Category Archives: Travel

On the Move Again … !!!

“She took a step and didn’t want to take any more, but she did.” – Mark Zusak (The Book Thief)

I have moved thirty-seven times in my life, or maybe thirty-eight?? I can’t remember – but I moved a lot. Today I was again knee deep in boxes, packing and reducing the evidence of my existence to just over a third of what we brought with us to the Sunny Coast. Minimalising, I have found, is best taken in steps. In the meantime, I have done my bit in stocking local Salvo stores!

So much has happened in the last eighteen months. Both my partner and I have experienced an inner change that is hard to put into words, a migration of identity that has been accompanied by healing that both the liminal space and this beautiful geographical paradise helped provide.

As we head back down south for a variety of reasons, we leave behind my father who I love very much. He has now made his home in a little cottage in Tiaro, Queensland. It is a place that holds many precious memories for him. It is great to see him so content, but after ten years of living in family community together, I already miss him terribly. We will also leave behind new friends that became dear friends very quickly. People who reached out to us when we arrived exhausted and frazzled and speaking for myself, fairly angry and disillusioned. Friends whose shared laughter, tears and care have meant so much. Fortunately, the Sunshine Coast is not at the ends of the earth, so we will continue to share our lives … albeit via modern technology. We also say goodbye to three hundred days of sunshine a year and endless beaches – not an easy thing to do.

So as I channel my nomadic ancestors, I am grateful for the modern comforts of simple things such as cardboard boxes and companies that make a buck from moving our shit from one part of the country to the next. I come with some experience when it comes to moving. At this point my blog post changes gears as I thought it might be helpful to share my top ten tips for those who may be preparing to move or will one day embark on the adventure of relocation:

1. Simplify, simplify, simplify.

Use that move to get rid of stuff. We spend so much time accumulating possessions that, if we are honest, hold very little value and connection to who we are. Often the stuff we own simply acts as a witness to the fact that we have bought into the extremely well-oiled marketing machine of modern times that convinced us we needed the latest gadget that fluffs our pillows and shines our lettuce leaves. Here is the horrible, hurtful truth: we don’t. If you haven’t looked at it, tasted it, used it for six months … don’t pack it.

2. Start the planning and packing process early.

The minute it becomes definite that we are on the move I gather boxes and I have 2-3 boxes open in my laundry at all times. I stare at them, size them up and, yeah, talk to them, while planning what to pack in them. The more time you have to plan the packing bit, the smoother the whole procedure. I realise that sometimes we have to move in a hurry – but for me, that does not happen very often. Most of us have weeks, if not months, to plan a move. The minute you know you will move, get those boxes and even better … get rid of stuff.

3. Make lists.

I love lists. They keep anxiety from robbing my joy when I need to be focused and present in the moment. Make a ‘To Do’ list, make a box list, make a travel plan list, and make a ‘my fur baby’s needs while I travel list’. Write it down and then you know you will remember and move on to the next thing. Got to love me a good list!

4. Make your travel plans.

For the move back to Melbourne I have planned our trip and booked all the accommodation – with three cars, one trailer and two fur children, there is no room for no room. I emailed all the hosts and explained the convoy heading their way and asked whether they have room at their ‘inn’. Having all their answers and words of welcome in writing should minimalise accommodation issues.

5. Say ‘yes’ to people who offer to help.

Accept the help of friends and neighbours. ‘Independence’ is a myth and, quite frankly, can be a real pain in times of stress. A move is made so much easier when you have support – and perhaps a cooked meal.

6. Label your boxes clearly.

Label every box with your surname and destination. I also write what room I want each box in. If you don’t feel comfortable writing the contents on the actual box, use a numbering system and store that information on your computer.

7. Use all those little spaces.

You can save money by reducing the number of boxes you take. Filling every box is not just economical but also makes for greater protection of the contents. No matter how well you pack those glasses, if they are rattling around in a box, there’s every chance they won’t make it in one piece. This may not always be a tragedy as you get to throw them away and have less stuff!!

8. Don’t have a dinner by Candlelight.

As romantic as the notion may sound when you get to your destination you will want to turn the heating on, have a hot shower and perhaps even cook a meal. So don’t forget to organise all the necessary utilities for your destination. Websites such as ‘Your Porter’ make this all very simple. Don’t forget to disconnect the utilities at the house you are leaving behind.

9. Take time to Breathe.

I find house moves all-consuming. So I choose to be present, take moments to stroll in the garden, read a magazine, or have a coffee with friends. Fortunately, I have fur children that remind me every day that a walk in the fresh air is NOT an option.

10. Be Grateful.

Amidst all the stress, planning and my whining about moving AGAIN, I am also deeply grateful. I have traveled the earth, crossed continents and seen countries and sights that others dream of. The hand of Providence dealt me a gypsy card … and I get to do it all with people I love. Here is to packing another box, here is to life which is precious, here is to adventure, and here is to pilgrimage and change … to which we are all called!

Faith is not the clinging to a shrine but an endless pilgrimage of the heart.” – Abraham Joshua Heschel

 

Why don’t you all take a hike?!

A repost and a good reminder for 2018!

“There comes … a longing never to travel again except on foot.”

Wendell Berry, ‘Remembering’

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“Komm, wir gehen im Wald spazieren”,  was our family weekend anthem when I was growing up. “Let’s take a walk in the forest.” Like all children, I often had much better things to do than to trudge through a forest, but my parents never understood this. So we would walk for miles through the woodlands surrounding our village in northern Germany, and later through the bushland in South Africa. Both my parents were interested in local flora and fauna, and to this day dad brews all sorts of healing potions from herbs and exotic plants that he finds or grows … but more of that in another post.

When I married and had children, I became as cruel as my parents. Amidst howls of protest, I would drag the offspring from their crucial tasks of mutilating creatures on the computer screens to take a walk. “It’s sooooobeach-768642_1280o boring, mum!” Yes, it is. It certainly is. When we compare a walk to what assaults our senses on a daily basis, from news channels to social media updates, advertisements, and a very loud world, a walk in the woods is by comparison … boring!

A walk in nature creates perspective. When I walk past a giant gum, I consider how this magnificent tree has stood the test of time. It is still here, while many ‘important’ people are not. The chances are that it will still be here when you and I no longer walk on this earth. Apart from the scared wallaby dashing past me at break-neck speed, nature reminds me of rhythm and seasons, and how in a bygone era, humans used to try and live by these. “Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better,” said Albert Einstein. Studies reveal how great minds; Goethe, Dickens, Darwin, Steve Jobs, and others, all took a daily walk. It has a direct, positive effect on a person’s health, creativity, productivity, and communication. Life makes a little more sense when you take a walk.

Wanderlust’ runs deep in a German’s veins. It’s hard to translate this wonderful word. It is about a philosophy, a way you look at life. It is insatiable curiosity, a desire to discover and learn. The word is derived from ‘wander’ and holds the idea of roaming or hiking. From Schopenhauer to Schumann to Goethe, German literature, poetry, and song, heralds the romantic notion of being deeply connected to nature by ‘wandering’ (for a delightful series on wanderlust by BBC, check out this link).

For some, wanderlust is translated into their own spiritual pilgrimage. Camino de Santiago is certainly on my bucket list. To join the joy of walking with the idea that thousands of other people have walked this path, for spiritual or personal reasons, certainly inspires me.

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Today, walking has become a regular way of keeping fit for many folks around the globe. The evidence of physical and mental benefits that a daily walk provides is massive. IMG_0855In a developed world, which faces an epidemic of coronary heart disease, diabetes, and the health complications related to obesity, walking is a simple way to improve health. You can walk nearly anywhere – all you need is some comfortable clothes and good shoes.

So, if you have not already done so, why not start a habit that could change your life? It can help slow your frantic pace, make you aware of the beautiful home we call Planet Earth, and improve your health. Up for the challenge?

A few reminders:

  • Please don’t randomly throw yourself on some bushwalking trail and hope for the best! If you are going for a hike, inform others, walk with someone else, have a phone with full battery, and good directions. It is a sobering thought that your survival is not very high on Mother Nature’s priority list!
  • Stay hydrated.
  • Wear comfortable clothes, a hat, and most importantly, great shoes. My personal choice are a pair of lightweight, waterproof hiking boots.
  • Please lose the headphones! Firstly, they are a safety hazard as you become unaware of your surrounding with AC/DC blasting out your ear canals. Secondly, they hinder mindfulness, the discipline of being present. So tell your brain that the songs of Mother Nature are quite adequate for an hour or so.

If all this sounds too complicated, why not start with a simple walk in a beautiful garden? Go on, get off your butt and enjoy a few hours outdoors … it is annoying how your social media ‘friends’ won’t even miss you.

This is far more important … start something new, be radical, take a hike!

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Walking Barefoot on this Earth

“Soil is earth’s barefoot and when we walk barefoot, two barefoot touches each other with love!”
– Mehmet Murat Ildan –

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Two things would happen when I came home from work after long and intense hours: one would be to have a maximum of one minute elapse between walking in the front door and getting into my flannel pyjamas. The second would be to throw off my shoes and walk barefoot for the rest of the night. There is something sensuously delicious about feeling the earth under our feet … and now we have science to prove it!

For years, studies have been conducted on the negative charge carried by the Earth and how this affects those who live on it. This charge, they discovered, is electron-rich and in theory, has the potential to supply humans with rich antioxidants and free radical destroying electrons.

One of the first brainiacs behind these theories was the 1952 German physicist Professor Schuman, who, in a very simplistic summary, discovered that the earth had a pulse. In fact, it was measured and confirmed at 7.83 Hz and became known as “The Schuman Resonance”.

Fast forward a few decades and the studies have increased dramatically with fascinating findings. For example, an article published in the Journal of Environmental and Public Health discusses the importance of barefoot contact with the earth, also known as ‘grounding’ or ‘earthing’, as proving to “create a stable internal bio-electrical environment for the normal functions of all body systems.” The study bemoans how our modern lifestyle has “separated humans from the primordial flow of Earth’s electrons” and points to the possibilities that the recent decades of increased chronic pain and illness, immune disorders, and inflammatory diseases, have a direct link to our disconnection with the Earth’s surface.

The interest in what happens when we are ‘grounded’ or ‘earthed’ has resulted in numerous amount of significant research. One study found that blood urea concentrations are lower in people who are earthed during exercise as it “inhibits hepatic protein catabolism or increases renal urea excretion.” Another study conducted by Gaetan Chevalier, PhD, and James Oschman, PhD, concluded that grounding reduces blood viscosity and clumping and therefore seems to be one of the “simplest and most profound interventions for helping reduce cardiovascular risk and cardiovascular events.” For a summary of some of the recent findings, please see this article by Arjun Walia.

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So it turns out that shoes, although beneficial for many events, are not always your best friend or fashion accessory. Your glorious bare feet are! It has to do with our body’s functions that are based on bio-electric processes, and they work best with a well-established baseline … and you cannot get any better than Earth. So being disconnected from Earth causes stress because our bodies lose their reference points for operating and we deny our bodies the bridge it needs to allow free electrons from the ground to travel through our body and rejuvenate our cells.

So the big lesson that all this holds?

Get dirty in 2018!

Get those shoes off. Walk in the garden, forest and beach. Lie on the grass. Let your bum make contact with the Earth as you watch a sunset (Disclaimer: I recommend that bum of yours remains clothed in public spaces to avoid arrest!)

It also confronts us again with the fact that humans have raped and pillaged the Earth for centuries, propelled by insatiable greed and consumerism. We need to STOP. Getting our feet dirty reminds us to walk humbly and carefully. When we walk barefoot and look back, it shows us the ideal ‘footprint’ we should one day leave behind as we are but ‘dust’ (soil) and in a mysterious way we are connected to this Earth we walk on …

“Walk as if you are kissing the earth with your feet.”
– Thich Nhat Hanh –

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Sometimes You Will Back into a Lamp Post in the Middle of Nowhere!

“Life just doesn’t care about our aspirations or sadness. It’s often random, and it’s often stupid and it’s often completely unexpected, and the closures and the epiphanies and revelations we end up receiving from life, begrudgingly, rarely turn out to be the ones we thought.” – Khaled Hosseini –

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Iceland has become one of my favourite places on the planet. My partner and I had the privilege of circumnavigating this magnificent piece of terra firma last year (I kept some travel reflections – Part One starts on this link). We hired a 4 wheel drive that took us to some of the more remote areas where we crossed streams that totally disregarded the ‘road’ and held our breath while ascending and descending the terrifying steep cliffs on either side of fjords.

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Sorcerer’s Cottage, Klúka, Bjarnafjörður

The Westfjord of Iceland does not see that much traffic. The bulk of tourists stick to the Golden Circle down south. It was my turn to drive when we explored this exquisite area. Even though I was driving on the ‘right’ side, which is actually the ‘wrong side for us Aussies, it was a fairly easy, serene tour. We noticed a small guesthouse with a “Sorcerer’s Cottage” sign and out of sheer curiosity drove into the empty, small carpark. And, yes, it was in this desolate carpark that we actually argued about where to park… long story. So out of sheer irritation, I reversed back to a spot suggested by my partner and that’s when I hit the lamp post.

Now you need to understand that this was THE only lamp post, not just in the carpark, but probably for miles and miles around. I managed to hit that one and only lamp post in what felt like all of Iceland! The lamp post, like a soccer diva (player), did not just absorb the small bump and hide my embarrassment! No, it shuddered, and began a slo-mo lean, creaking dangerously, as if to lament the fact that it had stood there for decades and now a stupid tourist has brought about its demise. I was mortified.

A woman walked on to the porch of the guesthouse, presumably the owner of the guesthouse and therefore the lamp post guardian. She just stood with her mouth open. When I eventually ceased the long flow of descriptive German words and cracked the car door open, she uttered profundities, “Why would you hit the lamp post when you have all this carpark and the surrounding fields to park in?” It was a vexing question. A question that, gauging by the conversation that followed, never really was rewarded with a satisfactory answer. Simply because in life there are days when you will defy the law of 99.99999% possibility and hit a lamp post in the middle of nowhere.

The rest of the day was ruined for me, even though I was surrounded by the most stunning vistas. I was dreading the Icelandic powers-that-be to banish me from their northern kingdom or to receive a ginormous bill to run a new power line stretching for hundreds of kilometres in order to erect a new lamp post. But it turns out that Icelanders do not just have a wicked sense of humour, they are also very kind. I never heard another thing about that lamp post. I know it would not have survived the ordeal.

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Friend, in life there are days and seasons that feel like Iceland Lamp Post Moments. One moment we are neatly tucked away in our part of the world, minding our own business, the next moment we are surrounded by drama through a most bizarre set of circumstances. We can beat ourselves up, question the lamp post gods, fret over the cosmic injustice that allows us to be part of the 0.00001% of people that back into lamp posts in the middle of nowhere … or simply embrace life with all its strange lamp post moments.

Embracing lamp post moments is not easy. Trust me, you are talking to a lamp post anxiety expert! We have to change the narrative about how we view those moments and seasons – something like, “How gifted am I to have hit the only lamp post in Iceland!” Now some would call that delusion, I call it survival with style! In all seriousness, I will never forget our fantastic Iceland getaway … and I have a lamp post to thank for that!

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Acid Rain? Clean Up Your Life

“Whether we and our politicians know it or not, Nature is party to all our deals and decisions, and she has more votes, a longer memory, and a sterner sense of justice than we do.”
– Wendell Berry –

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Just a few weeks ago my partner and I paused on our hike and admired the beautiful Black Forest near Triberg in Germany. We had reached a high point in the trek and could see the dark, majestic trees covering miles of rolling hills. With a clear blue sky above and the warmth of a late summer, it was as mystical and magical as all the story books lead us to believe. However, this was not always the case. All of Germany’s forests, especially the Black Forest, were in serious decline in the 1980’s … and they are not out of the woods yet (never miss an opportunity for a well-placed pun!) … the reason? Acid Rain.

Acid rain is the wet and dry deposits that come from the atmosphere and contain more than the normal amount of nitric and sulphuric acids. They cause the rain to become acidic in nature, mainly because of environmental pollutants from cars and industrial processes. Decaying vegetation, wildfires and biological processes also generate acid rain forming gases, but human activity leading to chemical gas emissions such as sulphur and nitrogen, are the primary contributors.

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The result of acid rain? Acid rain accumulates in water and changes the pH level that certain plants and fish need to survive and breed. A reduction in biodiversity is one of the many effects. It destroys forests as they become vulnerable to disease, extreme weather, and insects. Soil composition is altered and destroyed, sensitive micro-organisms are killed. This has a direct impact on other vegetation which becomes stunted and dies. Also, architecture, especially buildings made of limestone, corrode and are destroyed. In short: Acid Rain is a disaster. You can read more about this environmental disaster on the Conserve Energy Future web site.

Recovery has been slow. Government solutions have been varied and there is a focus on seeking alternative energy sources. Eco-systems are slowly being restored. The severity of this disaster still eludes so many – especially if we do not recognise that Mother Nature, although patient, kind and long-suffering, is definitely not indestructible. Everyone has to play a part. Acid rain ultimately affects all of us.

So we carry an environmental responsibility in our wider world, but what about our personal lives? Noticed any effects of acid rain lately? Deposits of toxic pollutants that are killing you? Perhaps it is a relationship that has become dysfunctional, but you have put up with it for so long you no longer notice how it has stripped your soul? Maybe it is a barrage of poisonous words that have been levelled at you with sniper precision when you were least expecting or prepared? Or maybe it is the refusal to look at your own shadow, acknowledging the pain or wound that is hurting not just you, but the environment you exist in? Perhaps it is your relentless schedule, your inability to say “No”, or your addiction to pleasing others? Maybe it’s time to seek an alternative way of life?

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Friends, the sad phenomenon of acid rain is a reality that, whether we know it or not, like it or not, affects our world. We are all consumers. We are all responsible to live in a way that leaves no heavy footprints. In an “I-Need-This-Stuff” world this is no small feat. We are also responsible for the energy we use in our own lives and relationships. This becomes very confronting when there is toxicity in our close relationships. Acknowledgement is the first step. A healthier space is not created overnight because often it has to do with an embedded way of relating or thinking. It takes courage, recognition and a refusal to be resigned to an environment that is killing us.

Acid Rain in your life? Time for action. Take the first step. Be Brave!

“Toxic relationships are dangerous to your health; they will literally kill you. Stress shortens your lifespan. Even a broken heart can kill you. There is an undeniable mind-body connection … Don’t carve a roadmap of pain into the sweet wrinkles on your face. Don’t lay in the quiet with your heart pounding like a trapped, frightened creature. For your own precious and beautiful life, and for those around you — seek help or get out before it is too late. This is your wake-up call!”
– Bryan McGill –

Turbulence! That Annoying Necessity of Life

“What gives value to travel is fear” – Camus

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You’d think I would be used to it by now. Considering a number of untold hours I have spent in the air over my lifetime, you would think that turbulence and I have a solid, unfazed relationship. Not true. I detest turbulence. The minute the plane starts shaking and bumping with all of 40,000 feet of free fall between it and earth, my heart starts pounding and I wish I had not said ‘no’ to that glass of red (it’s the plastic cups, you know, nobody should drink wine from plastic cups … but that’s a different story). No matter how bored and casual the pilot sounds as his voice drawls across the loudspeaker, “Ladies and Gentlemen, it seems we have hit a tad of turbulence (no friggin kidding, Junior?!). So we ask you to return to your seats (yep, done that, curled up in the seat) and fasten your seat belts. The cabin crew will cease service (please cease service, keep your salad and bread roll, just throw me some valium) at this time.” He doesn’t have me fooled! Turbulence is not my friend.

It seems that flying and turbulence go together. I wish they didn’t, but it is simply a cruel part of this unnatural experience. If you are going to place your body in a metal and plastic aerodynamic structure and hurl it through space, the likelihood of striking turbulence is about as high as the possibility of drama and weeping on The Bachelor. Turbulence reminds me that there are many unforeseen air pockets and storms that we will encounter in this thing called ‘life’.

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Without turbulence, it would just be one, long smooth flight to our next destination. How utterly boring (doesn’t boring sound wonderful?!). Turbulence cuts through the bollocks and delusion of control. It reminds us that we are vulnerable and that the notion that we have control over our lives is as illusionary as an oasis in a bone dry desert. We can map out the most beautiful destination, set the most splendid route that promises us sunshine and unicorns farting butterflies, but with one shudder of that plane we remember that life seldom follows the path of glorious boring monotony. Life is all about facing our fear. Turbulence makes sure we do.

Be wary of anything or anyone that tells you otherwise. In a consumer culture there’s always someone selling something that promises “No Turbulence Guaranteed”. If you drink this potion, eat this green slime, say this prayer, mouth this mantra, wear this talisman or have this much faith, then you will encounter no turbulence. So you buy into the farce with gusto, only to discover a few months or years later, it’s not true. Turbulence is one of those annoying necessities of life – and there’s no way round but through. Turbulence has your number – because turbulence shakes out of you what sunshine, butterflies and cupid kisses won’t – your shadowy fear.

Fear, like turbulence, is a part of life. It is not fear in and of itself that creates all the problems. It’s the denial of fear. The suppression of fear. The inability to own or recognise how fear has held us back in so many areas of our lives. Turbulence exposes our captivity to fear. It is only when the storms of life hit that we have the opportunity to examine what lurks in some of the dungeons of our heart … but only if we pay attention … only if we are honest …

Turbulence has often come into my life in the most inconvenient of times! Just a few years ago it came to me through the lives and stories of those on the margins. It totally upset my nicely held set of beliefs and ideals. It exposed some of my darkest fears – what if I listen to my heart and lose all I have built in this beautiful, tiny, hyper-real bubble of existence? Facing that fear was traumatic. There was no way round but through. And I did lose. And it did hurt. And I did grieve. And I also survived. And I could never go back. Turbulence broke fear’s spell.

I still don’t like turbulence. There’s no real way we can make peace with it. We are wired in such a way, that, if at all possible, we will avoid it. This is not a post about welcoming turbulence. Friend, this is a post to let you know that you are not alone when facing it. It will impact your life and change your travel plans. But there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with you. You are just fortunate to walk the path of the living – and the living face turbulence and with it their fears. May you be brave.

“When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.” Murakami

 

What The Sea Teaches Us

“Listening through the heart is not something you must learn to do. It is something you need only reclaim and remember.”
– Stephanie Dowrick –

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I loved going to the sea ever since I can remember. In Germany it was the chilly harbours along the North Sea. The fishermen would sit there like a line of dominoes on the freezing cement curbs, their buckets filled with a variety of sole, mackerel, cod or whiting, while their cigarettes created a hazy cloud above their heads.

When we moved to South Africa we would use our weekends to visit Durban’s magnificent Indian Ocean. I have a distinct memory of my father and I enjoying the huge waves before being told off by the lifeguard. As newly arrived immigrants we did not understand a word that this bad-tempered, red-faced man was saying to us until he pointed to the rather obvious warning sign displaying a giant shark. Apparently, we were swimming in unprotected water and had thereby become tantalising human bait.

Since moving to Australia over three decades ago, I have never failed to appreciate the beautiful beaches of this fair isle. I have spent many hours walking the Mornington and Bellarine Peninsulas in Melbourne. The Sunshine Coast here in Queensland, however, has to take the prize for some of the most breathtaking beaches I have ever seen. And there is something so therapeutic about walking on their shores.

The sea teaches us many things. One of them is that there is a rhythm to life that we can miss amongst our often artificial, neon lights of suburbia. Nothing can stop the sun from rising or setting and no barrier can stop the tide from rolling in. Observing and connecting with this rhythmic part of nature stirs something deep inside of us … whispers of hope and providence.

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Swimming in the deep blue sea has always thrilled and scared me. It reminds me of life. The deep is not safe, yet sitting on the shores is not an option. On the shores I will never experience the healing, stinging salt water that washes over me, like my tears and my prayers. You never learn to swim in the shallows. There is something about launching out into the deep. Many years ago Jesus told a disheartened fisherman to launch into the deep. The rest, as they say, is history.

I look at my feet as I squelch the sand between my toes. The many broken shells remind me that they too, once held life, and that life passes quickly. “Travel lightly,” they whisper to me. Life is short and these feet are made for walking, not for being tied to the many cumbersome burdens that modernity claims we need. Accompanied by the unruly frivolity that overtakes my hair at the beach, it adds the classic reminder: “Beach Hair Don’t Care.” The sea and its shores reminds us of the splendid and simple joys of life.

Most of all, the sea reminds me that to wait is holy. The sea cannot be rushed or ruled. We can only wait … and in that sacrament of waiting we find untold treasures. Isn’t it about time you took a walk on the beach, dear friend?

“The beach is not a place to work; to read, write or to think … The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith. Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach—waiting for a gift from the sea.”
– Anne Morrow Lindbergh (Gift from the Sea) –

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New Streets and Old Maps

“Not all those who wander are lost …” – Bilbo Baggins

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In the 1990’s nearly every car in Melbourne still had an often mangled, coffee-stained Melway in the back seat. In the ‘good old days’ we did not have any fancy satellite navigation systems that talk to you in that annoying, patronising voice (you can almost see Mr or Mrs Automated Voice roll their eyes as they incessantly repeat: “Make a U-turn, Dumbass!” when you take the wrong turn). No, we were tough. We had printed maps that led us to our destination – most of the time!

Using a printed map for direction is problematic in several ways. First, you have to keep driving with your eyes on the road, while frantically scanning the map on your lap to ensure you are going the right way. Second, due to destructive car occupants such as dogs and toddlers, you may have found that the page you needed has been ripped out and chewed. Third, if you got lost, there were no mobile phones to let people know that you accidentally arrived in Wangary instead of Wanguri. But most frustrating of all, if you had a Melway that was several years old, you found yourself in deep custard when navigating a new sub-division with brand new streets.

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Old maps and new streets are not great travelling companions. The map will tell you that the street you are looking for does not exist, has never existed, and you are wasting your time looking for it. In fact, if the map suddenly turned into a talking, philosophical, map-person (yep, imagination needed here) they would probably say something like, “Look, I know you desperately think that you can visit someone in Gertrude Street, but I hate to break it to you, Gertrude Street does not exist. Trust me, we have been doing this for a very long time. My father, my father’s father, and my father’s father’s father have all said the same thing. There is no Gertrude Street. You have to let it go. You are looking for a destination we have never been to … and we are the experts.”

