Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Getting Off the Escalator


Getting Off the Escalator

We weren’t quite sure what to expect last September when we rolled our rental car onto the ferry at Uig, bound for the Isle of Harris.  Due to an incoming gale we were the “last ferry out”, something I seem to have a knack for experiencing.  (Don’t believe me?  See this post.) The skies were merely overcast and drizzly when we left but about thirty minutes into our journey the wind made an appearance, sweeping down from the mountains like a winged battalion and by the time we swayed and tossed into Tarbert we were in the center of a full-throated, theatrical storm.  Our car climbed the hill above the harbor and we rolled our way through the lunar landscape of Harris, waves crashing on our right, winds howling outside our tightly closed windows, till we came to the glorious sight of Scarista Beach with its Caribbean green waters roiling and churning in the gale.  Looking up to the hillside on our left, we could just make out the serene presence of Scarista House, our home for the next few days.  

The wind grabbed the car door, throwing it open with such force it nearly popped off its metal hinges and we were literally bent double against its power as we inched our way to the front door. The Songwriter tugged and pulled it open only to have it immediately slammed shut behind us the moment we entered.  Inside all was quiet, save for the sound of rattling windows, whistling wind and crackling fire.  Tea, shortbread and Victoria Sponge were laid out in the book-strewn study just to the left of the entry.  A handsome Scot appeared and offered to take our coats and carry our luggage up to our seaview room.  Honestly, if my heavenly welcome is half as wonderful, I shall be utterly thrilled.  

Scarista House is small and elegant, the sort of place one reads about in Agatha Christie novels but never quite believes exists in reality.  There are only a few perfectly appointed rooms, and whilst we were there it seemed as though the assembled guests had been curated for their intelligence, curiosity and wit.  Following highly individual adventures each day we would all meet before dinner for drinks, appetizers and conversation.  Strangely, and rather happily, I found myself the youngest woman there so I spent most of my time listening, observing, and filing away little tidbits of wisdom for later use.   The topics discussed before the fire were riveting, wildly varied, and I was entranced to see women leading in the discussions by an overwhelming degree.  Hands down, the most beautiful woman in the room had just turned eighty, an impeccable beauty with nary a trace of make-up and an ever-present smile.   I took note that she was the most curious person among us.  One particularly insightful note came from a women of seventy who said, of turning fifty, “My dears, that was the year I got off the escalator.”  We all laughed.  Her meaning was clear without all the details.  Her fiftieth year was the one in which she stopped competing, stopped comparing, stopped striving for perfection. 

To be perfectly candid, I’ve always preferred the stairs over the escalator.  I’ve never been tempted into any sort of competition with my fellow females.   But there have been times, sad to say, when I’ve fallen victim to the sin of comparison.  For instance, looking around in my teen years I noticed I was of a decidedly lighter complexion than any of my friends.  This prompted an ill-advised spate of sun bathing, an activity that proved not only ineffective but wholly unpleasant.  I quickly gave that up and fully embraced high SPFs and large hats. Then there was the time when, upon reading that a model I admired used this regimen for shiny hair, I slathered my long hair in mayonnaise.  Seriously.  This resulted in nothing more than an strong olfactory resemblance to egg salad that made me queasy, not shiny.   And I’m sorry to report that recently, after spying a photograph of Cate Blanchett in Vogue UK, I  thought my eyebrows should be darker.   This ill-advised comparison to the great Cate caused me to purchase a highly recommended eyebrow product, albeit in the very lightest colour.  The result?  Well, have you seen those internet photos of babies whose wee faces have had eyebrows penciled in by mothers obviously desperate for a laugh?  Well, that was me and The Songwriter did laugh, oh indeed he did.   So yes, I’m sticking with the light eyebrows God gave me. They go with my face.


These are humorous examples, notable for their triviality.  But comparison and competition are toxic indulgences and ones to which we women seem unduly susceptible. I have observed this it in young women (from the ubiquitous kissy face photo poses to the alteration of voices into the Kardashian squawk) and in elderly ones (in the dwindling down of personal style and the conformity to more “acceptable” forms of hairstyle and dress), and it is always a poison to the one quality that really makes us all so special: Individualty.  And of course, insidious in its subtleness is the danger that, slowly, almost unnoticed, we slide from the trivial to the vital, altering our beliefs and opinions to conform with others until we are nothing more than a shadow, an echo, of who we might have been.

Listening to those beautiful, interesting women on the Isle of Harris while the sea crashed outside and the fire blazed inside, I was encouraged about my future, strengthened in my own individuality and very grateful to have been granted an audience to listen to women much older than me.  I wish the same for all of you this year.  May we all “get off the escalator” and march into this new year confident in who we are, young, old or in-between.  

16 comments:

  1. Thank you for that Pamela. I am having a bit of a worrying time at the moment and your post today cheered me up no end and left me feeling in a much better frame of mind.

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  2. I got off the escalator. How well said! I love this post, Pamela. It is so insightful & poignant to me. I hang out with a lot of older women, brilliant & successful ones. I met them once I married my late husband & I cherish their friendships and their counsel. I've learned that nothing is as urgent as I once thought, that time takes care of most things, and also to just sit quietly. That was the hardest, just to sit quietly and listen. Brilliant post !! Thank you.

