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The joy and sadness of goodbyes and hellos

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.

~ T.S. Eliot

beginnings and Endings — The Shoalhaven River. No beginning or ending in sight

The past year has been filled with goodbyes and hellos. We said goodbye to our home in Adelaide, goodbye to work in the traditional sense, to familiar routines, traditions, and favourite places. And hello to sharing a house with my mum (crazy different!), hello to a new town, to new neighbours and to a new way of living.

Hellos are usually associated with beginnings, and coming together, excitement and of course, greetings; goodbyes signify endings and partings, they have connotations of sadness and moving away. After four months I still have days where sadness is my overwhelming emotion, and finding joy is an effort. And as I write this, I’m overcome with a bittersweet mixture of sadness and joy that an end of a visit arouses.

Today we waved goodbye to our son Daniel who’s been visiting for a week. It’s been a long time between visits — he’s a music producer and lecturer who has a busy life in Melbourne — and this past week the house seemed to be filled with his stories, his distinctive laugh and his gentle presence. His departure has been a kind of shock — the house is full of empty spaces and there’s a silence where he used to be.

It was a similar thing when our daughter, Jess visited a few weeks ago. She too filled up the empty spaces in the house that we didn’t notice before, her laughter and conversation an antidote to our homesickness.

Life is filled with hellos and goodbyes. What we do between them is what matters most.

Their arrivals fill the the atmosphere with novelty and excitement. After a couple of days there’s a settling, where we slip into our natural ways of being together, and then there are the inevitable goodbyes. The hardest part of the visit. And this time was tough. Perhaps because everything has changed.

It’s hit home that our kids have grown up. Adults with their own lives. We have become minor players in their games of life. I feel sad — for the passing of time and for (rightfully) being relegated a spot on the periphery, to being observers rather than the most important people in their lives. Of course we’ll always be their parents, but it’s goodbye to the responsibilities of mothering and fathering and hello to (hopefully) being friends and trusted advisers.

Beaches on the south coast of NSW — Hello to beautiful beaches in our new environment

Life is full of hellos and goodbyes, beginnings and endings. Perhaps the lesson here is to enjoy and savour every moment between those beginnings and endings, those hellos and goodbyes — whether it’s at work or play, spending time with your loved ones, or just going about the ordinary business of your day.

I leave you with this quote from Fred Rogers which eloquently states my wish for all of us in our hellos and goodbyes:

Often when you think you’re at the end of something, you’re at the beginning of something else. I’ve felt that many times. My hope for all of us is that ‘the miles we go before we sleep’ will be filled with all the feelings that come from deep caring – delight, sadness, joy, wisdom – and that in all the endings of our life, we will able to see the new beginnings.

What’s happened and what’s next – reflecting on 2017

I love the outsets, despite the fear and uncertainty that attach to all beginnings . . . I have already begun a thousand lives this way.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke Letters to a young poet

Merry Christmas — From my family to yours, a wish for a peaceful, joyous Christmas

I’m at my desk looking out at the Cambewarra Mountain which is shrouded in cloud cover. The ground outside is wet from the intermittent rain overnight, and the birds have begun their morning song. It’s a good morning to reflect on the year 2017 – what’s happened and what’s next.

The past year has been intense — filled with colour and emotion, activity and tumult. A year of big decisions and big effort. So much has happened. It’s my biggest year since I immigrated to Australia thirty nine years ago. It’s up there with childbirth, going to university as a mature student and seeing my youngest off to study and travel overseas solo for the first time.

The first part of my year was marked by decisions and activity. I answered the declutter guru, Marie Kondo’s call to pare down and discard stuff that didn’t give me joy. For my personal story — deciding what mattered, what was important to keep in the story and what to let go of, was a struggle which required much circling around with ink on paper. But our biggest decision was to sell our house and business. Move to where we could see the sunrise over the ocean instead of the sunset. A decision to change how we work and make a plan for a new way of life that was more wholehearted. Packing up our life set a rollercoaster of emotions in train — anxiety, doubt, disillusion and finally, relief.

We have been in New South Wales for three months now. Sharing a home with my mum while we look for the dream house in its perfect location somewhere along this beautiful south coast, has been a learning curve. Returning to live with a parent — disrupting their habits, encroaching on their space and finding their kitchen equipment lacking (by my standards) — is tricky, especially when you’re used to living differently, with more space and less stuff. It requires compromise and tact, and resilience when you’re feeling vulnerable after a traumatic year. It was a fraught beginning but over time, the three of us (and the princess dog) have found a way to share the space and rub along together reasonably well, and I’m grateful.

