Word of the Day Challenge: Orientation
Jasmine, in my garden
Turning my back to yesterday,
when winter roared and rain lashed in fury
at dawn, I oriented to a new day
In the garden silence, I found,
like thoughts, the jasmine flowers no longer bloomed,
they were shed, so I could inhale
the sweet perfume of storm memory.
a dawn bird
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.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
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.
a dawn bird
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.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Two-toned hibiscus outside one of my hotel rooms
I admit it must be an age thing.
After wearing just monochromatic clothing, usually black, for years, as I grow older, I dress in brightest coloured clothing. Forest green, magenta pink, yolk yellow, cherry red, I love them all!
Am I asking the world, “can you see me?”
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
My mother would often say about other women, “Oh! she is so photogenic!” meaning, whoever she was referring to, was beautiful. I wonder how she would define beauty now in a world of pouting selfies, filters etc.
Growing up in a family where my mother was considered to be beautiful by all who met her, as was my older sister, that bar was set too high for me. I chose my own path and from a very young age, found beauty in words, lay on my back to watch clouds above, stared at a full moon in awe, watched waves lap the shore, and was curious about the behaviour of birds. When the family chattered excitedly on the annual summer trip by train to the coast, I watched the landscape. I didn’t know it then as I do now. I loved being immersed in what nature offered. The child in me, remains alive and well.
So it is not surprising if given a choice of being in nature with camera, or beauty salon … the decision making is easy for me.
Now, not all would consider this tiny Triops australiensis to be beautiful. I do. I’ve shared another picture of this creature in a different post but, I love the Betty Boop face in this one!
Triops australiensis – Found in a billabong, outback, Western Australia
We find, see and define beauty in so many subjective ways. I’m an amateur with camera and know very little about manipulating and editing pictures. And to be honest, I don’t have the time nor inclination to learn any more than I know. What I know is this … if I have a visceral response to something I see, I take a picture. What I see, is what you get. I like the authenticity of this.
So it doesn’t come as any surprise, one of my favourite quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald hangs in my home. I regard the words a personal message to me from the child I was, to the woman I became.
“She was beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful.”
I often wonder, would my late mother see me through this lens?
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Succulent in the outback, Western Australia
I love the colour green in nature, especially in the outback where the land is drought red and the sun unrelenting. It is a small green explosion of the celebration of life.
It reminds me, the smallest plant is resilient, if it is planted where it is meant to grow. Much like us.
Here’s to you. Happy St Patrick’s Day!
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Flying over Shark Bay, Western Australia
I’m a non-swimmer and not comfortable at all in water (wading, boating, etc) although I love being near the ocean.
One of things on my bucket list is to swim with the whale sharks or at least go on the tour boat to see them off the coast of Exmouth. The tour company takes non-swimmers for this amazing experience. I’ve been trying to find the courage to do this, so it seems strange that I have a recurring dream that is in stark contrast to how I feel about the ocean.
I often have a dream where I find myself in a body of water swimming or just floating. In my dream I remind myself, I can’t swim and despite this, I experience a tremendous sense of serenity. The dream is so peaceful. It is a favourite I use for meditation.
Sea Reverie
In a moment of calm
she reaches within
finds the spot
where her soul can swim
she circles like a shark
bumps thoughts
to check them out
nibbles at the edges
others,
she bites down hard
done with the sea
her feet finds shore
she lays back on sand
gazes at the sky
until the stars appear
a dawn bird
At the spa, Bali Indonesia
The first thing I did in Bali was book myself for a 2.5 hour spa treatment, the young woman worked her magic and I found it was the first of several visits to the spa during my week long stay.
Seated here one day I reset … I recalled … there’s a phrase often used by people of a certain generation, especially from the area where my roots, from the father’s side of the family, are firmly embedded: “Let it be, baa“. ”Baa” being a term of endearment in the local dialect. My paternal grandfather often said this to my mother when she seemed fraught by some issue or other. Over the years, I had forgotten this. It is now gentle self-talk, each day.
I sat on a comfortable chair, sipping delicious ginger tea after my spa treatments and exhaled. I did nothing for half an hour but watch the ducks glide by and the turtle hugging a rock. There was nothing else in the world in those moments, except sit back and let it be. And when I did, time stood still.
Driven by deadlines in the city, life had become constricting. It was like being on a treadmill … the faster you run, the faster it moves and there’s danger is losing balance. This is where I was when I spent most of 2023 focused on getting my business and my health back on track. Until my reset in Bali.
Adopting a laissez-faire attitude does not have to be negative. I found it is highly likely I’ve returned to a balanced place because I practice letting go, letting all else fall away, being without direction, for a few minutes each day. On a personal level, I’ve found psychological and spiritual value in experiencing this each day.
My mantras when things don’t go to plan, are simple ones: All is well. Let it go. Let it be. There’s no harm in this thinking. I firmly believe at the end of the day, the Universe takes care of ‘business’. It helps me to travel ‘light’. And that’s the laissez-faire attitude I adopt in managing my life!
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Debbie’s Six Word Saturday
Shell Beach, Shark Bay, Western Australia
Until next time
As alaways
a dawn bird
Wordofthedaychallenge: Yesteryear
As a child I was interested in the wider world with only books to satiate my curiosity. It was a different time. A different world. Newspapers arrived at our doorstep a day later than it did in the city. There was no TV, no computers, no internet. Radio Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) crackled music and BBC news into our home twice a day and that was the reach of the wider world into mine. So all the knowledge I had came from books, and so it is not surprising, books have been a lifelong passion.
I knew very little about Australia except for one curious fact that fascinated me. Australian children who lived in the outback studied through School of the Air (SOTA). This concept was so far removed from my own experience of school that it puzzled me.
