Lessons from Aba, our doer, and a post-it:
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At the ripe old age of 50
My life may as well
Be the canvass of my Dreams

​You left this world a wounded soul.

Ever since I remember, I had a belief in me that we have a purpose.  I had also grown up believing my purpose would manifest later in my life.  When you died, I felt disillusioned, as your life seemed to end incomplete.

I have a list on my home page, a list of Heroes, in my eyes.  Big names such as Gandhi and the Dalai Lama.  Others less known, such as Desmond Doss, and Eddie Jaku.  People that manage to stay loyal to kindness and love in a world full of hate, anger, and aggression.  They seem untouched by fear as their connection to a higher truth seems eternal.  I have wondered what sort of future could we possibly hope for, when such heroes have entered our world, touching us for a while, but in the greater scheme of things, leave a world unchanged.

You were always a people’s person, Aba.  Thriving in social settings, you engaged life and welcomed its attention.   Never shallow, though, you spent hours connecting with your friends in the quiet of our home, as you found us all interesting, the human psyche intriguing.

You knew you deserved happiness and walked that path naturally.  You lived your life to the fullest, committed to your poetry from a young age, a passionate expression of your vulnerability.  It spoke of people and nature alike, often with a sense of wonder.  Although life was sometimes difficult, as is everyone’s, ‘failure’ was merely a call to try again and do better.

It occurred to me lately that I am looking at things all wrong.  I expect somehow to find a way to match the purpose of my heroes.  To somehow rise from my petty little self to something better, greater, no longer being vulnerable to the frailty of the human condition.  After you died people began to make contact with me.  People I never even knew existed.  Strangers.  They had popped up from all over the world through social media, to tell me how sorry they were to hear of your death.  Telling me how you had changed their lives.  People who might still be in contact with you, others who may not have spoken to you for decades, telling me what a lasting impact you had on them.
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How else would I define a Hero?  Maybe our purpose here is not set out as clearly as we would like. Maybe you never knew the impact you had on others.  Maybe no one told you while you were alive.  And so you breeze in and out of their lives, unaware.  A legacy left for your children to discover.

It has been a time where nature takes control, and the whole world pays attention.  We have just experienced the hottest, driest, year on record.  Our beloved plants, from seedlings to tall trees, seem to be losing the battle despite Ben dumping a thousand litre tank of creek water on them daily.  As expected, following that came the fires.  Months of uncontrollable fires that consumed the state, starting in the North, and slowly making their way Southwards toward us.  What started as news soon became personal and we were surrounded.  Weeks of stressful vigilance and exhausting repeated preparation for departure made for a pretty crappy Xmas (again, becoming a seasonal thing…)   Hot Northerly winds followed by a cool Southerly change bringing with it smoke and fire, became a recognised pattern.  And still, no rain on the horizon.  Politicians began to blame each other for lack of back burning, and who should be holidaying where, and when.

Eventually, the rain did come.  Blissful, wonderful rain.  Things we though were dead started budding back to life.  I didn’t dare complain in the hot muggy days to follow, any form of moisture is good.  And the rains continued.  And the rains got stronger. 
'Cyclone season is here', we are told on the news, tracing the first cyclones making their way from QLD across the NT to northern WA and down.  All the while, south QLD, NSW, and Northern Vic still in flames.

And the rains got stronger.
Good news for the fires, everyone is thinking.
But slowly the fire maps turn into a flood alert map.  And finally, it arrives here too. 
‘We don’t get heavy rains here anymore, the creek hasn’t flooded for at least 15 years’, we were told when we bought our little spot of paradise.  In the four years we have been here, this would be the third flood, if true to forecast.

And so it starts on Thursday.  Gets stronger on Friday.  By Saturday the animals are not happy.  By Sunday morning the creek, only a trickle a few days prior, is rising fast.  By midday it is at its banks, and the animals are drenched.  The puppies are allowed indoors (yes, mommy the monster agreed…), the chickens are wading in puddles of mud, and mums are looking for the highest place to keep their chicks safe.  Everything is leaking. 

Sunday was a long day.  A very long day.  Adams Birthday is on Monday, ‘Crappiest Birthday ever’, we are promptly informed.  Oh well…  He had to do his maths, BD or no BD, he has a test, so suck it up.  By evening he finally got to stop and go to his beloved PS4.   No more than 10 minutes of blissful gaming begins, and the power goes out. 
‘Really, crappiest BD ever!’  Oh well…  He won’t hate us forever.
And BTW, did we flood?  Of course we did.