With most of our belongings in storage, we are learning to live with fewer clothes and books. Items that we previously thought were essential we are able to live without. And even though I miss some of my beautiful things and especially my kitchen and all its accoutrements for creative cooking, I still manage to produce meals that pass my critical muster. The trauma of relocation has faded, replaced by a nostalgia for familiar places and experiences — the beautiful parks for our walks, my local library, the convenience of living in a city, seeing foreign films . . .

But there is much that is beautiful to occupy us in our new surroundings. We have a new rhythm in our daily life. Hikes in the bush and along the river with its clear water, walks on beaches with the whitest sand, paddles in a lagoon, and shopping in interesting villages, are part of our regular routine. And yes, we miss some of the conveniences of city living, but we now have vineyards and paddocks with cows grazing as our passing scenery on our neighbourhood walks. But it’s not just about leisurely pursuits.

Eggplants growing — Eggplants forming in our vegetable patch

We’ve worked hard to restore the neglected garden which has enough space to grow flowers as well as vegetables. Tomatoes are growing, eggplants forming, cucumbers ripening and there is fresh lettuce to be picked for our lunch. Dahlias are bursting forth with their showy blooms in time for Christmas and the roses have just finished their first flush of flowering.

My creativity is also flourishing. My writing, which was erratic for a long time is now an established practice every day. I’m learning to draw as you know, and although I don’t practice as often as I should, I really love this expression of my creativity. Amore is relaxed and flexing his own creative muscles — experimenting with designs and contemplating his future of work.

Promise of a bountiful harvest — The promise of a bountiful harvest

And as we near the end of 2017, we are on a hiatus — not waiting, but pausing. Life is tranquil, and although we’ve had moments of doubt and flashes of regret, we have our hearts and minds focused on what’s next.

One of the things at the top of our what’s next list is finding a place to live. Not just a house, an environmentally sustainable dream house in the perfect location. We’ve been thinking, talking, making plans and pasting ideas into our inspiration book for more than a year. We have a tall order, and so far in our explorations the ideal package is illusive.

Not so illusive is a plan to travel to Italy. It’s been more than a year since our last visit and we hope to have an extended working holiday in the beautiful country. We are in the planning stages of dates, flights, arrangements for the princess dog, and investigations into Italian internet service. We have been offered an apartment for our stay in Genoa for which we are grateful. It’s a highlight in our 2018 calendar to look forward to and work toward.

I have other work to complete. A list of to-dos regarding my website has been neglected as is my my goal for publication of my first travel article in a magazine. Procrastination and resistance have reared their ugly heads and even though there are completed articles waiting to see the light, I haven’t hit the submit button yet. What holds us back sometimes? Fear of rejection? Perfectionism? I suffer from both these afflictions and they can be difficult to overcome. But I know the solution — break the task down into manageable chunks, put one foot in front of the other, one word and then the next, and work on it consistently, EVERY DAY!

The Cambewarra Mountain looking spectacular in the sunshine

The sky has cleared and the mountain is now in full view. The sun is out and the cicadas have resumed their cacophony from the grove of trees opposite. It’s been good to reflect on 2017 —what’s happened and what’s next in 2018. I’m happy to leave the rollercoaster of emotions behind. I’m also grateful for the roof over my head, achievements small and large, and the simple joys in my life. I can see that our 2018 calendar is marked with some exciting things and I look forward to a creative year.

I hope that when you reflect on the past year that you recollect many joys and achievements in 2017 (it’s so easy to remember the bad things, sometimes we need to pause and refocus our attention on the good things that happen to us).

From my family to yours, a wish for a peaceful and joyous festive season and may 2018 bring you all the best things.

The flourishing of creativity through writing a journal

Creative journal writing frees your spirit. It liberates insight and while it makes your mind dance, it soothes your soul.

~ Stephanie Dowrick, Creative journal writing

I’ve been writing a journal consistently for a year now. It’s a private space where I record my dreams and wishes, my complaints and disappointments and my sorrows and joys. It’s truly the ideal friend — a good listener, non-judgemental, always there when you need her, she invites me to write my way through challenges and helps me discover solutions which sometimes appear serendipitously on the page. And the most unexpected and delightful benefit of writing a daily journal has been the flourishing of creativity in all areas in my life.

