Is 3 minutes enough?

I’ve read another brilliant book. I’m not going to say what it is because the bit I want to share is kind of important and if you don’t know what book its from then it won’t spoil it – and if you do know it’ll be because you’re a step ahead and have read it already.

He loves her and she keeps saying no because they are best friends and essentially she’s scared. But she loves him too – make no mistake.

In the end he decides the most wonderful thing he can do for her is to make a moment; 3 minutes where he knows and she knows and he knows she knows. And she knows that he knows she knows. I think you get the idea…

They dance cheek to cheek in the moonlight. There is no Hollywood kiss. There’s acknowledgement and the lingering question of whether 3 minutes will be enough.. and supposing it will have to be – because it's all that is on offer.

The upshot is that it made me remember

It was freezing cold and I was unexpectedly late. We met in the middle of the dark street because she had come to find me. At this stage in our relationship I was deep in the expectation that things would never work and wondering what the fuck I was going to do about it. But not right then. Right then I was just walking.

Which is why it was such an unexpected thing to see her there; for her to look me in the eye and tell me it was on the horizon. For her to say she wanted me and she knew that her shot of happiness had my name on it. For her to say she was scared as shit thanks very much but also cold and hungry so would I mind getting my arse inside? For her to hold my eyes with hers and put her arms around me and kiss me on the nose.

I’m still wondering if 3 minutes is enough. Either way the answer is yes. It has to be.

Papa can you hear me?

I miss my dad

I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. Just this week there’s been a consultant from Australia staying with me who is in his mid 40’s or so and he has 2 daughters who you can tell he just adores. He gets this look in his eyes when he speaks about them; he is so proud of their teenage achievements and you can tell he’s enjoying being their dad now and can’t wait to enjoy watching them learn and grow. It’s really touching and I think its made me wistful about losing that particular unconditional love from my life.

When I was growing up, my dad used to ask me to sing for him- and for others like extended family and friends. I never would. I was always too shy; I wanted to shirk his pride – maybe because I felt I didn’t deserve it. I really wish I had indulged him a bit more. The old saying about not understanding exactly what you have until you lose it is so very true.

I miss my dad because he was a good man. He was wise and gentle and calm and if he didn’t know something – he would listen and learn. If he did know something, he would hold council but never shove something down your throat. Actually maybe I am placing him a little too high on a pedestal there; we always said his favourite phrases always began with “Now, what you should do….”!! But that’s exactly what I miss as well. I would have loved for him to be able to visit me here and have discussions about my thoughts and feelings about this place and this work. I would have loved to have heard the questions he would have asked – loved to be able to consider them carefully and see what he thought of my answers.

And right now, I would love his opinion on what I should do next. I’d love for him to teach me how to negotiate this path called life – the way he taught me to handle a car or learn the periodic table of elements. But now I’m laughing at myself because all I did when he was right there next to me teaching me those things was roll my eyes and wonder why I had to learn about the drive shaft rather than just starting the bloody car.. or why I had to make a silly riddle of something. If he were here and if I’d never lost him, I’d probably be complaining about the way he gives advice on everything.

I know he’s right here on my shoulder. And I know the gift he has given me is that he is the voice in my head that tells me to keep my cool or listen rather than speak – or walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. But gee I’d like to sing for him tonight. Or scratch his back and shoot the breeze a while.

And you know what? I can recite that bloody periodic table of elements because I still remember the way he taught me to do it. 24 years ago.

I think I’ll go and call my mum. It’s never too late to appreciate what you’ve got.

A Happy Anniversary

I've been adrift here in the Pacific for 12 months now. Wow!

On New Year's Eve, I was newly in love and off to face my dreams of an aid worker posting in the Pacific. Life was full of promise and I felt that the million miles of road I'd never seen was stretched before me with a crisp white invitation to step through its open door. I dubbed the year "2000 & shine". Truly, it has been an amazing experience.

Caught in the midst of each day however, life happened and maybe I wouldn't have said on each and every day that its been a blast - but looking back I have been having the time of my life. In between the adventures with the house and the truck I have met amazing people & had crazy adventures I could only dream of. And while all of that was whizzing around me, I fell in & out of love, was elated, disappointed, extoled, let down, loved, missed and maybe not so loved and missed. I cried, I laughed, I danced, I worked, I worried, I longed, I grieved and I gave thanks. In short, I haven't reached any particular destination - but I have enjoyed the roller coaster journey that has shot me up and down and round.

And through all this, I have charted the adventure like any modern day scribe; by way of the facebook status update. So sit back, relax, and enjoy 365 days of the pick- of- the- bunch adventures - www- style:

Silver

: Is celebrating her 1 year anniversary with the Solomon Islands Red Cross!!

: Has spent too much time with the kids from ze Fronch Red Cross.. for ze rest of ze day she will spek like dees.

:Has danced more in the last 12 months than in the previous 5 years!!..and loving it :-)

:will attempt to concentrate on her cup half full of ocean views rather than half empty of 5 hour blackouts...Ohhhmmmmmm......

:is going to be a fairy godmother! There's no tutus involved right? Just lots of pumpkins and wish granting?!

:and S tried hard to rally Solomon style support for the Melbourne cup with egg and spoon and 3 legged races... Still, hard to beat losing heaps at the TAB and spending too much on Tusday afternoon champagne.

:This is the best shot of the home made fascinator.. keep in mind it was supposed to have a Solomon Island theme. Knew I should have

gone with the gorgeous local orchids.. but it was a talking point and part of the "fashions on the field" fashion parade!

:just went down to the gate and found the guard sound asleep..zzz while a taxi engine was idling in his ear ..zzz.. and I was calling his name.. zzz.. and rattling the chain on the gate ..zzz.. oh yeah! I'll sleep soundly tonight! Zzzzzzzz

:is all about the Strategic Plan... be the plan.. be the plan...

:'s life is candy and her sun's a ball of butter.

:is laughing about the conversation she just had: "Hey iu needem somefalla something somewhere?" What kind of something?" "oh someone hem say iu needem something somewhere." "Which someone?" .. and on it went...!

:never thought she'd be having a conversation about safe cracking in pijin..

