A bookish obsession

“It wasn’t a very likely place for disappearances, at least at first glance…”

This is the first line in a book called Cross Stitch, by Diana Gabaldon, and from the moment I read it I was obsessed.

There is nothing as enticing as the siren song of a promising new book, waiting to be read. And there's nothing as frustrating as being unable to spend as much time as you would like on said new book because you have irrelevant small details to attend to ... like work, family and sleep.

I read Cross Stitch for the first time in September, when a colleague lent it to me. Yes, I know; I’m about 25 years behind the times, as this book was first published in the 1990s. But better late than never, right? I had heard a lot about this book, and it seemed to be one that inspired much devotion from its readers.

I bought second-hand copies of the first three books in the Cross Stitch series - there are, I think, about nine in all - and quickly found myself unable to read anything else. I just kept wanting to read Cross Stitch.

It tells the story of Claire, an English nurse who, in the summer of 1946, is on holiday in the Highlands of Scotland with her historian husband, Frank. On the festival of Beltane Claire wanders into an ancient stone circle, has a very odd experience there and eventually realises she’s been sucked back in time to the year 1743. Alone, friendless, unable to escape the Scots and suspected by the English, Claire is eventually forced to marry a young Scottish warrior, Jamie.

If you’ve read the book you’ll know what happens next, and if you haven’t … go read it to find out what happens next!

By early October I had to go cold turkey on Cross Stitch. I was on to the second book by this time, Dragonfly In Amber, which was just as compelling as the first book but with a sense of growing doom breathing from it. I began to dream about the story. Twice I woke myself and my husband up in the middle of the night by bursting into tears in my sleep. I didn’t want to go to work – I just wanted to read my book.

So I got my husband to hide the books from me. Yes, it was that bad.

What is it about these books that inspire such obsession? Well, they are extremely well-written. They’re rollicking good stories, with plenty of adventure and humour. They’re richly detailed, without being boring. They suck you into the world of 18^th century Scotland; you can almost smell the mist, the cold, the dirt and sweat, the wool of the Highland kilts. It’s the wonderful characters that really get me, though: they’re so realistic and well-rounded that you quickly feel like you know them.

You can read more reviews of Cross Stitch here.

Starz has recently released a TV series of the book, called Outlander, which is worth watching. John and I have been watching it on Lightbox.

[Just to clarify: the book is called Cross Stitch in New Zealand, but is known as Outlander in other countries.]

Happy reading,

Anne-Marie x

All about head hooping.

Ta-da! Here is my very first hoop tutorial on YouTube, which covers a few head hooping moves. It was nerve-wracking to make, and I'm not thrilled with how it came out, but I decided not to be a perfectionist about it.

I didn't ever intend to make a tutorial video, but I've had quite a few questions on Instagram about how to head hoop, and this seemed the best way to deal with those questions.

I hope you enjoy my first hoop tutorial!

Happy hooping,
Anne-Marie x

Do the work.

I love my online hoop community. Being a mostly solitary hooper - which suits me fine - I still appreciate the interaction with like-minded hoopers on hooping forums such as Facebook. But sometimes I encounter someone who makes me shake my head. Like the young woman who wrote this message on a recent forum:

“I’ve been hooping for a couple of weeks and I’ve learned a few moves, but it frustrates me that I can’t hoop like [insert famous hooper’s name]. Can anyone tell me some tricks that will  give me flow?”

I've had a couple of students over the years who have said to me, I'm not interested in this waist-hooping crap, teach me to hoop like you.

First of all I do understand these hoopers' sentiments. I distinctly remember being a couple of weeks into my hoop journey and thinking, this feels so good but I wish I could really flow with my hoop. Followed by, if I keep working I’ll get there, eventually. I never wanted, or expected, a short-cut to hoop flow. If someone gave me the ability to magically become the best hooper in the world, instantly, I don’t think I’d take it.

