Benevolence, curiosity and playfulness.

Friday, October 3^rd

It’s me and Old Man Canyon, Phantoms & Friends and a 5am bus home. This is the first time I’ve noticed the strongest feeling of I can’t wait to get home. And that just sends smiles inward as I breathe deeply and welcome the familiar (but rare) acknowledging feeling of ‘home.’ Wollongong, my home. And how many times this week during my 5-day work fieldtrip was I asked ‘Where abouts are you from?’ and I responded, time and time again, without hesitating in second thought, ‘We’re here this week from Wollongong!’ (when obviously they were referring to my accent and my native homeland). I like this feeling. I like it a lot.  

It always takes some time away to truly appreciate what’s waiting back home for you (something else that is sending smiles through me, the one that passed along this album in the first place).

Last weekend was so fantastic. We celebrated my first direct deposit big girl paycheck with the biggest bottle of tequila and margarita mix we could find. We drew mustaches. We praised sweet citrus. We danced and sang and kissed with salty lips. We remember very little else, but smiling through the midnight spring rain shower, 100+ people packed cozy into one tiny backyard until the flashing blue lights sent us stumbling towards the beach. The after party. The other party.

 Celebrations continued into the next morning and throughout the day, playing hookie from my restaurant shift to sleep in late (finally), fit like puzzle pieces. To sip shit coffee and listen to Vance Joy and swap ‘what the heck happened last night’s. (And I think my roommate is still limping, bless her soul, I so love with that girl).

Though Sunday morning was an unfortunate failed trip to Bulli for some much anticipated (and needed) regrouping and re-centering of the soul with my best British mate, it was certainly not wasted. I took to the beach with Liz and a fresh detox juice to soak up the already 25-degree weather. North beach is flooded with people on school holiday, while summer is spreading her sun-shimmery spirit all around us full force. My shoulders are turning pink and I’m FaceTiming my oldest, longest best back home. I miss my balloon more than words.

Losing track of time, it’s a quick scoot to Younga for my AQ AcroYoga class (!!!). What an afternoon! What wonderful participants! What absolutely phenomenal instructors! Literally just a room full of happy, smiley, trusting, welcoming, warm souls. It is challenging and exhilarating and touchy-feely and I loved every second of it. And now I’m certain my future hypothetical probably never existing husband must be a fellow yogi, willing and able to simply spend our lives together beach-hopping this beautiful planet, lifting each other up in every possible way. What an intimate practice it is. So, so stunning.

[That's me in red shorts!]

And as the 3-hour workshop comes to a close, we’ve finished stretching and soothing and massaging each other, and our teachers (a gorgeous couple themselves of course!) thank us for making the choice to be here today. For finding that bravery to make that choice, “through benevolence, curiosity and playfulness…” And that sits with me, eyes resting closed, palms facing up over my legs pretzelled comfortably. Honoring the divine within ourselves, the divine within each other. Benevolence, curiosity and playfulness.

And shouldn’t this be how we approach all new experiences and opportunities in our life? With each new relationship we form in this world, whether that be with another individual, or simply between ourselves and a new chosen journey, it should be embarked on with those three things. I believe we will get the most out of this life with those three things. With the desire to do good to others; goodwill and acts of kindness. Always with a strong desire to learn or to know about new things (about everything!); inquisitiveness, open-mindedness, innocent wonder. And finally with an unwavering sense of humor, with pleasant lightheartedness. To stay spirited. Benevolence, curiosity and playfulness.

It is certainly all I ever want to do: be nice to people, be full of wonder, flirt with all the possibilities of this world.

Sunday evening is a quick reorganization of my life, refocusing on the work week ahead. By 10pm we’re in Bateman’s Bay and I am utterly exhausted. Our holiday house sits right on the Bay, which makes for some beautiful early morning training sessions for myself, as well as the brightest night skies I’ve seen in a very long time (hardly any light pollution at all). It’s such a comfort to know that no matter how many nights of the rest of my life I spend looking upwards, this feeling of utter awe, of breathtaking wonder will never wear. It’s a marvel that renews with each rotation of the planet. Every single night, over and over and over, those stars still shock me.

 It was a fine week! It was a new location, a new setting, a new routine. McFlurries & family dinners, bunking with a guy that makes me laugh harder and more genuinely than anyone else I’ve met here (and for that, he makes me miss that paramedic back home). It’s unicorn onesies and the Soldier’s club, having a shit day of sales but securing cute Thursday night dates (‘Can I have your number?’ ‘Can I have your bank details?’ … At least I tried). This week reminded me that it’s all about just saying yes and taking on every opportunity that comes my way.

And if ever for a moment I wonder if it will be a good idea or not, I remind myself that this is my life: good or bad, it is all simply something I will be able to write about later.

I’m not even totally sure where I am right now. I’m at a layover bus stop, somewhere between Bateman’s Bay and Nowra. Some sleepy Australian town resembling some other sleepy town I might picture to exist in the Southern states, where things look old fashioned, and the variety store kiddie corner is called Jolly Olly’s. Not knowing at all where I am, except that it’s somewhere in Australia, makes me happier than anything else. Just happy to be here, remembering all of my previous lives and how much I wanted this here life. And so I did it and I got it and I’m here and I’m well. I’m employed and I’m healthy and I’m socialized and I’m still writing and I’m sitting in a warm ray of early morning sunshine. I have opportunities only because I have created them for myself. I have options because I have worked hard to gather them. I have another fantastic job interview later today. I have a roommate (a great friend) picking me up from the station to take us home. I have a warm bed to fall into tonight. I have a record player waiting for me, a cold glass of something sweet and a safe lap to rest my head.

I am thought of, considered, cared for.

I am so lucky. I am so grateful. Happy Friday, people. xx

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…