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.”
The shearing shed is a flurry of activity. The three sets of mechanical shears powered by the loud petrol engine buzz and clitter-clatter in competition with each other. As do the shearers who hold the shears, bent over their sheep – deep in the meditation of their craft.
When I heard those words I dropped the bed sheet I was busy folding into a hospital corner, and stood up with a big stupid grin of enlightenment.
The relationship between writer and writing is like a passionate love affair. We love, we hate; we cry, we laugh; we’re on, we’re off. We ignore each other, obsess over each other; throw roses, throw plates. All in the silence and stillness of a solitary place.
Do you ever wonder if you’ve changed much over the last 20 years? And by change I don’t mean more wrinkles. I mean wisdom, lessons learned, improvement - existential progress. How can you tell? How do you make a quantitative assessment of a qualitative phenomenon? This is how...
As I boarded and walked up the aisle, trying not to thump anyone in the head with my bag, I scanned the seat numbers until I found mine. There was a man sitting in the middle seat.
Identity is a funny thing. We do things, say things, gather possessions, acquire skills, have opinions… So we can be somebody. Then, if we’re on ye olde spiritual journey, we set about trying to lose them, then pick up more in the process.
A few mornings past I woke up feeling like I was still caught in that land that hovers between sleep and waking... But the dude behind me brought this important information to my immediate attention with a loud honk on his horn... Road rage, how do you react?
Well, it seems that just maybe I did do some growing up in the last year, because this birthday I chilled the F out, and noticed that I knew some stuff that I didn’t know last year. I’ll spare you a list of 40, but here’s four: 1. Stop being so fucking hard on yourself...
Is there really any profound difference between 11.59 on the 31st December and one past midnight on 1st January? Is there such a thing as time and space? And just because everyone's doing it, does that mean we all have to be lemmings? ...Notes on new year resolutions, growing up and fun. :)
What is this thing we call creativity; that angel of light and invisible demon that at times seduces but remains just outside our reach?
Falling into surrender can be the most bold and brave thing you’ll ever do.
