Ever-changing; nothing's changed.

Friday, September 19^th

Perspective.

It's a brilliant 5am playlist of Coldplay and Andrew Ford and Death Cab for Cutie. I'm watching the sky above the ocean turn pink to my left, over a calm, cool, rich blue, tucked hidden behind a silhouette of trees that line the track.

I'm thinking about impermanence.

Actually, I was thinking about the woman's automated voice telling me which stop is coming next. And that only always makes me think about Piccadilly and Cockfosters and that time you let the doors close between us. And you stood smiling, waving goodbye. It is still a happy memory, to still see our various adventures so crystal clearly, but this morning it makes me feel quite like that big body of water passing by my right; cool, still, blue.

Impermanence. The temporary, fleeting nature of any one's life. Of any form of existence. How we only hold temporary jobs, or meet periodical friends, or get to use the words I Love You again, just for a few days of it feeling right. And then it has changed once more, and the rest of our worlds pour in, and it becomes unnatural again. And our friends grow outwardly and move away, and our professional satisfaction runs dry. We're only ever left running these 24 hour races from the beginning again.

Scars heal

the tide has turned.

With this rambling soul in an ever-changing world, I begin to wonder what really matters. Will anything ever stick? Will I find that something that I will want to do or be or love forever? Will I know it when I find it? Will I treat it accordingly? Will it be effortless to do so? Will it choose me in return? And more troublesome is the fact that these thoughts are even creeping inwardly (and before the sun has even fully risen). I am a Next Week girl, a One-Way Ticket girl, a Left The ‘Long Term Goals’ Section Blank On My Career Development Worksheet girl. I take comfort in the unknown. In not having to know. The only thing I trust in this world is the universe getting me to exactly where I’ll need to be, exactly when I’ll need to be there. I work hard, I try my best to smile every day, I keep myself healthy, I am kind and grateful to everyone in my world, and in return I believe the universe will work herself out for me. I have always found comfort in her impermanence.

Perspective.

To see things clearly. Often, to have things knocked into focus. A week ago today, my life could have changed forever. A week ago I could have been permanently changed. Wrecked. A week ago today, I could have lost arguably the single most important person in my young world. I’ve spent these past 7 days pushing away these thoughts of impermanence, where one time they would have brought me condolence. But impermanence does not always offer a slow, comfortable, natural evolution. It can pounce on us without the slightest warning, and destroy our very core believe that everything will always be okay. We are not invincible. We are not forever.

And now one week later, my focus has shifted once more. Perspective. You can do anything in the world to prevent those things from slipping away, you can be all you can and give all you have and glue every fragment of your shattered existence back together, but it won’t stick. It can’t be helped. You cannot hold on, no matter how white your knuckles are clenched; this world keeps turning. And never in the backwards direction that we sometimes need it to. In the end, I can only be so much, and do so much, and offer so much. But that changes nothing between us.   

Perspective.

It was just an accident. It changes nothing.

A rewind...

Colours of the World

August 18th, 2014

I am sitting at a table made of bamboo, at a café on the beach. Looking straight ahead, the deep aqua blue of the ocean rolls on by with the warm, salty 30-degree midday wind. I could feel that ocean on my skin if I took 15 steps forward. For now it is golden sand between my toes, fresh mango juice on ice and the shade of a dozen palm trees overhead. Flowers of purple and red and yellow and white frame this lunchtime view, the island of Koh Phangan in the near distance.

Between the confines of my peripherals (an eye-full I am convinced only a small fraction of the luckiest people in the entire world will ever take in), there might be 9 entirely different shades of green (I tried to count) and 6 very distinct shades of blue. I could I-Spy 3 different purples, 8 golden-browns, and that piercing aqua marine I already mentioned, which I can only allow a classification of its own.

I have come to the island of Koh Samui here in Thailand for the majority of the month of August. Just one week deep, it has already been an absolute dreamland. Literally, a paradise (I am forever unsatisfied with my opening paragraph. No string of embellished diction could ever describe the feeling I get from glancing up at this scene in front of me). In the past 7 days, I have spent countless hours wandering these tropical beaches, side streets, fruit markets, jewelry venders, seaside restaurants, mountain top cafes and bars. I have played with elephants and eaten ice cream out of coconuts (a daily indulgence!). I visited a Monk who lives in a cave, I swam in a waterfall, I took a selfie with Big Buddha, I have eaten the most mouth-watering meals since I lived in Italy (in fact it is a high contender for countries with the best cuisine).

While this one-way ticket to Samui was booked 3 months ago, the idea of coming here always left me a little bit blank whenever I caught myself trying to determine how I might feel about being here. You see, there is someone here who means a great deal to me. But there is a life back in Australia that I have become quite fond of as well. I settled on simply not trying to bridge the two worlds, but to allow them to be independent from each other, beautiful and serene in their own ways. After all, if one’s biggest stress in life is how to correlate the very different, but equally magnificent adventures in their world, it begins to seem pretty silly to fret over. It is what it is, they are what they are: one life is exotic and passionate, another is beautiful and peaceful. It doesn’t even matter which is which.  

But then I started wondering how I might (if I must) distinguish between these two different happy places. I’m not sure why, or even how, but the only sensible thing that came to mind did so on the back of the motorbike yesterday afternoon. Zooming through tropical forests of what seemed like 1000 different shades of palm tree, through the thick, aurous afternoon air, it all made sense: Thailand is green and gold, Australia is blue and silver.

Somehow that made perfect and satisfying sense to me! And I felt incredibly accomplished (and relieved) having defined my feelings and determined such accurate representations of these two independent places which had always led me feeling conflicted. Suddenly, I understand exactly how to classify them – and so simply! It was that mod podge of greens in these tropical island forests, the collage of such grassy, leafy, luscious backdrops. The entire landscape is raw and budding, flourishing, undecayed.

Having taken a serious interest in a purchase I made not too long ago (a mood ring…), I became quite keen in uncovering the various meanings behind my constantly altering tiny trinket. I couldn’t have known how important that knowledge would unravel to me here, with these colours and emotions swirling so. From what I read (and choose to believe), green has a great healing power. It suggests safety and endurance, and if those two things aren’t the most appropriate ways to describe my feelings while staying here in this company, I don’t know what else could. Green symbolizes growth, harmony, and fertility (…we’ll skip that one). In heraldry, green indicates growth and hope. Thailand is definitely green.

It is also deeply rich in the golden heat of this world. An endowment settles over this land at the conclusion of each day when the warm sun tucks itself in, leaving behind its auric aftermath of yet another successful rotation. And that is what this colour makes me feel: achievement, distinction, fortune. Thailand is full of treasure in different kinds of wealth that the rest of the world can’t know. It is glorifying and acclaimed, in every symbolic golden Buddhist figurine that lines the streets of this country. There is gold in each sunrise, and in the deep, richly coloured sauces of each dinner dish. Even Chang cans have been strategically dressed as so in dark green & gold! There has been a certain glory in each day I have spent here, and it has me certain that along with its deep green, Thailand is a precious gold.

Not necessarily in contrast, but in its own divergence, Australia is the less intense, serene, clean, clear, light, sparkling feeling of refreshment, purity, peace. I picture the natural nautical themes of my beach town and the harbor down the street from my house. Its cool tones, its stillness. The fresh ocean air sparkling, sterling, the crisp waters and the cloudless skies: blue and silver.

From a color psychology viewpoint, silver signals a change of direction as it illuminates the way forward. It helps with the cleansing and releasing of mental, physical and emotional issues and blockages as it opens new doors and lights the way to the future. This is exactly why Australia is my silver; my path forward, my independent journey onwards from the various lives I have left around the world. Silver is related to the moon and the ebb and flow of the tides - it is fluid, emotional, sensitive and mysterious. It is soothing, calming and purifying.

More importantly, Australia is my blue, which symbolizes trust, loyalty, confidence, and faith: things I never truly felt in any of my previous lives.

All of this got me thinking about those previous lives. About which colours I might deem every other country I’ve experienced, even just during brief travels. Instantly, I think of Paris: deep reds and majestic purples. Mystery, allure, a powerful, passionate lust coloured in those particular shades. Scotland has to be a rich orange, a rustic fascination in the rolling highlands and the malt whisky. I think of Las Vegas being technicoloured of course, flashing, strobe light colours of every rotating shade, chaos; an unsettling, wild array of hues.

And then I recall the places I’ve lived: I can’t think of any other colours of Italy other than bright green, white and red (in that order) simply because of how enduringly patriotic that country felt to live in; how iconic their pride in nationalism is. England is the hardest to colour-classify. It feels like a misty, merky blue; a colour hard to name, and perhaps that is because it was the least colourful time in my life. But there is still some comfort in those dim, predictable shades of grey.

And of course, there is my homeland: Canada, another tricky distinction (how do you sum up over two decades of living in one single country, the country you were born & raised in, the environment that originally influenced such unwavering wanderlust, that one single locale that I could ever truly label as “home”…?). Perhaps there is no colour for home. Maybe it can only ever be transparent; crystal clear, the undisguised and unconcealed realities of childhood friends and close relatives. Home is unambiguous, and unmistakable – it has no one distinct colour.

And those descriptions only cover a small handful of the incredible views I’ve gotten to experience in this short, young life of mine. There are so many different classifications of beautiful in this world, all in different, unique colour combinations. Anyone who has stepped outside of their comfort zone, even just temporarily, anyone who has taken the chance (and sometimes the risk) to leave the safety of their own comfortable colour schemes knows that life is not at all black and white. I’ll never get used to how lucky I am to be able to see this world in such magnificent technicolour; to get to FEEL the different tones and shades and tints of this planet. It is colour that brings life to this world: vividness, vitality, excitement, interest, richness, zest. 

In the end, while it helped me to distinguish the exquisite differences, I guess my Colours of the World theory didn’t help me settle one way or the other over these two particular countries. I think most women know if they are a ‘silver girl’ or a ‘gold girl’ – just take a look at their fingers and their wrists and their necklines. I have never ever been big on jewelry, and I make the relatively unconscious effort not to accessorize. But I have a few key pieces that never leave my skin. Perhaps those things might give me a clue: I have a pure gold chain necklace wrapped thrice around my left wrist, I never take that off. But now I also have silver elephants fastened, intertwined with it. The two are currently tangled together in a stubborn knot I can’t be bothered to unravel…

Or maybe I just think they look nice together…

Big Girl Things!

Friday, September 12^th

Big news! A big marketing company has offered this foreigner a big girl job! Not that I have hardly any experience (or knowledge..) of sales & marketing, but I thought I’d apply anyway and they called me the next day for a meet and greet, which they then pushed me straight through to phase two (a 3 hour presentation about their company, phew!) and thennnn that evening (last night!) I got the ‘Congratulations!’ phone call!

It’s exciting because it’s all brand new for me! Which, yes, can be scary and intimidating and daunting to think about being successful with, but it is heaps of training and even some legitimate certification courses that they put me through, so if nothing else it will be such great experience to carry forward with me. Sales experience is so valuable to have! Especially when those sales are working with massive international companies like Optus, WWF, Billabong, the Paralympic team, HBSC, etc. (and we just signed on to work with the Lakers!).

I’m excited for the new challenge. I’m excited to be a student again. I’m excited to dress smart and feel ubër productive throughout the week. Of course I’m excited for real paychecks! To start making some actual money in a country with such high earning potential. Plus I can keep my weekend restaurant shifts if I'd like. It will probably mean rearranging some of the next few months I had planned out (like when I’ll start my 88 days of farm work), but I won’t want to get too ahead of myself until at least after my first day, haha.

It has been so nice to read the responses and the congrats from all of my best friends here and back home, and of course from my parents. My daddy especially, with his emails that always go straight to my heart, “there is no doubt in my mind with all of your attributes, you will excel at this opportunity. Good luck. I'm very proud of you just for trying. XOXO”

Cue mini pre-big-girl-job tear up! I’ll be okay! Today will be awesome! I’m sure my next post will be completely stressed and panicked and utterly lost, BUT for today, I am smiling and excited and ready to take on the sales marketing world!! :) xo!

Manic evenings & magic mornings,

Tuesday, September 9^th

I have had the most incredible late nights this week that it’s shaping up to be one of my favourites – and it’s only Tuesday!

Sunday evening was a celebrated end to one of the craziest weekends at work (Father’s Day! Might I just note that I think its so cool that I have experienced a Mother’s/Father’s Day in 3 separate countries in the last 4 months!). It is sushi and Australian craft beers, two foreigners to Australia coming together over sandalwood candles and whiskey on the rocks, old vinyl classics and some pretty fantastic 2am conversation.

Monday is the most exciting yoga class to date where my instructor guided (and partially assisted!) me into scorpion pose, something I have never achieved before! I’m not sure what it looked like, but the upside down feeling of my back slowly hallowing out, my toes slowly dropping down over my head from behind, my shoulders feeling more sturdy than ever before, the round of applause from the rest of the class (haha!) – it was such a proud moment, and that makes it brag-worthy! I’m certain it will be only a few more months before I can stick it on my own – stay tuned for those photos ;)

Still buzzing off that energetic high, I met my surf instructor for a late night run around city beach. Figure 8-ing the lighthouses, swapping book titles and juice recipes and past romantic fall-outs, we catch our breath and stretch it out at north beach. It is the final Supermoon, completing the trio of Supermoons that began in July. It was said to be the brightest moon of the year.

And so perhaps in the spirit of it being such a gorgeous night, we are approached by a young man asking if I would take a photo of him and his lady with the ocean in the background. ‘Of course!’ And so I jump up and take his phone and his instructions (it was not an iPhone, which soon after this moment sent me into a quick panic…) and he wandered back towards her, patiently waiting, slowly wandering. They are finally both in my photo frame, I wait the natural nanosecond for them to casually, naturally embrace into a regular coupley pose, and then! Wouldn’t you know it! He turns to her, and takes her hands, and drops to one knee!! (!!!!!!!!!!) I literally gasped, my hand went to my mouth, my brain forced my hand not to drop this man’s phone as I swiftly switched it onto video mode and we all stood around in awe for the next minute or so.

Wow! And I don’t know why sharing this moment with these complete strangers had such an impact on me, but it did! Perhaps it’s just because I have never seen a real live proposal before! Maybe it was just because she was crying and weddings and everything related always makes me cry! Probably it was the Supermoon, doing crazy funny things to all of us :) It was fantastic, and while we congratulated them and they thanked us and continued their walk down the beach, Azza and I are left completely speechless. Yew what a night!

And tonight, the most bizarre of nights, I continued my late night exercises with even more stranger interaction! I only ever train after dark because I know and love the privacy of an empty pier and beach pavilion. I had no such luck for that tonight, but some interesting exchanges came to be noteworthy just the same…

There were the two 20-something guys who decided to choose the one park bench (of maybe a dozen) right where I had situated myself for my 5 sets of mountain climbs. They’re just sitting there..  eating their untimely late night meal.. Unnoticed until I was finishing up my second set and the one guy’s foot is literally 10 inches from my plank. Awkward.  

There was the older man who tapped me on the shoulder mid-jump-squat, handing me a business card, speaking in mime as I’ve still got my earphones in. Unplugged, I catch on to something about a photography class, and sure enough I look up to find half a dozen people standing in a line a couple meters from my 2^nd choice exercise area, fully equipped with tripods and massive Nikons dangling around their necks. It is their ‘After Dark week!’ And they are pleading a silent case to have a non-inanimate object for their subject. So I said yes, and I continue with walking lunges and flashes go off and I officially feel like I’m being followed by paparazzi. Haha, cheers.

I am exhausted and I am ready for my final yoga practice (stretching, posing, pushing my limits now that I’m completely loose and limber). But alas, even that came without peace or seclusion. In my 3^rd (third!) location, I am balancing deeper into dancer’s pose, deeper than I’ve been able to hold before, and my peripherals are interrupted by another young guy, early 20s, apparently the keenest guy in the world to learn how to stretch. And there are headlights not too far off in the car park behind Le Vendi, and this is all clearly an egg-on by mates waiting watching, and I am so awkwardly trying to tell him that I really don’t know how to teach him how to stretch (‘I just sort of… practice…’) but eventually I crack and I talk him through some poses. A few minutes go by and I’m in such a fit of laughter at this poor guy, trying so hard, anything from headstands to full wheels, just trying and failing one after the other. Bless him, that boy earned my phone number (lol, I’m still chuckling).

…and all of this after 9 pm, people! Whaaaat a night. Now I’m exhausted! And I’ve got a 6am practice on the break wall planned for myself.

Wednesday, September 10^th

This morning was phenomenal. I had about a million and one things floating through my head during my whole solo sunrise practice, but now that I’ve returned home, I just want to marinate in it. I just want to leave it be what it was and hold tight to this feeling that it was simply wonderful. It was wet and sandy and salty and unpredictable and strong and liberating. It was a beautiful post-stormy morning.

Just think of how many gorgeous sunrises we sleep through – all of that fresh, brand new morning ocean air just ready to fill our new day’s lungs. So many of these magical moments remain nonexistent for most of us, taking that extra half hour under the covers instead of out in the world before the early morning quiet is chased off by the rest of our busy lives. I have vowed to give myself more of these mornings; more of these opportunities to give thanks to yet another absolutely free day.  

Namaste.

You came along so easily,

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Today I walked home, after a long string of afternoon activities, with my yoga mat under one arm and a bottle of wine under the other. I’m dodging small children as the school day has come to a close, and I catch myself sharing a chuckle with a young boy who makes quick eye contact with me – he’s chasing a loose paper around the sidewalk in this windstorm, a piece of homework, maybe a permission slip…

The sun is shining down, even though it feels more like a crisp fall day than an early spring one (maybe my various home-laden news feeds has some influence on that). I’m just smiling. Out loud and in public. At all of those kids and their parents, at drivers passing me by. Anthony Green is singing through my soul, Just To Feel Alive, and even with how things have turned out in the last 24 hours, even if some things out of my control are not sitting in completely desirable positions with me, I still have this radiating feeling that everything is going to work itself out, and it is going to come together. And we’ll all get exactly what we want after all. I don’t know what it is about you…

Warm green tea & cold dark ale come together for my post-75 minute yoga unwind. Something to bring me back to earth, something to begin preparing me for the fun night that lays in wait. An early 7am jog around the harbor, that Express yoga class, and the continued run around town (from errand to errand) has me feeling so good about myself (moments which deserve recognition). I have fallen back into this Aussie life. I’m so grateful it was here waiting for me to do so, with wide-open, sun-shiny arms.

Now it’s time for a steamy little session with Frank.

Ps, don’t let me forget to write about my Coffee with Jesus Monday night!! … :) heh xo