For a long time I wasn’t clear about what really mattered to me. I knew I wasn’t the person I wanted to be but I didn’t know who that person could be. Journal writing was the catalyst for a shift in imagination. The daily writing helped to clear the clutter from my mind, fostered new ways of thinking about my life, and helped me to create a foundation for becoming who I really am. It opened the door to new possibilities, allowed my creativity to flourish.

This passage hasn’t been an easy one —inertia, resistance, and fear were my friends for a while. You can read my story about how I managed to vanquish these old foes and step onto the path toward a wholehearted life, at Quiet Writing

Writing a journal didn’t come naturally to me. It’s been a battle. I fought the hellion of resistance and my lack of discipline to even show up at my desk and come to the page. And the wrestle with the demon of perfectionism is an ongoing struggle. This process of self-discovery required a helping hand — new mentors, inspiring collaborators were called for. Books have been companions and teachers throughout my life so it was the place I turned to for help.

Journal writing books — Journal writing mentors

I first discovered journal writing through Julia Cameron’s book, The Artist’s Way. But I wasn’t ready for it. I was sceptical that writing three pages could free my captive creativity and I found the artist dates too confounding in my moribund state. I also didn’t have the discipline to see the twelve week course through.

However, Cameron’s ‘Morning pages’ (three pages of stream-of-consciousness writing in the morning) did help me to shrug off my corporate writer, my perfectionist self, for a while. And a quote by Elizabeth Kübler-Ross in Cameron’s book touched a chord with me even though at the time I didn’t know what it meant or how to achieve this state:

Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in this life has a purpose.

rituals — Lighting my oil burner with a few drops of essential oil became part of my morning ritual

Janet Connor’s Writing down your soul was also edifying. Connor’s suggestions for showing up were simple and practical. They helped me create a daily ritual for writing my journal which was meditative and calming. I arrived at my desk each morning, lit a candle in my oil burner with a few drops of whichever essential oil spoke to me that day, sat down, and took a few deep breaths. I read a page from Susan Shaughnessy’s Walking on alligators, a book of meditations for writers (always inspiring) and opened my journal. Connor says to write a salutation as you would begin a letter. Mine was, and still is, Dear Friend. I love that it’s like beginning a conversation with a dear friend which is how I do see my journal.

I only read the first part of the book closely as many of the questions and exercises seemed too profound for my situation. I just began to write whatever came into my mind. But It didn’t feel satisfying. I continued with this for a while but looked for another mentor. I needed a guide who could show me how to free my captive creativity.

Lavinia Spalding’s Writing Away had been on my shelf for a while. The subheading “A creative guide to awakening the journal writing traveller” caught my eye. It’s wonderful sometimes isn’t it, when help arrives serendipitously just when you need it? Although aimed at travellers, Lavinia has many pertinent suggestions for the stay-at-home journal writer. One that I love is her invitation to view your everyday life as a journey and travel as an ongoing state of mind.
She says the journal,

“is a safe container for astonishing discoveries and the life lessons we take away from them. We write words in an empty book, and an inanimate object is transformed into a living, breathing memoir. In turn, as we write, the journal transforms us. It allows us to instantly process impressions, which leads to a more examined layer of consciousness in both the present and the future. It’s a relationship…

Yes, a relationship with an intimate friend.

One of the biggest take-aways from Writing Away was to use all your senses. It wakes you up, giving that moment a three dimensional impression. I regret not reading this book earlier and keeping a journal on my trips to Italy. I relied so much on my camera to capture scenes and places but a photo doesn’t remind you how you felt in that moment, the sounds of the market place, or what it smelt like. Smell is such an evocative sensation which can bring you to a halt with memories of that moment or situation.

A shift in imagination — A sudden disturbance in the air caused the leaves of my nectarine tree to float to the ground in a cascade of golden hues, echoing the shift in my imagination

Autumn 2016 and the leaves on the nectarine tree in front of my window were turning shades of gold. I was showing up at my desk, determined to get into the swing of this journal writing thing. But it was still laboured. Until I found my most influential writing mentor.

I came across Stephanie Dowrick’s Creative journal writing – the art and heart of reflection in the library. Her book was written for me. Everyday situations, engaging exercises, insights and practical suggestions that resonated with me. Journal writing, she says,

…will train and hone your eye for beauty. it will invite you into the present moment (while also allowing you to roam your past). It will let you re-experience awe and wonder. It will let you intensify and renew your pleasure in events and situations that have gone well. It will support your recovery (and the gaining of wisdom) from the times you wish had never happened.

Suddenly I felt a new freedom — to explore what really mattered to me, to ask new questions, to begin a wild writing adventure.

