12 07 2012

A great blog post (above) from Karl Duffy over at Mindfulbalance.  I’m so grateful for those in my life who walk with me and hold space rather than rush to fix.  A loving silence and courage not to fix is a wonderful gift. The quote is from Mark Nepo and you can find out more about him HERE.


We have been battered by modern times into obsessive problem solvers, but as life pares us down into only what is essential, it becomes clear that the deepest sufferings of heart and spirit cannot be solved, only witnessed and held. I have struggled with this constantly. Just recently, after being away for two weeks, I returned to a tender partner who loving uttered, “I really missed you.” Instantly, I reacted by scanning for ways to solve the feeling – to limit my travel or call more often. I instantly tried to change my patterns of being away from the relationship, rather than just feel the poignancy of being loved enough to be missed.

Frequently, this reflex to solve, rescue, and fix removes us from the tenderness at hand. For often, intimacy arises not from any attempt to take the pain away, but from a living through together; not from a…

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Feeling fragmented

10 07 2012

I haven’t written much lately. I’ve been feeling fragmented for a couple of weeks. I’m not overly emotional, not shattered, not broken – just not.quite.together. My energies are not consolidated, my body mind and spirit are at odds, I’m not cohesive or tuned. I can feel it. It comes when I take on too many things and my mind, heart, soul and body get out of synch. I need a break – time to unwind, slow down, de-clutter my mind and relax my body.

Feeling fragmented

A couple of weeks ago, I changed my name. It was a big decision and it was (and is) great, but it brought with it some grief I hadn’t anticipated. I’ve said goodbye to part of myself, part of my history and part of my old identity. My old name had a certain power to it and has not died easily.

Amongst the name change there was also the grief at not sharing that good news with Beth – it has been nearly seven months since she suddenly passed away and each month a deeper layer and level of grief washes through me. Unannounced. I like to think I’m an intelligent adult but when grief barges in uninvited, it brings great wracking sobs and I lose all sense of adulthood and feel lost and small and naked.

I know that death is final. I understand that she’s not coming back. I know there are no deals I can do or promises I can make that will change things. I know I’ll adjust and in time, her loss won’t seem as painful even though she’ll always be missed. It seems that only now am I beginning to start to realise it, only now, after seven months is that ‘knowledge’ starting to sink in. My heart betrays my logical mind though and continues to long to see her again, no matter how much I ‘know’. I know this feeling is temporary and I know there’s still a long way to go.

I think I need to sit in the ocean air for a while, gather my pieces together and breathe them back to life. To watch and listen to the rhythm of the waves, remember the pull of the deep, and how the shore line always adapts by continually changing, growing, reshaping, replenishing. It was there before me and will be there after me. There’s a comfort in sitting with an old soul and I’m overdue a visit.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Fleeting Moment

30 06 2012

In a fleeting moment, your life can change with the diagnosis of an illness.  When we hear the news, about ourselves or a loved one, we know life will never be the same.  A couple of years ago I decided to support the Leukaemia Foundation by raising funds through the “Be Brave and Shave” challenge.  My hair was there one minute and shaved off the next!!  “Fleeting Moments” is this week’s WordPress Challenge.

Buzz cut: all in a good cause

Apart from the fundraising and support for those in need, I found it was an interesting and emotional experience and one I’ll never forget.  It was quite confronting to have such a short crop and although I loved the feeling of a velvet head I did get some strange looks, particularly when I was shopping.  It was also really liberating – you would be amazed at how many layers a buzz cut can peel from you.  I urge everyone to do it at least once in their lifetime.

Shave in progress – my hair was gone in a flash!

Brave to shave my head??  No, not really.  I think it is braver to live with an illness, the treatment and the fight for life – that’s bravery.  Thanks to the generous support of family, friends and colleagues, we raised over $2000.  To find out more about Leukaemia, Myeloma and Lymphoma check out the resources and links here.


We’ve grown together

14 02 2012

The vine

Woven together we climb our way towards the sun
Stretching out, entangled and embracing.
With those around to anchor us, lean on and grow with
We’ve grown together, upwards and onwards,
Providing shelter and respite under our branches outstretched.

Our Illusions of Life

12 02 2012

Illusions in Art: alley off Hay St, Perth.

Illusion of Story
It’s interesting that we tell ourselves stories, construct our destiny, and futures. Then we’re disappointed when things don’t go the way we’ve imagined. But that’s just it. The future is just what we imagined. It doesn’t actually exist. It is an illusion. There is no future right now. There is just now.
I created a future, a script of what life would bring. Rather than hold it lightly, I believed it was the way things would be, shouldbe. It seemed fair. There was an order about it. Events occured in succession. This one was born, would marry and would die in a certain order. The illusion was shattered and sense of ‘natural’ broke too. Life seems somehow more uncertain, more unpredictable. That too is an illusion – life has always been that way, it is never tamed, never harnessed. I learn to hold each moment gently in the palm of my hand. I haven’t stopped making plans but I think very differently now.

Illusions of love
It’s interesting how those around us rate our relationships and judge our closeness. It seems there is a framework for where our love should lie. I’ve had people wonder why my mother-in-law’s death has anything to do with me – a mother-in-law can’t be that close. A sister must be so much closer than a friend. How shallow it is to rate someone’s love and the quality of a relationship. I’m sad they have no concept of how love can seep into life, but I’m also glad they don’t know this roaring ache of love lost. I love that my love breaks all those norms. I love people, some related, most not. The relative rating scale of ‘closeness’ is such an illusion.

Life in the in-between

27 01 2012

Swanbourne Beach at dawn, West Australia

I love to walk along the very edge of our country, developing a rhythm along the hard, wet sand. It takes me to the ‘in-between’, where I’m not fully on land, but not fully in water. The ‘in-between’ is a place to wrestle with my thoughts. It’s where the forces of nature fight each day. The current meets the shore and picks up tonnes of sand, transporting it easily to another bay where it reshapes the landscape. It gives and takes. Gives and takes. Gives and takes.

As I stop and face the ocean from the safety of land, the wave pulls back and makes me dig my toes into the sand. It erodes my foothold easily, forcing me to decide whether to join it or step back. The ‘in-between’ calls me to action.

I’m reminded that my walk today is just that. I lay footprints on the sand, little indentations that leave a print of me, but only for a day. There is no road, no track, no path mapped out. I’m here for today. The ‘in-between’ is always shifting, changing. It will last until the moon beckons the sea and it brings with it new sands, new shapes and a new bay for another day.

I come away much clearer, knowing that I can surrender to something or just step back, knowing my landscape will constantly change with give and take. And I can make a new path again tomorrow.

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