When dawn broke I awoke, yet again, to a dark sky Stood at the threshold Unconvinced There was a galaxy up high Unnoticed, Venus shone bright Until she caught my eye That planet, a star Faithful friend in the darkest hour She appeared, silent Predictable Reliably undeterred to convince me In the darkest of nights I may be blinded by what I cannot see But that’s okay I don’t need a galaxy To brighten my day I need to seek that lone star, Venus, within That will brighten the way
a dawn bird
As a child I would look at the sky and search for the “morning star” or “evening star”. I did not know I was searching for Venus.
Sometimes, in life, we search for the brightest things, never realising what they really are, except we are drawn to them because they bedazzle us.
Over the years, I have found, when we search outwards, we dim the light within.
May you find your light within and may it shine brightest, in the darkest hour.
In that moment of exhale that fluid moment when night splits into day and unravels the seam I hear the sea sigh the softest sigh the softest sigh of the sea
I love that moment of suspension, where one waits for bloom, the revelation, the epiphany, call it what you may, that comes from peering closer into the unknown, hoping for discovery. It is these moments that I find most enlightening and helps my life journey and sometimes they surface during reflection and at other times, during a busy day.
Last year I spent a fair bit of time on ‘organisational porn’. Watched videos on decluttering and minimalism, learned the difference and set my daily tasks. But as my work slows down, the focus now is on budgeting, something I haven’t done in years. Living alone, one can be indulgent and wasteful and this is a habit I’m focusing on this year.
My frequent travel has made me a creature of habit. Some habits don’t cost me anything, for example, requesting the same hotel room each visit. But I pay a steep price in other areas. For example, I hate changing hair dressers and prefer to go to my usual salon. I can relax for a couple of hours but it is a costly exercise every three weeks. Since my mobility and strength has also been compromised, depending on my health on any given day, I’m unable to trim my nails. The fact I hate long nails because they prevent me being functional means this is another added expense every three weeks. So all up … hairdresser, manicure and pedicure … costs me $XXX per month. I never stopped to think about this until late last year when I started my financial ‘tune up’ for the coming year. It gave me reason to pause and reconsider am I paying too high a price for the comfort of the familiar?
Still reluctant to change my expensive habits, yesterday I was forced to look elsewhere to get my nails done as the regular person I see was on holidays and my long nails were slowing my typing. None of the beauty salons could fit me in, so I started phoning folks who run their business from home. I went to a home based beauty salon in the neighbouring suburb where the lady was so warm and welcoming we talked for nearly two hours like old friends. I left with a beautiful pedicure and manicure and paid just $65 (instead of $XXX at a salon). She told me to return every three weeks and she would trim my fingernails and paint them with clear varnish for $10! She has a few other clients with rheumatoid arthritis and they have the same problem as me.
Another area of waste for me in food. I often buy salad items and then throw them out. My salad garden has reduced that expense and interestingly, the two small garden planters produce so many cucumbers and tomatoes, there’s enough to give away to neighbours.
In the last two years I’ve discovered more about myself in a relationship than I ever did before. Each disagreement has led to me saying, “thank you, I didn’t know that about myself!”. My appreciation is genuine. Living alone, one can be too independent (at least that’s how I see myself!) but now realise I come across as “demanding”. Am I set in my ways? I hear a resounding yes each time I ask the question! How has this relationship lasted nearly two years! He works so remote and phone coverage is always an issue and yet our affection for each other has grown stronger. I’m reluctant to unpack this. Maybe there are some things best left undiscovered.
The Red and Green Kangaroo Paw is the floral emblem for the State of Western Australia. They are gorgeous when found growing in abundance in the wild. I remember some years ago finding a paddock of them in a national park a few kms outside Esperance. I stopped the car and took it all in, a feast for the eyes.
The flower symbolises uniqueness and individuality. Never more true than in these times. In the last two years our Premier has enforced hard border policies, and when things were more relaxed, strict entry conditions. He has borne the brunt of many from all walks of life. And yes, there are memes out there of Western Australia, our State, on one side, and The Entire World on the other! But Mark McGowan, Premier has a great sense of humour. The video of him removing his face mask to the theme song of 2001 A Space Odyssey (when wearing masks was no longer mandatory), went viral. He has had the support of some West Australians and he has endured the wrath of others.
There is talk the borders will open early February. Will this generate a state of collective relief or anxiety? There are some sectors in society that are keen for this and then there are others, who are apprehensive. What is evident is that people have started panic buying, yes the old scenario, of a dash for toilet paper, food essentials and when someone mentioned “stock up on analgesics”, the shelves were soon bare. Restricted buying in supermarkets has extended to fresh meat as well (a new restriction). The reality that a lot of our goods come from the Eastern coast has never hit home harder.
What I have loved over the last two years is that … People make eye contact more readily, and from behind the mask, their smile reaches their eyes. There is a genuine connection when this happens.
“I slept and dreamt that life was joy.I awoke and saw that life was service.I acted and behold, service was joy.” Rabindranath Tagore
In my teens and twenties I worked as a secretary, mostly in research settings, later finding myself working as an assistant to the Executive Dean at the local university. A few months into my job, the professor I worked for insisted I enrol in an undergraduate degree. I was accepted into university the day I found out I was pregnant with my second child. The next few years were a blur with a busy job, young family and a marriage that was soon falling apart at the seams. Studying gave me the anchor and focus I needed during some very challenging years. I went on to do a doctorate in my field and like all new graduates hoped to get a tenured government job in mental health.
That was my plan. The universe had a better one.
I went out on my first practicum, paired with a physiotherapist, to a family who had a young toddler with special needs. He was profoundly disabled and not expected to see his fifth birthday. He was a ‘surprise baby’ for a family that had older teens. They basked in the light this child brought into their home and hearts. I left their home, with some of light in me.
Working in the area of special needs was never in my career plan. I knew little about it and to be honest, the university curriculum skimmed barely a unit in this complex area. I went on to work in mental health and other areas including rehabilitation for those with spinal cord injury where sadly most of the patients were once active people who faced a new reality. My much yearned for job came about finally but due to a restructure I found myself working with minimal staff to support people with complex mental health issues (schizophrenia, psychosis etc). It was a stressful job.
Around this time I was on a brief holiday in Broome, stood on the hotel balcony with a camera, my first camera incidentally, and took over 300 photographs of the sunrise over Roebuck Bay. As the sun rose, I recall thinking, “leave the ordinary behind”. When I got back to Perth I found I had taken this photograph. It remains an inspiration for me. A moment caught, not a moment too soon or too late, much like a golden opportunity.
I never walked away from special needs. I continued to have a small private practice in the area from the time I completed my degree. I returned to Perth and went into full time private practice.
My work takes me to the whole length and breath of Western Australia. I have travelled to remote outback to communities and experienced Australia not many get to experience. This lifestyle is addictive. I yearn for those wide open spaces, the red dust, the starry canopy at night, the acres of wildflowers that bloom in spring. The utter breath taking moments watching a wedge tail eagle, big as an airliner, fly alongside my car on an empty highway, watching a lone dingo hunt for breakfast among spinifex, collecting shells on remote beaches where just a single set of footprints crowds the sand.
My city colleagues are always curious about my love for what I do in rural and remote areas. They are office bound clinicians. The complexities and uncertainty of travel is not for them. For me, I thrive on the excitement of the unknown.
The reason I love what I do is quite simple. I provide an outreach diagnostic and therapeutic service, mostly to families of children with special needs. The joy this brings is like no other. The Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore’s quote resonates deep within me.
I take a moment to delay the witching hour when anticipation flows in streams I wade, wait and wait but thoughts fall on barren ground sterile, neglected and sour undeterred in furrowed brows I dig deeper until the earth within me yields I lay down my shovel on soil soften by rain scoop a handful inhale the petrichor feel the trickle and let the words fall where they may.
Inner reflection, for some, is a space of luxury and for others, a waste of time. For me, it is as essential as breath.
My most joyful moments in any given day are early mornings when I wait, coffee in hand, for the world around me to wake. It is a time where all falls away and even the muddy footprints left behind, lead me somewhere.
There is no time in the day to do this thinking. It would be akin to asking me to walk through this muddy river bed. I would balk at the squelching sounds of my feet as I dragged them through sticky mud. But from afar, that heightened space of early morning, when I view my day, my life, from above, the world below glistens. I can see what I have found.
May today bring you a sense of peace that all is well.
In that moment when time stood still I travelled the landscape of life arriving at youth where courage and dreams were intertwined I stayed for a while in that sanctuary where life flowed seamlessly in the child-woman in me I walked across the water reflective as glass effortlessly, as if, on solid ground I caught my breath at the junction of the unexpected, when truth, like lightening, blazed light all around the ride into womanhood was filled with anticipation for dreams, yet unfulfilled and in that moment of stillness my vision less bedazzled, in a backward glance, filled with trepidation, found, the balance was in my favour I had more than I had lost youth may have been short and sweet but to my delight, flanked by dares the road ahead is longer.
a dawn bird
I’m trying to get back to where I used to be and today seemed like a good day to start.
My wish for you is that you find the starting point, the beginning of anything, is exactly where you are.
No roots, growing free tenacious, and strong towering tree above held firm, by a velvet glove.
a dawn bird
I’ve always been attracted to moss when I’m out and about with my camera but I knew little about it until this word prompt. The prompt made me curious. What exactly is moss? I had to admit to myself all I knew was that I love the look of it, and nothing more.
It’s interesting to me there are so many things I take for granted or just feel are unimportant to know. Why clutter my mind is my excuse. I reminded myself while writing this post, how do we determine what is important or not, if we know nothing about it?
I learned today that moss signal there is water underneath (I sort of knew this, well, vaguely). It absorbs rain and nurtures the earth with nutrients. Moss has no roots and yet there is growth. Now in that little snippet of knowledge, was a message for me.
I know people who are like this. They are resilient like moss. They bloom, be it forest floor, or landscaped garden. They are delicate, a soft place to land, yet hold the earth steady, in their hand. Something for me to emulate.
This is my first post for 2022. I enter the year with an open heart and curious mind. My wish for you is that you experience kindness, strength, joy and gratitude.
The word prompt reminded me of my mother’s bags. Those tiny, beautifully beaded, soft pouches that she would carry on special occasions. I loved them. They were beautiful on the outside, but what was carried had little value … a lacy hankie (in the days before tissues), a lipstick, a mirror, some perfume.
The bag I carry is dissimilar. It is big, voluminous with life, as I know it. So I’m going to rummage through it and see what I have carried around this year.
I woke today confused about how I was feeling. Being the last day of the year, was I feeling grateful, relieved, fearful, hopeful? The prompt invigorated my spirit. The message “I got this!” came through loud and clear.
I’ll say it very simply. It’s been a year I’d never want to live through again. I have lost family and friends to the pandemic. I have lost business and watched others lose theirs. As I recovered from a severe flare up of rheumatoid arthritis and resumed nearly full time work again, I had a significant fall and ended up in hospital with concussion. Luckily no broken facial bones or teeth but the soft tissue injuries in my limbs is taking longer to heal. I asked my sister, “how can I fall face first on to concrete and not break anything?”. She responded, “because you fell into the arms of angels”. I believe her.
As I scrolled through my photos I realised I had taken only one or two pictures with my camera. I had lost strength in my hands and could not lift it nor could I press the button. The pictures I have taken this year have been mostly with my phone and most of them have been from the air. That in itself, is my story this year.
There is nothing more West Australian to me than a scene of beach and bush. I love the paradox of this type of landscape … the isolation and yet, both I know, are teeming with life.
In Carnarvon, where a community crisis of a little girl lost (and found), brought home to me how a small town can have a big heart. The mighty Gascoyne River will flow again and life will go on.
My backward glance at Carnarvon is always one of joy. It shimmers in simplicity of all that is country.
I was thrilled to visit Exmouth, in the north again, even though the heat was extreme. I did catch a couple of emus walking along the main street but I also loved this street art, just as much.
It can’t be Christmas season in Australia, without Santa making a surprise visit, in the most unexpected way. It was fun getting sprayed by the local fire department that preceded Santa’s arrival.
The kids at the resort squealed with delight as they got their ice creams.
To return home for a few weeks rest I realised how lucky I am. The horizon is beautiful no matter where one is. One just has to make the effort to seek and see it. This is what I see each morning from my bedroom.
In a difficult year, I experienced the kindness of a stranger when I fell. She bundled me into a car and took me to the hospital, stayed with me for hours because I did not know anyone in the town but as she put it, “now you know me!”.
My front entry to the home is a cottage garden that perfumes the air. I open my heart and home each morning and breathe deeply.
And in the back garden, my salad garden is teaching me the wonders of nature.
To pick a cucumber … one first enjoys the journey of the flower.
A sprig of cherry tomatoes taught me patience, as I monitored it each day for the first blush to appear.
Unable to cook like I used to, I found a simple lunch is equally good.
So I’m looking back at 2021 with a sense of accomplishment. A sense of celebration, despite it all, I survived. There have been moments and months where fearing my future, I found myself sliding down the rabbit hole. I sat with trees as my companions and know the world may not heal me, but Mother Nature does.
My wish for you is to experience being alone and being comfortable with that daunting feeling. In aloneness, to find hope, is a treasure like no other. To experience there is something better, not necessarily bigger, that will make your world the best place to live in. And, may you live well in it.
I’m hoping the difference in time zones means I’ve beat the deadline to this year’s Walktober.
Like many others, finding myself at the end of October has come as a surprise. My initial response was, the only walk I have done is on tarmac, when I realised, not so. I have been committed to going out with camera even on days when it seemed impossible.
Let me start from the Midwest where there are fields of wildflowers in spring. To find tangled old tree limbs entwined with delicate fringed lily made my day.
Then on to the southern Wheatbelt region to my favourite walk in Foxes Lair where wildflowers grow in impossibly hard clay.
And on to the South West region where I’ve walked many times but this year was the first time I found wild orchids growing in this little patch of bush.
And on to the Southern region where no visit is complete until I walk the boardwalk high above West Beach.
And then stop for a few minutes at the Arboretum on the way to the airport to look for wild orchids in the shade of tall gum trees and gum blossoms above.
But nothing has delighted me more when I returned home from one of my trips and walked around my small backyard to find a family of kookaburra have made the space their home.
This is Buddy, a juvenile, and my constant companion when I am home, who observes me as much as I observe him.
And in my neighbourhood, it is never spring until there is a new family of ducklings at the lake.
If you live in the Southern Hemisphere, may spring bring you new life, and for those in the Northern Hemisphere, may what falls away, make space for new.
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’ve just returned after a quick trip to the South West of our State. My yearning to have my forever home there, is intensified. Each morning I set out looking for what I knew I would find.
Manea Park was quiet, except for the bird song. On the carpet of leaves, I knew, by next month, there will be wild orchids galore.
At the Bunbury Wetlands, the swallow chicks were fearless. All puffed out in fluffy coats, they watched my approach with curiosity and innocence.
I watched this little one for ages. She was not anxious for her next meal, she knew it would come. I brought home some of her wisdom.
My whole spirit delighted in what I saw in the bush. I was in a bird nursery. There were chicks everywhere.
When this tiny blue wren chick caught the sun in her chest, I knew this was a moment, for me to keep.
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.
A Shared Space 
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