I bought a beautiful journal, found a pen I loved and followed the exercises and suggestions in the book. It was the beginning of something special. The exercises brought the ink flowing onto the page and this wild writing sometimes lead me to ideas I didn’t know I had, sparked connections I hadn’t seen before and gave meaning and richness to situations and events I’d brushed aside as insignificant.

I felt a flourishing of creativity and a confidence to try new things. It was a shift in imagination!

I’ve had a secret longing to learn to draw for decades and always dismissed the desire as I thought I didn’t have the talent nor the creativity for it. Until recently. I took the plunge and signed up to an online course to find out once and for all if I had even a skerrick of ability. I discovered that anyone can learn to draw, you just need to be taught some techniques and the rest is practice. What a prodigious surprise!

Writing a journal is creative. It’s instinctive — your pen moves across the page almost of its own volition, no thinking deeply, or censoring thoughts, or pausing for the right word. It’s woken me up, showed me what it means to be alive. Journal writing has guided and helped me to flourish in many ways: I’ve achieved clarity on my purpose, the freedom to explore what matters to me, I’ve developed my intuition, and let go of the person I thought I should be. It’s helped me to create space to find out who I really want to become. It’s helped me to create a vision for living a wholehearted life, a passionate life.

Are you a journal writer? In what ways has writing your journal helped you? Please drop me a line in the comments, I’d love to hear your experience.

The space between: journal reflections

Now and then it’s good to pause in our pursuit of happiness and just be happy.

~ Guillaume Apollinaire

Golden Rose — Last chance to enjoy my Gold Bunny Rose, one of the first to flower in my garden

For the first time in my new temporary home I find some time to be here. It’s been a tough relocation — filled with complications, challenges, and situations that have set my teeth on edge. My first thought on opening this page was to write about the process of our relocation, but I found this post which was written about two weeks before we left our home in Adelaide. It was titled The space between what’s done and what’s yet to begin, and it reflects my thoughts at the time and brought to mind some lovely moments of just being.

I’m sharing it without editing as a journal reflection on that liminal space and as a small tribute to the final days in our old hometown. . .

Otters at the Adelaide Zoo — Saying farewell to the otters at the Adelaide Zoo.

. . .In two weeks, we will leave this place called home. We are packing up, closing down and getting reading to move on. And in this liminal space — between what’s done and what’s yet to begin, I’ve been busy with the practicalities and technicalities of integrating my work life and my passionate life story.

The busyness of finding solutions for integrating all of this into a neat new package —website, social media, a new sense of identity — has been consuming. So much so that I was forgetting to just be. The things that matter, the most important things, were taking a back seat.

What matters right now is to enjoy our final days here. In the midst of preparing to leave, there are still walks in nature, reading, and of course writing. Not the About me page or the list of services I’m offering or whether I should pin this blog post to a Pinterest board, but finding pleasure in the work of writing my story and being present right now in my life.

The Lane Vineyard — Vines ready for pruning at the Lane Vineyard, Hahndorf. Lunch in the Adelaide Hills with my best girl and amore mio

I understand that the practical aspects of how I will present myself to the world is important, but at the moment, it seems like it’s too much, too difficult to think about. So I’m taking a pause — crazy though it sounds with the movers turning up in thirteen days.

Serenity in the Himeji Japanese Garden — Tranquility in the Himeji Japanese Garden. A favourite place which always holds the space between

David Kundtz, in his book Quiet Mind stresses that stopping — whether for a moment or a month — can be the difference between simply surviving and thriving. To me, it’s like taking a deep breath, in order to remember who I am and what I want. I wrote a blog post about taking a moment to be still a while ago, but with all the activity (mind and body) happening at the moment, I lost sight of the benefits of what David calls ‘still points’. He says:

More than anything, one should have a feeling of freedom, a feeling of having no pressing needs (even though there are often pressing needs), and as complete a state of relaxation as is possible right now.

So the agenda for the next two weeks has been cleared of the technical, practical stuff that I know will be there, waiting for when the time is right and I’m stopping for a moment to regain my equilibrium. I’m going to focus on what matters right now.

West Beach, Adelaide — Beach walks in old haunts with Lily the princess dog

Some of that is to bid farewell to familiar haunts — walks in my favourite gardens and the beach, and as well as packing my precious belongings, finding time for writing and reading, as well as practicing my drawing and photography. Finding joy in being present in this space between.

