I recommend this P<span style="font-size: large;">.O. Box:</span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Girl With a Satchel</span></i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">P.O. Box 204</span></i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-size: large;">North Tamborine Qld 4272 </span></span> </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>For now, the comments section has been turned off (sweet relief, believe me!).<span style="font-size: large;"> And <span style="font-size: large;">t</span>his grandiose, somewhat self-important sol<span style="font-size: large;">iloq<span style="font-size: large;">uy is just about over (phew). I <span style="font-size: large;">fe<span style="font-size: large;">ar I have said far too much (a<span style="font-size: large;">gain). Quest: refrain.</span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span><i><br /></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>So, until such a time as the wind directs me back here (like a Johnny Farnham reunion tour), or to another post <span style="font-size: large;">in the <span style="font-size: large;">p<span style="font-size: large;">recarious </span>online media world or even the printed kind<span style="font-size: large;">,</span></span></span> farewell, so long, chin up and good cheer.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #674ea7;">I wish you a safe and happy Christmas and wonder<span style="font-size: x-large;">ful</span> New Year.</span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Erica, <span style="font-size: large;">t</span>he Girl With a Satchel </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">"'...She was made straight, and glorified God." Luke 13:13 </span></i></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-64427064403216683732012-11-30T10:55:00.000+11:002012-11-30T10:55:11.558+11:00Media: Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i>Media</i></span>: Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(a very GWAS Christmas tradition)</span><br />
<br />
"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old. <br />
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. <br />
"Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.' <br />
"Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?<br />
<br />
"VIRGINIA O'HANLON.<br />
"115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."<br />
<br />
VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.<br />
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Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.<br />
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Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.<br />
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You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. <br />
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No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.<br />
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- Francis Pharcellus Church, editor, <i>The Sun</i>, editorial, September 21, 1897<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-25613551411957640952012-11-30T10:14:00.003+11:002012-11-30T10:14:39.703+11:00Thinkings: G.K. In A Topsy-Turvy Land<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><i>Thinkings</i></span>: G.K. In A Topsy-Turvy Land </span><i><br /></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"By perpetually talking about environment and visible things, by perpetually talking about economics and physical necessity, painting and keeping repainted a perpetual picture of iron machinery and merciless engines, of rails of steel, and of towers of stone, modern materialism at last produces this tremendous impression in which the truth is stated upside down. At last the result is achieved. The man does not say as he ought to have said, "Should married men endure being modern shop assistants?" The man says, "Should shop assistants marry?" Triumph has completed the immense illusion of materialism. The slave does not say, "Are these chains worthy of me?" The slave says scientifically and contentedly, "Am I even worthy of these chains?"</i></span><br /><br />- G.K. Chesterton, 'In A Topsy-Turvy Land', <i>Tremendous Trifles</i>, <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/8092/8092-h/8092-h.htm">http://www.gutenberg.org/files/8092/8092-h/8092-h.htm</a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-35859832113262230012012-11-16T17:29:00.001+11:002012-11-16T17:29:26.458+11:00Bulletin Board: A Brisbane film screening<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><i>Bulletin Board</i></span>: A Brisbane film screening</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nbsk6aYO7k4/UKXdECF5S7I/AAAAAAAAeyg/ShTF5_LdO6k/s1600/thankyou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nbsk6aYO7k4/UKXdECF5S7I/AAAAAAAAeyg/ShTF5_LdO6k/s640/thankyou.jpg" width="420" /></a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-64828481823881933142012-11-12T11:30:00.000+11:002012-11-12T19:25:14.977+11:00Culture: Gen Y loves reading<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i>Culture</i></span>: What's fuelling <span style="font-size: x-large;">Gen Y's love of reading?</span></span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VPdJcvY85TQ/UI76cn4OthI/AAAAAAAAevY/POeLlVp00Ds/s1600/Archives-Fine-Books+035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VPdJcvY85TQ/UI76cn4OthI/AAAAAAAAevY/POeLlVp00Ds/s800/Archives-Fine-Books+035.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">As the release date for the film is scheduled for release on December 14, 2012, picking up a pocket 75th
anniversary edition of J.R.R. Tolkien's <i>The Hobbit</i> issued by publisher <a href="http://www.harpercollins.com.au/books/The-Pocket-Hobbit-75th-Anniversary-Edition/?isbn=9780007440849" target="_blank">HarperCollins</a> and featuring Tolkien's own illustrations seemed fitting. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">In Tolkien's tale, the precursor to <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>,
