Posted on November 30, 2015
Sometimes it’s hard for me to get out there and meet new faces. Growing up, I don’t think you could have met a more silent child than me, I was the product of being the youngest of a bevy of siblings and cousins who were more than happy to speak and think for me and a self-esteem so low that it often felt like social situations would cause tight chains to paralyse my voice and I preferred to pay more attention to words and worlds books could wind around me than the gaze of others. Things have changed, but that small girl still grips my heart once in a while because she is still me.
Last weekend we went to the Secret Garden. We enjoyed the company of many, and I always revel in the presence of those so free in expression, be it through body, music, art or speech. Judgement was something I feared from a very young age and to be in an environment completely free of it is a blessed feeling.
Surrounded by the deep greenery, black mud underfoot, the afternoon was whiled away with the best kind of people, the ones you feel free to be silly with (well, to be yourself with, which for me is truly very silly) and those where the conversation can be plenty or little, it doesn’t matter and it’s all good. The sun’s golden rays fell lower and lower until they were just peeking through the leaves and most departed to swim in the sea and we went on to enjoy a sunset film.
Happiness is freedom. You passionate, free people – you inspire me.
Posted on September 21, 2015
So…it’s been a while. And after months of absence our reunion has been highly emotional. The last few days this here blog and I have run across a beach and flung ourselves into each others’ arms in slow motion. We’ve skated across a crowded ice rink searching for someone only to realise we’re the one each other has been waiting for our whole lives. You get the picture.
It’s not like I meant to leave for so long, but there are times when fortunately and unfortunately other competing goals take off and shoot you in another completely polar direction for some time. One part of my life was growing in a big way and consuming all my time and energy, mentally, physically and emotionally.
So our trip abroad came at the perfect time. It was a release from work pressures and time to reacquaint ourselves with things that bring pure pleasure and immerse ourselves in adventure and wonderment. What a way to feed one’s soul.
Our journey was both leisurely and fleet-footed as we practically consumed our surrounds as if stars and horizon-eating roads could sustain us. A teaser of the west coast took us into the desert then up Highway 1 to take in Big Sur. We collected pine cones and driftwood in Oregon until the big lights of New York City ultimately drew us in. And then as always happens, it was homewards for us but full, happy and satisfied.
Posted on May 13, 2015
Today’s offering, some photos from an all too rare occurrence – a house party. Friends new and old, an endless supply of spanakopita, marshmallows over a fire pit, all gathered around in my most favourite place on planet Earth – our home. Ours is a place filled with so much love and living that inviting others in is almost a selfish pleasure. Those who come in their own individual ways add to the warmth and deep devotion I feel for every nook and daddy-long-leg filled cranny of our house and every scraggly bush in our backyard.
Do come again soon.
Posted on April 16, 2015
If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in my not-very-extensive existence of 32 years, it’s that things generally don’t go as planned. I’m not saying that there is no plan, because most certainly with the eye of hindsight I can see that all things, the highest of highs and the deepest of heartaches, have brought me here. Past tragedies, although at times too too heavy to shoulder, have also been essential in shaping my heart and mind.
They say a problem shared is a problem halved. Thank you my dear friends for the ever appreciated kind words and heartfelt encouragement. In ways beyond my imagination, this here blog has led us into the paths of so many outstandingly awesome individuals and our lives have been enriched and invigorated, and our hearts expanded because of you.
Thank you all, you wonderful people!
Posted on November 20, 2014
I don’t know if it’s because I’m on a run of night shifts this week or because I’ve been at the end of some unduly hurtful words that have been going round my mind, like a broken record of negativity, but lately my heart has been longing for release and relief. Time has continued to pass since the time I lost a dear loved one, and it’s true when they say you go through hills and valleys on the road to healing.
Right now, I’m longing for sunshine, unconditional love, and hope.
Posted on November 4, 2014
This was a tiny moment we captured walking back to our car after the Open House Perth launch night. Some days we just have to pinch ourselves as it was just two little years ago that we started this here blog. And now to find ourselves being invited to be media partners to an event that we both love and admire, we are humbled, blessed and thankful.
Thankful to be able to express ourselves creatively. Thankful to be allowed this window into Perth’s creative tsunami. Thankful for the awe-inspiring, huge-hearted, earth-shaking people we’ve met along the way, a number of whom have hung about and remained as friends. You are what I’m most thankful for.
Posted on August 8, 2014
Sitting next to someone on an airplane can sometimes be awkward. Do you want to talk. Would you prefer to zone out in your secure bubble contained between your armrests, headset firmly on. You were late 40s, 5 o’clock shadow, and looked decidedly friendly (after a surreptitious side glance). So, I ventured out and tested the waters, as I’m a chronic hater of awkward silences.
So is Perth home or holiday destination for you?
Neither! You replied, amiably. You were en route to Broome to work offshore on the ships out that way.
And so I latched on to the cheery but safe subject, prattling on about how much I love Broome, and the conversation meandered agreeably to talk about travelling and bucket lists, so on and so forth. We spoke about our occupations, the bits we like, the bits we find challenging. The conversation flowed effortlessly to and fro, both refreshingly interested in each other’s life experiences and opinions.
Then inevitably we started speaking about family. You’d mentioned a son and a daughter previously so I not-so-cleverly inferred that you had two children. You paused ever so slightly, then said yes. I noted the pause but callously soldiered on. After more questions you volunteered that your eldest son passed away four years ago. We nodded commiseratively together but I didn’t delve, I could hear the pain heavy in your voice. The attention turned my way. And for the first time ever because of your honesty and compelled by the way you spoke with both feeling and calm bravery, I was able to say and acknowledge to a stranger that I had two older brothers. But that I lost one last year.
You understood. You understood why I had to stop speaking at that point. Although you didn’t say much, your compassion and sympathy were apparent. Your sentences became cropped, your voice thick with emotion. You told me that family is everything. You told me that things do get better.
And I believe you. You’ve been there. In fact, you’re still there.
Thank you, John. I might never see you again but thank you all the same from the bottom of a torn but healing heart.