Whilst taking a shower earlier, life hit me in a simple, yet profound way.
A sudden wave of gratefulness. For hot water, my goodness, such a simple thing: taken for granted every single day by far too many.
How grateful I felt for that water. How grateful I felt to have access to water, at all.
In that moment, I wished so desperately that those around the world who have never known the beauty of hot water on skin, might know that delicious feeling one day.
Australian summer and there I was, sipping a glass of wine beneath the gumtrees, wrapped in my best winter scarf and topped with a little woolen hat. The wind: shocking.
It’s not unusual for the country town we’re holidaying in to reach these frosty temperatures at night. I’m certain we’ll look back in years to come with fond memories of swaying gums and whirls around the caravan park on bikes, but I also think we’ll marvel at Mother Nature and her wacky sense of humour. During the day, it is not unusual for the temperature to reach forty degrees celsius and beyond, some years, and yet the blankets come out when the sun falls. It’s quite funny, really.
It reminds me of Melbourne (my hometown) and her ability to display every single aspect of all four seasons in one day. The rest of Australia laughs at our expense, but the truth is: Melbournians gladly identify with this peculiar trick of the weather. We happily declare it one of our most impressive party tricks.
I’m breezy and happy, today. After a solo journey back to Melbourne, earlier, to celebrate my beautiful Grandma’s 90th birthday (and a nice big heart-opening drive back, listening to music) I’m so grateful for all the experiences that have brought me here. To this place in my life, I mean. Not just to this dodgy little caravan park in the middle of nowhere.
I am reminded of the worth of life experience each time I feel the beautiful glow of wholeness beneath my skin. Each time I feel the spirit rise within me; the times I’m ready, and quite able, to speak the truths my heart knows to be absolute. I am not perfect. Life is not perfect, and never will be. But I am here, and I am grateful for these exhausting family days (and even you lot fall upon the grateful-o-metre of me…aww, sigh. Like, really, you guys. x) so a girl couldn’t ask for much more to help drift me through my days.
Right. Off to drink my tea and snuggle up with, what is turning out to be, one lovely heart-filling book.
Death, I suppose, does that to us. It’s one of those accidental growth inducing things that none of us actually want, but do end up getting from time to time. Lessons in perspective. Lessons in gratitude, these are just some of the positives that can come from death knocking on our doors. But today, death has broken me. And my empath metre is still reeling.
I’ve just read an article written by a Mum recounting her five-year-old sons final days. Cancer. To say I struggled to hold myself together wouldn’t be accurate. To say I fell to pieces is absolutely correct. What a devastating, devastating thing: to lose a child, and yet people do experience this sort of loss in life, and far too often for my liking.
I felt I owed it to that precious little man to reiterate the message his beautiful, heartbroken (positively grace-filled) Mum put out into the world, on behalf of her little boy. To live and love, is surely the greatest gift. To live now, to be grateful for this. What’s here. What’s out the window and how beautiful it is. To see that it’s pointless fussing over the little things, when there are even more little things to honour and cherish in this mixed bag of a life we live.
This Mum. She was given a beautiful gift, in the end, when her son’s final words were: ‘I am happy Mum.’ I am happy, Mum. It makes you think how dumb we are worrying about the extra weight we might put on over the holiday period, doesn’t it? It makes you think that, in the end, all we’re really here for is to realise nothing matters but the people we love, and love itself.
Anyhow, I should stop this because it’s going to take me down, again, but I think I’ve said it all, anyway. Most of you already know the way I view life. It is short and beautiful, and we have one chance.
I’m grateful for beautiful people who shine a light for those wandering the dark.
I’m grateful for those wandering the dark. Grateful they are survivors: that they may not know they have won, yet, but they have. And they will see that shining sun, soon.
I’m grateful for love. No matter what it looks like, no matter how it gets there: it’s love, and it’s beautiful. And I’m grateful.
I felt connected to myself today, somehow more grounded than I’ve felt for a long while.
It was a surprising— and much longed for—shift in energy, I have to say. It reminded me of the early days of this blog, when I was still me enough to feel steady on my feet, but not me enough to know I was about to fly somewhere. And I didn’t know where I was about to fly, all I knew was…it was going to be somewhere else.
Somewhere alive.
Somewhere free, somewhere so incredibly beautiful— and as it happens, that place is slowly finding me. Slowly, very slowly, but it’s finding me, and I’m grateful.
I’m grateful to those of you who’ve stayed with me through the waves. The highs and lows of a newly single Mum of two, who, quite frankly, still has quite the way to go before finding anything that looks remotely like stability.
But I’m getting there.
And today…well, today made me think that I might just be a little closer than I thought I was to getting back to the grounded girl (woman) who started this blog.
The depression has been the killer for me, I think. The uncertainty of a life gone mad, threw me (and continues to throw me, actually) under the bus of life, and given I’ve isolated myself fairly solidly for, oh, you know, my whole life…I’ve largely been dealing with all these changes alone. So, guys…it’s kind of sucked. Majorly. Just a little bit. (I should point out that I’m not placing myself in the role of ‘victim’, here. I’m aware that every step of my journey has been mine to take. I’m just pointing out what has been.)
Actually, I’m so truly grateful for many things. Having you guys to come back to, my two particularly patient besties, a really rather reasonable ex-husband (and positively brilliant Father, might I add), and a Dad of my own who takes my breath away with his steadfast, gentle there-ness. I mean, really, what’s an upside-down life when you have all of those wonderful things to turn your frown around.
You may have noticed the changes to my blog, and if not, that’s okay. I’ve never been very good at noticing peoples’ new hair cut either (even if they’ve had long hair and cut most of it off).
One thing I can guarantee will not be changing is my absolutely bonkers personality; the girl that brings you ‘dad’ jokes one day and mushy gooey poetry the next. The thing that this ‘awakening’ has taught me is that I am a blank canvas. I can be whoever I want to be, whoever I enjoy being the most.
And so I’ll keep being that slightly random (okay, pretty bloody random) girl you all know so well, if you don’t mind. I never did fit into a box, and I’ll never aim to fit into one either.
I’m just very randomly me.
And I’m so glad I’ve got a very lovely band of lovely heads (you guys!) to spill all my tears and love hearts onto, every now and then.
I’m sorry it’s been so long since I checked in here with my actual voice. Truthfully, I’ve felt quite stuck in place, and really unable to move many places outside of the muddy waters of my head. I really am okay, though, and although I’ve still got quite the ways up the hill to travel: I’m getting there, one step at a time. I hope you can forgive my absence.
I was thinking of you all as I ran home from the lake, earlier, actually, and so I wanted to pop in and share my musings. I so appreciate the time you take to read my words and have them connect with the world you are creating inside of yourself. I’ve been searching for ‘boats like me’ this whole time. A tribe, to help me feel as though I belong somewhere.
Well. How about it when, pounding the pavement trying my best to not completely die, I realised…I’ve already found my tribe.
It’s all of you.
Isn’t that the most beautiful, wonderful thing?
I accidentally created my own tribe, and all this time I had no idea that’s what you were.
My tribe. My soul friends. I mean, really, that’s what you are isn’t it, and I think that is all the lovely things.
It occurred to me as I made my way back from the lake that even if we’ve never communicated: our energy connects as soon as you read my words and feel something. And according to the soft girl inside of me, the power of non-verbal communication (however invisible and abstract) is just as powerful a communication tool as the use of words. (How funny I’m saying that with actual words.)
And so it was that I discovered just exactly why this little bloggy land of mine has always felt so much like home.
It’s because it is. Home. To me and my tribe, my very bloggy family.
Thank you so much for allowing me to share a team with you, guys.