we find Hobbit Bilbo Baggins leaving the comforts of home at the
request of the wizard Gandalf to undertake an epic journey, reconciling
the two parts of his whole self and sharpening his character when put to the challenge.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">"Tolkien’s
first published novel... is a much more artistically and intellectually
sophisticated book than it often gets credit for, and it richly rewards
adult re-reading," suggests Corey Olsen at <a href="http://blogs.wsj.com/speakeasy/2012/09/21/why-j-r-r-tolkiens-the-hobbit-isnt-just-for-kids/" target="_blank"><i>The Wall Street Journal</i></a>, pointing to <i>The Hobbit</i>'s character depth, use of poetry and song and story construction. </span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It's an unusual but not uncommon
undertaking, to read again something you first chanced upon in the
library at primary school. The characters are familiar but the story is
not quite the same. But for new generations of readers, old tales are coming to life again, given new zeal by technologies, social media, films, crafty marketing and Generation Y's love of a self<span style="font-size: small;"> (or bookshelf) </span>discovery.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #262626; font-family: LucidaGrande; font-size: small;">"I'm currently reading <i>Peter
Pan</i> by J.M. Barrie," says Malaysia-based blogger Julia Low. "I bought this while browsing through a children's store at
the Sydney airport. I had heard only wonderful things about Neverland and
wanted in on Peter and Wendy's adventures." </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">In the year that saw the collapse of Borders book stores,
a downshift in sales through book chains and the commensurate
acceleration of online sales, Generation Ys (born between 1979 and 1989)
spent the most money on books in 2011, according to research out of the U.S., usurping the bigger Baby Boomer
population as consumers of the written word in bookish form, whether on
tablet, online or in print. </span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">According to the 2012 U.S. <i>Book Consumer Demographics and Buying Behaviors Annual Review</i> conducted by industry trade magazine <i><a href="http://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/publisher-news/article/53573-generation-y-leads-in-book-buying.html" target="_blank">Publisher's Weekly</a></i> and <a href="http://www.bowker.com/en-US/aboutus/press_room/2012/pr_08142012.shtml" target="_blank">Bowker Market Research</a>, Gen Y's 2011 book expenditures rose to 30 per cent, up from 24 percent in 2010, passing the Boomers' 25 per cent share.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">The <i>Review</i>
noted that 43 per cent of Gen Y's purchases went to online channels,
with online book retailers accounting for 39 per cent of unit purchases,
up from 31 per cent in 2010<span style="font-size: small;">.</span> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">S</span>till not<span style="font-size: small;"> an enormous sha<span style="font-size: small;">re of the total book sales market but on the upswing</span></span>,</span> e-book consumption rose from 4 per
cent of unit sales in 2010 to a not-insignificant 14 per cent in 2011.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">BookStats, the annual industry sales survey coordinated by the
Association of American Publishers and Book Industry Study Group, found
that book sales fell 2.5 per cent over all in 2011 to $27.2 billion,
suggesting that there is a profit margin between print and digital to be
overcome. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">It was much the same story i<span style="font-size: small;">n Australia in 2011: book sales sl<span style="font-size: small;">ipped 7.1 per cent after the collapse of REDgroup Retail (Angus & Robertson, <span style="font-size: small;">Borders) to 60.4 million, according to Nielsen BookScan, while the value of those sales <span style="font-size: small;">slumped 12.6 per cent to $1.1 billion</span>.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Amazon is reportedly
selling 114 e-books for every 100 printed books, helped by the
popularity of its Kindle. Unit book sales rose 3.4<i> </i>per cent, to 2.77 billion in 2011 with the discrepancy due to higher sales of lower-priced e-books, said American industry <span style="font-size: small;">journal</span> <a href="http://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/financial-reporting/article/53042-book-sales-fell-2-5-in-2011.html" target="_blank"><i>Publisher's Weekly</i></a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Children and young adults
book sales, meanwhile, from January to June 2012 were up 40.7 per cent on the same
period last year according to <a href="http://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/childrens/childrens-industry-news/article/54512-children-s-sales-soar-in-the-first-half-of-2012-says-aap.html?utm_source=Ypulse+Updates&utm_campaign=0a0d50982d-YDU10_26_2012&utm_medium=email" target="_blank">AAP StatShot</a>,
with a 251.5 per cent increase in e-book sales (up from $46.1 million
to $146.4 million) over the same period last year. E-book sales claimed 17
per cent of the children's book market, with sales across all
children's formats on the uptake. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Flagging a significant shift to digital, the <i>Review</i>
posits that there is cause for the industry to think seriously about
its book choices (mystery/detective, romance and science fiction sell
well in e-form), publishing platforms, price points and retail
distribution channels, such as the behemoth disc<span style="font-size: small;">ounting </span>UK outlet <a href="http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/" target="_blank">The Book Depository</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Telling is the recent <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/oct/29/penguin-random-house-book-publisher" target="_blank">merger of Penguin and Random House</a>
