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

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.

A Huge Splinter in the Palm is Worth Three when You're in the Middle of Moving House

OUCH. My poor husband is in Emergency as I type, with a God Almighty Splinter protruding both ends through the fleshy part of his thumb. Gulp. Battling Ivy in the garden in stage one of pack- and- prepare- to -vacate- house. They're talking plastic surgery. At least he has 5 weeks holiday from now on. It was an eye opening moment when I realised that we had no car, no available cash for taxi and no ambulance membership and that we are currently, in such situations dependent on the good will of neighbours. Fortunately they are fabulous.

We had such a lovely slow weekend with stillness and music and eating and friends staying the night. The kind of weekend where we were oblivious to the time, where we ate when we were hungry, where the guitars were constantly picked up and plucked, where the kiddies reveled in us all just being together in one place. I truly appreciate friends who aren't in a hurry to leave and with whom one can move with the general energy and flow of the day.

I will miss the light in this house and the view of trees from every window. I will miss the insulation that has it be 10 degrees cooler inside on a hot hot day and I will miss the exquisite violin playing I hear from over the back fence from time to time, and I will miss the friends with whom we spontaneously pop over to visit because we live so close. I will not miss the bathroom nor the ivy.

We are out of here on the weekend and then we fly to WA the following week for a two week holiday with family and friends which will be our first holiday together in three years. I'm thinking beach and not a whole lot else. My father lives 5 minutes from some of the most glorious coast in all the land. Whenever I'm there I find it hard to believe that I left such wholesome geography, which granted does not provide many of the culinary, creative, and cosmopolitan delights that Melbourne can, but of itself can offer a great deal to a family who in actual fact only utilises one of the above (food). For me it obviously has a lot to do with spending my childhood there near the ocean, but also the general laid back pace, the sense of space and the access to nature and family. I love the forest and the shadows cast by trees on the highways in the golden dusk light and the sunset over the ocean and the dependable sea breeze. WA is far away from everything (except divine beaches) and never a cheap option flight wise but it's still home. Whenever I walk out of Perth airport there's a familiar smell and a feeling that settles my cells and my soul. There are people there who have known me all my life. It's romantic yes and would mean leaving some very dear people here. So we will go there together and see how it feels. Maybe it's time to go back. Many of my friends have done so and say that it's the best thing they could have done for their family life. I suppose we will know.

No crafting been done of late but once moved I have a doll to make. I'm hoping that When The House Settles we can squeeze out a new Sewing Machine for moi. For the good of the whole family. For the sake of creative joy and daily sanity. For practical necessity.For the promotion of the beautification of the world in general. Any thoughts on a good model?

Here, there and everywhere .

A week on from my little holiday and I am starting to get the Oh Dear I Do Miss the Land of My Birth Blues. I do believe that the flying of me over there and the degree of lovin' I received from friends and family was a meditated plan to have me return to Melbourne with the planted seed of desire to up-root my boys from our home of 5 years and gypsy it back to WA with her Indian ocean smells and big clear blue sky and lolling coastal train ride to increasingly gentrified but still so pretty and dear to my heart Fremantle. Oh west coast temptress with your quiet, unpretentious facade harboring creative potential and the promise of your fertile southern shores. I was determined not to come back romanticising you in any way. I had Eckhart Tolle on the MP3 player both legs of the plane journey - you'd think that his utterly inspiring advice on being always present right here right now would have permeated somehow. But alas my mind being what it is, despite odd moments of clarity and awareness, dips and dives between here and now and there and then and before and later!!
This is not to say that the joy of returning home was in any way depleted. Such bliss in my heart to see my boys crouched at the gate - Beau's delayed but beaming recognition of my return which carried on over the next few days through sweet happy exclamations of "Mummy home from aeroplane" (inferring that he thinks I've been up in the air all this time?) We have swung back into the routine that keeps our shared life sane and steady - that isn't always easy to bare when it costs our relationship time and energy but is still worth sticking up for when the mind goes a romancin' with the idea that 'everything will be better when...'. K and I are trying to practise presence in our lives so that the challenges of busy city lives as parents and partners and home owners do not undo us and we are grateful for the good people we have around us here. We talked last night about how we are feeling - about moving states, about having another child and the amazing one we've already been so fortunate to bring along. We have hit a stasis of sorts where my wish for a bigger family and to simplify and slow down are in the sort of contrast to K's wish for meaningful employment, travel, study and spiritual pilgrimage, that means we need to sit with it all and find out if we can do it all, and if only some of it - what will be let go of. K's wise last words of the evening were "let's not try to DO anything unless we are doing it from a relaxed, present. aware space". That's dead sexy talk that is! Lovely man. Excellent co pilot on this sometimes turbulent journey through time and space. Now I must sleep before I go analogy mad.

40 is the new 30

My last day of holiday, still in Perth staying with Felicity who so lovingly flew me over there. I remember the day I met her when we were 18, at the Uni tavern. She was radiant, smiling and verbose and very chic in that Uni Student way in a hounds tooth jacket that was eventually worn by all of us girls at some time or another. We spent the weekend in the country at a wonderful stone lodge surrounded by hills and trees. 35 of us gathered on the second night - a group of friends who have known each other for 21 years and for me it was a rare and precious thing to see them all again and to meet their partners who felt to me to have been there all along. We were there to celebrate turning 40 which most of us are this year or reached last year. I had many moments of feeling on the outside - of suddenly not knowing what to do with myself - partly due to being there sans family ( who help to define me and distinguish me from who I was back then) and partly due to having been away from Perth for so long. But mostly I felt very comfortable with these people with whom I shared the transition into independent adulthood.

The tragedy of the weekend was that my camera has officially expired!!! It really is time to invest in a good one. A reliable one. Thankfully enough photos were taken by others. All the old photos from our first share house and beyond, where it all began, were on display the night of the party...We were so young and gorgeous and free and often quite drunk! I remember how much I loved those people. We were a great little community of 13 or so sharing time, food, philosophies, dance floors and sometimes beds... If any of you are reading this - I still love you all - you have retained your essence and gained partners, children, wisdom, and you can still command the dance floor as uniquely as you did in the 80's. Thank you so much for including me in the celebrations.