One of my favourite beaches in Western Australia is Pebble Beach, in Exmouth (north of Perth). I love walking along the shore, head bent low, picking up pebbles that have stories to tell. It is a beach library.
Pebble Beach, Exmouth, Western Australia
The pebbles come from around the escarpment, once deposited, they lie dormant and are warmed by the sun and my smile.
Ordinary to the eye, say some.
For some, they may be ordinary, but for me, if you pick up one of these ‘hot potatoes’, the sea will whisper a life story.
Do you see, what I see?.
I admit to bringing some home with me each time I visit this beach and I’m looking forward to my trip again next month.
Holding the pebbles is as soothing as the ebb and flow of tides. There is a certain continuity to this … we come from the waters of the womb, as do these.
Between sky and sea you’ll find me flying independently a symbol of individuality in a flock I am the one head up glassy-eyed, with clarity to no one I belong no one belongs to me but, in the sky, I am one with all I see exotic bird, I am not yet, some see beauty in my simplicity.
St Joseph’s Church, Perenjori, Wheatbelt region, Western Australia
I find the symbolism of a cross interesting. It unites or divides. I’ll focus more on the positive symbolism. Let me explain.
Years ago I was wandering around in Japan, as tourists do, when I came across a Catholic church. I felt the irrepressible urge to go inside for a few moments of quiet. There was just one other worshiper inside, a local, I presumed. As she was leaving, she spotted me. Our eyes met and we smiled. Our ethnicity could not have been more different, yet, there was a moment of silent shared understanding of common faith that resonated with both, I’m sure.
I’ve visited many beautiful churches around the world, from the Vatican, to St Mary of the Assumption in San Francisco, where, sadly, I felt, there was more interest in the architectural beauty of the churches, than the beauty of being there as one.
But there is one church that pulls at my heartstrings.
This church is simply named, “Mass Rock” and is off an unsealed dirt road. It is one of many designed and built by Monsignor John Hawes, an English architect who became a Catholic priest. He served the community for a couple of decades in the early part of the 1900s. His signature is everywhere in the Wheatbelt and Midwest regions of Western Australia. He soon understood in a small town, the indigenous people were reluctant to attend Mass indoors. But, that was not going to be a barrier to his mission.
I stood there in quiet reflection and felt the presence of his congregation in-between the whispers of the breeze in the gum tree and could almost hear his quoted words:
Mass Rock, Mullewa, Western Australia
“Yes, that’s lovely Mollie – put your flowers on that side over there, and leave room for the pretty stones that little Joseph has found. And for my prayer book and chalice of course!”
Into a rock face, Monsignor Hawes chiselled an altar
Choosing an area where shaded by tree, he rang a bell loudly for the local indigenous people to gather for prayer.
This has to be one of the most memorable places I’ve travelled to in the area.
I never knew the man who left behind this gift that I visit in quiet contemplation. A place created for peace and unity of people and spirit and … without a cross in sight.
May your day be blessed with peace and a sense of oneness.
River side, Murchison River, Kalbarri, Western Australia
“Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard.” Lao Tsu
We often hear people say they are set in their ways as they grow older. I’m not sure about that. I wonder if time has shaped us, or are we shaped by time? The difference, I think, lies in whether one has an open mind to change, or not.
I did a lot of foolish things in my youth, but I was also wise in many ways. As I grow older, maturity has not always gifted me with wisdom, unless I seek it. So I’m come to realise, we can be foolish at any stage of the lifespan unless we acknowledge it and make better choices.
I am careful about so many facets of my life and try to live as mindfully as I can but I had a squatter within me, living rent free, that I was not aware of. The squatter sat silently, stealing the most precious and sacred thing I have, time. I became aware of this a few posts ago (‘Back in the day’) when I wrote about technology in the past being used, as intended. It set off the ‘eviction’ process within me.
I realised if I receive a call or make one, I end up checking emails, browsing the news, look for sales and before I know it, what should have been no more than three minutes … I’m 27 minutes down the hour glass. When I’m writing reports, I do the same. At the airport I buy a book and end up scrolling the phone instead. The new book pile grows and my bank balance decreases.
So I have been practicing some changes. When I am alone in the morning with a coffee (the best time of the day for me!), I am alone with coffee. I savour the moment. The stillness, the feeling of the world not intruding. I check the news twice a day. I check emails three times a day. What have I gained from these small changes?
I have been more productive than I have ever been in the last year. People respect my boundaries and not expect an immediate response to emails (when I’m not in the office).
Small changes have helped me claw back quality time I didn’t realise I was losing every day. I have time to enjoy my home and surroundings. I’m adjusting happily to a minimalist lifestyle. I don’t buy a new book each time I’m at the airport and take the book I’m reading instead. Or I enjoy just people watching. The phone is only used for boarding.
I am more relaxed and centred. I don’t need retail therapy to help me relax. I find myself relaxing because I don’t have more ‘stuff’ to clutter my home. The incidental reward is, it has shifted my thinking about surfaces. Where previously I thought those surfaces were spaces where things were areas for display or dumping, I now wake to spaciousness and a feeling of fullness.
Yes, less is more! As I hurtle towards another birthday, I would continue to be a fool, if I didn’t wholeheartedly embrace this.
A Shared Space 
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