December

Is it really December?

I feel a little worse for wear, I must admit. Perhaps it isn’t the best time to be writing…but then again, is there ever really a ‘best’ time?

After pulling a 12 hour shift I stumbled off the bus tonight to a quiet street and the tap, tap, tap of my faithful shoes against the sidewalk. My feet hurt and my eyelids felt heavy. I looked down at the cracks in the cement and smiled as I avoided stepping on them, thinking of my kids and the little games we would play…

‘Don’t step on the crack or you’ll fall and break your back.’ I would say.

‘No mummy, that’s terrible…’ she would reply. ‘It’s, don’t step on the crack or an elephant will fall on your head…’

‘How is that less terrible?!’

‘I don’t know, but it’s funnier!’

My children have an interesting sense of humour. One of my personal favourites:

‘Mummy, why did the chicken cross the playground?’

‘I don’t know baby, why?’

‘To get to the other slide!’

Cue laughter. Actually that one is pretty hilarious.

I missed them. Especially after days like today when all I wanted to do was burst through the front door to their beautiful little faces and hugs that can’t be beat. But I knew they’d be asleep when I got home and I’d have to wait till morning for those magic hugs.

I thought about all this as I walked and my heart felt a little heavy. But then something caught my eye and I looked up to the neighbors front yard where hundreds of colourful, twinkling lights danced about in the trees and across the path. Yellows, reds and greens all floating about like little fairies and reminding me of my favourite time of year. Suddenly the heaviness lifted and I had to stop and stare for a while.

There’s something about Christmas…the childish joyfulness of the entire thing. The hope it brings, the memories of sticky hot Queensland summers where we’d run under the sprinkler and gorge on icy-poles in an effort to keep cool. The smell of gingerbread and fresh mangoes lingering as though they were just placed before me. The lying awake at night to see if Santa would come.The smiles and laughs of family as we gave gifts and sang songs and made wishes for the coming year.

I love everything about Christmas.

So I guess coming home to my soundly sleeping babes wasn’t as hard after that. I kissed them on the cheek and rubbed my nose against their soft cute little faces. I selfishly wished they would wake just so that I could say goodnight. But they were deep into dream-land and I decided I’d give them that. Tomorrow, they would wake a day older. That dream-land of rainbows and unicorns wouldn’t last forever, and eventually they would be too old to laugh at silly jokes, or make up silly rhymes. But at least we’d always have Christmas.

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I seem to be having trouble writing lately. It feels as though since he died a void has opened within me and I can’t seem to fill it with the things that normally make sense to me. I try and sit down to my novel and all that looks back at me is an empty page. The intention is there and I know what I want to say but something has been lost in the translation and I’m left waiting.

I begin to think that maybe I should try something else. Write something else. But what can I say? Should I write about the heaviness in my heart that seems to have settled, the memories upon my fingertips that won’t let me rest? Should I write about the ghosts I see in the street, the faces I pass that I’m so sure could be his?

Loss is a funny thing. In the beginning you are drowning, kept afloat by others who happen to be either drowning with you or fighting to keep you all afloat. These people that you find yourself surrounded by become connected to you by this invisible little thread of collective despair. They make you feel strong by just being there but also make you feel weaker than ever through the levels of vulnerability you find yourself falling into.

There comes a point in time however where the people begin to fall back. They have lives that they cannot keep turning away from and you have a life that you have to begin to salvage and rebuild. You keep yourself busy because the busyness distracts you. You keep yourself happy because the happiness distracts you. You keep yourself strong because there is nothing else. But eventually the day will end and you will have to fall into bed, or into a chair in the corner of the room. It is there within those quiet moments where you start to feel incredibly alone. Faced with only yourself then, you realise how very much this has all taken from you.

One day you’ll be okay, and you know this too. But maybe just not today.

Hello Out There!

There is a little bit of satisfaction in sitting down to write today, after a journey that has caused me to completely fall apart and rebuild myself one little brick at a time. It has been around five years since I have sat down to take myself seriously as a writer and between that space and now, I have moved, had a second child, moved again, had surgery, met some amazing people, suffered heartbreak, pushed through walls, moved again, lost myself, found myself and that’s right…moved again. Suffice to say I am completely sick of bubble wrap, but vulnerable and willing to accept myself completely and utterly as I am.

This is huge! Complete acceptance of self has never been a strong point of mine. But after a soul quest that has taken me from martial arts, to Eckhart Tolle, from past lives to the pretzel-shaped nirvana of yoga I can actually sit here and say that I am at peace with not knowing precisely what’s in store for me from here. I am at peace with strapping on my backpack of hope and heading down that symbolic road of good intentions. Believe me, this is pretty big for a self-confessed control freak.

I am realising more and more as my journey unfolds that life is mostly just about being bold. About having the courage to stand up for who you are and what is most true to your heart. It’s so easy to find yourself lost in a maze of distraction that pulls you off in different directions and further away from the only path that will lead you home. But we must prevail! We must rally together and fight for dreams because dreams are the stuff of greatness. And we all need a little more of that stuff…so, fellow dreamers, stand up and be bold with me! Let us walk together along this incredible road ahead. May we pave as we go, with stones of hope and light and love and as we do may we leave behind a pathway to something amazing!

Okay, enough of that…but seriously, you only have to turn on the news for a moment these days to be confronted with images of drama and hate and violence. It’s enough to make anyone feel defeated and hopeless. There is an old Cherokee Legend that talks of the two wolves within all of us. One represents darkness and the other represents light. One encompasses hatred and greed and ego and guilt and the other a warrior of goodness and joy and faith. In the legend, the old Cherokee is asked which wolf will win and he says “the one you feed.”

This little legend has really become a backbone for my intentions lately. Life can be so complicated and it helps simplify things to bring awareness into you and your intentions. For me, I guess, this blog is a way of me feeding the right wolf. On a personal level I want to feed the wolf of trust and self-belief and try my best to ignore the wolf that tries to tell me it’s all impossible. But on a collective level, I want to feed the wolf of the world that is still fighting for a better place…that still believes that we can come together and make a change, leave something incredible behind for our children.

So hello, fellow dreamers I hope you will walk with me as I write and live and dream and meet some amazing people along the way.