:is making Labneh from home made yoghurt

:was propositioned by an exceptionally good looking policeman whilst stuck in traffic he was supposed to be directing.. was tempted to ask.. "dude have you found the guys who broke in to my place yet?" instead, was mildly amused by the way Sols guys say "I love you" after 2 minutes!

:had to laugh at the shop keeper who just dropped my $20 note change on the floor, picked it up with his toes and handed it to me. It's almost as good as being offered a scotchfinger biscuit that's dropped from someone's armpit!

:just said goodbye to her lovely gran. Thanks for being such an inspiration xx

:: looky looky - I got residency! Only took 10 months..

:is sooooo glad Hexley is ok and came to our door after his boat sank and he got everyone safely to shore! Too many on-water close scrapes in one week!!

:has been teaching the office staff about "smurfs"... Little blue men??... one gele for 300 boys??.... spaka smurf??... hmm think we'll go back to singing the National Anthem next week.. might be easier!

::aidworker lesson #194..suck it up and smile! :-)

:thinks Honiara feels a bit more like home now Lib's in da house!

:has had a shitty shitty day that started with getting robbed at 5am... people stealing stuff from next to your sleeping head really creeps you out! But I've been touched by the compassion and kindness I've received..

:has a hole the size of a 10c piece in her ankle and is off to the Suva Private Hospital ..was I saying I enjoyed sloshing in the weathercoast mud last week?..what a legacy!

:has JUST been handed an emergency passport by the Aussie High Comm and is leaving the building .. now! I might have a watch, but these guys definitely have the time!

:'s passport is lost somewhere between the bumbling Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the incompetent Ministry of Immigration.. why does this always happen the week you are supposed to leave the country???

:has had another mind- blowingly awesome experience at the hands of Red Cross!

:is enjoying the new daily routine of singing the SI National Anthem with the finance staff.

:thought she'd buy some fresh mushrooms brought in from Australia.. until she realised they were $50A a kg.. then she stepped away from the veggies, clutching her paper bag and crying.. just a little.

:is going to a Melanesian sign language class tomorrow. Just in case learning pijin isn't enough of a brain snap I'm going to sign in pijin too. Oi Banj.. I'll check if "My scubadiver exploded" loses something in translation!

:is a bona fide idiot! Just had a small stack on the Red Cross motor bike.. next time helmet and shoes are definitely required!

:found out the pijin word for love- "dae dae" is the pijin word for death multiplied by 2…and is frankly, unsurprised.

:'s cashpower credit ran out - 36 hours without power :-( spending sunday arvo in a hotel foyer checking email! I'm so 3rd world, me!

:has found the most delicious new fruit. Locals call it an apple but it's more like a nashi pear infused with rose oil. Keeping the weird stone in the middle to plant in the garden. Maybe something mystical will happen!

:is enjoying the wine that Sal brought..and the brie, and dip, fountain pens, chocolate, yoghurt, aussie toiletries, new computer bag etc... very spoiled!

:thinks the clear blue water of Tangseliu Beach has restorative properties

:thinks love is so short, and forgetting is so long.

:Front page news - GUILTY! J and K found guilty of making awful red cross cake. See image on front page of Solomon Star – Sec Gen attempting to stab cake to kill it. Inside: Red Cross volunteers quake in their boots.

:has a smile wide as the moon. The volunteers next door are supposed to be carrying a heap of stuff to set up their 2 day festival and are sitting singing instead! There's nowhere I'd rather be for 150th celebrations!

:just fixed the cafe's blender with her teeth and a wooden skewer!

:is glad the cat came back.. little whiskey was MIA for 20 hours in our first week of bonding. Was thinking it might be a trend in all my relationships..
But the cat came back, she wouldn't stay away


-She was sitting on the porch the very next day
-The cat came back, she didn't want to roam
- The

very next day it was Home, Sweet Home.

:Bought flowers today at the market and it made me happy :-)

:is having a massive "tired"..despite the office renovations going on around me I can barely keep my eyes open! Only 20 mins til next blackout.. maybe I can curl up under the desk.. with the rats.. hmm...

:is feeling pretty resourceful.. got stuck out of town in a truck that wouldn't start.. popped the bonnet..scratched my head, hit the starter motor with the handle of a screwdriver.. and started the truck! yay me- plenty savy mechanic nah?!

:is exiting the maze

:is drinking wine from the bottle... Its been that kind of day (and to be honest.. its that kind of wine!)

:is sooooo glad the RAMSI guys got the truck out of where she well and truly bogged it on the beach!

:was the only white woman at the beach party and everyone wanted to dance. Life's tough!

:is so excited to have internet at home! its more expensive than downloading gold but who cares!!

:is contemplating life's crazy metaphors. Yesterday- a ripe melon on the doorstep and bananas on the tree.. today, both gone.

:lost the breaks on the way down the wet Tasehe hill this morning.. yes there have been some challenges this week.. all is well though.

:is devastated to learn of all the deaths in the Victorian Bushfires. Assessing flood ravaged areas here makes it seem surreal..

:is Missing In Action

:went to sleep in Brisbane and woke up in Honiara..strange

:is excited it's official; she's off overseas to work with Solomon Islands Red Cross. Hooray!

: could smile for Australia today!

: is waiting on the world to change

The Language or the kiss?

I've been trawling through old music. There's a reason I love listening to lyrics; a good song - like a good poem or a good novel - can explain parts of you to yourself. It can perfectly articulate thoughts that have been burning away inside - or even thoughts you barely registered were there - but that make a difference to you all the same.

For a while now I have been working through my fears about my choice of career and the lifestyle that comes with it. I've been mentally balancing the rewards it brings me against the sacrifices it asks; I love my friends and family - but I choose that most of their life goes on without me; I love what I do and that it has meaning not just for me, but for others as well- but it may very well mean that I end up flying solo in this life. Whatever my choice - there are things that mean the world to me on both sides of the coin and therefore also, things I always miss. Sometimes the choice feels unforgiving. Of course sometimes - having choice feels great.

With these thoughts in mind it was great tonight to find this old Indigo Girls song: The Language or the kiss.

And who knows what the "right" choice ever is. Just that it seems to feel right at the time. But all I've sewn is my song. Maybe I was wrong.

But then, that's the chance we choose.

