Passionate life

The poetry of life: a reminder to be present

The world is full of poetry.
The air is living with its spirit;
and the waves dance to the music of its melodies,
and sparkle in its brightness.

~ James Gates Percival, American poet

The poetry of life: waves dancing — Waves dancing – the poetry of life at Maslin Beach, South Australia

I discovered contemporary poetry when I was working through 27 Wild Days, the wild writing course delivered by the perceptive Laurie Wagner. This poetry is nothing like Wordsworth’s “Daffodils” where you wander lonely as a cloud. This is the poetry of life in its rawness, emotions, and ordinariness. I was introduced to Maya Stein’s poem about being close to the bone, and words from Ellen Bass on marriage and Naomi Shihab Nye, whose poem “Valentine for Ernest Mann” was the jumping off point for my wild writing on Day 19.

These words from the second stanza resonated with me:

… So I’ll tell a secret instead:

poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes,

they are sleeping. They are the shadows

drifting across our ceilings the moment

before we wake up. What we have to do

is live in a way that lets us find them….

Poet-to-Poet: Naomi Shihib Nye Reads “Valentine for Ernest Mann”
from the Academy of American poets

And these are the words from my pages that day:

Poems hide in the deepest recesses of your mind, on the pages filled with your writing, on the hastily scribbled scraps of paper in your bag, on to-do lists. They hide in drawers and cupboards, in the car at the lights, when you’re alone with your thoughts. Poems hide in those notebooks you fill with ink, in your sketches, and on sticky notes. Hell, some of those sticky notes are poems. They’re in the sweet caresses and gentle kisses you’re gifted sometimes. That’s the poetry of life!

Love and poetry in preparing food — Preparing food for the family – love and poetry connecting

Poems are buried in the soil you’re working in the garden, in the cake you’re mixing for that family occasion, among the vegetables you’re chopping for your dinner. They’re in the grains of sand on the beach, in the foam of the waves you’re riding on your board, in cloud shapes, and in the leaves dancing in the wind of the giant Eucalypt in your yard. Poems are sneaky. They hide in places you least expect. In moments when you’re not paying attention. In the cutlery drawer.

You have to look out for them.

poetry is in the grains of sand at the beach — Taking time to notice the poems in our life

Poems hide everywhere but we don’t see or hear them sometimes because we’ve let the busyness of life take over and we close ourselves off — from the beauty of ordinary things; from finding joy in ordinary moments; from being present for our feelings. But if you open your eyes, your ears, your nostrils, and take a deep breath, you’ll find them. You can also send them into the world if your open your heart.

You’ll find them as you walk that winding path of life — in the rocks along the way that trip you up when you’re not paying attention, in gestures and smiles, and in conversations if you listen for them. Sometimes you only hear a couple of words, but that’s enough.

the gift of poetry in nature — Nature gives us the gift of poetry

Poems are in the grass beneath your feet, in the distant views across the hills, in the smell of sunburnt grass and in the reeds growing in the dam. If you use your senses while you stay present and see the joy in ordinary moments — you’ll discover them. You may find more than you think. More beauty, more kindness, more grace, more love. This is the poetry of life.

These are some of the places where I find poems. I know that there are many other places when they can hide. So I hope that this reminder which I wrote for myself is a jumping off point for you to see the poetry in your life.

Lessons learned on the journey to a find a home

There is a road
always beckoning.
When you see the two sides of it
closing together
at that far horizon
and deep in the foundations
of your own heart
at exactly the same time,
That’s how you know
it’s the road you have to follow.

~ From the poem
Just beyond yourself by David Whyte

Journey to find a home — A farm dam in country Victoria. From our first journey when the land was still golden from Summer’s sun.

I opened my diary this week. The last entry is dated Tuesday, 5 March 2019 — Arrive at Dune Cottage, Normanville. Along with some of my personal papers, my diary has been boxed and stored to keep it safe and private while we traversed three states in our renewed search for a home. I’m not sure why I left it behind. An error of judgement and one of a number of lessons learned on the journey to find a home.

The first lesson is that you should keep your diary with you at all times if you want to stay motivated and productive. It keeps you steady. It helps to create a routine even when there doesn’t seem to be room for routine. Other lessons: you should write in your journal every day; and meditate as you’ve practiced for the past twelve weeks; and draw. I know that rituals and habits help maintain my equilibrium, yet I dropped them like hot potatoes on our road trip.