Because hooping, like any practice, is a journey; and it’s a journey with no end-point. It’s that very journey that I love. I don’t hoop to become a famous hooper or to impress people [although I do enjoy inspiring people to take up the hoop themselves] … I hoop because it feels good, it gives me the ability to express things within me that can’t be expressed any other way, it teaches me about myself. I love the days hooping makes me feel graceful and powerful. I love the days when everything is effortless and I drop into flow almost immediately. I even love the days that I am low in energy – because I know I need to go back to the basics. And the days that I am frustrated - because I know I’m learning.

And guess what? The famous hooper that this newbie hooper referenced is still working on her flow, even after years and years in the hoop.

One of the great things about hooping, that makes it so accessible to anyone, is how quickly you progress. If you practise for 30 minutes every day for six months you will be amazed at how much you will learn. But you cannot expect to pick up a hoop and have instant flow.

You need to do the work.

Happy hooping,
Anne-Marie x

Weekend, alone.

Last weekend my husband and my stepdaughter went away for two days, leaving me along at home with only my wee doggie, Monty, for company.

When I first realised I would be alone all weekend, the thought scared me. I used to be so good at being alone, and was quite comfortable spending an entire week in my own company. But since I got married I’ve become used to having other people around at [nearly] all times. What would I do with a weekend to myself?

But as Friday rolled around, and I got ready to head home from work to a silent house, I realised I was looking forward to it. Here was an opportunity to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, without needing to take other people into consideration.

So this is what I did with my weekend alone:

I spent most of Saturday on the back lawn, in my pyjamas, hooping. [Pyjamas are good for hooping in, by the way.]

I stayed up till 3am Saturday morning watching all eight episodes of Outlander [sigh] and till 3am Sunday reading The Bronze Horseman [meh].

I ate Thai takeaways. I visited friends.

I did some spring cleaning.

The sun shone all weekend, so Monty and I went to the beach. He followed interesting smells all over the beach, and I paddled in the water and hooped.

Such a simple weekend, yet such a delight. I felt reacquainted with myself. I felt refreshed - like I'd drunk a glass of cool water on a hot summer's day.

And, of course, when my people arrived home Sunday afternoon, I was very happy to see them again.

Happy hooping,
Anne-Marie x

Confessions of a bodyrocker.

Hurting my arm has turned out to be something of a blessing in disguise. I haven't stopped hooping; but I have changed the way I hoop. I've become a bodyrocker!

In my hoop journey to date I've been - inspired by hoopers like Tiana Zoumer - an off-body hooper. By "off-body" I mean hooping that is driven mostly by the hands and arms, and incorporates jumps, throws, tosses, hand-spins, etc.

"On-body" - or bodyrocking - is the opposite. It's hooping that is propelled by the core: waist, hips, shoulder, chest, legs or head. Since I was over-using my arm by hooping off-body, it made sense to change my focus to on-body hooping.

Off-body hooping is definitely the fashion du jour, particularly for younger hoopers. And it looks incredibly cool. But, as I'm discovering, bodyrocking feels good ... and these days I am all about how hooping feels.

It's easy to get caught up in hooping's fancy tricks. There is so much to learn; the ways of the hoop are apparently infinite, and it's exciting to nail that move you've been practising for ages. I still get this feeling. But I'm also discovering the delight of a simple waist groove to a song I love - just me and the hoop in a perfect partnership.

What you don't get from all those fancy off-body tricks is the sensation of the hoop moving around the body. Isn't that what turned us all on to hooping in the first place? Do you remember that moment when the hoop rolled across your belly for the very first time and you thought, wow, I'm hooping, and it feels amazing? I'm re-discovering that feeling, and I love it.

As well as going back to the basics, I'm also learning some more difficult body grooves such as angled shoulder hooping. Wow. That stuff is hard! But it still involves spinning the hoop around the body ... oh, and it's giving me abs of steel, which I'm not complaining about.

More to come on bodyrocking soon!

Happy hooping,
Anne-Marie x

PS. Here's an incredible example of on-body hooping from the goddess of bodyrocking, Anah Reichenbach: