Lessons from the Library, on a snowy afternoon

Letting go of the judgment that women often do.

I walked along in the crisp snow on a grey Tuesday afternoon not knowing quite what to expect. I’m wrapped up in my duvet coat, scarf and bobble hat and yet had forgotten my gloves so I dig my chilled fingers into the fleecy pockets of my coat and stride purposefully to the library.

By the time I get there, and ascend the stairs, my back feels damp and I quickly peel off my layers and head to the tea station, whilst a hum of chatter drifts across the room.

I spot my friend and wave, the only person I know amongst around 20 women and just 2 men and quickly realise we are probably the youngest in the room.

I sit down next to Vicky and realise she’s chatting about U3A to the woman next to her, trying to do a sales pitch I think as she is qualifying that ‘U3A is not just for the over 50s’. I smile at Vicky and think to myself this is going to be interesting!

Slurping what I realise to be earl grey tea, not my favourite, I dunk in the chunky pistachio cookie and stuff it in my mouth to avoid any drips, it is a good cookie and takes away the taste of the flowery tea, and then look around the room.

Many of the women seem to know each other, and I start to wonder if we are meant to be here? Was this a private event? No, I definitely saw it advertised on the Holmfirth Community Forum.

There are 3 ladies at the front, busying themselves with tasks, shuffling their notes, welcoming more people, carrying teacups, and eventually one of them speaks to me and introduces herself as Mary and asks my name, ‘Juliet’ I say and her face lights up.

She places her hand on my shoulder and declares, ‘Oh! I’m a Juliet too! Well at least it is my middle name and once I decided to become Juliet for a while, but I found it to be far too exciting and so changed back to Mary!’

This was told in such an expressionate way that Vicky and I burst out laughing and exchanged knowing looks - she was our kind of person!

Finally the room settled down to listen to the 3 authors before us, beginning with Mary in the centre. It started off a little haphazardly, not really explaining the format of the afternoon but rather grabbing our hands and pulling us straight into it.

She suggested that we would be exploring the relationships of mother, daughter, grandmother, and here were some examples from her poetry book which had been written by her, her mum and her daughter entitled –

The Girl, The Woman and The Crone.

And then came the readings, full of theatrical prowess, confident and clever, heightening the drama in all the key moments, and carrying us along in her enthusiasm. Her energy was magnetic, and I was soon gripped by her, and her family’s writing.

Her ‘look’ matched her personality wholeheartedly; swept up greying long hair into a funky clip that reminded me of a curled furry caterpillar, a jumper full of colour and pattern, but mostly I was struck by her cheeks that were glowing pink, but not in a natural way, more a pantomime dame’s magenta rouge but it didn’t look odd, it suited her.

I instantly warmed to this energetic, passionate soul with sparkling eyes who told her stories in such an assured way, but with an edge of humility too. I wondered if she realised just how good she was?

Interweaved were proud nods to her daughter, a successful international scientist, and empathy for the way her mum wrote so many years ago. This was an intrinsically kind person; it emanated from her in waves.

Next up was a woman who felt like the direct opposite. She sat to the right of Mary, and worryingly I can’t even remember her name now. Initially slightly slouched, she rose slowly and picked up her memoir, announcing that her writing was not for public consumption but notes for her grandchildren to find one day, which were not yet in existence, yet her notes were bound in a printed book, and she was here, curious.

The strength and deepness of her voice surprised me and reminded me of a strict headteacher. Her presence didn’t communicate to me any effort or care, for herself or her audience but I scold myself for thinking it.

Dressed in a baggy striped, grey top that somehow accentuated her lack of form. She had a pale, sallow complexion and peering underneath her flat, mousey fringe with a greasy tinge through plain glasses, she read out her work too.

It was delivered with equal confidence though, if not more so, and her a slightly stern tone echoed around the room. I don’t think I saw her smile once in the whole session, merely released her furrowed brow occasionally and repositioned it to raised.

Her writing was simple yet strong, I did like it, but I was surprised that more people clapped for this woman, through high praise or slight fear I’m not entirely sure.

And then came the third author, a writer to the left who had written a fictional novel that covered similar topics. Her voice was soft and tone almost apologetic as she explained her story was somewhat melancholic and sad. I feel myself slide down my chair and brace myself.

This woman’s story and tone I pondered was in unfortunate conjuncture with her face, but at least she had made an effort in a smart casual way with her outfit, and wearing slightly deeper foundation than necessary, black mascara and a thick sweep of eyeliner under her bottom lid.

However she had that unfortunately harsh kind of face that reminded me of a witch in a fairytale story, large irregular shaped nose, that you couldn’t help but notice.

I’m not saying this to be unkind, it was just true, and nothing she could do about it obviously! I am the sort that worries about the size of my boxer-style nose as I know noses and ears never stop growing!

But she too was confident in her own, soft way and once again I enjoyed her take on the subject of women relationships. I felt kindness also radiate from her in a gentle way, as she complemented Mary on another of her poems that she hadn’t planned to read out, but this lady had said she should.

We were then left to our own devices to write in 10-minute stints three times in between more readings, around generational eras, and relationships of our own past, which I found a little difficult as the themes were so broad.

I’m better working to a more specific brief or prompt, but it was also interesting to observe the other women in action.

At the end of our table a woman simply wrote nothing, said to her neighbour she was a traditionalist and so didn’t relate to the ‘Have it all’ struggle, which some were writing about, she didn’t find it a bind being home with the kids.

The woman next to her, the U3A lady tried to encourage her but she was having none of it, saying it felt too personal to write about! Interesting choice to come along to this session then.

After these writing sprints finished, some people read their stories out. One, again was very confident, with a booming unique voice, I’m sure I’ve seen her somewhere local before and she reads with drama, poise and humour.

Maybe getting older can install a new confidence I observed, some of these women had it in bucket loads, or so it seemed listening to these stories.

One of the men reads from the back, in a town-crier like voice, a simple but impactful story about his mum. Everyone claps for this man.

Another woman with a short crop and Harry Potter like glasses, who is leader of a poetry group reads out her take on the theme, another different style of writing but equally powerful.

With each reading delivery I am questioning my initial judgements of the group - how stupid, and unfeminist of me to do the cliched thing and judge books by covers, in a library no less!

And hang on, I’m here in thick winter leggings, a long woolly jumper, fleece-lined boots and messed up bobble hat hair, ‘Shame on you for remotely judging Juliet Thomas’ I inwardly scold!

Aren’t we all simply trying to keep warm and comfortable today in the snow?

I deduce that the biggest lesson here today has not been the writing exercises, or even listening to the readings, although I have learned from those too, but more my attitude and fear towards aeging.

It’s at the forefront of my mind at the moment, with the passing of my friend at just 61 and my Mum heading towards her 80^th next year. Stories from friends have changed from weddings and children, to having a midlife crisis, menopause issues, elderly relatives and health conditions and I think it’s skewing my view of what aging could actually entail.

In my business group we’ve recently had a new headshots branding shoot (like the one at the top of this piece), and that also focuses your attention on the realities of aging.

Tight Jawlines, smooth necks and a once slim waistline feel like a dream of the past and are now things out of my control! I’m not loving it!

But this has made it clear to me that I need to focus more on the positive sides, not just all the doom and gloom that we as women share to each other on a continuous loop, in addition to everything we see in the media.

I would love to have a bit of that confidence that felt like a touchable force whirling around the library room today like a witch’s spell as writers read out their work.

I know who I am more than ever, but I know there is still work to do, clearly! That’s not to beat up myself about it, but instead to just be curious, where is all this coming from and why?

I always ask - What are the lessons for me here?

Since becoming a coach and doing more of the inner work, I get to that awareness quicker these days, and I’m so grateful for that.

This is why I go along to things such as this, because there are ALWAYS things to learn, and often surprising lessons, as was the case this week.

So in summary maybe I need to question and reframe my thoughts on getting older, but also recognise that we do become attracted to certain energy, like attracts like usually.

I spoke to Mary afterwards, told her how fabulous she was (as anticipated she looked shocked and beamed), took her email address to send her information about Huddersfield Literature Festival which she appreciated, bought her book, have talked about her to anyone who will listen, and I am meeting her for a coffee next week.

As for the others I appreciated their writing and the lessons, and I realise that is enough. I don’t need to connect with everyone I meet.

But I do need to be curious about my reactions and drop the judgement.

Every day is a school day, right?

Until next time

With love and light

Juliet x