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  3. BTW, just popped into your shop. Beautiful pillows. I love them and will share your shop with my friends. xx's

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  4. Having never been particularly good looking, I feel lucky in middle age because I didn't experience that feeling of loss that some women do when they stop turning heads and being catered to by the opposite sex. Mind you, when I was younger I did suffer comparing myself to other women and feeling I came up very short. But I had to rely on qualities that I now realize are much more important, and I think I'm happier for developing those qualities.

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  5. Such wisdom in what you say and you say it so very well. I love the concept of “getting off the escalator” no matter what age we may be. And the photograph is a treasure!

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  6. Wow! I am so pleased to have found your blog, excuse me, Edward's blog.

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  7. Such an apt post, Pamela. Comparison is such an easy trap to fall into, and one I have struggled with most of my life. I love what Brene Brown says in 'The Gifts of Imperfection': "The comparison mandate becomes this crushing paradox of 'fit in and stand out!' It's not cultivate self-acceptance, belonging, and authenticity; it's be just like everyone else, but better." And in such a materialistic culture as ours, it is often based on how expensive our surface trappings are. Not to mention physical attributes. All through our school years we are being ranked and compared, and then it continues with careers. But it can intrude into other areas as well, such as creative talents and social accomplishments, even those of our children and spouses. As a retiree I am now happily away from the situations that made me feel lacking in one way or another. But now as I try to learn a new hobby, it is easy to get discouraged when someone half my age is already way beyond my abilities. Humbling, to be sure, but I'm not doing it for anyone else, just for me. So I can enjoy seeing my progress and delight in learning new things. If I was to compare my beginning efforts to those who are already proficient, why would I even bother? Fortunately, the desire for self expression is strong, and, though I will probably always care about others' opinions, I have long abandoned trying to conform to them.

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  8. Whenever I read one of your posts Pamela I come away feeling a little wiser, a little bit more optimistic and a lot happier. I really love what you write and treasure each and every one of your blog posts. Have a happy 2017. Lisa from Sydney

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  9. What a lovely post full of true things! Somehow......(not sure....but I am almost positive that it was because of my unusual mother...) I escaped that comparison and competition thing.

    She encouraged me to do my best....at what I loved...and never compare myself to anyone else....for some reason it entered and stuck in my head.
    She also explained when I was jealous of someone's doll.....(I was about 6) " There will always be someone who has something you like better than what you have! There will be people who are prettier, smarter, more clever, more talented.....will have more of everything! So if you decide to be envious or jealous...you will just make yourself miserable!
    Instead...be the best you can be...find what you love and do the best you can developing it. Don't ever compare yourself to, nor compete with others! It is a waste of time and energy!" WOW.

    I somehow listened and took that into my heart at a very early age. What a gift it was. And continues to be.

    Just last week, someone said to me, "Who is your competition in decorating here?' I could honestly say; "No one. There is lots of room!" And I meant it from my heart. I do not feel competition nor comparison to anyone. Honestly.

    Thank God for my mother....and thank God I listened to her and listened with my heart. What a gift!
    What a wonderful and true post.....

    You, Pamela, and Edward are also gifts. To all of us lucky enough to find and follow you!

    Thank you.

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  10. What a lovely post. We have god children from Texas on the ferry today en route from Ullapool to Luskentyre. They were warned that in early January the Minch can be daunting. Generations of PONs have found the lurching ferry to be an adventure ! When I was a child olive oil was sold by the pharmacist in Stornoway to clean ears. Its use in cooking was beyond comprehension.Times change but Lewis and Harris remain very special places.

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  11. PS - After your Shetland ferry experience you might find this article on the weather from todays Scotsman interesting. Thundersnow ! Whoever knew there was such a thing ? http://www.scotsman.com/news/scotland-weather-arctic-blast-to-bring-thundersnow-1-4335472

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  12. Pamela how I wish I could have been a guest around that fire! I loved every word of this post. I have always always admired your style both in your dress and the way you curate your life. We share a common "skin tone" and light hair and eyes. I too, tried desperately to tan in my teenage years so that I could look like my friends. Fortunately I stopped early enough to avoid a lot of sun damage. Now the new challenge is whether to stop coloring my hair...being a natural blonde that went "dishwater" as I aged I have always "tweeked" it back to it's original state. May I ask...is your lovely shade a natural progression to platinum or do you help it along? If I thought that my hair would turn into the lovely shades of sleet and snow that you (and Edward) have I would stop the highlights in a minute! As always thank you for your beautiful blog...my first stop every morning.

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  13. "I was encouraged about the future, strengthened in my own individuality...........wonderful words Pamela.
    xx

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  14. That is so true! I don't follow makeup and celebrities, but I somehow got it into my head that my eyebrows should be stronger. Lo and behold I went to the drugstore, and every single brand had a new eyebrow kit. Apparently eyebrows are a thing. Somehow these outside forces find themselves to our psyche, and idea of beauty. We know better...

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I love to read your comments! Each and every one! Though I'm always reading your comments, I may not respond in the comment section. If you want to write me directly, you may do so at pamela@pamelaterry.net. Thank you for reading!