I don't know if it was real or in a dream
Lately waking up I'm not sure where I've been
There was a table set for six and five were there
I stood outside and kept my eyes upon that empty chair
And there was steam on the windows from the kitchen
Laughter like a language I once spoke with ease
But I'm made mute by the virtue of decision
And I choose most of your life goes on without me
Oh the fear I've known
That I might reap the praise of strangers and end up on my own
All I've sown was a song
But maybe I was wrong

I said to you the one gift which I'd adore
is the package of the next 10 years unfolding
But you told me if I had my way I'd be bored (I'd be bored)
Right then I knew I loved you best for one of your scoldings

When we last talked we were lying on our backs (lying on our backs)
Looking at the sky - looking through the ceiling
I used to lie like that alone out on the driveway
Trying to read the Greek upon the stars
The alphabet of feeling
Oh I knew back then
It was a calling that said if joy- then pain
The sound of the voice these years later
Is still the same

I am alone in a hotel room tonight
I squeeze the sky out but there's not a star appears
Begin my studies with this paper and this pencil
And I'm working through the grammar of my fears
Oh mercy what I won't give
To have the things that mean the most not to mean the things I miss
Unforgiving the choice still is
The language or the kiss

vibemail

There are some crazy-good vibes going on in my world today and I'm liking it!

A little piece of wisdom crossed my desk this morning on keeping connected whilst away (can you believe it?!) and I realised of course that all the people I miss are not so very far from me and that I have the power to draw them close any time I like.

The wisdom that was conveniently delivered to my inbox from the cool cats at dailyom.com was all about using common opportunities to remember loved ones and to make ritualistic agreements about sending and recieving loving vibes. Then, all you have to do is tune in to the universe to pick up your "vibemail" as I have dubbed it.

When I was reading the email from dailyom - I started thinking of all the ways I already do this. One gorgeous friend and I pretty much have an agreement that rain on the rooftop is a shared opportunity to sit and remember eachother fondly; even when we're apart. With the wetseason kicking in - she's getting a shitload of lovely vibemail these days! Another of my friends has claimed the waves; we send each other our hearts and minds - troubled or clear - as we stand by the sea and we hope that each recieves the other by osmosis; thoughts arriving at our feet tangled in foam or wetting us through with rain. Some friends have songs on the radio and I occasionally find them between the reggae and gospel; others have flowers and one has every time I pick up my guitar.

I have been focussed on the ache in my chest for home; a longing to spend some quality time reconnecting. As always, the capacity to refocus and ease the ache a little lay within.

So maybe drop me a line sometime to let me know if there's a particular part of your day that reminds me of you that we can share. Til then, tune in for your vibemail my lovely friends - and I'll tune in for yours.

connection

Today, I went on a field trip to introduce a new disaster management program to a community about 40 minutes out of Honiara. And as always, the trip to the field helped to connect me back to the reason I am here.

The Horovou community originated from the weathercoast and moved to the area they currently occupy in 1977 after an earthquake buried their village. It left 5 people dead and one thousand people homeless. They relocated to this area which is now a home away from home. For me, it has connected many dots and answered many questions I've had about why some of the staff and volunteers from our office whose families origininate from this area and the weathercoast are so closely related. For them, our going there to conduct a program on disaster preparedness and risk reduction must seem ironic in the extreme.

We drove my favourite road down the West Coast of Guadalcanal and into the highlands. The Disaster Management Officer commented that he loves village air - the smokey simplicity of it - and I have to agree its nothing at all like my childhood Sundays and yet it reminds me of them.. a time for family, and to soak up information and to be connected to the world around you. A day for taking stock and for understanding; for making connections.

So here I am tonight. Alone again and yet connected to the work I'm doing if nothing else. And right now that seems as important as anything. And a great experience to have been part of. So maybe I didn't get to have Brunch with my tribe - but I got to spend the afternoon with a fully formed tribe looking to enahance their experience of this life. Roll on field trips - I surrender to your simplicity!!!

Silence (Delirium)

Give me release
witness me
I am outside
give me peace

Heaven holds a sense of wonder
and I wanted to believethat I'd get caught up
when the rage in me subsides

In this white wave
I am sinking
in this silence
in this white wave
in this silence
I believe

Passion chokes the flower'til she cries no more
possessing all the beautyhungry still for more

Heaven holds a sense of wonder
and I wanted to believe that I'd get caught up
When this rage in me subsides

I can't help this longing
comfort me
I can't hold it all in
if you won't let me

Heaven holds a sense of wonder
and I wanted to believe that I'd get caught up
When this rage in me subsides

In this white wave
I am sinking
in this silence
in this white wave
in this silence
I believe

I have seen you
in this white wave
you are silent
you are breathing
in this white wave
I am free

Sarah McLachlan

Where's my Tribe?

This morning, my best friend since childhood wrote on facebook that she was looking forward to having Brunch today with her tribe.

I miss my tribe.

Lately, I've had an ache in my chest for home that has been a little debilitating.

Life here has become an endless round of work and coming home to stare at the computer screen - doing more work to pass the time between the short and infrequent snipets of conversations with friends on skype or facebook.

I miss going out for breakfast and a stroll in the little urban village where I feel most at home - where members of my tribe I don't even know surround me; I miss always having some social event to look forward to - the celebrations and rituals of my tribe; I miss having good friends close by who I can drop in on for a cup of tea and the tribal audacity of being myself with reckless abandon; I miss passing the time at the movies or shopping with my best friend - the tribal ritual of Saturday "stuff" we do. I miss the ease of communication and problem solving that my comes with living in a developed world tribe - and - strangely enough - I even miss hanging out with my ever strange and complicated closest tribe - my family!

When I took this job, I knew that it would come with some challenging experiences, I just never thought that feeling so disconnected would be one of them. This weekend has been better - I've been much more social and perhaps I am lifting a veil that has been camoflaging a tribe I just didn't look for hard enough, but this is a strange little half and half world where I feel connected to a group of people - both local and expatriot- who appreciate me but who don't really feel a conection back to me; as much as I might be liked, I am not accepted - and there's a big difference. It's a tribal difference.

I think in all of this, my fear is also that my tribe at home is changing - as tribes do - and that when I go home I'll continue to feel that sense of isolation even though I'll be right there. Right now, my tribe are having shared experiences without me, meeting new people, making their own new family tribes and building friendships around those shared experiences. I know its something that has pushed people before me to roam an ever increasing world in search of an ever decreasing tribe.

I don't want that for myself. So in the meantime, I try to stay connected - not just to my tribe - but to their experiences - to their thoughts and feelings. It's hard because much as I might want that and have the time for it while I am here - they are busy actually having those experiences and I am met - not with the beating drums of their thoughts but instead, with a wall of silence. Which is a lesson in itself. Perhaps being pushed to seek further experiences of my own, to really question what I want those experiences to be and what results I want them to yield for myself and others - is something to be done in moments of quiet solitude.

It's just that I find quiet solitude so much nicer when your tribe are all around you - close enough to touch.

Goldilocks and the Soboteur

When I was a kid, we had this great Walt Disney album recording of Goldilocks and the 3 Bears. The narrator and Papa Bear parts were played by Bing Crosby (the rest of his family including his kids played the other parts) and there were some great songs on that record we used to play over and over. I have always remembered one of Goldilocks' songs and it came back to me as I was thinking about the life lessons I have written in this post. As I used to tell my students when I was a teacher, a smooth path in life can pretty much be summed up in the words of this song

For the right things to do will say their hellos
The right ways to go are under your nose
carefully choose, your don'ts and do's
dont settle for less, than the best.

It's my birthday and introspection abounds. There's just way too much "me time" in this place right now not to be contemplative so I thought I might at least try to put it to good use. Another zodiac has spun around and as happy as I am with the physical space I'm in - I'm not so sure I thought I'd be in this emotional and spiritual place at this point in my life. But, although I feel very alone here, I am trying to avoid terms like "isolated" and "lonely" and instead focus on the positive gifts this time affords me. After all, millions of people would love to have the space I am being furnished with right now so I strive to recognise and appreciate that. It might be a long time in coming again.

This week, I decided to up my meditation routine and to do a month long on-line course in self sabotage. Sounds all very wanky and new-age I know, but I figured that I may as well get some contemplative guidance and direction rather than randomly putting out spot-fires of the soul.

One of the exercises in the second "lesson" of the course was to write down what I believe to be my life lessons to date. It was an interesting thing to do. At first I wondered where to start, but I realised that in essence, I know what I need to know to get life right and be happy.. happier. What I really need to crack in all this soul searching is exactly what I feel I'm getting out of heading down the WRONG paths.

To get a grip on my lessons I just looked at all the patterns of my own beahviour that I struggle with; decisions, relationships and interractions that have brought me the kind of pain I can learn from. Once bitten, twice shy and wiser to boot. Well maybe 10 times bitten, 11 times shy. I guess that's why they're called patterns!

The positive thing is that I KNOW for sure these are life lessons because I have had a taste on occasion of getting things right - and the proof of these lesons has definitely been in the tasting.

While I'm not sure that I have nailed these exactly, it's a pretty accurate first draft of my lessons and I speak them to myself hereto hold myself to them as much as anything! Maybe you can let me know your own favourite life lesson. Just so I don't feel too much like I'm hanging myself out on a limb here!

EXERCISE DUE DILLIGENCE WITH YOUR HEART: Take radical responsibility for who you get into relationships with. Listen to your instincts- they are your research. Don't be swayed by the opinions of others. Deep and not so deep down, you know when its right. Have the courage to say both when its not and when it is.

WALK YOUR OWN PATH: Don't be afraid to go it alone. If it is your truth, if it represents the authentic you, if it is positive in its source and is not wilfully harmful to anyone else, walk the lone tightrope if you need to. You are actually never alone. Those who truly want the best for you will always be by your side.

DRAW A LINE IN THE SAND & DON'T BE THE ONE TO ERASE IT. Respect yourself, your own needs and your knowledge of what your boundaries are. Do not cross the line because someone draws you into an argument about why you should. Essentially people are self-interested and there will always be an argument to cross the line. Others take their lead from you; show that its ok to devalue your boundaries and that's what you'll have reflected back.

LET IT GO: So you still want it? So what, let it go. They were wrong? So what, let it go. It hurt you? Heal yourself and let it go. Promises were broken? It happens, let it go. It still has the ability to get to you? Take away its power and let it go. Not because you aren't right, not because you don't deserve better, not because it shouldn't have hurt, but because letting it go is the only way you can hold on to the shining light of a positive future. LET IT GO.

NO ONE IS COMING TO CLEAN UP AFTER YOU OR RESCUE YOU: and even if they tried you'd probably hate it. So start taking responsibility for the areas of your life you've been neglecting. It's all you baby - so take some action where its required and stop making excuses.

YOU CANNOT SAVE ANYONE: stop trying. When you start focussing on your own issues and support people in the times and ways they specifically ask for - you will feel a release. Any other behaviour is simply self serving and controlling. Be kind. Show compassion. Be mindful and present in your relationships but stop trying so hard to help and you actually might succeed at it more often.

WITH YOUR THOUGHTS YOU MAKE YOUR WORLD: Telling yourself and others you are less than anyone else is the worst kind of pride. Look within and accept the good. Accept what you have to offer and breathe life into those elements of yourself. You have a purpose and the talents to realise that purpose; denying these things will lead to unfulfilled potential.

So, this birthday, I give myself the gift of these lessons. Learning them is an entirely different gift - but accessing them is the start.

already gone?

Twice in my life I can remember falling for someone the instant our eyes met.

On the first occasion I was a teacher at a high school in North Queensland and I was walking past the library when a student called to me and introduced me to a new member of staff. I remember nothing of the conversation I had with the new maths teacher, I just remember shaking her hand and looking into her ice-blue eyes and knowing instantly that somewhere in time and space, we had met before.

I was 23 years old and I barely knew myself. I hardly even understood that I was gay, let alone that it was possible that another woman might feel the same way about me. So, even when she and I sat opposite eachother on a couch in my livingroom one Friday afternoon and she swept the hair back from my face and told me how much she would miss me when I left to travel overseas, I wasn’t able to understand that this was her, making a move. Years later I can only shake my head and wonder what might have been had I been more self-aware; more courageous.