Passing through sunburnt countryside in New South Wales, early March 2019

We completed two journeys, returning briefly from the first after a month. When we set off on our first road trip at the beginning of March, summer was lingering. It was hot and the land was parched, we swam in the ocean, slapped on sunscreen and wore hats all the time. On our return to New South Wales a week ago, the landscape had changed. There were swathes of green across the hills and valleys, the sun was lower in the sky and the leaves were beginning to to turn the colours of autumn. A lot has changed since the beginning of March. Yet some things are still the same.

One thing that’s still the same is that we have not found a house. The quest has been exhausting. Driving long distances, checking the internet each night to see if we missed something that could be a potential dream house, or even for something that wasn’t. We looked for something new, a nearby town that we bypassed, a town that we’d been to previously — we tracked anything that could provide a glimmer of hope.

Our travels took us inland across New South Wales, through Albury and across the border into the state of Victoria. We passed cattle farms and wind farms, slowed through tiny country towns with only a church and a general store, and we hustled along highways. We explored the Yarra Valley through Healesville and Marysville, discovered the chestnut, apple and cherry growing districts of Myrtleford and Mansfield, and stopped in the trendy town of Beechworth.

We passed the painted grain silos in Coonalpyn, South Australia on our journey to find a home

We drove through Ballarat and Horsham, gazed in awe at the mural covered Viterra grain silos at Coonalpyn in South Australia before driving through the towns of Meadows and Mount Compass to the coastal town of Normanville. Our search in South Australia took us through the dry hills of Whites Valley, Hindmarsh Valley, Mount Jagged and McClaren Vale. Our hopes were raised and then dashed as we followed leads through even more towns.

The bald hills still baking under the summer sun in South Australia

We looked at property in Willunga and then in Yankalilla. We returned to Adelaide and considered a townhouse in the city. We found acreage among the vineyards, but there was no water for a garden. We followed trails to what we thought were perfect dream houses, to find that they were false leads.

The internet descriptions were great, conversations with the agent made our hopes soar, and we started talking about how we could use the land, about changes we could make to the house, how an extra room could be used as a yoga studio, where we could put the couches… until we arrived at each house and hope turned to disappointment. My friend Kar calls this the pendulum of emotions. She also said to go with it and most importantly, to have faith in the dream…

But the dream is fading and it’s difficult to continue to have faith in the vision. If you’ve ever been house-hunting you’ll know how it is. False leads abound. After a while we learned a few more lessons: we became savvy about trick photography — that’s everything from expanding the size of a room to double it’s true proportions, and making everything look lighter, brighter and cleaner, to making the dry grass look green — and realtor-speak, which includes lies of omission. It’s hard to gain information from some agents — simple things like the dimensions of rooms, to what’s happening on the neighbouring property. It’s caveat emptor or ‘Let the buyer beware’.

Not that all of this is an excuse for dropping the rituals. It just happened that way. And, as I said, I learned a few lessons. I made some intentional choices and set some timelines recently and they got lost along the journey over the past weeks. So there are a few unfulfilled objectives for this season. You know what they are from my previous post. I’m still working out what to do next but I know that I can’t focus on setting up websites and pitching stories. From my lessons learned, I know that what I can do is write, and journal, and meditate, and practice yoga.

Lessons learned — The Shoalhaven River and Rainer Maria Rilke’s words to keep me in flow

I accept the lessons and it’s time to move on. I’ll try to keep my word for the year ‘FLOW’ in my daily thoughts, my vision for living a passionate life close to my heart, and Rainer Maria Rilke’s words echoing in my ears. We’ve discovered rivers and towns, communities and culture that weren’t part of our original dream. Perhaps the new month is a good time to reflect on the dream. Maybe there is a different way to interpret our vision. Our plan is to take another trip. The lessons learned from the our previous journeys will serve as intentions on the road. And my diary will be the first item I pack.

See you along the way.

PS: Read David Whyte’s poem Just beyond yourself in full here

FLOW: my word of the year 2019

May what I do
flow from me like a river,
no forcing and no holding back,
the way it is with children.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

The first three weeks of the new year have passed and I’m in continuous movement. It’s a consequence of FLOW: my word of the year. I had mixed feelings about choosing a word of the year for 2019 as the past two years have turned out quite opposite to what I thought my word for the year stood for.

Last year my word was ‘Adventure’. I write it with a capital ‘A’ because it was going to be exceptional! However, it turned out to be more about misadventure, in the forms of malaise, melancholy, and woe.

In 2017 my word was ‘create’. I love that word and its connotations: to initiate; to bring forth; cause to happen; produce; arrange by intention; dream up; execute; and my favourite — cause to come into being. (Thank you Mr Roget) It was the year that everything was going happen, to come into being — I had the intention to create something new from the cold ashes of my past work, to put the word travel before the word writer as one of my new titles, and of course, I had the dream of a house and way of life in my pocket.

What happened?

Discord, disappointment, and apathy. Doesn’t paint a good picture, does it? Yet I’ve lived to see another day, another year, with the chance to make 2019 different. With this in mind, in the last few weeks of 2018 I prepared myself to begin the new year with a new mindset, a system to keep me organised, and a guiding light to support me in my endeavours.

Five useful tools to prepare for the new year:

Susannah Conway’s Find your word e-course
A system from the book Getting things done by David Allen
Trello, a task management app
A desire to make things happen
Meditation

Flow: my word of the year 2019 — Seeing patterns and continuous movement in this graphic of my word of the year

Finding my word of the year

Susannah Conway’s Find your word e-course is a great way to discover what is important to you, how you want to feel, and to find a word that will be your companion, inspiration and cheerleader for the year. The course is a process. You receive an email each day for five days, beginning with a wonderful calming visualisation and exercise to help you think about what your ideal day would look and feel like. There are also questions and exercises to help illuminate which words have meaning for you.

The most powerful question for me was:

“What do you need more of in your life?”

First I thought I needed more magic. We could all do with a little magic, yes? ‘Focus’ was another word that made my shortlist but it seemed so imperious. Too commanding and urgent even though it’s certainly an area for improvement. ‘Delight’ made the shortlist as well. I could use more of that.

And then FLOW appeared. I flowed toward it, really. The sound of it was easy, delightful — it brought to mind a gentle stream flowing over smooth rocks and round pebbles —always moving. I turned to my new Macquarie Dictionary and Mr Roget for synonyms (of course!) and the meaning that resonated most intensely was:

To move smoothly with unbroken continuity.

After a year of fits and starts, jagged edges and scattered dreams, I’m longing for continuity and a smooth flow. A time of gentleness and grace. Self-care and self-compassion. And most of all, continuous movement. It seemed to be the perfect word to support and encourage me through 2019.

At the end of the five days, I had researched FLOW — shaken it, turned it inside out, squished it, and smoothed it back out. I had to be sure that it was the right word with which to begin the new year. I wrote about it, started a Pinterest board, coloured in designs (stuff I never did for my other words of the year). It was going to be my word of the year for 2019. I owned it!

Eight flow words and phrases I love:

unfolding
moving with grace
continuous movement
progress effortlessly
advance or rise
present in abundance
smooth, easy movement
gentle process

continuous movement — The Shoalhaven River, always moving with the tide.

Choosing FLOW as my word the year feels so significant. I’ve been reflecting on how I would like it to manifest in my life. It’s an active word (like a gentle river, always in movement) rather than a feeling word, and I like that because 2019 is my action year.

I’m grateful for Susannah’s process to reveal my word, for the reflective prompts and questions, and the suggestions on how to keep it dynamic throughout the year. I knew however, that in order to bring more flow, I had to get organised.

Oh, I know, I sound like a stuck record trotting out this old chestnut every few months. Perhaps it’s because I’ve just arrived at another fork in the road and a bolt of illumination has revealed the way ahead. In one direction, that passionate life I’m always talking about, and the other leading me to lost dreams and regret. So, no more regrets, no more excuses, no more illness and discord, just setting things up for continuous movement with a little touch of magic added.

Setting things up for getting things done

David Allen’s book Getting things done flowed toward me at this time. A practical guide to, well, getting things done, it helped me to see a different way of working and a new system for getting control of my life. It’s a way of mastering workflow. There’s that word again! The Getting things done system works on the premise of asking, “What’s the next action?”

