As a child I gazed at the sky and asked why why is the moon so generous to sea and sky, and yet, like a dream, out of reach for me?
The Universe replied
That symbol of love is there out of reach, for the child to see like the moon, she has the power of one, to blind the sun she can dance on the sea at Earth’s seam, beyond the shore she can fade and disappear and yet omnipresent, like hope, she will appear to the woman who was once a child that asked why but bravely followed a dimly lit path shown under the mother-gaze of the moon and found, when she dreamed, she was never alone.
I lay in bed listening to the ocean roar the winds screeched above me the trees bent over, leaves stripped I was gripped in winter’s full fury I asked no one beside me, why is the world an unfriendly place? when one is alone this is the message shared with me
The world may be an unfriendly place but the Universe is a friend she watches, listens and waits nothing is given too early nothing held back, too late
So I rugged up against the winds and stepped into that enchanted place of communion I told the Universe where I was and where I never thought I’d be again I felt her warm presence walk beside me mother-like, she said
Each morning, head out to the unknown with just one certainty seek what you are looking for and you will find, what you seek
Remember, there is poetry in Nature nothing seems what it seems to be a piece of rock, is history the forest, a healing sanctuary the setting sun, is not an ending it is a new day, elsewhere and in the first light of dawn, when you feel blue remember, a flower may open to the sun but it smiles at you.
I was once the moon, that filled the night sky with my luminous eye. I was once the moon that brought sea to shore, faithfully, once more. I was once the moon that eclipsed the fierce sun, when the long day was done. I was once the moon, silent companion, that faded into obscurity during the day. I was once the moon, the promise, in darkness, we find light.
Dedicated to my father with whom I spent many hours in silent companionship.
There was a little girl who once sat on her father’s knee And told him all about What she wanted to see and be She left his knee To fly the sky Her path brightly lit By the stars in her eyes The little girl became a young woman who found love that didn’t stay She wiped her tears away and picked up the pieces and from the fragments, she chose the best tesserae she joined them together with salt, blood and tears and through her fears, the pathway emerged the young woman grew wise by her father’s words find life, and life will find you, in silence she heard she looked over her shoulder periodically with a smile and the knowledge the adventure of the life, is not in the eye of the beholder ringside, at the gallery but in the hands of the artist that holds the glittering tesserae So she shared her views, through the lens of her eye The colours, the minutiae, the wide open spaces, the early morning reverie to honour his memory, because the gift left behind was not in what he said or did But instilling the belief in her that she could fly, and she did.
This morning I woke in a bed that was empty There was no one else there but me In that space of aloneness I filled it with memory Of all the things we shared, Of what was and the dreams that could never be While outside it rained, bibilically That purest water from the sky Overflowed the gutters, and flooded the ground In that gush of energy, baptised I lay quietly and listened to the sounds Of my heart beat faster than when you were around I realised society had conned people like me The message always loud and clear One is not a number, it is an anomaly two is what counts I felt my face break open, wider than my heart had done I rose from my bed slowly Slowly like from the dead And when I was standing firm Stronger on two feet I knew I had conquered my fear, found my voice, I started to write, for perpetuity You see society promotes unity We are mismatched jigsaw pieces Never whole, a match has to be found, for that pretty picture that reflects cultural norms to emerge that promotion, is an industry in that enlightened moment, I felt the surge I had always stood on sacred ground Of the journey, the belief that cliche missing piece that completes me Was never lost, it lay within me A treasure, dormant, waiting to be found I felt blessed for the courage, that companion that walked with me into the darkness and in the coldest recesses of my being left me with a lantern , the knowledge, the treasure is not me, but the savouring of aloneness, is where serenity is found.
I love it when I learn a new word. With so much information out there, it is a treat to scurry to the dictionary scratching my head thinking, what does that word mean! Thank you Brian, at bushboy.
Much like the lines in nature, my life is falling into line again. I feel well and happy to be productive, relatively pain free and looking forward to travelling and working full pace once more after spending most of the month of July at home. I’m nesting. Being kind to myself. Finding companionship in birds that have taken over my back garden and generally just glad to be going back to who I know I am. It’s a feeling of home like no other.
I loved the dark fronds and delicate lace wings.
I watched tiny honeyeaters sip rain drops from these leaf cups one morning.
I’m not a gardener so I’m not sure whether these should be in my garden ….
but I loved how beautiful the mushrooms looked when they ‘bloomed’.
Then there are those lines that take me to places so far away.
May you, too, seek and find adventure in each day.
In the shovel of his hand my heart, like rock, layered in history pathways, chiselled mended by rain and time yet, he found the fissure that window of opportunity where in the darkness glows the brightest light that was invisible to me.
In observing birds for the past few years I’ve learned a thing or two from their behaviour. They wake, eat, play, rest while grooming. The joy of a simple routine is in their birdsong.
I’m trying to simplify my lifestyle but before I do, it seems I need one final push to the other side. This brings on a certain momentum each day. I’m either turbo charged and ready to face the day or I am reflective and quietened by pain. The reality of slowing down, on some days, is exciting. With camera in hand, I don’t have to rush an hour. I can have all day. A delicious thought to savour on quiet days.
While life is taking me on a journey of self discovery I’ve realised. I live mindfully with camera in hand. Time stops for me. I am in the moment. Not much, at other times.
What my illness has brought home to me is this, I am losing strength in my hands for simple tasks. This is a reality that is daunting. Each day I now mindfully celebrate the following:
Filling my car with petrol, although I need both hands to lift the nozzle.
Dressing and undressing myself. Some days I can do this deftly and other days, like in cold Esperance, I needed nearly three hours.
Lifting my suitcase. I no longer pack one more thing … just in case. I take only what I need.
Opening a bottle or a door. Oh! the sense of accomplishment when I do without help!
Opening a snack packet. Some days I can. Other days, the packet goes in the bin.
I stop and plan my motor movements when taking my laptop out of my bag to minimise pain. When did this tiny device get so heavy?
I no longer take my body for granted.
I no longer live like I am forever 25.
What illness cannot do is break my spirit. My heart is free as a bird. It still has the curiosity that makes me feel young and new each day. It is the simplicity of this philosophy that I embrace and start my day. May you do too.
It’s been so long since my last post, I’ve nearly forgotten how to blog!
Life has been life in the past few months. I wake each day and know wonder awaits me. I’m never disappointed.
Work has been a lifeline to wonder. Let me share because despite pain, in the words of Maya Angelou … and still I rise.
I worked in Busselton, Western Australia, where Geographe Bay is stunning at sunset. I stood and watched the sun go down, just happy to be in a happy space.
My lunch hour in the car park the arboretum in Kalgoorlie, in the Goldfields is always a mindful moment, where the mallee bookleaf bloomed for butterfly, bee and me.
I wake to these gorgeous tiny brown honeyeaters in Geraldton in the Midwest where they rest outside my hotel room. They are tiny and noisy. I know people like this!
The fabulous sunrise at Mt Magnet, an outback town in the Midwest where I drink my morning coffee alone in silence. The Granites is a magnificent place.
In Esperance, somehow a young kangaroo is always a delightful encounter.
The elegant white face heron at Woody Lake, Esperance, another favourite haunt.
The silver eye were everywhere, their colours as vibrant as the moment we shared.
And about 18 kms out of Margaret River, I went looking for the exquisite splendid blue wren.
I love how they stand at height and then look down into the leaves.
A perfect picture for me.
Like I said, life is life at the moment. Each day I wake positive and with full knowledge, life is a gift. I accept it with both hands and a grateful heart. How can I not when nature shares so generously?
A feather drifted off and nestled in debris it once gave flight to tiny wings kept a body warm, and spirit free for now, it sparkled in setting sun this inanimate purity held tight, for a fleeting moment in a storm for me to contemplate the journey how strong this fragile wisp that once flew high above trees surrender to wind shear, yet hold its own for me to see, this story.
I woke early this morning. The wind was picking up outside, a forewarning of the major weather event along the West coast of Australia. My home felt stifling and waiting to implode. It reflected how I’ve been feeling for the past week. Isolating myself when I feel like I’m living through a perfect storm was obviously not a good idea. It is easier to write this than speak to someone about it. How ironic is that when I know it helps people to talk things through!
Mr FIFO sent me a text at dawn. I was already awake before then. I needed his humour and memes. It made me realise, I want to be the person I was when he met me a year ago. Instead of laying in bed, I started my day. In the dark I sat in silence with just the whoosh of water birds flying over my home to the lake beyond. For a brief moment the kookaburras chortled then silence enveloped all. I love those moments when all falls away.
In that brief moment I found myself. The self who seeks the embrace of nature. The self who wants to wake to beauty each day. The self that starts the day with a prayer … no matter what the day brings, help me up should I fall. My prayer was answered before I got out of bed where I fall each night and find it difficult to get up each day.
I woke to beautiful things. In my messy backyard, there are pavers strewn about. The patio is missing, the gap, a toothless smile of a home. The kitchen garden is half way done. The landscaping is going to be expensive. I am working so hard to see the completion. That thought alone was daunting when I am physically compromised. Then I remembered my routine when I travel. Camera and nature for company I have renewed energy morning and evening, despite the challenges of any given day.
There were no birds in my garden, perhaps too early for them or perhaps the impending tail end of cyclone we are expecting kept them sheltering. Then I noticed a beautiful shape. Tiny but big enough to catch my eye. I zoomed in.
The tactile beauty of a tiny pebble and glistening, jewel like grains of soil, brightened my day. I felt a surge of energy that felt new to me. I then remembered this is the buzz I seek each day like the time when …
Each morning when I visit Esperance I head out to my usual haunts. Woody Lake and Lake Windabout usually have a multitude of water birds. I see a flotilla of pelicans or black swans. The ducks, egrets, waders, cormorants congregate here too with a solitary photo bombing seagull among them. I’m often alone there in the mornings. It is a time I cherish.
I love these moments of observation when neither human nor nature intrudes. I’m allowed to be present with them. A moment of quiet acceptance.
I’m drawn to the beauty of these birds particularly for their movement which is one of fluid grace. Focused on task, they are effortless in flight or feed. This is my guidance for the day.
For years I wore black. It was easier to choose my clothes for the day when I was a busy single mother with dependent children and multiple demands. I then went to dress in clothing of muted colours until my son observed I dress to be invisible. I woke to the psychology of his observation.
My wardrobe now consists of at least 100 shawls, some cotton, some silk, some cashmere. I love the versatility this piece of garment brings. What I did not know was my shawls define me to others. On a flight a cabin crew member commented once, I was known as “The Pashmina Lady” by the crew!
It is interesting how we perceive people by what they wear, sometimes, our perception is so wrong. This happened to me recently. I was teamed up to work with someone new. We talked on the phone before our appointment but had never met each other before our first hello in the client’s driveway. I watched her get out of her expensive European car, slender, blonde and dressed in pure white linen capri pants and oversized shirt and beige high espadrilles. Chic is an understatement. Her greeting and laughter as effervescent as champagne. My first thought was she had not checked where we were working. I had. And, I arrived in sandals, jeans and a tee-shirt accented with a scarf. We were welcomed at the door by the family and we entered. She went straight to work. She kicked off her shoes and sat on the sticky floor that was covered in toys and casual living. She remained there for the hours we were there. She never flinched.
We worked again in the weeks that followed. Over lunches we were more candid with each other, the warmth between us, genuine. I shared with her my first impressions of her and how I loved her down to earth approach. She told me she loved that I wear colour. The other professionals she worked with wear “boring black”! I told her I was once one of them! No more! I dress to say I’m here!
It has made me wonder. Do we wear brighter colours as we age? Is it our way to symbolise the last hurray?! I’m beginning to suspect this is true for me.
I wear the brightest colours and jewellery when I work and when I’m travelling. Call me flamfoo if you must but I need to reassure myself I’m still here when I look in the mirror!