Archive | Relationships RSS feed for this section

The nomad’s guide to putting down roots

17 Jan

ID-100111562

I can’t sit still. Seriously. Even in the cinema, I wriggle and sigh and stretch and play with my hair. Two hours sat in the same seat? Gah!

It could be because my family moved house seven times before I was eight. And after relocating to Perth, no sooner did we settle in a space, we packed up and found another.

So I say I never really had a home. Houses, sure – and some pretty cool ones (including one that was DEFINITELY haunted) – but no home. We were like nomadic animals, roaming about with no destination in mind. We simply spotted a better watering hole and set off.

And in the past year, I’ve moved four times. FOUR!

I’m now back at the beach in Sydney. And part of me never wants to leave.

But the nomad in me is already itchy. Already restless. Thinking about far-flung lands, wondering if the other side of Manly might be more exciting, more me. Searching for a better watering hole.

So how can we nomadic souls stay still?

Because we really, really want to sometimes. I’m nearing 30 and should probably start thinking about ‘nesting’.

That’s not to say I won’t travel and explore and jump around. But I want to be in a place long enough to make connections, meet likeminded souls, contribute to the community and build my business.

It’s funny. I’ve just finished reading ‘The Life You Were Born to Live’ by Dan Millman. It uses the Life-Purpose System to calculate your path. My life path number 34/7 is described as struggling to commit. To work through issues of trust and security (the main life purpose for 34/7s), I need to stop flapping about, stay still and put down roots.

How?

Well, I’ve started with daily meditation. And by meditation I mean – try to block thoughts about what I’m going to do the second meditation ends. And ignore the itch on the end of my nose. And stop wondering how I’m going to be still in life when I can’t even sit still to meditate. It’s a struggle! 😉

I’ve also started getting out more, and trying to be more open in public. I’m meeting strangers in cafes – a few of whom have already turned into friends who are on a similar path. I’m reaching out to other business owners on the beaches, just for a chat, not to sell. Or I’m just striking up conversations with people on the beach…many of whom probably think I’m a tad cray cray. (All of this, by the way, is pretty frightening for a sensitive soul!)

And I’m expressing gratitude, in the moment. Like looking out at the water and saying, ‘thank you that I get to look at this beautiful view’. Or ‘thank you that this time I had the patience to actually bake the cake, instead of eating all the batter  and feeling really really sick as a result.’ Whatever works, right? 😉

Who knows if any of it is working. But so far, I’m still.

Are you a nomad? How do you sit still long enough to put down roots? I’d love your help!

A prayer for mums past and present

13 May

I didn’t spend Mother’s Day with mum. I would have loved to, but I couldn’t get the time to take the trip north.

Instead, I packed up a little box of CDs and a small elephant I’d bought in Thailand and shipped it up to Mum’s in time for today.

She unwrapped it as we spoke on the phone and told me about the odd jobs she’d be doing in the afternoon.

I spent the day doing the same – cleaning out the oven, mopping the floors, Googling sugar-free recipes and laying low.

Friends were at family functions, treating their mums and tweeting the evidence. My Facebook feed was filled with photos of high tea and cake. Mums and daughters hugging. Love.

Mother’s Day is a lovely way to celebrate the selfless souls in our lives. The women who have given and continue to give us their love and endless encouragement and support.

Today I whispered a prayer and wrote a note to my dear friends who are without their mothers. I asked God to wrap angels’ wings around them, to comfort them and sing them a sweet song. Just like mum.

I can’t pretend to understand their loss, so I won’t write about it. Instead, I am writing this post to honour mums who have passed. I pray for their peace and for the children they left behind. Let their love forever linger.

Happy Mother’s Day to all.

xx

Dear Woman. Today is your day.

8 Mar

Dear Woman.

Today is your day.

Today we celebrate how far you have come.

Today we know the struggles you made; the battles you won.

Today we see the struggles ahead; the battles you continue to fight around the world. The peaceful fights – the fight for rights.

Today we honour your integrity; your endless love. It stems from the home and seeps out into your community and wafts around the world.

Today we see your potential. To rise up and shout out for those who do not have a voice.

Today we applaud you for doing two thirds of the world’s work. While earning just 10 per cent of the world’s wages.

Today we thank you for providing us with a home, a haven, a safe house. For filling it with real riches – your heart and your spirit.

Today we recognise the barriers you confront – in the workforce, on the land, in the home.

Today we support you.

Today we stand with you; we walk with you; we hold hands and march forward with you.

Dear Woman.

Today is your day.

Thank you.

 

This post was written for International Women’s Day. To find out more about this ever-important initiative, please click here.