To begin, I had to capture all the stuff that was outstanding, incomplete, or had a decision or potential action tied to it. A revealing exercise! Notes in drawers, file folders, post-it notes, in workbooks, and in various apps on my computer spewed forth into my new in-tray. Suffice it to say that a number of days and steps later and with the help of Trello, a task management app, I had a basic workflow management system set up. I’m still working with Trello, things are changing each day, getting better as I reflect on the best way forward. All the while, I’ve been playing with my new word of the year. Keeping it front and centre.

I also have a new mantra:

For added flow, I also decided to let meditation into my life again. A book by Mark Williams and Danny Penman, Mindfulness: A practical guide to finding peace in a frantic world seemed perfect. An eight week programme with a set of simple practices to incorporate into my daily life which started with a gentle introduction to mindful awareness. I’ve been appreciating my morning coffee even more since I became more aware. I’m at week three now, so more on this as the weeks unfold.

With a new system, a new perspective and new practices in place, for the first time in a number of new beginnings, the new year rolled over gently with me feeling in step and in control of my life. So far, so good. I’m happy with my smooth, continuous movement. I’ve become productive again.

Why is this beginning different?

I think it has to do with engaging with my word, being open to what the word FLOW might bring, but also understanding the vicissitudes of life and accepting what happens and working with it, whether that’s good or bad. I’m also learning about self-care. I made a decision to be gentle with myself in December even whilst putting plans and systems in place and coming to grips with software. I’m surprised at how much I achieved. And there are additional things I would like to bring into this smooth-flowing current. My drawing practice has been neglected. For a while I couldn’t sit comfortably for long enough to sketch but I’m finding it easier now and I want to pick up my pencil again. Another area I’m learning about is my personality type. I want to explore this further in order to understand myself better.

Rilke’s quote at the top of this article, appeared on an Instagram post of a friend @lauraleerussell who chose the word FLOW as her word of the year previously. I’m grateful for her sharing. Rilke’s words are beautiful , aren’t they? It’s my wish that what I do may flow from me like a river in 2019, with no forcing and no holding back. Stretching without striving.

A dear friend sent me this quote with the advice to ‘keep it simple’:

The complicated part of life is discovering how simple it is.

~ Author unknown

I’m still in discovery mode but actively searching for simplicity. I’m looking forward to the point where I discover how simple life is. Perhaps, with a little dusting of MAGIC (a supporting word for me this year), FLOW will truly manifest positively as my word of the year in 2019 and bring that simplicity to my life.

I’m hopeful!

Have you chosen a word as a companion for the year? Do you have special rituals or activities that help you to bring your word into your life? I’d love to hear about your experiences with words of the year in the comments.

Wishing you a fulfilling 2019!

Emerging from a winter of the soul

Our time comes in yesterdays, todays and tomorrows.

~ John O’Donohue

Waking from a winter of the soul and seeing the beauty around me

We had rain for thirty six hours. The kind of rain you expect in winter, although we are circling into summer. We haven’t had this kind of rain — more than 100mm — in over a year and there were rivulets winding across the lawn down to the road. Spring is over. I missed it and the beauty of new growth it brings because I’ve been moving through a dark time. A winter of the soul.

Have you ever been through a winter of the soul?

It’s a time when joy in life withers, or the warmth of human relationships turn cold, you may have had a tragedy, or your hopes or dreams were dashed on the rocks of reality. There is a sadness, a sense of failure, a loss of energy, loneliness, the inability to find beauty in the world and it feels like there is nothing new to take its place.

‘Winter of the soul’ is a phrase John O’Donohue uses to describe this bleak period and I think it sums up my experience. He says that at these times you should follow nature’s instincts and withdraw, lie low, and shelter until the bleakness passes.

I’m not the type of person who lies low, I’m the one who pushes through. Aren’t we always exhorted to push through the pain, to fake it ’til we make it, to smile even though we don’t want to because it will make us feel better? This time however, it’s been difficult to spiral out of my dark winter of the soul and I’ve been hunkering down. Letting things go. Not doing or being, or seeing.

Until the rains came.

Tapitallee Creek in the rain — Replenishing rain allowing the creek to flow again

The rain cleared this morning and the princess dog and I went for an early morning walk. This used to be part of my routine, but I’ve fallen out of this habit as I have with many things. The very things that bring peace and joy and focus. No photographs, no journal writing, no making plans, no drawing, no following my path to the passionate life I desire. There are many reasons for this but when I think of them now, they feel like excuses. I won’t bore you with the details but suffice it to say, the reasons — which seemed valid — caused me to spiral into deep sadness and discontent with my lot. A dark, cold winter of the soul. But time is a circle as is the year, which cycles through the seasons.

