#846 Finding myself, Mind Body and Spirit

It seemed like we wouldn’t make it.

We were meant to go to the festival yesterday, but then, shit happened. I got sick. I’d mentioned to my sister that I may stop by the Mind, Body and Spirit Expo on my way home from work today, but even then as I struggled with my sinuses this morning, the sense of weakness overcoming me, that reality seemed far from probable.

Even so, when she said she was eager to come and meet me there…

Suddenly my symptoms eased. Funny how that happens when something interesting is around the corner.

I truly think this festival is going to become our thing. We attended together years ago on her actual birthday, and we shopped ’til we dropped. Man, we have a photo we coaxed someone into taking of the two of us, and our hands were full of bags. Bags bags bags.

It’s almost hilarious when you put two women together who are on similar but yet very differing missions. We started off together, supporting each other at each stall:

“Just ask him – get him to spray that turmeric on your hair.”

“I don’t like his tone of voice.”

“Yeah sure, I’ll drink that shot of beetroot juice with you.”

But, overwhelmed with the colourful stalls, lights, crystals and energy-healing spiritual folk all around us, we soon amicably parted ways to discover the secrets of the soul, solo.

Bags weren’t so much on my agenda this time. Sure I got a few things, but something else was calling me.

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I’d been toying with the idea of getting a psychic reading since I knew we were going. I walked past the large psychic reading area, and decided on a whim, I must do it.

I’ve never done it before. Had any part of my future or otherwise told to me..  if you’re not counting my late aunty reading my coffee and beans. That’s another story for another day.

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But I sat there, awaiting my turn, before going to meet the chap himself. His name was Peter, he looked like a regular outback Aussie, and with his relaxed and friendly nature he put me immediately at ease.

As he said from the outset… there were no straight yes’ or nos. He laid out cards for me, whereas really I would have liked for him to tap into the spiritual universe… but that would be for another time. I concentrated on two specific things in my life, and shuffled the decks twice accordingly, before he presented it all out to me in the drawing of them.

I’m still working it all out in my head. Life is complicated – the cards match that. I’ve even drawn myself a little diagram so I can study it further. But still, what did I take away from it all?

We have the ultimate final say in all that we do. The cards may present to us one thing presently, but our actions can change that at any time. We are in charge.

The power lies within me.

He accurately pinpointed that I think too much – I’m always as he put it, “in my head.”

And he posed a rhetorical question to me, that was so unbelievably spot on, that I couldn’t help but grin. He asked:

“Are you the author of your own life?”

Oh dude. You have no idea.

My prized possessions, equal to the positive reinforcement Peter gave me, came in the form of the crystals I got. The two small ones I bought myself, and the orange one was gifted to me by sis – she said when she saw it and read the meaning, she thought of me 🙂

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Time to become Master, Author and Creator of my world..  and start creating some magic me thinks 😉

#845 Words and Action

First, it was the words.

They came from baby girl, as she stood beside me where I was blowing my nose for what seemed like the 17th time in the last 10 minutes. I sighed, my eyes heavy, my nostrils scraping like concrete against the 2ply.

“Mama you OK?”

“No honey, Mama feels crappy.”

“Don’t worry Mama, you’ll feel better tomorrow. It’s ok, you’ll be ok!”

BIG SMILES.

Just how does a 4 year old hold the empathy, support and consideration to console an adult 30 years her senior? Where does this heartfelt sensitivity come from? Despite my nasally conditions I still managed to give her a warm hug as thanks.

The action.

An hour later and Hubbie came home.

As he walked around the corner to find me lying on the couch, so too came baby girl, holding a bunch of flowers.

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I smiled tearfully. My loves were LIFTING me.

And then I realised… well, she has to get it from somewhere, someone, right? 🙂

#844 Sick days

On the 7th day of Winter, the snowman gave to me…

My first cold for the season!

Humbug.

Sure it is a tad early to be getting all Christmas in July jovial, but apparently it ain’t early at all to be copping colds and flus from every direction I turn.

It is inescapable, really. And all the while, it is so easy to fall into the whinging and crying trap, the ‘woe is me’ and ‘I hate Winter fan club!’ (I have a list to counter that!)

But really, despite our colds, despite our flus, we are so lucky.

There are people who are really sick. I was reminded from different sources today that life is not fair, and heard repeatedly of death and serious illness and misfortune. I also received a phone call from the children with cancer charity, asking me to purchase some raffle tickets off of them. I humbly accepted.

And while I have felt worse for wear, I actually have it good. I have a roof over my head. I have heating at the touch of a finger. I have an electric kettle that boils water for my steaming lemon, honey and ginger teas, a stove for warming up milk for hot chocolates when the teas becomes mundane, and… I have blankets.

I lay down this afternoon on the couch, and baby girl came right on over to promptly cover me with the throw. She then found some more blankets from her bedroom, layered me in those, before saying with an adorable smile “Mama me look after you to get better,” before turning on her heel and leaving me to… recuperate?

What? Was this legit? I relished the feeling of peace and calm… for 2 minutes.

She came back, adamant that she was going to lie down beside me on the couch, and I shuffled over, getting squashed against the back of it. I lay there like an awkward sardine in a can, one hand outstretched over me, the other on her, as I drifted to and from sleep, both the TV in the background and the YouTube videos she was watching of kids playing with barbie dolls, drifting over to wake me up every so often.

I was awkward, I was sick, and I wasn’t really at peace. But I’d take this version of ‘sick’ any day.

#843 Beneath blue skies…

Blue skies peeking from beneath the leaves of trees:

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The pristine expanse of water, stretching out around boats and travelling up the horizon of skyscrapers, for as far as the eye can see:

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And then a bridge in lights – the glow representative of the stunning day that was, or IS.

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Noble, worthy, and wonderful things to focus on and remember about today, especially as only hours after that last photo, I went home early from work because there was a golf ball stuck in my throat.

I’m not well. 😦

I am reminded of my Mum’s words. Whenever I have expressed to her deep frustration or complaints about life, she has responded with this:

“You have to grow thick skin, and be hard, like a rock. So hard, so nothing can get you.”

This soft girl needs some thick skin then. I need it so that the ball in my throat pales in comparison, and I need it so I can focus on those blue skies with more appreciation…

 

#842 Scones and Schnitzel

It’s kinda hard to look for gratitude and try to find small things that make you happy in amongst shitty days, even more so when those shitty days reveal even worser days for others.

How can one complain about smaller issues when they know of family or friends in ill-health or distress?

It actually reminds me of what I used to say after my father-in-law passed away. Here I was, a new Mum to a beautiful baby girl, yet still completely overwhelmed by my new parent role and the life that came with it; and then there was Hubbie, equally besotted by her, while simultaneously still in deep grief over his father’s passing. And sometimes, someone, somewhere, would tell me they were having a bad day.

They would quickly realise their words in my company, and apologise for complaining. They saw in me, in us, in our family, that there were far harder things to go through. To manage. To overcome.

But you know what I would say to them?

“Everyone has their own problems. You shouldn’t feel bad about yours, and feel guilty that they aren’t big enough to cry over. You are allowed to be upset, it’s your life, your problems.”

Sure, little problems in light of big problems become an awareness of the bigger picture, and that enlightenment is major in itself.

But we can’t all be in woe at the same time, can we? Then we wouldn’t have those others around us, less in woe, to pick us up from our sadness…

At this time of my life, I think I’m in a state of ‘less in woe.’

So I’m grateful.

But that isn’t what this gratitude post is about. That in itself is actually huge, more so because I know, and I have felt the comparison of being WHOLEHEARTEDLY in woe.

This is perhaps about the most trivial of things in light of today… baking.

For a week now I’ve been planning on making scones. They seem to make them for any given reason at baby girl’s kindergarten. Parents getting to know each other afternoon tea? SCONES. Mother’s Day? SCONES. Neighbourhood primary school visits? SCONES.

A possum jumps from the gum trees into the yard and shits all over the kids play equipment?

SCONES.

Ok so clearly I am bullshitting with you but you get my drift. I have not made scones in ages, well since we moved here really, and part of that has to do with

  1. kitchen reno, AND
  2. having half my kitchen stuff still in boxes upstairs because I’m waiting on one more damn cupboard (COME ON kitchen guys!) to get made.

I’ve forgotten half of what I do own in the way of bakeware and pans and the like, it’s been that long I’ve seen half of my things. But after repeated reminders by the kinder that both baby girl and I, really enjoy them, well I said to myself “I’ll damn well making them.”

You require next to nothing to make scones after all.

I really wanted to be grateful for them, really I did. And at the end, I was, for some brief moment at the end as I indulged in jam and cream upon pillows on doughy lightness that were apparently ‘café-style’…

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But the ‘before’ was hard, because baby girl was sick you see. I held her back from kinder, quite rich since THAT IS THE PLACE SHE CATCHES ALL HER WEEKLY COLDS FROM.

Not shitty much.

She was weak, tired, and developed a sudden ear ache during the day which had her retreating to the couch often to lie down. I had imagined us making these together with happiness… the most she did was brush the tops with milk.

And then the ‘after’… because as I was trying to enjoy my coffee/scone break, breathing slowly, ALONE, in peace, once baby girl had finished her babycino… I somehow spilt my coffee.

No, it gets worse. ON MY PHONE.

I swore better than a sailor out at sea. OH MY. Baby girl knows her Mum too well, and wasn’t afraid. In fact she came up to me and asked “Mama, you ok?”

Awww.

So instead of being grateful for my scones, the preparation time with baby girl which wasn’t special, and then the clean up which was devastating (I’d let dishes pile up half of the day), I instead became appreciative of something else.

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Hubbie cooked a killer chicken parmigiana tonight. He cooked it fresh, placed passata and ham and freshly grated cheese on top, grilled it in the oven, and it was THE BOMB.

The best part to him making it for us?

I didn’t have to clean it up.

(That wasn’t agreed to from his original contract, but from the day I’d had, there was no other choice).

Every time I complain about something going shitty, really I am grateful… because I do know better… I know better, that there is worse.

P.S My phone survived

#823 An afternoon with Dead Poets

It was the perfect day…

It was cold.

It was dreary.

I was under the weather.

I had a sore throat.

I was tired.

I was uninspired.

And all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball…

Yes, it WAS the perfect day…

To stay in and watch a movie.

The combination of wintery conditions, and a tired mind and body meant it was ideal weather to just curl up on the couch with a tea and watch something for a couple of hours while baby girl was at kinder.

The only problem was, I couldn’t quite curl up on the couch, as the DVD player in that room has started playing up. I couldn’t put in a DVD loaned to me by a work colleague, with the risk that it wouldn’t come out, much like the current scenario and baby girl’s Moana being lost in there?

So I improvised.

I went into her play room… grabbed her bean bag… brought her small art-y table close by to me, and plopped into the player Dead Poets Society.

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I think it’s been in my hands for at least 6 months. Maybe even close to a year. I seriously can’t remember. I know he didn’t expect me to return it immediately, but at the same time he doesn’t talk to me much anymore so maybe he thinks he’s lost it for good.

Oh LOLS. If there’s one thing I am, it’s an elephant. I don’t forget. I don’t keep people’s things.

I needed some thoughts of inspiration and meaning. I sat with my tea and a cherry Danish on the table beside me (alongside baby girl’s own tea set)…

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And proceeded to get lost in a fine work of art by one of my favourite actors, Robin Williams, for the next two hours.

It was certainly an interesting film. It made me want to read more poetry. It made me want to go and live life to the fullest even more than I already try to do.

Robin Williams’ teacher character tells his students that they are little more than worms to feed the earth in future years, leading to his main statement:

Carpe Diem.

Seize the day. Make the most of what time you have. Live your passion. Don’t follow the path well travelled – forge your own. Love and the Arts are notable pursuits.

And one of my many fave quotes of his from the film:

“No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world.”

It was a sweet, funny and passionate movie, but one also starkly true and grim about life’s pressures, taking a sad and horrific turn right near the end, leaving me going “No!” I didn’t just spend the last two hours of slowly-building inspiration for this?

But then there was the promise of something learnt, of not all lost… of Hope… and that reminded me of my own book, where I pretty much do the exact same thing.

It was a lovely afternoon which I spent not doing much at all. In a week where I have felt bombarded and overwhelmed in all avenues of my life, with just too much going on all at once, I needed a moment, an hour or two, to not tend to any of those things… and just take some time out, to do my own thing.

To find inspiration and the meaning of life again.

To remember where I am.

And to remind myself of where I am going.

 

 

 

#820 Kinder sickie

Use them while you can.

The sick days.

I was more than ready to take baby girl to kinder today – sure, ready as in preparation wise, even though I wasn’t quite sleep ready.

But let’s face it, I’m a Mum… when am I ever sleep ready? When do I ever get ENOUGH sleep?

But even so, when baby girl woke after 2am last night, yet again complaining of her throat/teeth, I soothed her enough to doze off again, and heading back into bed, made the call.

I turned off my alarm.

She is 4, after all. It isn’t even a sick day, if you must call it that. But she had been unwell, she had had a really big weekend with us, and in that groggy post-midnight hour, I realised with utmost clarity, that if I were to take her to kinder today, it might just be too soon, and therefore it might stuff up her entire week.

And let’s be honest here… the kinder sickie was as much for me as it was for her…

Early morning lunchbox making in a cold house?

The constant rushing and pressure of moving her to get her out the door?

The post-kinder over tired crabbiness that I cop almost every single time?

Yeah. I’ll take a sickie too thanks.