Power was promised to be returned to us by 9:30 pm that night.  Then 11pm.  Then Noon the following day.  From there, the information site was typical at ‘check later’.  Politicians began to argue about the wisdom of privatisation.

Monday came and went.  By Tuesday morning just as I ground my coffee beans for my one morning coffee the generator died with a cough and a fart.  No coffee for me.  The laundry floor still full of wet clothes waiting to go into the washer, slowly developing an uncomfortable smell.  The fridges now in the hands of the gods (the other generator was on a job site below 2 meters of water, the basement pumps failed…)

By Tuesday afternoon I began to develop a rash.  With rain, heat, sweat, no showers or proper meals, and of course, ongoing stress, the cause is anyone’s guess.  We finally decided to get a room somewhere, have a shower, find some food, and return home to our candle lit lounge room.  We had other appointments we cancelled after some argument -other issues don’t abate just because nature has awakened.

It has been a long time that I have felt disenchanted with life.  Human elements not failing to disappoint.  Surrounded by beauty I rarely notice nowadays; I try to keep everything else together under difficult conditions.  So, we made our way to an unpromising motel we managed to google on our phones, carrying everything we should need for our promised showers in our fire evacuation bag, ironically.  As we drive into town, half an hour or so away, the rain starts pouring down -again…

And suddenly in all that cloud, not much sun to be found, a rainbow.  A bright, strong double rainbow dead ahead.  A wonderfully colourful sight in what has become a bleak and draining reality lately.  When we got to the room (not awful) I looked up and there was a Kevin Best painting print hanging on the wall.  I was lucky to get to know Kevin in the last year of his life.  He was the sort of person that left you smiling to yourself all day after seeing him, not even sure why.  He just had a way of infusing joy into his surroundings.  I had not seen his work for some years.  After our showers we decided to find some Indian food.  We did not know where and as we drove around at a late hour food places were beginning to shut.  We pulled over, deciding to go with pizza instead, and there it was, an Indian restaurant right in front of us.  It was empty, and closing soon.  We got take away food and returned home, to find a house lit up like a Xmas tree.  (Over three days, I lost track of the on/off positions of the light switches).  When we dared taste the food, from a town that apparently didn’t have good Indian food, we were surprised to discover it was very good.

After what was now a very late dinner, I decided to share what had been stirring in me since we sighted the rainbow.  I detailed the events to my family, events that had awakened in me one by one, hope, positivity, and a glimpse of joy.  When I finished, my youngest son reminded me to list the power returned as the fourth event.  For him it might have been (after all, he had been telling us on the way back that we would return to a home, brightly lit), but not for me.  It wasn’t about that, I said.  This morning it was a bit clearer, this was not about getting what you want, or even what you need.  It was about knowing that there is something loving and nurturing around us always, despite and independent of, our lives events.  That no matter what is happening with us and what we are going through, there is a love that accompanies us always.  Maybe we need to look out for it more often, or just remind ourselves of its presence, I don’t know.  But yesterday it found me.
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More rain today and possibly more flooding tomorrow.  I hope the power stays on.

​Spring started peacefully.  Maybe it will be easier this year, I thought to myself.  Barely had the thought crossed my mind and it started.  First the bees, wave after wave.  Within the joy a frantic urgency to learn emerges, as nature waits for no one.

Then the birds.  A bird, a clutch, a happy little family.  Then another bird, then another.  I was good with four, my wishes answered.  Then another, and another, and another…  I was already tired with the bees…

As the hard work gets harder, I find myself wondering what the hell I am doing, why, what for?  Summer had arrived at some point, I must have missed it, but here I am working in the heat, fencing a new paddock, making new coop.  It may not accommodate them all, it occurs to me, and the deluge of spring expansion persists.

Busy, but good, I tell myself.  I’m getting what I wanted.  Where are those kids, why are they not helping?!  Summer holidays are always exhausting.  Xmas/NY were a write off.  What with the crazy busy time and the relentless storms, leaving us at intervals with no power, phone lines, and internet - with an event every so many days, it would seem, we had no time or means to make a celebration out of it.  We made it up to them eventually -we had to, of course.

And then the duck -that bloody duck!
‘No, Adam, do not bring home any Yabbies!  No more pets!’
‘But mom, I want to put it in the fish tank’.
‘NO -catch and release only!’.
Off he goes with his chorizo.  One slice after the other and he is catching many, releasing in discontent.
‘Mom, there is a duck, he is stealing all my chorizos.  He is tame, not a native.  His wings are clipped -the fox will get him if we don’t save him.  We need to bring him home!’ 
By the time we got a call back from his designated new home, three hours later, everyone fell in love with Marcus Chorizo.  A hungry, tired, lost, adorable duck.  That bloody duck!  A week or so later it turns out he is riddled with parasites.  Did we quarantine him?  Of course not!  Now all my chickens are in danger, and I have to figure out how to remove hundreds of litres of infected water from our newly fenced paddock, safely.  That bloody duck...