And just as in nature, the seasons of the soul change as time passes, as we grow older, as we learn and have different experiences.

So although I missed spring while I was in a state of melancholy, the seasons continued to turn and we are now on the cusp of blossoming into the richness of summer. It’s nature’s time to flourish and grow. A time of texture and colour, light and arrival. It’s also the time for plans to flourish. John says,

Transience is the force of time that makes a ghost of every experience.

The vibrancy pf summer — I missed spring but I’m opening my heart to the vibrancy of summer – beach walks with the princess dog, blue skies, verdant landscapes.

This morning marks a turning point for me. Walking with the princess allowed me time to reflect on where I’ve been and where I want to go. The replenishing rain, nature’s gift to the parched earth, is an omen. A sign that summertime is on the threshold of my soul. My intuition tells me that it’s time to shake off the ghosts of yesterday’s experiences, focus on today and prepare for tomorrow.

Part of this preparation is to reawaken my senses to the beauty around me. John, in his book Divine beauty: the invisible embrace says that beauty is quietly woven through our days in the simplest things — kindness, tenderness, and care, for instance, bring touches of beauty. For me, there is a whisper of beauty in picking herbs for a meal, seeing tiny grapes forming on the vines, feeling the freshness in the air this morning after the cleansing rain, watching the creek in full flow over the crossing after stagnating in small pools for so many months.

Emerging from a winter of the soul and seeing beauty in small things — My senses are waking up to the beauty in small things

I’ve been moving through the past weeks without noticing the beauty in my world but I now hear it calling me. John says,

When we awaken to the call of beauty, we become aware of new ways of being in the world.

I’m reminded of my to-do list from my wild writing session, which was about the simple things that bring me joy. I want to feel joy again, to be aware of new ways of being.

I have to pick up the pace, I’ve lost time – a whole season! There are seeds to sow, even at this late stage, the cusp of summer. I must revisit my intentions, rediscover old habits, delight in the small details of my life, become aware of new ways of being, and find joy in the ordinariness of my days.

A beautiful flower, good omen to emerge from a winter of the soul — A good omen, this beautiful flower flourishing – as I emerge from a winter of the soul

I chose the word ‘FLOURISH’ at the end of October as my word through to the end of the year but I’ve been hibernating through this winter of the soul, lying dormant. So now I’m pushing through — it feels like waking up from a troubled sleep. And like the transience of time, as nature has cycled into a new season, my dark winter of the soul, too, is passing.

It’s time to flourish!

As we move into the festive season, a time of vibrancy and light, warmth, ice-cream, and beach swims here in the southern hemisphere, but also cold and snow, warm fires and hot chocolate for you in the north, I wish you summertime in your heart and flourishing hopes and plans.

‘Til next time

PS: I’d love to hear your thoughts on a winter of the soul. Has your soul been through this cold, lonely season? How did you cope? What was it like to come through to the other side? Please, drop me a line or leave a comment. I always love to hear from you and by sharing, we all learn from each other.

PPS: Just letting you know that if you purchase any books mentioned here via a link to Book Depository, I will earn a (very) small commission. ?

27 wild days of writing

This is me starting the day with nothing except a hope
that I’ll make something beautiful out of nothing,
that I can conjure magic from scraps, a snip of a dream and a cup of coffee.
Me remembering that I’ve got this if I can just relax.

~ Laurie Wagner, Creator of 27 Powers

Wild days to-do list — Walking on the beach with *amore* and the princess – on my to-do list

Last year I did a course with the wonderfully insightful Laurie Wagner called 27 Wild Days. What an adventure of wild writing it was! For 27 days the lovely Laurie appeared in my inbox via a video, sharing wisdom about writing and to read a poem. You listened to the poem (twice), Laurie provided a jumping off point — the title of the poem, a line from it or any other phrase that came to mind — and off you went.

