Chaos and Compromise

I was born into chaos.

My few baby photos show an unassuming, scrunchy faced infant, who almost looks like she knows what she's beginning, and isn't particularly keen on it.  Then she's plonked unceremoniously on to the Life Rollercoaster, told (more or less) to hang on because it's going to be a fairly uncomfortable bumpy ride, at least for the first couple of decades or so.  After that, it will become whatever she makes it into.

I met my antithesis on the weekend, at a tiny, very unassuming country hamlet called Imbil.  My partner and I, along with another couple, were sitting in the little town rotunda, which all those types of places seem to have on their middle nature strip through the main street, and the boys were scoffing down big doughy egg and bacon rolls from the one town cafe.  We were at the tail end of a group camping trip which we'd enjoyed creekside of this little town, when what was clearly one of the "locals" came wandering over to our cosy rotunda, for no good reason other than to, in my mind anyway, show me the flip side of who I am.  One which I could never be, even if I were willing.

She was an older lady,  shapeless in the way old women who aren't overweight are prone to be, and wore some type of faded old lady dress which was tied around the middle to define a complete lack of waistline.  The true privilege of the elderly, this not having a waistline business, and recklessly accentuating it nonetheless.  A parcel of fish n chips that was past its prime, but would still be enjoyed by perhaps her husband, her family and her sewing circle, but probably not by anyone else.  I guess that covers the town population in any event.

She proudly informed us, not that we'd asked, that she had lived in the town since moving there in 1948.  Her husband was 84 years old.  And she knew everything about this town, which by my reckoning such information would have taken roughly 30 minutes to glean in its entirety.  I didn't say so however.  I just listened in the bored yet fascinated way one does when running across an antithesis to oneself.  Because I couldn't stay anywhere longer than about five minutes, I couldn't stay married, in fact I struggled to stay attached to anything, anyone or anywhere.  And after listening to her prattle on for a few minutes, I promptly detached myself from that rotunda (snickers all round) and headed back to camp.

But I, as I said, was born into chaos.  And while I won't say that chaos follows me everywhere I go, I am pretty adept at creating it, both for myself and for those around me.  I've had years of practice after all.

I do find that many seem to thrive on the chaos I provide, however.  They certainly don't go running screaming for the hills.  In fact a friend once remarked to me that she was astounded by the sheer loyalty I inspired amongst my partners, and ex-partners for that matter.  She couldn't understand it, and truthfully sometimes neither can I.  I just believe there is an inner excitement addiction gene that inhabits us all, it's just that some people let it run amok, some let it out for a cautious sniff around if the conditions are just right, and some, like Miss Imbil 1948, keep it firmly tied around the middle.

How does one channel inner chaos and unrest into the Sea of Tranquility, I pondered to myself, and more than once.  A friend asked me today why I find relationships so hard.  The answer to that?  I don't know how to compromise.  Myself.  Away.  Enough.  To keep a relationship going.

Interesting concept, that.  So ideally, one would be able to just compromise, live and cohabitate in a reasonable state of happiness with a partner, where said partner would do the same, and you'd always have that instant friend/ally/cohort by your side, in all matters social, financial, sickness, health and all that, including of course those all important Golden Years we aspire to reach some day, sort of soonish now.  Thereby staving off the big bad demon called Loneliness.  That particular demon is a fearful proposition.  Most of us have met him, don't want to hang out with him, in fact will compromise almost anything to not have to do so again.  Gets me back to the compromise bit of this piece.

Compromise – Myself.  Does this mean when our behaviours, hopes, dreams, finances, whatever are in direct conflict with the other party's, that mine have to be compromised in order for a relationship to survive as an operational entity?  What if the other person doesn't compromise themselves to the same degree?  Do we meet in the middle, or is it 70/30 or what?  What is the acceptable criteria here, of losing oneself as a single entity, but hopefully to attain something better, ostensibly a Relationship?