Eventually things do get too much.  A couple of weeks later I am still cleaning the mess, treating all my chickens for ailments they do not have ‘as a precautionary measure’.  With my allergies I was hungry before I had to slap a 10-day withholding on my eggs.

Ducky (Marcus Chorizo) ended up in his designated new home after all, he used up too much water.  He went to live in an orchard with a great big pool and the company of a group of alpacas, healthy and happy.  I was left with the parasites…  That’s one way to look at it, I thought to myself.  On the other hand, he needed to be found, he needed to be helped, and the problems we dealt with were saved from the next person.  It wasn’t for nothing.  Hmm…

Still cleaning the mess.  Still applying some medication repeats to birds who know when something tastes foul and refuse to drink their medicated water.  And the branches start falling.  Falling on the ground, falling on saplings we have planted severing stems in half.  Falling on fences -an opportunity to test what we have learned about fencing this season -someone will have to fix the damage.

A few months ago, I had started drinking.  Not much, a glass of red here, a glass there.  The occasional beer on a hot day.  Gradually I was drinking more.  Not too much, never drunk.  But more often, sometimes two.  I told Ben two/three weeks ago I am becoming the girl without a name (yeah, we’ve been watching Game of Thrones).  Day by day, event by event, I am stripped of who I think I am.  Blow by blow I get up again and again.  The last couple incidents I found myself wondering if I was being tested, or is life trying to tell me I am on the wrong path?  In this new home of ours things don’t happen in threes, when it comes, it’s a deluge of events, wave upon wave of happenings, their nature probably best defined in our own minds eye.
I woke up yesterday furious.
‘I can’t take it anymore’ -I lose my temper at my kids, who of course are not to blame. 
‘I can’t remember the last day I went without a drink.  I have no way to de-stress, and you don’t help the situation much with your bad crappy attitude and refusal to help’.
‘And Adam, you and your bloody duck!’
Yes, well…  I won’t be the first mother to blame her kids unfairly -I hope.
As I ranted and raved about my ‘no more alcohol and screw all this stress’ approach to life it occurred to me I must give up.  Give up trying.  No more keeping things together.  No more failing to do so.  I am stripped bare, I am naked, tired, alone.  I no longer care.  It doesn’t matter.  It is not for me to keep getting up again and again.  I don’t have to face any blow.  I owe no one anything, need no excuses.  I don’t have to be anything.  I don’t have to do anything.  I am.

​A few alcohol-free days later I was feeling strong.  (Don’t worry, I have had a glass since…)  At the risk of stating the obvious I realised something about addictions:
We feel as if we are too weak to go on without them.  But in truth they serve only one purpose:
They give us endurance for self-deception.  Deception in service of others.  ‘Strength’ to endure that which enslaves us.  Without them our voice will rise in defiance, rejecting that which erodes us.  Without them, if only we are willing, we emerge strong.

‘Aba, you are forever in my heart.’

That was all I had to say.  Not much for a wordy sort of person such as myself.  I had spent time thinking about it, for the eulogy and in communication with people, but I was quite speechless.

Since I wrote this, I have heard words to that affect every so often and it grabs my heart every time.  They are no longer what I once perceived to be a figure of speech.  They are truth.  I feel my father’s presence in my heart.  It is a palpable, real thing that is with me always, whether I am paying attention or not.

As the weeks have gone by I have been experiencing a heart connection, and although I have learned it from my dad, it is not limited to him alone.  I have realised that we carry each other in our hearts.  We facilitate each other’s being and manifest each other’s love through our hearts. 
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I know that my father is no longer with me physically, at least not in a form a that I recognise.  As for his spiritual whereabouts, I do not know.  But I know now that he is with me in a very real sense, in my heart, and will always be.  I also know that we do not have to die to have a heart connection.  We need only be open to it to experience its expansive affects.  And I believe there is room in our hearts for every being, we need only open our hearts to welcome them in.

Spring is upon us.  I have always had a soft spot for spring, almost as if despite myself, I am cheerful.

Being born in a very hot country, any sign of the looming summer was always accompanied with a subtle sense of dread.  By the time my birthday had come, all around me is dry and dusty, the first rains of winter still a way away.

This year, my second Birthday in our new home, it has occurred to me how our lives might change so completely, blessing us long before we notice.  My birthday now arrives as winter matures.  Only a few days earlier we had some snow -just as we thought winter is over.  Not enough to settle, but enough to leave us anticipating what surprises next year’s winter might bring. 

Barely is this event behind us, frost still on the ground every morning, and the soft warmth of spring surrounds us by midday.  The plums have been blossoming for a couple of weeks now and the berries are sprouting new leaves (maybe a tad too early…)  The humming of the bees is everywhere as they get busy and the Camelia blossoms invite the new season as they bridge the frosty winter and new spring life.

I found myself yesterday enjoying the first day of spring with no foreboding.  If there is ever a place in the world where I would welcome the summer, this might be it.

So here I am, my celestial reality completely changed and the time of my birthday now a time of magic with its joyful gifts.

Saturday, 5 August 2017

‘The light of the world brings peace to every mind through my forgiveness’.  
(A Course in Miracles). 

-Something to meditate on for a few moments. 
A few moments I must battle for on a Saturday morning…
I could hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

‘Boys, go back to bed and give me 10 minutes peace with my coffee before I start breakfast, please’.  I closed my eyes and let myself drift off while holding this idea in my mind.  It has been a difficult time for me, a time where I question the validity of most things I desperately want to believe in.  I have been asking questions, searching for guidance -nothing.  I have not felt deserted, rather, foolish and disillusioned.  

As I continue into this calm space in my mind, I hear voices coming from upstairs: the unmistakable sound of strife amongst my two boys. 
-Great, another fight.  That is all they seem to do nowadays.  I keep my eyes closed as my youngest son’s voice keeps rising in agitation towards his brother.  I resist the urge to call out to them to zip it -not exactly conducive of the place I am trying to achieve.

Then, as my frustration rises, it occurs to me:
‘talk to them another way.  Send this calm and love to them with your mind and heart.  Send them thoughts of Love’.

As I start doing this I find myself telling them silently: ‘stop fighting, be good to each other. Make up and come downstairs for a big family hug’.  As I say this I immediately question myself -I told them to stay upstairs.  Even if I could somehow get to them in this way, I would be creating conflict within them.  ‘No matter’, another part of me responds, ‘my message will tell them it is alright, they will know it is OK’.

As my mind quietens and I feel all that good energy flowing upstairs I notice their voices reducing gradually, and then quiet.  Next, footsteps.  Truly, step by step my boys are coming down.  They enter the lounge room and walk to the couch on which I am sitting, big smiles on their faces and no sign of concern that they may be disrupting me.  I get a kiss from each of them, and we enjoy a big family hug.

As we hug I am grateful and amazed by the perfection of the unfolding events.  Almost immediately I question the ease of this perfect moment on the backdrop of the previous few days, in which have felt ignored, my existence unrecognised.  Just as quickly comes the answer: ‘you can’t force this.  You can send whatever message, feeling, wishes you want out there, but people will choose whether to be receptive to them or not’.

‘Not surprising that children are first to respond’ I thought to myself.  ‘Older people would struggle with that more I suppose’.  And then a final bit of illumination: ‘given how stuck I have felt lately, how closed off and unreceptive must I myself have been.  How much have I been missing, and for how long?’


Monday, 7 August 2017

When I woke up this morning I felt in the midst of a large, warm, welcoming place.  A strong place.  A grand place.  A place wanting to infuse me with all its miraculous attributes.

‘Open to this place.  Connect with it.  Experience its positivity as it extends to you.  Immerse yourself in its strength, as you get strong and heal’.

‘Don’t worry about what the future may hold.  Don’t worry about how limited your time here may or may not be, -let it be all it needs to be for you now.  It has more to give than you realise.  All you need do is accept with an open heart’.

It was a strong message indeed.  Maybe I have decided to listen.

I have been asking for a stronger and clearer connection with Life’s Universal Energy Flow. 
I turned to the I-Ching and got ‘The Well’. 
No moving lines, no transition, just ‘The Well’:  
Nourishment, Source of Life, The Unchangeable.

When I closed my eyes and saw the source of life on earth, deep within the ground like a well, I felt I might be limiting my focus to this mortal coil.  I then saw beyond that.  It is not a choice between heaven and earth.  It is the same.  Heaven breathes life to earth.  The source of life on earth is our ultimate, infinite source, manifesting in earthly creation.

The true source of life on earth and our true being are one and the same.  It does not start at creation, it merely channels to it, through it, and beyond.  There is no contradiction, and finding our true being on earth is not a distraction.  It is made of the same spirit, it is going home.  Connect with it and you connect to your Self.