No one has told the old maps that landscapes change. These maps, like the old wineskins that Jesus talks about in Luke 5, have only ever known old streets or old wine. It is ludicrous to demand anything else of them. We can hope, we can try, we can get angry, but in the end, old maps direct you around old streets and old wineskins hold only old wine. If you want to drive around new spaces, then you will either have to find a new map or you will have to draw your own.

Friend, I wish I could tell you that the maps you have used in your formative years, or in times of flourishing success, would be sufficient for the rest of your life – but that is not the case. Ideas, paradigms and methods we use to navigate life can disappoint us as we continue to learn new things and drive down streets we have never visited before. Some maps may last a lifetime but the way we read them may need to change, and the person who taught you to read that map is not always the expert. That realisation alone can be life changing.

In this life we have choices. We can allow old maps to rule our lives because the very idea of new streets terrifies us. Or, we can recognise that from the moment of birth, life is an ever changing landscape and without taking risks we will never discover new possibilities. Today we live our lives with certain knowledge, like the earth being round and orbiting around the sun. We forget that this knowledge came at a great price for people who, many years ago, threw away their old maps of thinking. Now it’s our turn. Time to explore some new streets.

I’ll show you a place
High on the desert plain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name (U2) 

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This Ancient Mountain

I acknowledge the original custodians of this land and pay my respects to the Elders both past, present and future for they hold the memories, the spiritual connections, the traditions, the culture and hopes of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples of  Australia.

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Every morning when I step on to my front verandah I greet a Dreamtime legend. A warrior that caused havoc amongst young love and was turned to stone and became Mount Ninderry.

The original Aboriginal people of the Yandina area and its distinct land formation belonged to the Gubbi Gubbi language group. The tribes included Nalbo, Kabi, Dallambara and Undabi. These tribes lived in Yandina and the surrounding area for thousands of years before the arrival of Europeans. Middens, scarred trees, bora rings and burial grounds remain a silent witness to their presence and rich heritage. Stories like that of Mount Ninderry speak of their dreaming.

In the evening I sit and watch the mountain light up as the setting sun begins to dance and flicker upon its ancient surface. One moment it is bathed in golden light and shining so brightly that I squint watching it. John Muir wrote, “How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains.” Then the shadows come, pouring out of the rocks and bushes like warriors of old. Ninderry becomes dark and ominous reminding everyone that this idyllic setting also has a dark and bloody past.

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View from Mount Ninderry to Mount Coolum and the coast.

As I sit in silence and contemplate this giant of rock, I find solace and am reminded of a few things …

  1. That we have lost our way in a fast-paced, over-stimulated world. We no longer pay heed to the ancient voices. We no longer allow the healing power of sunshine, flowers, wind, storms and mountains to stop us in our tracks and revive. It is time we take stock and acknowledge how much our neglect of nature has cost us and the world we live in.
“Thousand of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilised people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity.” (Muir)

  1. That we need to remember our place in this earth … and it is not as grand as we like to think. My ancient friend has seen civilisations rise and fall. The people who rose with grand ambition in the hope of making a name for themselves, now lay forgotten several generations later. Even the ones we remember have had their narrative distorted as we airbrush them into mythical characters. Not much remains of our one short life – except, perhaps, those things we did when we rose above our fear and pride and gave ourselves to love without borders. Ninderry reminds me to walk in humility.
        “This mountain, the arched back of the earth risen before us, it made me feel humble, like a beggar, just lucky to be here at all, even briefly.”

  1. That God is faithful. Mountains have always spoken to me of faithfulness. I don’t mean to sound trite or even comforting. Mountains can be treacherous, they can be difficult, they can even claim lives. When I speak of faithfulness I don’t intend it in the diluted manner so often flung about in modern, pop religions. Rather, it is a faithfulness despite of … a faithfulness that my ‘in spite of’ faith can connect with. I believe in faithful Providence and a Creator that remains faithful to all of creation, not just an elite few.
    “Mountains are the cathedrals where I practice my religion” – Anatoli Boukreev

Mount Ninderry has become my immovable friend. A constant reminder of past, present and future. When I am long gone this regal mountain will still stand guard. However, right now Ninderry reminds me that I have one glorious life to live … and live it I shall.

“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.” – Edward Abbey
 
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Arctic Terns and Lupin Flowers: Reflections on Relentless Thoughts

“The Arctic Tern is one of the most aggressive terns, fiercely defensive of its nest and young. It will attack humans and large predators, usually striking the top or back of the head. Although it is too small to cause serious injury, it is capable of drawing blood. Other birds can benefit from nesting in an area defended by Arctic Terns.”
Migration – 

Our road trip through Iceland had to be one of the major highlights of 2016. I loved that hauntingly beautiful country.  This past week I spent time looking through photos and came across this:

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Arctic Tern COLONY you might be attacked by hundreds of angry birds, wear a hat and or hold a stick or Lupin flower above your head. 
 