The space between, — The space between what’s done and what’s yet to begin. Adelaide Botanic Garden wetlands looking serene

With the trauma of moving, I have only now come to appreciate the moments taken and enjoyed in that brief time before our departure. I hope that you too can find some stillness in your life to just be. Sometimes, doing nothing is the best thing to do.

Thanks Adelaide for some of the best moments of my life!

Celebrating special moments from Italian journeys

Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.

~ Dr Seus

St Peter’s Cathedral, Rome — View of St Peter’s Cathedral from the Vatican museum

The first of my Italian journeys was in 2007 and what an adventure of discovery it ignited! It began in Rome when I was recovering from a long illness. I was wide-eyed with awe, still clumsy with my camera, and finding my way with the Italian language.

My initial experience was filled with all the romantic images of my dreams: cobblestone streets, ancient monuments, the motorcycles, dashing Italian men and of course, stylish women who manage to sashay in high heels along those ancient roman piazzas.

Yes, it was all of that, and much more. That first visit kindled a passion that has burned brighter with every Italian journey since. I use the word journey in the traditional sense of ‘travelling from one place to another’ but I also like the additional dictionary meaning of ‘passage or progress from one stage to another’.

I’ve travelled to many places in Italy — from Milan to Mantua, Bologna to Bari and all around the beautiful region of Liguria. And these Italian journeys have played a huge part in the story of me, this passage from one stage of my life, to another.

Italian cooking lessons in Verona. Preparing food, developing friendships, finding my heart.

The story of my Italian journeys had its genesis in a blog called Italian Journeys. The blog has been neglected in recent times, but looking through the photos, I’ve reconnected with some special moments from the past. The stories about the people, places and culture of Italy are, to quote Carole King’s line from the song ‘Tapestry’, ‘the rich and royal hues’ which I want to weave into my new story.

And to bring this story into the new narrative, I begin with a photo story of the landscapes, people, architecture and food which have inspired and delighted me during some of my Italian journeys over the past decade.

Rome was so much more than I imagined. Sure, the ancient monuments, St Peter’s, the Villa Borghese, and the Vatican Museum were magnificent, but it was more than that. It was the musicality of the Italian language, the Italian style — from clothes to manners, motorcycles and of course, the gelato! That’s me in the white hat buying fresh fruit. I’d never seen tomatoes so red and it seemed that the fruit was plumper, juicier and more vibrant than at home. Perhaps it’s that exhilarating feeling you have when you visit a new place which makes everything seem wonderful!

We stayed in the Cinque Terre for a week, ate fresh seafood every day, swam in the bluest of oceans, and strolled along the Lovers Walk with its stupendous views of the rugged coastline of the Italian Riviera.

Watching the sunset over the Mediterranean every evening as we sipped aperitivi (a most delightful Italian tradition) with the locals.

*Amore* and that famous sculpture in the garden at the Rodin Museum

Our first trip ended with a week in the city of love, Paris. A visit to the Musée Rodin, and a stroll through the sculpture garden is a must! This quote by the master seems so apt as I create my tapestry:

Where shall we begin? There is no beginning. Start where you arrive. Stop before what entices you. And work! You will enter little by little into the entirety. Method will be born in proportion to your interest.

~ Auguste Rodin

A trip to Greece with girlfriends in 2008 culminated in a week in Genoa where I met my Italian penpal, Rosa. It was the beginning of many friendships in this surprising city. Not called La Superba for nothing, the city is filled with amazing architecture, beautiful churches and exquisite art.

Camerino Italy — The cathedral in the walled city of Camerino

Immersed in local culture during a month long stay in the medieval city, Camerino in the region of Le Marche in 2009. An unforgettable experience, with Italian language lessons every day. Excursions to Gubbio, the mountains in Norcia, the city of Assisi and the university city of Perugia were part of my education and deepened my love for this beautiful country.

After my Language course, Amore and I explored the region of Le Marche. We stayed on a farm, had the beach near Ancona to ourselves, and explored the Apennine Mountains.

View across the Adige River, Verona — View across the Adige River. One of many special moments in the city of Verona

Verona, one of my favourite Italian cities and where I return often. My first visit in 2011 was a month long Italian language course. I have special memories of warm and open-hearted Italians, great food and visits to vineyards, sampling delicious Soave wine in the summer.

So many picture postcard towns in the Gulf of Paradise, Liguria

Bogliasco, a typical fishing village is one of the reasons the Gulf of Paradise lives up to its name. Nothing strenuous to do here except soak up the atmosphere, eat delicious seafood and take a passeggiata (stroll).

