It's happened, the writing bug has hit again. It knows no other commitments or obligations, it just makes space for itself. So, here I am at 11.02pm typing this to you. ...Because maybe those little nothing moments are where it's at.
It's happened, the writing bug has hit again. It knows no other commitments or obligations, it just makes space for itself. So, here I am at 11.02pm typing this to you. ...Because maybe those little nothing moments are where it's at.
This International Women’s Day I remember with love and gratitude two great women - my grandmothers. One inspired me with her stoicism, fortitude and sharp mind. The other nourished my soul with unconditional love and an unquenchable joie de vivre.
This Australia Day I won’t be sitting around an esky full of beer drinking myself stupid. I won’t fly an Aussie flag out my car window while blasting Triple J's Hottest 100. I won’t get a southern cross tattoo. I won’t paint my face blue, white and red. The words ‘oi, oi, oi’ will not pass my lips. But I will...
2017. My grandma died. I got the flu and couldn’t walk properly. I spent three months fearing I had breast cancer. I cried. I swore. I felt insufficient. It would be easy for me to throw last year on the scrap pile of years that sucked if I hadn’t done this one powerful thing…
My body was wrapped tight in harnesses with long ropes attached. The vividly beautiful face of a Zambian man was inches from mine. That skin. Those teeth. He had hold of the ropes and told me to lean back. “Are you ready?”
Being a parent is not an easy thing. And being a ‘good’ parent is even harder. ‘Authenticity’ and ‘congruency’ have been buzzwords for a while now. But what about when it comes to how we show up as parents, and who we’re being with our kids? It gets a little more complicated… Or does it?
One of my favourite ways to spend a day is in the forest. And I think it may just be the answer to the world’s problems. If everyone spent regular time in the forest there would be no war, no depression, and no more unhappiness. 10 reasons why I'm 100% sure a walk in the forest will rock your world...
“With your feet in the air and your head on the ground,” is the opening line to Where Is My Mind by The Pixies; seminal alt-rock band from the late 80s early 90s. To me it’s the creative’s version of the saying: Head in the clouds, feet on the ground. And this is the ultimate in living a creative life.
Schools and businesses close for it; supermarkets overflow with colourful foil-wrapped eggs and fluffy toy bunnies... But what is the real origin and significance of Easter?
Shit. Fuck. Cunt. Love them or hate them, they make an impact don’t they? They're the punk rock kids of any language - rebellious anarchists who love to cause a stir.
My annual ode to getting older. It has a dark beginning but hang in there, it has a happy(ish) ending… I was in the midst of a sweaty throng of other rock fans jumping up and down to my fave live band feeling super fucking happy...
There is vast wisdom that can't be found in books and universities. It comes instead from doing the time. And the only ones who have it are our elders, who've walked the path ahead. And when we can slow down enough to listen, and drop our obsession with youth, they'll tell us stories. Here's one from my neighbour Ken...
Today I slid my laptop into a beach bag with coffee money, wandered out the back gate to the beach, stopped to take a close-up of a flower still covered in dew, then walked along the beach to a little café to sip coffee and write... I reflected on how things change and how the word ‘commute’ has taken on a very different meaning for me...
As hard as it is for me to admit it, you made a great choice not sticking around for your 90th. There would have been lap blankets for sure, and people writing you off as an old person which you never were.
It was getting dark and all the boys were wet and now two of them were off in the wilderness somewhere. It suddenly felt really stupid to have broken up the group. Isn't that rule #1 of any horror movie?
The importance of play for childhood development is well documented, but I wonder when and why it stops being important for grown ups? Why do we get serious and forget about magic and simple moments? Kids have so much to teach us.
Mum sits the three of us down at the kitchen table and asks us if we’ve noticed that she and Dad have been arguing a lot. I’m eight, the oldest and the most outspoken. I ask as a joke if they’re going to get divorced. It seems like such a whacky possibility. Something that happens on TV, not in our house.
It felt great to be outside, surrounded by nature, breathing in the fresh air - rich with the perfume of eucalyptus. The rain had intensified the colours of the forest and little birds were flittering around us, enjoying the rejuvenating shower and the droplets that sparkled on the tips of leaves like diamonds.
Yes it felt warm and delicate and fuzzy to ‘awaken to love’… But it also felt pretty fucking rock and roll quite frankly.
What would my 20-year-old self think of my almost 40-year-old self? She’d probably think, “Oh fuck, you still haven’t done any of that stuff? Now it’s way too late. You’re old. You missed the boat.” And I’d say, “Yeah, I know, I know, I’ve been thinking that too.”