(now Penguin Random House) – a high-profile collaboration in the world
of book publishing, with the mega-publisher now accounting for about one
in four of all books sold. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">"The
book industry is operating in a new and dynamic landscape that puts
much more power in the hands of consumers," said Kelly Gallagher,
vice-president of Bowker Market Research.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">"Consumers
can now very easily purchase virtually any book they want, whenever they
want it and get it at a competitive price. It’s more essential than
ever before to understand who is buying and what their expectations and
habits are."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Rowena Cseh, editor and publisher of <a href="http://www.facebook.com/grmagazine" target="_blank"><i>gr magazine</i></a>,
which has seen a growth in its own youth and young adult readership,
says that big books during Gen Y's formative years, such as the <i>Harry Potter</i>
series, were game-changers for many Gen Ys who may otherwise not have
been readers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">For them, it's about what their peers are reading and what they're saying
online.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">"Gen Y is online savvy and looking for
information in that arena, compared to the Baby Boomers who may be more
bricks and mortar browsers," says Cseh. "It could be that they are
finding out more about good books from this avenue, linking up with
resources like us, or book loving peers, social media, etc., and that
may mean they are more confident to buy books or enticed by others
enthusiasm." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ui36lzaID4I/UHJIpkz2chI/AAAAAAAAejs/3wvz89FjHXw/s1600/9780007440849.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ui36lzaID4I/UHJIpkz2chI/AAAAAAAAejs/3wvz89FjHXw/s320/9780007440849.jpg" width="231" /></a>Or they may be pining for the want of seclusion from the often hostile outside world<i>, </i>which has been precarious at best as Gen Ys have grown into young adults negotiating their place in the grand scheme of things. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Ironically, this is the same sense of outside hostility – of a need for escape from reality – that saw J.K. Rowling retreat to cafes in her time of dire need to write tales of an orphan boy-wizard; the heroic underdog fighting against death itself with his comrades, just as Bilbo Baggins does with the dwarves in <i>The Hobbit</i>. In both, as with the popular <i>Hunger Ga</i><span style="font-size: small;"><i>mes</i><span style="font-size: small;"> trilogy, </span></span>there is somewhat of a mythologised reflection of the world outside, albeit fictionalised, only the protagonist wins.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Films are proving to be the perfect vehicle for book selling, and vice versa for movie ticketing, but also the discovery of old tales by a new generation. In 2012-13, no fewer than 16 books are being made into films, according to one <a href="http://www.csmonitor.com/Books/2012/0724/16-books-to-read-before-they-are-made-into-movies/Cosmopolis-by-Don-DeLillo" target="_blank">source</a>. They include Victor Hugo's <i>Les Miserables</i>, starring Hugh Jackman, Russel Crowe and Anne Hathaway and, of course, <i>The Hobbit</i>. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">But
even amongst Gen Ys, there remain lovers of analog – the tangible,
dusty pages of a book – and the idea of partaking in an activity, an
adventure of sorts, that connects heart, soul and mind with words on the page,
and transports us to places far and wide where victories may be won and obstacles overcome.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Stories that
connect across generations, that stand the test of time, will not soon
pass away into the digital ether, but within it might find new life. In the words of J.R.R. Tolkien, "If we value the freedom of mind and
soul, if we're partisans of liberty, then it's our plain duty to
escape, and to take as many people with us as we can!" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Perhaps in the digital age, Gen Y is finding the value of escape via the vehicle of books.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">"I can't stay reading a
computer screen for too long; and I love the feel of a book and the intimate
and personal experience when reading from a book," says GWAS book reviewer Brooke. "And, of course, the smell. Old
or new, they smell divine! Like old friends."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span> <div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-38850252683355206732012-10-30T14:28:00.000+11:002012-11-12T18:29:25.744+11:00Kids' Book Shelf: The Princess and the Packet of Frozen Peas<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">(</span>Kids') Book Shelf</i></span><span style="color: #666666;">: <i>The Princess and the Packet of Frozen Peas</i></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #666666;"> by Tony Wilson and Sue deGennaro</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7LGNmIVu3O8/UI9DmPNy0LI/AAAAAAAAexs/gbRIHcKj8CU/s1600/PRINCESS+AND+PEAS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7LGNmIVu3O8/UI9DmPNy0LI/AAAAAAAAexs/gbRIHcKj8CU/s320/PRINCESS+AND+PEAS.jpg" width="312" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">This book contains such a quirky spin on the theme contained in The Princess and the Pea, the story by Hans Christen Anderson in which we find a prince travelling all over the world to find a real princess. He found none and returned home. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">But</span> one stormy night a real princess arrived on his doorstep<span style="font-size: small;">, looking <span style="font-size: small;">be<span style="font-size: small;">draggled and wet</span></span></span>. To put her to th<span style="font-size: small;">e test, to <span style="font-size: small;">see if her claim w<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">as</span> authen<span style="font-size: small;">tic, </span></span></span>the Queen pla<span style="font-size: small;">ced a teeny-tiny pea under layers of <span style="font-size: small;">mattresses and doonas on her bed... a true princess would surely feel the pea, deep beneath <span style="font-size: small;">the downy sea,</span> her skin being so delicate and all. And she did<span style="font-size: small;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">However, in Tony Wil<span style="font-size: small;">son's imagination, the princess was a b<span style="font-size: small;">it o<span style="font-size: small;">f a pain... how <span style="font-size: small;">could someone so sen<span style="font-size: small;">sitive as to complain about a <span style="font-size: small;">single </span>pea inte<span style="font-size: small;">r</span>rupting her good nights' sleep possibly be enjoyable to live with? And so we have <i>The Princess and the Packet of Frozen Peas</i><span style="font-size: small;"> with spindly, soft and sweet illustrations by Sue deGennaro</span>. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">In this story, <span style="font-size: small;">which was born of an essay Wilson wrote about meeting his now-w<span style="font-size: small;">i<span style="font-size: small;">fe called 'Love Is Blind'<span style="font-size: small;">, </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Prince Henrick is on the sea<span style="font-size: small;">rch for a princess who plays h<span style="font-size: small;">ockey and likes camping. Easy, right? Not so much. Until at last<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> he finds the girl of his dreams... who has<span style="font-size: small;"> a gap between her two front teeth. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">While one might suggest that <span style="font-size: small;">even the <span style="font-size: small;">easy-br<span style="font-size: small;">eeziest, sportiest of girls can turn into a princess <span style="font-size: small;">if her prince <span style="font-size: small;">acts like</span> a dunce (and might be excused for throwing a packet of peas at him in retaliation on occasion),<span style="font-size: small;"> the idea that a true prince simply wants a girl without the drama is a welcome anti<span style="font-size: small;">dote to traditional </span><span style="font-size: small;">fairy<span style="font-size: small;">tale </span>expectations<span style="font-size: small;">,<span style="font-size: small;"> where the girl who's most down-to-earth <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">wins the <span style="font-size: small;">prince's heart</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's</span><span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-size: small;">a </span>modern</span> take on an old story with a message about being who you are<span style="font-size: small;"> in<span style="font-size: small;"> order<span style="font-size: small;"> to</span> truly find your perfect match<span style="font-size: small;">..</span></span></span>. <span style="font-size: small;">on the hockey field or off</span>. <span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">G<span style="font-size: small;">i<span style="font-size: small;">rl With a Satchel</span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> <div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2042413869472011551.post-64628035545424397442012-10-30T13:14:00.001+11:002012-10-30T13:14:23.529+11:00Creativity: Twinkle toes by Beci Culley<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i>Creati</i></span><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><i>vity</i></span>: Twinkle toes by Beci Culley</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CCAUdbbIWxA/UI81v-lfDcI/AAAAAAAAexM/w1u9q6ZBOAY/s1600/58793_10151098554327793_1806838833_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CCAUdbbIWxA/UI81v-lfDcI/AAAAAAAAexM/w1u9q6ZBOAY/s640/58793_10151098554327793_1806838833_n.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Illustration by <a href="http://beci.com.au/" target="_blank">Beci Culley</a></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <i><span style="font-size: large;">Life is so often a precarious business – the heart is to<span style="font-size: large;">rn in this way and that<span style="font-size: large;">. When</span> desire conflicts with duty,<span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-size: large;">choice with confusion,</span></span> we can sometimes feel ourselves teetering on the edge of collapse<span style="font-size: large;">, all tied up in knots and unsure of the way ahead</span>. But we must find ou<span style="font-size: large;">r feet again<span style="font-size: large;">. The balanc<span style="font-size: large;">ing act be<span style="font-size: large;">gins and ends with the<span style="font-size: large;"> t<span style="font-size: large;">ime-tested truths; <span style="font-size: large;">she<span style="font-size: large;"> lifts her <span style="font-size: large;">arms in praise,</span></span> finds her str<span style="font-size: large;">ength<span style="font-size: large;"> renewed</span>, and <span style="font-size: large;">pirou<span style="font-size: large;">e</span>t<span style="font-size: large;">tes on p<span style="font-size: large;">ointe off into the sunset. <span style="font-size: large;">A</span> ne<span style="font-size: large;">w day awa<span style="font-size: large;">its</span>.</span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></span> </span></span> </span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Girl With a Satchel </span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for reading this post by Girl With a Satchel!</div>Erica Bartle (nee Holburn)http://www.blogger.com/profile/03115131016810116605noreply@blogger.com0