We spent a few days in the Skálanes Nature and Heritage Centre, staying at a Mountain Lodge, 17km east of Seyðisfjörður, East Iceland. Taking a walk along the rugged coastline we came across the sign. Our amusement was cut short as the hilarious warning became a chilling reality – we became the focus of hundreds of very angry birds! Running for our lives like the students in Hitchcock’s “The Birds” there was no time to pick a Lupin flower – just get me the hell out of here.

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Months later I now sit in the peaceful forest surroundings in the Sunshine Coast Hinterland with no Arctic Tern in sight. Only the ones in my head. It is amazing what happens when you take time out; the very act of seeking solace in quiet spaces can become a minefield of a thousand thoughts and some of them are very angry. We should go into times of solitude and reflection with warning signs: “You might be attacked by hundreds of relentless, incessant thoughts – stick a Lupin flower in your hair and smile.

As a serial ‘overthinker’, an empath, and an only child, this blog is dedicated to all tortured souls out there who, like me, asked ‘why’ long before we ever said ‘mummy’ or ‘daddy’!  Those not wired this way tend to see our questions and cynical streak as negative – and they have a point! We all have our shadows. Understanding that our critical mind can very quickly morph into an Arctic Tern Colony is an important step in self recognition. Just like the folk on the opposite spectrum can fly into the positive hyper-reality of Neverland, never to be seen again.

Existential angst is the hound that snaps at our heels on a daily basis. What a menacing beast it is. We look for meaning and everything needs to be analysed critically. Mistakes and regret are some of our worst nightmares. We have a small-talk phobia and would rather pluck the hair of our big toe than listen to cliches or one word answers. We connect deeply with the German word “Sehnsucht”, or unfathomable longing, that takes our mind on tours and detours as we search for significance and essence, just like Indiana Jones hunts for ancient artefacts.

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Some of us have found meaning in faith. Identifying with the author of Ecclesiastes (another obsessive overthinker!!) who wrestled with profound profundities and in exasperation declared that God has placed eternity in the human heart, we ponder all our lives and still don’t get it (3:11). The great, late C.S. Lewis wrote, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” My own personal thousand rabbit holes of thought leads me back to the life and claims of Christ – but it is not an easy, ‘happy-go-lucky’ faith path. Rather, I go through seasons of doubt, hounded by questions that I know are veiled in mystery that greater minds have pondered for centuries.

But I digress! Back to those Arctic Terns that at times take it upon themselves to disrupt our peaceful state. Lupin flowers, it seems, are Iceland’s answer for this force of nature. The Nootka Lupin is a native to North America. It was introduced to Iceland in the first half of the 20th century to combat erosion, speed up land reclamation, and help with re-forestation. The Nootka Lupin has proven to be effective for land reclamation. However, some are concerned because it is spreading too quickly and becoming too invasive, and this delightful purple flower has now earned the name ‘Alaskan Wolf’.

362036164-nootka-lupin-reykjanes-wildflower-meadow-flowerIcelanders suggest taking this beautiful, purple perennial pest and waving it wildly above our heads to deter angry birds targeting our scalp. There is a lesson in this for all fellow overthinking empaths out there. When critical thinking begins to turn us into brooding balls of melancholy it is time to deliberately find some invasive forms of happy thought and swing them around in our head like a maniac. We don’t ban Arctic Terns, they need to be recognised and acknowledged, but we draw a line when they start to shit on our heads. 

So what does that Lupin flower look like for you? A bungee jump down some mountain cliffs? A long walk on the beach? Getting out your paint brushes and creating art that has no rules attached? A motorbike ride? A visit to the state library or national gallery? A good glass of red and a cigar? A cup of coffee with a dear friend? Singing in the rain? Goethe? Jazz or Viking Metal? When we open our eyes, we discover that we are surrounded by Lupin flowers.

Arctic terns come and go. We don’t pretend they don’t exist. They do and they have a role to play. So do Lupin flowers. Through the yin and yang of life, we discover that for every Arctic Tern there is also a Lupin flower. Remember that, dear friend. Pick your favourite flower, wave it above your head, and do a wild dance … just for the heck of it!

Isn’t it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive – it’s such an interesting world. It wouldn’t be half so interesting if we know all about everything, would it? There’d be no scope for imagination then, would there?” – Anne of Green Gables (Montgomery)