The second time, I was 26. I had just come back from living abroad – a couple of significant relationships under my belt. I met her at the local Uni pub- she was a friend of a friend’s friend and for some reason we both wound up in a small group of people playing a ridiculous drinking game. We had to look directly into the eyes of the person opposite us and say “I’m so excited and I just can’t fight it, I’m about to lose control and I think I like it” deadpan. If you smiled or laughed or cracked in any way, you had to skull. She was opposite me. I started confidently but as I looked in her eyes I had that feeling of the earth falling away; everything was spinning and she was grinning the sexiest grin on earth. I caved. Two weeks later we ended up in bed and I was quietly obsessed thank you very much. She was straight and not ready not to be – and she was pretty young, and maybe in the same place I had been three years before. It ended badly – for me- and though we still see each other occasionally and it is fine, nice even – for a long time I regarded her as the one who got away; my relationship nemesis who, were she to click her fingers and nod, I would drop anything and anyone to be with.

There’s another lover I’ve had who I knew was going to change my life as soon as I set eyes on her. I was at the top of a staircase, she at the bottom. I saw her and I knew in a way that comes without knowledge.

Then again, I have had slow burning loves that I didn’t recognise instantly but whose eyes I still cannot meet without the recognition of a lasting connection – one heart to another; one soul to another. Still I meet their gaze and wonder what part it is they have left to play in a story yet unfolding.

And yet each of these magical, wonderful experiences lived their lives, died their deaths.

I am wondering about the significance of each of these loves now because I have just finished reading Paulo Coelho’s “Brida” – essentially a novel about each person’s search in life for their soulmate. Though I dog-eared many pages for review at some time in the future, I admit to finishing the book and wanting to throw it across the room.

It all started so well, because the theory is a really interesting one to me. At one point in the book, one of the characters explains how the earth’s population continues to expand when it began with so few and scientifically, matter can neither be created nor destroyed. The theory is that in certain reincarnations, we divide in two; our souls divide and we scatter the globe. If this division and scattering were to continue ad infinitum, we would also weaken terribly; that’s why we find ourselves again and again through love; each soul ultimately finding one or more shards of itself in any lifetime.

Coelho says that we can only achieve union with “God” when we manage to commune with one of these shards- our soul mate; that the whole of any individual’s life on earth can be summed up by that search; that all else we achieve will be incomplete if we fail in this task.

The book follows the central character through this journey which is led by two teachers; one who is her soulmate. She learns that love is the bridge between the seen and unseen world that any of us may experience and that when we do, we are capable of learning everything and knowing things we never even dared to think, because love is the key to understanding all of the mysteries of the world.

She learns that the wisdom of soulmates is that they always recognise eachother by a certain light in the eyes or a point of light over the left shoulder. Ultimately, although she recognises and “unites” with her soulmate, she does not go on to build a life with him. The lesson apparently being that no-one can possess the beautiful things of this earth; they can be known and treasured and loved and remembered, but not owned; that a soulmate is never lost, because they are never possessed in the first place.

Coelho says that life hinges on faith. That in searching for the answer to the meaning of life, each of us can only accept that we will never know it, but that there is a meaning beyond us all. Our only choice is to accept the mystery, hold faith, follow our dreams. True love he says, allows each person to follow their own path knowing they’ll never lose touch with their soulmate.

I could bust the myth right now and say I think it’s all a croc of shit. The problem is, I believe most of it is true.

My problem, my sadness, is a question. Is it really enough to merely know and observe your soulmate? To enjoy them as you might a beautiful flower in a field or an unforgettable sunset? To have a burning knowledge and memory of them that lasts in your heart but to try to make a life beyond each other?

I wanted to throw the book across the room because I want the version of the dream we’ve all been sold; that life will deliver your soulmate and it will be happy ever after. But maybe it doesn’t happen like that. Maybe the faith comes in believing that you are cradled safe in your destiny if you will only listen and follow – not attempt to control and own. Maybe the deliverance of our soulmate teaches us lessons we need to learn for life and happiness beyond them.

That’s not what I want. I want my personal legend to be the successful search for a soulmate and the building of a full and rich life with them; a true partnership of positivity and growth. But I have to accept that the meaning of life is beyond my reach and that my time with my soulmate may already be done. The faith comes in believing that if that is so, then the lesson is learned and the partnership of positivity and growth is yet to come, waiting to be born; perhaps even as we speak.

I don’t know. And I guess that’s the biggest lesson of all.

Vale

Today in Brisbane, my family will celebrate the life of my 96 year old Grandmother who passed away last week. Today, I wake with the hope that she’s on her last great adventure - or depending on how you view the universe and its vast mysteries, that she’s enjoying the adventure between her last conscious reality and her next.

Though she wouldn’t necessarily have called herself an adventurer, her life had its share of interest and intrigue and so as I reflect on the influence she has had on me, I know that part of what pushes me forward each day to new horizons, part of what makes me know I can do the things I try to do is the genetic imprint she has left in me.

Although my lasting impressions of my Grandmother will probably always be from a time when she was in her 60’s and my associations with her have more to do with the smell of her house on nights when the extended family would meet over Roast Beef, and my mother would argue with my Grandfather over University education, literature and history and we would read the books my father and his brothers and sisters had read and then climb into her impossibly high bed at the end of our child-sized night. Or with the fact that she selflessly arranged for the “box room” under the house at Chelmer to be cleaned out and wired with electricity after her grandchildren “discovered” it one Boxing Day, turfed out the suitcases and other carefully stored paraphernalia, declared it the underground home and themselves (along with Tessa, my grandparents’ Alsatian) the new famous five! I know another woman existed beyond the one who did the washing up in the kitchen listening to the radio, who would sometimes play the piano for us and who tickled my neck at the door as we would say goodbye.

As I got older, I got better glimpses of that woman- but still, I don’t feel I ever really knew the secret hopes and fears of her heart. Perhaps though I did; in eulogising her, my Uncle says that they were true and simple hopes – to be kind and virtuous and to love and care for her family. These things I have surely learned from her – though still only aspire to do them as well and as selflessly.

I may not have known my Grandmother in her heyday but that woman – the one at the edges of my imagination – is the woman who left Australia by herself on a ship to London in the 1938 under a cloud of scandal – gone to meet with her beau, later her husband and my Grandfather who was doing his PHD at the London school of Economics. She is the woman who sat in a flat across from a ballet school and typed her husband’s thesis while Hitler’s menace and the war in Europe drew ever closer; a woman who was aboard one of the last ships back home before the danger made that trip impossible.

Gran leaving for London, New Year's Eve 1938/9
In my 20’s when I took on the ritual I’d accompanied previously as a child - taking my Gran shopping on a Saturday morning - I probably didn’t see her as a veritable Jackie Kennedy; but I should have. In the 50’s, my Grandfather became a pretty famous Historian who met with Heads of State and advised on International Affairs; had his own TV show, a Journal of Politics and History – his admirers and his detractors. Because of this life of minor celebrity, there are photos of my Gran at Buckingham Palace Garden Parties, Presidential receptions and Balls –there was even one that hung for a while in the foyer of City Hall in Brisbane showing my Grandparents with Wally Campbell the one-time Governor of Queensland- and the guy who gave a toast at my parents wedding. Despite knowing all of this, I don’t think I have ever really reflected on the panache, courage and exemplary social skills it would have taken my Grandmother to stand beside her husband for all those years at all those events.
Gran and Grandfather in Sydney with Aunty Helen
My Grandmother had a formidable intellect. And although I knew the endless list of books she had read (in fact I just found out that she had read so many novels she exhausted the possibilities of 2 Brisbane libraries!) and the fact that well into her 80’s she continued to read three newspapers a day – I think that rather than engaging properly with her, I continued to see her as a product of her times as I cringed when she told me in my early 20’s lesbians shouldn’t be seen on the ABC (or anywhere really), or that the stolen generation were a product of a Government trying to “do the right thing.” But her interest in politics and her habitual watching of Parliament meant that she could have outdone most of my friends with degrees in political science on the history of politics in Australia – and added in a few funny anecdotes about people like Whitlam (who once kissed her!) at the same time. She and my father are probably responsible for my own slight obsession with Hansard and my nickname at one stage of “Hansard dot com”.

By the time I formed my own adult relationship with my Grandmother, I think I appreciated much of the person she was, and right now that’s a comfort to me. I only ever knew my Grandfather as a caricature of himself – and was only just beginning to come to have an adult understanding of my father when he died. My Grandmother and I connected most when it came to her love of travel. She accompanied my Grandfather on many sabbaticals and she was one of the most widely travelled women I know. In my 20’s and early 30’s, whenever I was travelling somewhere (for there was almost nowhere I was going she hadn’t already been) I would seek her advice on the places she went and loved and I would invariably follow in her footsteps and enjoy our conversations comparing notes when I returned. I remember especially our conversations about New York which we both loved despite initial scepticism. I think she loved the fact that so many of her Grandchildren ended up living overseas and I wonder if she ever realised that her own demonstrations of fearlessness and resilience were part of what made such bold moves possible. It is to her very great credit that she never stifled the ambitions of her own children or Grandchildren through wishing they would stay close to home; instead she applauded ambition and a sense of adventure- as long as it was undertaken with integrity and the desire to be productive and passionate.

One of my Grandmother’s greatest gifts was her compassion. Like all of us she had her human failings – but she believed that the pursuit of any person’s life was to show kindness and virtuosity in all things. I remember my father once saying he used to cringe when she told her 4 children that they had a “position to uphold”. I suspect he thought it reeked of elitism. And perhaps it did a little. Like it or not, in 1950’s Brisbane they were role models. My Gran used to raise money to build new kindergartens and libraries and my Grandfather used to be asked to open them. My older sister and I still recall our 5 year- old awe when a Graceville shopkeeper asked for my Grandfather’s shopping list one Saturday morning and ran around filling his basket for him asking “is this brand alright Professor?” It’s just how it was. Regardless, my Grandmother taught us all that who you were and what you did was of no consequence unless you were doing good for others.

And so it is that in understanding her I can understand myself better; that’s how we pass knowledge and understanding from one generation to the next. She was a product of all her experience; her father’s post first word war shellshock and his love of family Christmas, her own experiences in the depression, her love of the Arts – and so too I am the sum of her experiences and my own brought to me through those I know and love. She got the idea that wisdom is gained and transformed through community and for this, and so much more I so humbly thank her.

Vale Gran.

Lunatic

I'm a lunatic tonight.
Driven mad by the moon,
I measure love in lumps of loss.
They rise up at me these losses;
like pale-faced demons from graves dug deep
they claw at me to be heard. It's as if they
never meant to leave this immortal sadness;
as if they keenly feel the weight of their own humanity.
Lost, but never forgotten it burns them
like fire from the sun. Be still! I say
And leave me! But they want me to stake them with forgiveness.
In the shaddow of the moon they sit and beckon silently
asking, always asking for release.
And this is why I'm a jumping, howling, mad woman;
to lose the loss, is madness made complete.

My Gran

Last night, my Grandmother passed away.

Soon I hope to write a post dedicated to her and the great influence she has had on my life. Today, I will simply hum the Faure Requiem, think of the way she tickled the back of my neck when we stood at her door saying goodbye, and enjoy the fact that she believed in a communion of souls beyond death- meaning that in some cosmic way she will reunite with her husband and son. Something I'm sure she's been longing to do.

My Grandparents loved Tennyson - so I leave this great poem in her honour and hope that my Gran's crossing of the Bar is smooth and tempest free.

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

Danger - rocks ahead.

For one reason and another its been a bit of a rough week. And its this week I find myself back here in the Sols without a planned trip home. Right now I do feel cut adrift and I have been wondering if that feels good or bad; right or wrong. It turns out, it feels dangerous. The kind of dangerous I've been talking to other aid workers about recently. The kind of dangerous that leads you to think it might be best to take mission after mission and just remain a visitor in your own parallel universe back home.

The issue of course is how I got to this point. A broken heart? Maybe. But there's lots of ways to break a heart. Maybe its just a layer of thickening on old scar tissue brought on by a little disapointment, a little bit of envy, and a little bit of grief.

As with all of these things, once recognised the issue becomes how to deal with what you've found; how to deal with the danger.

I found the post below on the great blog site "Le Love" and it reminded me that the danger is in the way we deal. It's really about lost romantic love - but it struck me because its a little lighthouse showing me the rocks that lie ahead if I decide the best way to deal is to weigh anchor; set sail.

I'm the queen of making life all about knowing how perfect I am in my world and how imperfect I am in yours. Yes yours, individually, each of you reading this. And so the way forward is to leave that perspective behind; to be the queen of some other, healthier point of view. To understand there'll be perfectly fitting glove of a life somewhere just waiting for my hand. Right now though, finding that perspective is proving harder than I would have thought.

the danger of a broken heart is not the pain.
not the tears, or anger.
not the ache, not the loneliness,not the quiet,
the empty seat, the bed now much too big.
the danger of a broken heart is what we have to repair it with.
mistrust, hopelessness, faux comfort.independence.
the oaths we take. what we swear to ourselves.
the danger is self-reliance.
the danger is that these stitches in our heart don't fall out.
that they are there to stay.because they must.
the danger is that we know it isn't about love anymore.
and,it isn't about how perfect we are in our world.it's about how perfect we are in theirs.
the danger is that two became one.
and a half of one...well.
half is not whole.
but now we must make it so.

Burning Bright Holes in Dark Memories

I have a decision that has to be made. To stay or to go.
The unkind will say that as a Libran I find decisions impossible. The wise will understand it just takes time while I weigh the options and consider the paths!
I don't know yet what the answer will be but I know that I have been meant to be here.. and that's something to weigh into the decision I guess.

As I was driving through the jungle this morning I paid more attention than usual to a great Eddie Vedder song I have on my ipod called "Rise". For me it sums up the personal transformation I feel I've had this year. I love its turn of phrase and I played it over a few times as I drove along - appreciating.. well eveything really. And that's the hard bit - I've learned a lot about who I am and who I want to be at home.. while I've been here. I guess I just wonder if I'm ready to be that me...

I guess I'll find my direction magnetically. :-)

Rise

Such is the way of the world
You can never know
Just where to put all your faith
And how will it grow
Gonna rise up
Burning bright holes in dark memories
Gonna rise up
Turning mistakes into gold
Such is the passage of time
Too fast to fold
And suddenly swallowed by signs
Low and behold
Gonna rise up
Find my direction magnetically
Gonna rise up
Throw down my ace in the hole

Tread Softly

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams

W.B. Yeats

Opportunity

This week, the house I live in was broken into. I don’t actually know the sequence of events for sure but it went something like this..

At 5am I woke to a loud noise like something was pulling at or shaking the security screens on the front of the house. I was vaguely aware that last time I had woken to that sort of shaking noise there was a sizeable earthquake in progress – so I got straight up out of bed, grabbed my mobile phone which is also a torch and went out into the downstairs living room.

I didn’t really have too much of a look around (which in hindsight was probably a good thing) because I heard pretty loud footsteps upstairs and made a few quick assumptions:
1. The cat had been jumping against the screens – as it does when it wants attention
2. The girls upstairs had heard it and gotten up to let it out/in

I really didn’t think anything of it – so often in this house sleep is disturbed – so I went to the bathroom, went back into my room, put the phone on top of my laptop on the bedside table and went to bed. For the next 5 minutes I heard more footsteps above, the screen door upstairs open and close and the toilet flush twice. Ok, I thought – everyone’s up and has synchronised bladders.. including the cat! I must have gone back to sleep in 2 minutes flat.

When I woke in the morning and looked at my watch to see it was 7.30am, I knew instantly something was wrong. I had set the alarm on my mobile for 7. I looked around for the phone and couldn’t see it anywhere. Then I clicked that the laptop wasn’t there either. I panicked a little, initially thinking I must have bumped them on the floor and that my laptop would be smashed. But I also thought I was going a little crazy. I ran upstairs where one of the girls was sitting at the breakfast table and looked at me a little strangely. “My laptop’s gone.” I said and ran back downstairs.. which was when I saw it; the security screen cut and pulled back – and a hole sliced in the flywire – about the right size to let in a slight man or boy.

I ran back upstairs to discover that my laptop bag with just about everything valuable I own in it had also been taken.

The thing that played most on my mind right at that moment was that there had been someone in my room – only inches away from where I slept – and I hadn’t heard them. I think though, we protect ourselves from these thoughts. Even now, I can’t actively dwell on it. I don’t know exactly what happened (thankfully!) and I can’t play it over and over in my mind. I just know I am safe and things could have been much worse than they are.

You can imagine that the whole thing has been a minor nightmare in terms of police reports, insurance, cancelling cards, accessing money, getting back in contact with the world..etc etc.. but I search for the meaning in it all and I am choosing to see it as an opportunity.

You see, since this happened, I have spoken to so many more people about what is happening here in this country – about why and how crime occurs and about how people feel about it. Without fail, the first words out of every local person’s mouth have been “I am so sorry this happened to you”. Compassion and kindness have been shown at every turn.

I can choose to have this turn of events rock my faith in this place, in the people I have grown to love and admire – or I can see it as an opportunity to show compassion, to learn patience, to test trust. So I do. Nothing is so bad. I have another computer I can access to connect with my world at home, I have the resources to replace the mobile phones and other bits and pieces that were taken. I now have access to security and have thought a little more deeply about safety measures – and I am lucky with all of this that I can depend on these things. Others aren’t as lucky and don’t get to feel as safe as I do.

So this time, opportunity didn’t knock; it ripped a dirty great hole in the side of the house and came right into my room. But opportunity it was – to be thankful for everything I have.

Home is where?..

So recently, I went home. These days though, I find that concept a bit abstract. I have a home- one that I grew up in with my family; a place where my developing height was recorded on the laundry door frame, where a photo of me at my senior formal rests on the sideboard; where I helped to nurse my dying father and where the laughter of his grandchild now echoes. Though it’s changed a bit since I was there – it’s as much a part of me as a traditional home can get.

And yet.. I have another home. One that I bought with my ex-partner. The furniture that’s there was stuff we chose together. My books and photos are still there, along with most of my other “stuff”. The walls are painted in colours that my partner chose and applied the weekend I cheated on her and blew it all to bits. I own it and it feels like mine, but I don’t think I deserve to call it home. And when I’m there alone I like the feel of my things around me but it occasionally reminds me of the pain I’ve caused – so I slip away, and away, and away.

I rent a place back in Brisbane. A place I shared with my sister and her daughter. I really wanted to make it home, but it never really was. I love its high ceilings, its wooden floors and its huge verandah – but there’s too much disappointment there; it hangs off the walls where paintings should be. Everyone wanted a new start there but it seemed to be the place we fell back into old habits. It’s just a big wooden storage facility now- and soon it will house about a thousand students and the air will be thick with Patuli and Neroli. To them it might be home; I really hope it is.

And then there’s this place here- in the Pacific. A home away from home. A place I feel content and settled and happy.. but more or less alone. And that’s ok I guess because maybe in the end we’re all just our own homes; we spend our lives trying to find and physically create a place outside ourselves that matches the place inside – and then we get attached to all that stuff when all along, the most important things still always lie within.

And i’d like to think that’s true because it will mean that having had this time of communing with my self – and actually really enjoying it- I’ll be able to make home anywhere. I won’t have to drive from one side of the city to the other to find it and I won’t have to drag my “stuff” around with me. It’ll truly be wherever I lay my hat. Although, I suspect that much as I love that idea, we all need a base; somewhere our past communes with our future and lets us feel safe and loved. Home is where the heart is - so maybe that’s my problem.. I just don’t know yet quite where my heart will feel at home; where it will feel safe; where it will be nurtured and enjoyed; seen for what it truly is. It was used to living on my sleeve that heart – and it jumped its post a little too easily. So now I keep it tucked up a little and tell it to be cautious because it’s easy to get trodden on when you don’t have a home.

I think I like the idea of being like a Hermit Crab.. I’ve had homes and they’ve served me well and I have loved them. Maybe I outgrew them or a storm came and shook them from my back. I’m sure there’s a home with a perfect fit – waiting on a beach somewhere, just out of sight. When everything’s prepared, the home will appear.

St Elmo's Fire

I guess I don’t keep up with all the news in the Sols.  It seems that earlier this month, film- maker John Hughes died and I never knew. 

Hughes wrote and directed a lot of the Molly Ringwald- led Brat Pack films of the 80’s like The Breakfast Club, 16 Candles and Pretty in Pink.  He also made a truck-load of other comedies like the Home Alone and National Lampoon syndicates; (On the cult success of The Breakfast Club, I guess he can be forgiven for those Chevy Chase aborations!)

Anyway, the whole John Hughes thing reminded me of my obsession with and love for the Brat Pack film St Elmo’s Fire.. which it seems wasn’t a John Hughes film at all but rather a made-in-the-mould Hughes-esque film about a group of reluctant-to-grow-up 20-something’s. 

For me, that movie resonated.  Some of the lines have become part of my everyday – but just in this last week, one of its ideas - in fact the central theme of self-created drama- has been in my mind a lot.

The climax of the film occurs when each of the main characters loses something or someone they had held as an ideal all through their college years.  Each displays a little crazy or self-destructive behaviour in their own way and each are surrounded by their friends who attempt to cajole them back from the edge and into a newer, more adult world.  The movie is pretty much built around this quote:

This isn't real. You know what it is? It's St. Elmo's Fire. Electric flashes of light that appear in dark skies out of nowhere. Sailors would guide entire journeys by it, but the joke was on them... there was no fire. There wasn't even a St. Elmo. They made it up. They made it up because they thought they needed it to keep them going when times got tough, just like you're making up all of this.

Over the last few days, I’ve been thinking about this quote, particularly in relation to our ability as rational, adaptable, problem-solvers to create problems where there are none; to guide our own journeys by these self-conjured flashes of light that allow us to lurch from one issue to the next. Just like the quote- I think we sometimes believe our perpetual motion is driven forward by friction; though for me I think the scary part is that we do this not when times are tough, but rather when they seem too easy. 

It’s as if we get fearful riding on that serene sea in the sunshine, a light breeze at our backs.  We don’t trust ourselves that it isn’t all a deadly illusion.  We want waves and storms to battle against, monsters from beneath to buffer our boats – problems we can put our backs into; rescue ourselves from; rescue others from.  And when there aren’t any we get nervous, wondering when they’ll come and how we will cope with them – so, instead of enjoying our moment in the sun, we pitch ourselves out over the edge and swim for the shore.

In many ways, I feel as if I’m sailing out of storms and into the sun right now.  I’ve already felt the serenity of breezy patches of dappled light and I can see more in the direction I am sailing.  Of course there may be dragons in that direction too – of that I can never be sure – but my challenge is to enjoy the journey for what it is.  So I wonder if I will keep my hand on a steady till or if I’ll conjure St Elmo and rock the boat before its time.  And I wonder if my crewmates will stay, or if they’ll pitch; afraid of their own bright flashes in the sky.

I can see a new horizon underneath the blazin' sky


I'll be where the eagle's flying higher and higher


Gonna be a man in motion, all I need is a pair of wings


Take me where my future's lyin', St. Elmo's Fire   

Could be..

A few weeks ago – a song from West Side Story came into my head.  I was whistling and humming it a lot at work and the tune would catch me late in the evening as I was at my computer – or while I was doing the dishes.

All I could remember of the words was “Could be – who knows – something’s coming something good…” Finally, after a week or so of the tune persisting in my brain, I looked up these lyrics:

Could be!

Who knows?

There's something due any day;

I will know right away,

Soon as it shows.

It may come cannonballing down through the sky,

Gleam in its eye,

Bright as a rose!

Who knows?

It's only just out of reach,

Down the block, on a beach,

Under a tree.

I got a feeling there's a miracle due,

Gonna come true,

Coming to me!

Could it be? Yes, it could.

Something's coming, something good,

If I can wait!

Something's coming, I don't know what it is,

But it is

Gonna be great!

With a click, with a shock,

Phone'll jingle, door'll knock,

Open the latch!

Something's coming, don't know when, but it's soon;

Catch the moon,

One-handed catch!

 

Around the corner,

Or whistling down the river,

Come on, deliver

To me!

Will it be? Yes, it will.

Maybe just by holding still,

It'll be there!

Come on, something, come on in, don't be shy,

Meet a guy,

Pull up a chair!

The air is humming,

And something great is coming!

Who knows?

It's only just out of reach,

Down the block, on a beach,

Maybe tonight . . .

All I know is right now, maybe for the first time in a long time, I am refusing to analyse every little detail of my life; assign it meaning; force it into a place where I can name it and inspect it from every angle.  I am just experiencing it.  And you know what? More often than not, the experience is accompanied by a wide smile.  Maybe I’m smiling because that good thing isn’t so far around the corner.  Maybe it’s right here.

Could be, who knows?