I was never more thrilled to see the equipment that was used by the SOTA somewhere along my journeys. I was even more thrilled when I got to observe a few siblings in the outback who were SOTA students. Of course, the technology has now changed to screen based learning, but I was quite impressed they were so focused on their work and took their breaks as the schedule dictated, returning to their desk exactly on time. Their behaviour was exemplary, with attention and turning taking developed into an art.
When travelling remote I always look for books written by local people. Their experiences and descriptions of life, as it was, is fascinating. I bought a book about Wiluna on one of my trips, a town that was thriving during the gold rush during the late 1800s, but now less populated. It lies on the edge of the Western Desert just over 900 km (over 500 miles) from Perth. Getting there requires some planning as it is not a town on everyone’s travel route.
The SOTA was developed in collaboration with the Royal Flying Doctor Service and I was interested to read that the wives of station owners or station managers would have a First Aid kit that they managed. They had nerves of steel managing unexpected breech deliveries, snake bites, farming accidents, infants having seizures and worse.
Wiluna museum, Western Australia
Over the crackle of the radio, the women would describe the emergency to the nurse or doctor. The medicines were all labelled by numbers, not by name.
Wiluna museum, Western Australia
Apparently there were less mistakes or misunderstandings, when numbers were called over the radio rather than unfamiliar names of medication. Simple and practical solution!
The technology back in the day was used as intended. People went about their life … until they needed it. Maybe there are lessons to learn from this.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
View from my hotel room, Geraldton, Midwest, Western Australia
The chill of the night dissipates slowly. My room is warming. It is early morning. The horizon is ablaze. I know this. I sense it. I can no longer see it, my limbs keep me still. Old Charlie, at the foot of my bed, is restless. His movements, a cue. A latch springs open, the gate creaks. Old Charlie leaves me, tick tocking his way across my room, his paws scratching the wooden floor. Soldier, that he is, he stands by the door. I hear my son’s “Good morning Mum, hope you slept well”. I cough my early morning cough and rasp out a feeble, “yes, dear”. My son leans down and kisses my forehead. Each day I wish I had the strength to lift my arm and touch his face. As he lifts the leash off the hook, the one to the right of the front door, it is cue for Old Charlie to wag his tail, he knows the routine well. My son takes Old Charlie for a walk, they would be gone for at least half an hour, but not far. Old Charlie, like me, is slowing down.
I hear the gate creak, my son and Old Charlie have returned home. I, too, know the routine well.
So does the silent woman in a hotel room across the road, who visits from the city.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Word of the Day Challenge: Helpless
I am a slave to my camera. I can recall smiling when I found this feather. The sheer perfection stopped me in my tracks. I cannot help myself when I see the extraordinary, in the ordinary. It is usually the mundane that catches my eye.
It is past 11 pm as I write. My neighbours have just jumped into their pool with a big splash. The night is warm, the moonlight bright, their laughter, young and helpless.
And there I’ll leave you …
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
“The more sand has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.” Niccolo Machiavelli
I recall as a child, although conscientious about doing my homework, I would lose things on a regular basis and then get distressed. My father would stretch out his arms, shake the newspaper he was reading, and watch the drama with his glasses resting precariously on the tip of his nose. He would say with utmost patience, “If you had a place for everything, and everything in it’s place, you would not lose anything”. At other times he would say with even more patience, “What you don’t learn from advice, you’ll learn from experience”. I know both to be true.
Late in life I became more organised after leaving clothing, footwear and even jewellery in hotels. Now as soon as I check in, even if it is for an overnight stay, I keep my belongings in categories in specific places. Keys, jewellery together. Clothes categorised in packing cells. Laundry bag. Shoe bags. Toiletry bag. When I check out, I scoop my belongings and one final glance of the room, I’m out. This works a treat for me! I wanted to do the same at home but felt so overwhelmed at a huge task that I didn’t know where to start.
I read somewhere an average home in America can have up to 300,000 things in it. Once the renovations were completed, I felt the number reflected in my home too. It is not surprising the home had become a blackhole. So, two years ago I decluttered one cabinet drawer ruthlessly and it gathered momentum. The decluttering continues. It is a joyful and joy filled experience that I look forward to whenever I’m based at home. I walked around the home the other month and estimated it is probably going to take me a year to declutter. I’m doing it room by room, cupboard by cupboard. What has been decluttered remains that way. What does not have a place in my home, does not belong there and is given away. There are no more cabinets stuffed with things I may use one day. Those high heels from ten years ago, that remained brand new, I know I will never wear and had to go. I can reach into my pantry in pitch darkness and find exactly what I’m looking for. I do get tired sometimes after a trip and just dump stuff around. When looking at the clutter the next day, it does not take long to feel overwhelmed and when I do, it’s easier to get off the sofa when I think, “I know exactly where that goes” and I put it away.
When the healer in Bali asked me what I wanted from life. I said I wanted nothing and meant it. I felt I had all that I wanted. Then he asked me gently what I wanted for myself. Now that was a different question! It reduced me to tears when I found myself saying, I wanted time. I used to say I didn’t have time. It became a living mantra. But time was not my nemesis. It was stuff. I realised living a more minimalistic lifestyle is just a pebble in a pond. Having less stuff means using less resources, and no doubt, in a small way this is also having some impact on the planet, just not my wallet. I found when one is organised, a quick glance in the pantry or closet lets you assess whether you need to buy something or not. There is less wastage.
I relish the feeling when the home is tidy. Having things where they need to be, has helped me be where I need to be. The happy space was an unexpected outcome, but one I was looking for.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
A Shared Space 
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