Lovely Lucca

The city of Lucca in Tuscany in 2012 during a hot summer. Memories of strolling along the city walls, cooking lessons, visiting the beautiful baroque gardens of Palazzo Pfanner and eating Farinata, a traditional flatbread made with chickpea flour. For a respite from the heat, I ventured into the surrounding hills of the Garfagnana region stopping at a family operated cheese house where I watched ricotta cheese being made. (Click on the images for a larger view)

Winter in Italy

Lots of firsts in 2013 — my first visit in winter and first Christmas in Italy; first time to the beautiful city of Mantua and eating their characteristic dish of Tortelli di zucca (pumpkin tortelli). Served in a sage butter sauce, it was buonissimo! My first time seeing snow in the north of Italy near Trento and a visit to the Christmas markets in Bolzano were special moments. And memories of my first Christmas with friends in Genoa, warms my heart. (Click on the images for a larger view)

Two weeks of Italian conversation on the shore of lake Maggiore was the beginning of my visit in 2016. Italian lessons homestyle, in the mornings and adventures around the lake in the afternoons.

Sojourn by the lake

Isola Bella with its sumptuous palazzo and over-the-top baroque gardens show the luxurious lifestyle of the Borromeo family in the 1600s. A short ferry ride from Stresa on the mainland, it’s an eye-popping place to visit. The gardens are magnificent, landscaped in the Italianate style. Isola Madre also impresses. Its English style botanic gardens cover eight hectares and surround the palazzo. Hibiscus flowers the size of saucers, a beautiful lily pond and magnificent views across the lake made it a memorable visit.

Amore and I stayed on Isola dei Pescatori, (Fisherman’s Island) for a few nights. The smallest of the islands, it is filled with tourists and stalls selling cheap souvenirs during the day. At night though, when the ferries have stopped, it is very romantic. And waking up in the morning with the sun rising over the mountains, is special.(Click on the images for a larger view)

The city of Genoa is the place where I feel most at home in Italy. Good friendships forged over the past decade make this a special place. It’s a surprising city filled with magnificent art and architecture, fresh seafood, wonderful traditions, and warm friendly locals. And even though I’ve explored many of the picturesque towns along the coast of Liguria, there always seems to be another village or festival to see. (Click on the images for a larger view)

The Masseria Stefano del Conte – steeped in southern Italian history and tradition.

It was my first visit to the south of Italy in 2016. Red earth, ancient olive groves and warm-hearted people characterise Puglia. We stayed at the beautiful Masseria Stefano del Conte for two weeks, a family owned farm with 1000 year old olive trees, delicious food and ancient history. New friendships made here and promises to return.

Delightful Puglia

My final gallery of some things that delighted us in Puglia. Breakfasts at the masseria and some dinners as well, always beautifully prepared and presented. Our hosts opened their house and their hearts to us and I feel blessed and grateful. Drives along the coast and a visit to the town of Alberobello, filled with trulli and tourists. (Click on the images for a larger view)

This photo story has brought some special moments over the past decade to life again. It’s reminded me that although some stories should be left behind, some moments from the past have brought colour and richness to my life. The people, places and experiences from my Italian journeys have helped shaped who I am and these ‘rich and royal hues’ are essential to the tapestry I’m creating.

The Italian journey is ongoing, as are the stories that you will read here − because it’s more than visiting new places, it’s also about my immersion in the culture through learning the language, through cooking and eating Italian food and through the enduring friendships I’ve developed on my sojourns in il bel paese (the beautiful country).

I hope my photos took you on an Italian journey and perhaps inspire you to take a journey of your own. Or maybe these photos brought back memories of special moments from journeys you’ve taken. I’d love to hear your stories, so please leave me a comment or send an email.

’til next time

NOTE: All photos featured here are mine, taken over a ten year period when I travelled solo or with Amore.

Creating a tapestry

My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue,
An everlasting vision of the ever-changing view
A wondrous woven magic in bits of blue and gold
A tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold

~ Carole King

Creating the tapestry — Our first trip to Italy included a week in Paris and a visit to Monet’s sublime garden in Giverny. Lots of beautiful memories with so much colour and beauty, including a bike ride in the countryside.

My shift in imagination brought an awareness that I should write a new story which brings all the parts of who I am, together into one narrative. Writing the new story feels to me like creating a tapestry : first the design, which began as I asked the questions, this evolved into a silhouette, and became more substantive as I explored the possibilities.

The joy and sadness of goodbyes and hellos

What’s happened and what’s next – reflecting on 2017

The flourishing of creativity through writing a journal

The space between: journal reflections