The premise of wild writing is to write for fifteen minutes as fast as you can, pen never leaving the page, no thinking about it — write the words as they come to you. No looking for better words. If the word “shit” comes or “kook” or “frumpy bum” — anything that sounds silly or messy (or god forbid, unacceptable!) — it doesn’t matter, that’s the word to use. It’s your truth. This is what wild writing is all about. Getting to the heart of things. Laurie calls it “putting some skin in the game”.

Some days it’s writing about stuff that you don’t want to write about, beginning with a sentence like, “If you really knew me, you’d know…” And repeating that phrase as you continue to put ink on the page. It’s about the things that are hidden under the skin. The stuff you find difficult to write about.

She says:

It’s an awesome way to move into the heart of what matters to you, and it’s also terribly exciting to write onto the edge. You will generate power. You will surprise yourself, you will not bore yourself.

She’s right. It’s revealing. Beginning this way loosens you up until you get to the story that you really want to tell. It’s a wild ride, this truth telling.

I confess that when I started, I didn’t think I would have enough to say, that I wouldn’t be able to keep pen to page non-stop for fifteen minutes. But once I started with the truth-telling, I couldn’t stop. The ink kept flowing, the words tumbled out. The best part of it was that the demon of perfection didn’t have time to rear its ugly head. Before I knew it, fifteen minutes was up.

As the days rolled on, I discovered poetry in a form I had never read before. The stuff of real life. Raw emotion. Truth. I also discovered that some of what was appearing on my pages was poetry too. Good writing. Honest. Surprising and exhilarating.

Wild!

I’d like to share some of this writing with you over the next few weeks, starting with something that I’m really good at. A to-do list. Nothing exciting about that, I hear you say. But this is a list with a difference. It’s nothing like any of my usual to-do lists. It’s inspired by Laurie’s jumping off point on Day 13 — “Things to do today” which is a line from Tony Hoagland’s poem The word.

Here’s a few lines of Tony’s beautiful poem:

Down near the bottom

of the crossed-out list

of things you have to do today,

between “green thread”

and “broccoli,” you find

that you have penciled “sunlight ”

You can read the whole poem here

Reading my wild writing from Day 13 this morning was so well-timed because I was feeling a little low. It was such a great reminder of the simple things, ordinary things that give me joy. Things that I allowed to slip from my mind.

Wild days at the beach — With my dog and my guy – barefoot on the sand

So here’s my list of “Things to do today”. It gives me joy to present it to you.

Things to do today

Enjoy a moment by yourself

Work on your plan, be productive

Walk your dog

Play

Create something beautiful on the page, or in the kitchen

Pick fresh herbs and make a salad

Smile a lot

Think positive thoughts

See the beauty around you

Kiss amore and tell him that you love him

Take a few deep breaths

Smell the roses

Really see the colours of spring

Remember the people you love

Say their names out loud and send them a wish through the universe

Change your sheets and spray them with lavender and orange

Enjoy the sunshine

Plant some flowers

Drink lots of water

Write, a lot!

Write about the things you love, write a blog post, write a list of all the things you
plan to finish

Rest your back

Have a bath

Buy yourself something nice

Get in touch with your friend Ruth, tell her you’re thinking of her

Don’t beat yourself up about the things you haven’t done, think about the great things you’re going to do

Go to the beach and walk barefoot on the sand

Draw something

Finish your drawing course

Finish something else on your list

Feel good about where you’re at right now

Meditate for five minutes

Post a beautiful picture on Instagram

Write a letter the old-fashioned way and send it to your daughter

Write one to your son as well

Find joy in the ordinary and be thankful for what’s good in your life

Be happy.

Journal writing - wild days — Beginning wild days -Day 13

These are words from my wild heart, my wild writing — unpolished, unedited. Not just for today, for other days too. Days when I need a reminder that there are good things in my world. A reminder to be happy. I hope it will inspire you to think of things to do today that make you happy. And if you feel that 27 wild days of writing could be the thing that gets your creative juices flowing, or maybe you need a little help to get some ink on the page, why don’t you hop over and see Laurie. I guarantee that you’ll be delighted, surprised, maybe even a little shocked (in a nice way) at what appears on your page as you write your way through 27 wild days.

Over to you now. I’d love to hear what’s on your list. Maybe your list is a poem?

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 . . .

Beaches on the south coast of NSW — Beautiful beaches in our new environment

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 poetry of life: a reminder to be present

Lessons learned on the journey to a find a home

FLOW: my word of the year 2019