When Valentine’s Day was cancelled

16 Feb

It’s timely that the day I emerge from three days in hell is also Thankful Thursday. I’ll spare you the icky details, though it did involve a lot of yacking and dragging my weary self to the shower and back. I didn’t even have the energy to hold a hairdryer. So as soon as my hair started to frizz up and feel feral, all I could do was chuck it under the cold tap. And then crawl back to bed, moaning and groaning and searching for The Bucket.

Valentine’s Day was cancelled. I didn’t think the fine folk at the tres posh Winery in Surry Hills would appreciate my half-dried curly mop and crinkled nightie, which hadn’t been taken off in two days. They probably wouldn’t like the gagging noises either…

So The Lad and I awoke on Valentine’s Day incredibly tired (the poor guy had been kept up all night as I took the ‘how loud can you spew’ challenge). He then put off a meeting at his new job to take me to the doctor’s and wait while I received a needle in my bum. And he didn’t even blink when I said dinner was cancelled. Instead, he brought me a single red rose and a peck on the cheek. What a man.

Now that I’m looking semi-decent (apologies to my colleagues who have been graced with my post-pukey, unpolished presence today), I am able to turn on my computer and be thankful.

I’m thankful for full health. Gastro is hardly the worst illness to have, yet it felt fairly close to death. I admire those courageous people who live with critical illness and disease every day of their lives.

I’m also incredibly thankful for having someone in my life who, after they’ve had zero sleep (thanks to me), will put off anything to make sure I’m OK.

Blessings x

The night I couldn’t stop giggling

8 Feb

 

I giggled in the shower last night. I couldn’t stop; I was laughing and sniggering and giggling my head off. I could hear my housemate knocking on the door and mocking me. Which made me laugh even harder. It was one of those rare moments of absolute euphoria. It was a release.

We had been out to see my friend perform in a dimly-lit Oxford Street singers’ bar. That’s singers, not swingers (just in case you were getting excited). I had only heard him sing in snippets – a few lines at most. To see him step onto the stage, smartly dressed in a tucked-in crisp white shirt and skinny black tie, and belt out the most beautiful, haunting notes, took my breath away. He had been nervous, awaiting his turn on the small stage.  He had no reason to be. Daniel Merriweather’s Red and the Kings of Leon hit Use Somebody poured out in a slinky, soulful sound. My pocket-rocket pal is set for stardom. His name is Paul Graham. Keep an eye out for him. 😉

After Paul’s performance, a group of us headed back out onto Oxford Street for drinks and dancing. Yes, on a school night. Eep. But it was fabulous – we were all on a high from seeing our uber-talented friend rock the Supper Club. We danced and giggled and showed off and sang. Which is how I wound up still giggling and sniggering in the shower at midnight!

Friends are a blessing. They get us out of our head and open our eyes. They lift our spirits. And best of all, they leave us laughing.

Grateful for a little ball of fluff

5 Jan

Today’s Thankful Thursday post is unusually short on words.

As the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand of them.

Just looking at this photo makes my heart melt. My smile broaden. My gratitude grow.

This little ball of fluff lives with mum. Hugs mum. Licks mum. Loves mum. Makes mum laugh.

She’s there with mum when I can’t be.

She lifted mum’s heart when it was heavy.

Today (and every day) I am grateful for…

Bella

What are you thankful for today?

A year of gratitude

29 Dec

It’s not easy to give 12 months’ worth of thanks in one blog post. But hey, I’m on holidays!

This is my last Thankful Thursday thought for 2011.

I’m looking forward to a new year of challenges, achievements and realisations.

While this year felt a little ‘blah’, and I didn’t seem to achieve very much, there are still so many things I can be grateful for.

I’m thankful for…

    • Travelling to America with The Lad in July. It was an eye-opening trip, marked by multiple trips to Victoria’s Secret & Macy’s, and the realisation that most Americans are kind, generous, hard-working people. I can’t wait to go back!
    • Living in a renovated, clean and ridiculously cheap apartment. Without damp walls, a mouldy bathroom or an entire cockroach civilisation under the sink.  Though there is a next-door neighbour who sings show tunes off-key between 8pm and 9.20pm. Every single night. Sometimes we join in.
    • The Lad. Of course! He tells me I’m gorgeous, when I feel like a heifer. He drops everything to pick me up or drop me off. He comes along to museums and art gallery exhibitions when he’d rather be watching the cricket. He makes me laugh. He listens to me cry. He buys me Reese’s Miniatures and he loves the people I love. He’s happy to go along with my (unrealistic?) romantic life plan to live in different homes until we’re married. And he doesn’t question it. What a man!
What were you most thankful for in 2011?

%d bloggers like this: