wild

As you can tell I'm sure, I'm very excited about all this nature. I just can't think of a reason to go into the city, other than to see people who I hope will prefer to come here..all these beautiful orchids, tiny and richly coloured and detailed, growing amongst the rough natives and rubble and weeds. The neighbours up the road took Beau and I on a walk to see them today. They know the names of almost every plant in their area. I can't remember many of them, except for spider orchid and egg and bacon flower and the yellow one called Donkey's Ears or similar...Now I understand why our Botanist friend Ryonen speaks of plants as though they are people with personalities.

Every day we walk. It's all I want to do, just stroll through the whisper and the light and the crunch of twigs and leaves under foot.

Today we had L and T visit and we joined the lovelies in the big house for soup and fresh market bread. I have the privilege of cradling the new born babe in my arms each day, his blissful snuffling poking at my heart, sending my hormones berserk.

So quiet and dark. I have never seen Beau so free and happy. May there be a place for us here somewhere where we can plant and birth, settle, breathe, stop moving, know the names of trees and plants and animals and neighbours.

An Ode to Number One Son

Two more sleeps until K is home. Not that I'm counting or anything....It's been a huge learning curve, 4 weeks one on one parenting, no child care, no grandparent intervention, no hour here and there to wander a street and sit in a cafe or shop without a toy lane tantrum, double the amount of cuddles, a new wordless communication (I've got the 'Don't you dare' stare down to a fine art), and a deep and humbling respect for single parents everywhere, especially those without ex partners sharing care, or families close by to step in....

When K is home and all is back to 'normal' I might miss the daily rhythm that was just Beau's and mine. I will not miss 12 hours a day making sure boy and dog don't hurt each other. 4 weeks has gone quickly. Too long for family to be apart when the luxury of choice is afforded. Looking forward to having my man by my side and preparing for the Big Move West, and to seeing Beau's face when Dad comes into view.

Thanks fabulous little person for putting up with me and teaching me about surrender and the ongoing navigation of the mysterious labyrinth of love.

a damn good cry

Have been visiting the very Dear Lovelies in the bush this weekend, the rains came down, there was much puddle diving and admiring of view and heavy skies, and talking and eating good food as well as exhaustion and a fired up little guy and a bad cough and a head full of thoughts... clouds of vulnerability have been gathering over my head lately and the storm broke loose when I went to retire to our 'bootiful little cottage" to find my little guy screaming for me at the door with a puddle of wee at his feet "I didn't know where you were mama". I don't know how long he had been standing there like that because it had been a while since I'd come from the other side of the house to peek a look at him. I felt so terrible and even though he is remains unscathed, it was just enough distress to bring up a well of emotion in me, ranging from guilt to my own childhood fears to missing K, to the need the next morning to flee straight back to the warmth of the cave wherein I can gather the bearings of my psyche and have a damn good cry. A damn good cry here and there is the best tension release i can imagine.

Luckily we were in the company of seasoned criers with enormous hearts. I'm glad I followed the urge to come home. Beau and I made muffins (another part of my own personal therapy) and went for a really nice walk with Flash the Dog, picking flowers, laughing, running, observing the minimal activity of an overcast Sunday in the Suburbs, and with Beau cooing every 5 minutes "I LOVE Flash".

Here's some of what we did today.
This is Herbie, the new guy in the garden, completely legless......but still able to stand.


And some photos from our walk today......some bark


some more bark......love bark.


and the source of bark, a dignified tree in the burbs, holding up its arms as if to say 'I'M standing here..'


and small boy attempting to walk small dog and ride bike simultaneously.

Slow walk home! But good for the soul. I need to walk more. And do yoga, and swim, and meditate, and finish that painting......now where was that DVD I was about to.........

Je suis un (F)rock Star

This is our boy's interpretation of an eighties rock star......It's the fluffy 'glass' slippers that really do it for me. We've never encouraged Beau to wear dresses or not. We believe he should feel free to dress as he pleases and to have the least amount of conditioning possible so that hopefully he will grow up with a strong sense of self based on his own decisions. It's been really fun seeing how he loves to dress up and how his energy changes depending on what he's wearing/being. He started asking me for my dresses when he was about two, and one day in an op shop he asked if he could buy a particular skirt which he still wears. Some of his female friends have given or loaned him dresses on his request. It so happens that we are staying in the house of a woman and her daughter, and they have so generously left us toys and dress ups (as well as everything else in the house the angels), so that Beau has access to fairy frocks rather than Spiderman costumes at this point in time. I'm always on the look out for dress up material of any kind so that our kids will have a variety of identities to explore. Some of our parent acquaintances actually have difficulty with boys wearing dresses, telling their kids that boys don't wear pink and boys don't wear dresses. Once a male friend was really taken aback and I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying a whole bunch of things. My first response was to ask what he thought would 'happen' to Beau if he wore dresses. And if the answer to that had been anything to do with encouraging or creating homosexual behaviour or confused identity, I was ready with 'I don't know what's worse, that you believe by wearing a dress a child will come confused about his sexuality, or that you believe there is something wrong with homosexuality'. I didn't enter into it on the assumption that he like all of us are a product of our own parental conditioning and some takes longer to shake off, some of it stays for the duration. Still, sometimes I think I live in a bubble and I still get a surprise when it's burst!?

I suppose the purpose of all this talk is to generate awareness in myself and others as to what we say and do to, and expect of our kids, and how much of that is unconscious. Every day it seems that parenthood challenges me to examine my opinions and my idea of reality and meaning and I'm so grateful because it helps me to be easier on myself. I long for the freedom that comes from awareness and real presence and I want that for Beau.

So there's my Frock on Friday post with Manifesto! Have a splendid weekend dear ether friends!

on missing

Verily enjoying the super close-up function on my camera. It sees details that my eye can't see.

As Hanna commented last post, missing can be nice. I completely agree. It's easy to take the one you see the most often for granted. And take for granted that they will always be there. I experienced all kinds of emotions as we were planning K's departure. There has been a huge letting go, and I found myself mourning our relationship in some way as if we were saying good bye for ever. Which on one hand sounds ridiculous given that we will only be a month apart, but makes sense in light of the unpredictable nature of life. We never know what will happen at any moment and so every moment is a letting go. And so we miss each other and the moment of return is all the more precious.

Beau of course doesn't have any concept of the time; that K is away for four weeks means little, and he expects him to be home at the end of each day even though he knows K is in India. He has been incredibly loving and helpful during our long days together. Beau seems to understand that we will be moving (back) to WA. He has begun asking on a daily basis "Can I bring ...... to Western Australia". Three moves in three years is probably a little confusing for him, and that we are 'at home' here but it's M's house...... I think at the least he will be able to withstand change without too much trauma in his life. We hope. We also hope there won't BE too many moves until we find our Home.

And to pass on a wonderful initiative that Esti posted on her blog...You Are Beautiful

Love like a mother play like a child.

This morning K, Beau and I went to see Amma.
I don't really have adequate words to convey the experience except to say that I lost myself in the best possible way and felt the ocean of love that Amma radiates, and felt connected to everyone there and spent the morning in tears of bliss which came on each time I looked into another person's eyes. It was very difficult to leave but I reminded myself that we are never separate from the state of the teacher/enlightenment and so have managed to bring at least some of Amma home with me in my heart. I always come away from the presence of such teachers with enormous wonderment and gratitude that they have endless energy for everyone without exception. They just give and give endless love, and not always in ways that we recognise. It inspires me to give more and desire less, even though I slip back into the old habits and think there is a self to protect and satisfy.

I've been really watching Beau's play/child's play this week, more so than usual, maybe because I
am thinking so much about babies.....Children play in pure spontaneity, alone, with each other, with us if we are open to it. Beau is right into being a puppy or a cat lately and has to embody it as much as he can; drink from a bowl off the floor, have 'fur' tied around him, scratch around in the dirt, lay near the fire, come over for a pat and a scratch.



The other day we were at the park and he and 4 other little boys made a hotel out of a huge fallen branch; spent what seemed like hours, reconstructing it and moving in and out of it. I and the other two mothers sat back and talked and watched and helped when we were needed.


Parenthood is such an opportunity to relearn how to be present and free and to love without holding back. I'm counting on, that with all of these amazing teachers around(three year old ones included), there may be hope for me yet! For all of us!

Frock on Friday with Truck

If I ever find a dress this cute I may never take it off......(courtesy of The Sartorialist)
sunshine and an outing for the boys. . ... Beau and his best buddy C, have this battle in the car for the middle of the back seat. B and I stand on opposite sides of the car attempting to gently separate the two small bodies and in stereo, try every verbal maneuver we can come up with, amidst the screams. Eventually we just laugh. Parenthood!!!@@#$$ Surely it's the fast track to enlightenment! Some of the practices Rinpoche has given us, are very dynamic, similar to Tibetan Buddhist custom; simultaneously voice chanting, hands moving with mudras, visualising, eyes open - all senses engaged, with the intention to stay relaxed and present. Sounds familiar doesn't it!

Today a prayer for the Tibetan people. May all people find presence amidst the chaos.

Flash aahahh

In a tiny house there's not much space to swing a small terrier (see below) however when the beloved son says 'mama let's do some painting just right now' anything can be moved and squeezed in to satisfy such a glorious invitation. I know it's not just artist parents that get all misty eyed and proud when their kids take interest in such pursuits. One tries not to push it. Just leave a few things lying here and there. Take up a crayon now and then, draw something so cool they have to watch....
So finally a little spot for Beau to cut (today it was his hair...) and glue and paint and draw etc.



One scarf almost ready for wear. And new needles, and yummy wool begging to be turned into booties. I never thought wool would make such a sexy subject matter. I'm sure I'm not the only freak who thinks so.

Have you met Flash? Dear Flash my 'first born' turns 11 this year. He is almost as sprightly as the day I saved him from life in a dark garage at the Arts Market in WA. I'd been down south to find me a red cloud kelpie the week before that with no luck and then come home this day, my house mate and I with two yapping, traumatised terriers, and never looked back. Flash has traveled the land with me, boats, vans, cars, trains and aeroplane. Dorothy and Toto only slightly more feral we have been. Flash has almost had me beaten up, has won us friends and has had more freedom than any being I know. And to my heart's delight both Step Father and two legged son love him as much as I. Happy birthday my precious furry friend.

Lazy Labour day

This week Beau learned about the anatomy of a trout HIS way. These days it's me AND him up at the bench preparing dinner which is pure joy for us both. He is a whiz with the grater and can beat egg whites almost faster than I can. He has in the last month stopped talking about himself in third person. I remember a woman saying she was taking her 3 or 4 year old to speech therapy because was speaking about himself in third person and wondering for a millisecond if Beau would at some point need speech therapy (this was a year ago). As we suspected he just 'grew out of it' and frankly it was so cute we almost miss it. Ironic that we wait for our child to finally identify with 'I' at the same time we are attempting to let go of that very conditioning. And then ironic that we need that conditioning to understand that we are better off without it....(brain freeze)....

Beau and I have started doing more drawing and crafting which is wonderful. He's been so into his trains that all else has paled in significance. It has been lovely to watch him quietly master the use of scissors and hold up a shape and declare it a something. So much is changing in him. He is more social, more imaginative in his play, more conversational, more curious...what a joy to behold it all. This is the best job I've ever had.

Today we drove in air conditioned comfort far from this hot little house up into the mountains with M and his daughter B. We met Drew under a tree by the Yarra and there we stayed for 5 hours moving only to dip in the cool water or to run up to the shops for lunch supplies. It's what I most yearn for. To slow life down and spend most of our time surrounded by trees and birds and water and clean air. Such good friends these folk. Much laughter and silliness and even a game of hacky sack (the only 'sport' I've ever been vaguely adept at...) for the adults for which these days we have to warm up in order to avoid serious injury. K and I met in the midst of a hacky sack game. But that's another story.

Woolly Weather and the Holden Whisperer is missed.

It's February and we have the heater on and I am knitting scarves. We'll be making gender non-specific snow persons next.

I have been making this....

A double batch of granola, my favourite cereal. (the cup of Black Adder Licorice Tea is for consuming on the side)

For the regular batch;
75g dates (stoned and chopped)
75g sultanas or raisins
50g blanched or chopped almonds
50g raw cashews
50g macadamia nuts roughly chopped
2 cups rolled oats
1/3 cup grapeseed oil
1/4 cup pear juice concentrate
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Preheat oven to 150C combine mix fruit and put aside. Combine nuts and oats separately and set aside. Heat oil and pear juice concentrate in a saucepan til simmering then pour over the nut/oats mixture and mix well. Put into baking dish and press down to about 3 cm. Bake for an hour, stirring now and then until golden brown throughout. Cool in baking dish and then stir in the fruit and store in an air tight container.
This is my version of a recipe in Stephanie Alexander's Cook's Companion. You can use honey. I prefer the concentrate because it's low glucose. You can add other nuts or dried fruit of course. For me this is sweet enough in fact you could probably leave out honey/concentrate all together and just use dried fruit.

I have also been here.
To purchase this.

It was very difficult to leave the establishment due to all the yummy, affordable, desirable, colourful woolly stuff. In Borders today I tossed up between '400 Knitting Stitches' and 'The Knitter's Handbook', eventually choosing the latter for it's broader content, but seriously people 400 DIFFERENT STITCHES!!!! ??? I have to have that book. It shall be mine oh yes it shall. (I'm a gonner aren't I......)

Did I mention that Beau is out of nappies and off the boob?? I do believe I did. Sorry, repeating myself. Baby number two is knocking on my reproductive door and my heart simultaneously.

We are currently car hunting. (she said quickly deleting all posts raving about the joys of car-less life) Station wagon lovers that we are, and who wouldn't be with kids, dog, Camberwell Market booty storage needs.....My father has been working on cars, trucks, boats, bikes anything with wheels and a motor for most of his life and while all my other mates were buying; trashing and pumping money into mysterious new cars as teenagers, I drove around in a small green Mazda 1300 that Dad and his TAFE Automotive engineering class built from the ground up. They built it, cleaned, it spray painted it and primed it for me and it went on and on and on and on. And when on the rare occasion anything did come loose (it was usually from neglect on my behalf) Dad was there to fix it. So Consequently I have Trust Issues with Mechanics. Thankfully we now have one who is of Dad's ilk. My brother and I call Dad the Holden Whisperer because for example, K and I bought our last car here in Melbourne on the basis of Dad listening to the engine on his mobile phone in WA. Say no more.

What was my point here....?? I'll move on. Just to clarify the whole car free thing.....Beau is now of a weight that coupled with my lack of fitness, makes carrying him around on the back of the bike a dangerous sport. But more importantly the Big Move is nigh. Foggy though the details may be, the act is inevitable and you won't see me riding around dirt country roads on the way to the shop with a new born baby and a toddler in tow. I do still prefer to walk, ride or train/tram/bus it whenever possible because the irony of it all is that I do hate traffic.

K and Icurrently in the midst of Detox. Not that there's a lot of Tox in my body to De so it's a bit of a break from daily cake really. I do feel rather light and good and pious as if the Lord is watching me and He is pleased. This is part of Preparation for Conception of a Baby and makes us sound like a pair of Control Freaks when actually we are a pair of hippies who generally leave everything up to the Universe. Given that we're officially in our 40's, a bit of conscious effort won't go astray.

OK I'm going now. K is 1 meter away from me at his computer. It's a disturbing picture. Aint no babies gonna come from this kind of an evening...

back

We are back a week now still tanned still caught in the bliss of long beach days and balmy nights, Fremantle Doctor and South West landscape beauty. Can you believe in the west they still use SPRINKLERS! And hand wash their cars as if 'drought ' were the subject of a fairy tale. The mining industry is booming and house prices are outrageous and everyone is beautiful and tanned and hardly any one seems to know about gluten free and the only people found knitting on the beach are those from Melbourne....and the roads are quiet and the city is a country town and the train line follows the glorious coast line and the river is enormous and the sky is big and blue and the air smells like the sea. Blessed by dear friends and sea breezes and Dad's oasis down south and daily swims we survived the heat. Whilst there the idea of staying was tantalising. Now 'home' we feel the bonds to our people here and they are strong ties and we are no clearer as to making The Big Move or not. It helps to be happy wherever one is and to also feel free to do what one wants to do when the time is right so we will enjoy our little Melbourne cottage and our dear community of fellow Time Travellers and wait for the signs to spin the Tardis off into the void again.

I have been feeling inert since arriving home a day late (missed our flight because I apparently cannot register 24 hour time) via the midnight horror flight. I think it's because we had only just moved here and then flew off to the west, had a brilliant relaxed family holiday and now must negotiate the busy avenues of Responsibility and Routine which, once I recover my inner map- making skills, I'm sure will again be the bedrock of this Melbourne Life.

For anyone planning to fly Tiger Airways across this land I say with affection that the landings were superb and the service was comical; on return the same guy who took our luggage at check in was still cleaning the plane when we queued bleary eyed at the gate miles along the tarmac. He ran about with rubbish bags and ropes flustered but smiling and then, we imagined, slipped into the cockpit to fly us home. Had he been the one to come around with the tea trolley an hour later, we would not have been at all surprised. It will have us chuckling for a long time.

Beau had a wonderful time reacquainting himself with the Family Elders down south who bought him icecream and rolled about on the floor endlessly with him, dancing naked with us tipsy adults (clothed) on a hot Freo evening, learning to summersault, submerging his hands in Toby and Ryonens' fish tank, driving proudly about in 'Felicicy's car',being buried in cool sand at the beach, being loved and flung about by the gorgeous Jim and Anna, feeding lamas and watching and listening to Dimity and co. sing opera under the stars in Balingup, hearing the story of our aeroplane journey over and over before bed, and discovering finally that Kookaburras 'are laughing because one of them always farts', hence overcoming his mortal fear of said bird. He was pleased to come home to our new old house (god we have completely confused the child), to his train set and to Flash our faithful hound, and to his friends and to swims at the pool and to a good night's sleep. Out of nappies and almost off the boobie.

Whilst away the sensational Amber taught me to knit (between glasses of Sav Blanc and witty and philosophical conversation). At last I understand the fuss, the addiction, the blissful hours on the couch, the hunt for the perfect ball of wool and the benefit of wooden needles. I am planning a luxury solo mission to the Yarn Barn at earliest opportunity and anywhere else you can recommend to find such goodly gear. I haven't made any thing in particular but have been happily knitting and pearling and seeding and casting on and 'frogging' (!) and casting on again and experimenting and seeing how neat I can be. Honeymoon stage.

I too feel enormously hopeful and emotional after reading the PM's compassionate Sorry speech (I didn't hear it as we were in transit at the time) and any cynicism that may be lurking within has moved aside to make room for the possibility of healing and change. May it be so.

Old Shoes New Year

Beau's world. Regularly found prostrate on floor immersed in miniature rail road land. "Beau likes smokey trains mama" (still speaks of himself in third person). Understatement! We gave him the wooden set for Christmas. Winner.

Didn't take photos on Christmas Day. I wasn't well. Wound up with a fever in the night. Still managed to eat an ample amount of gourmet Christmas Fair.

New Year's Eve spent at friends' glorious mudbrick house in the bush. Sat on the front lawn until 4am (I even out-partied K!)singing and playing guitar. We sang up every 80's song we knew including the Violent Femmes entire 1st album. Sober as a judge i was and that's the way uh huh uh huh I like it. Beau has mortal fear of Kookaburras hence he did not leave the safety of the house nor did he appreciate being put at the mercy of a chance kookaburra meeting at the river the next day. Poor love. That kind of fear is big. I remember it well. And I remember it passing too.


Beau's (and my) favourite shoes, too small now. Time for many new things now, shoes, home, lifestyle, work.....
Two and a half weeks until we move. Much sorting and packing to avoid until last minute.
Happy New Year lovely people.

Frock on Friday well into Saturday

Not so excited by the colour but it's damn cute
Picnics and luncheons in this one dahhlings.

These are from Unique Vintage
Still looking for some other great Vintage clothing sites.This evening I spent a good deal of time trying to found out who designed the fabulous green shoes that Penelope Cruz wore in the beginning scenes of Volver!( and you were beginning to think I had a life). I should be sleeping given that I need sleep more than a pair of of shoes.

I bought myself a frock last weekend, can't really call it a frock, it's definitely a dress. Green silk. And I bought a green velvet dress/jacket, so gorgeous. Not vintage. Designed by Lyn Van Heyk, local designer of glorious feminine silk dresses, skirts, jackets. I feel self indulgent having bought myself new clothing (thanks to my sweet generous friends who pitched in for a birthday treat) as one does when one is a parent and all manner of other things take precedence over oneself. For the first time in so long I can't remember, I dressed to go out the other night WITHOUT a 'What the hell am I going to wear' Crisis in sight. K found it rather refreshing to say the least.

We are married four years today. We have been together for seven and a half years. We have lived in Melbourne for 6 years. And we have a three year old child. These are impressive figures to a Sagittarian who traditionally never had nor did anything for longer than 6 moths to a year. There must be enough planets in my chart keeping the Sag in me from wigging out again. I'm good with change. Getting better with consistency and routine which I've come to learn are the bedrock of parenthood. And there's enough spontaneity in that itself to keep me happy.

I have one more short shift at work tomorrow and then I am officially 'retired' from the organics trade. The precious folk who have kept me gainfully employed all this time 'sent me off' at our Christmas Do with a poem and a beautiful Matrushka doll. I feel honoured and loved and sad, and liberated by the smell of the winds of change.

K and I have been talking this evening about some of Beau's behaviour and reiterating how important we feel it is to support him through it, not try to change him but hold him and guide him and continue to show him the consequences of his actions in the simplest way possible. We trust that like all kids he will learn empathy with time. We acknowledge that it's mostly about dealing with our own feelings and fears anyway. At the park the other day I actually felt shame and fear, not for Beau but for myself and sometimes that is the only difficult part of the situation. Kids get over stuff so quickly where as we adults can stew over something for an eternity e.g. my third post about the subject in a week!

Moving right along. I answered a phone call an hour ago from three friends I haven't seen for almost 20 years. Two of them live in Melbourne and the other in Sydney. These are people with whom I have had enormous amounts of fun. We sound the same and have the same sense of humour, and yet so much has happened we are different people entirely. That's the aging process I suppose isn't it. I bemusedly watch the obvious changes on the outside, sense the subtle changes on the inside and yet I feel the same as I did at 30, 20, 15......which leads me to think of wonderful teachings that talk about the 'enlightened' 'I' that never changes, that hasn't been created nor can it die. They talk about it being the pure awareness that is always present throughout every experience, thought, action. The sense of self beyond the ego that is familiar. And probably if I tapped into that part of my self a bit more I wouldn't feel the need to sit here past midnight Googling Raimunda's shoes. I would remember that I have a camel to make. I would go to bed so that I can function in the new day ahead. And yea verily all would be well. Good night.