Compromise – Myself Away.  This I guess is perhaps beyond the 30/70 split, where most or all of what I want and believe in is being shoved out the door, wallpapered over, ignored, forgotten, in the aim of nurturing that ultimate goal, The Relationship.  This is often where I seem to end up.  I can only surmise it's to do with the chaotic beginnings where in fact there was no compromise at all, because where there is no power, there is nothing to bargain with.  Sort of makes you want to hang onto your own power later on in life with a bit of a death grip, methinks.  Which would explain some of the problems I face as an adult when trying to do the Compromiso Tango… my steps are skewed!

Compromise – Myself Away Enough.  How much would enough be?  Does it entail giving up or at least postponing some (or heaven forbid all) of your dreams?  Does it mean tolerating behaviours that you yourself would not dream of inflicting on others, but which does not necessarily mean the other person isn't engaging in towards you, or in fact the rest of the world might be as well, rendering you perhaps weird and unpartnerable in your minority of being?  Maybe they didn't compromise enough either though, is what I'm thinking.  And how much is enough anyway!  I'm thinking if you survive in a relationship, you have clearly compromised enough to be there.

So the whole object of this compromising exercise is to keep the ol' relationship going.  Ticking along.  Without compromise, one party is powerful and the other is powerless, to a greater or lesser degree.  The aim of course is to share equal power.  I know of few relationships that are based on this premise; it seems to be one powerful partner and one less powerful, but whose needs are powerful enough to cause them to remain in that position, compromised away, so to speak.  Perhaps the rewards of relationship go to the tolerant and the patient, the selfless and the compassionate.  I must not contain enough of those gems.

But what would I know?

(to be continued…)

Making Tracks

Sometimes the Universe conspires in all its cunning and sometimes duplicity, to tell us quietly, and then scream at us in an earth shattering earsplitting roar, that the winds of change are blowing a gale, baby, and IT'S TIME.  For what, you might worriedly think - and sometimes even ask, and sometimes even out aloud and to someone else.... because change and risk are words that do tend to worry most of us.  Uncertainty can paralyse us.  Surely it's safer not to listen to these (mad?) voices in one's psyche, and keep doing what we're doing, because after all, life is pretty damn good, isn't it?  Isn't it?

In the mid 1970s - and what a different age that was to the then inconceivable lives we now lead - there was a lady called Robyn Davidson, who decided at age 25 that she needed to train up a herd of camels so that she and her dog could travel across the desert, from the Alice to the ocean, taking however long it took, risking pretty much everything, her life and those of her fellow furry travel companions included.  Now, Miss Davidson did indeed make that trek, and it was documented in a beautifully photographed book called From Alice to Ocean which was published in 1992, some 15 years later.  At the time of her trek back in the mid 70s, I was living the not-so-childhood dream of feeling like an orphan at age 10, because my mother had to all intents and purposes abandoned me, and into the care of a rageful alcoholic "father."  Now, I am what I am, formed as we all are by our childhoods, but you can make a hell of a life out of broken beginnings.

At the time From Alice to Ocean was published, and myself spying it in a bookstore somewhere, I was 28 years old myself, engaged, and not terribly keen on marrying or even having children for that matter.  Being a wife and mother seemed like something you did in some kind of weird parallel universe that I had never been part of growing up, and still wasn't, although I was having a fair old crack at it with a man I'd been with for four or five years at that stage, was still uncertain about, but had somehow agreed to marry at some point unknown.

I guess you could say I'd always lived life a bit by the seat of my pants.

1992: I bought this enormously expensive glossy big book, read it from cover to cover in the deepest fascination, and then promptly took it over to my mother for her to enjoy (we had mended our relationship some years prior and were, and remained till her demise in 2006, the best of friends).  Mother did indeed love the book; apart from her own wild sense of adventure (having left Switzerland and all her family behind at some tender age to jump on a boat bound for Somewhere Else, Australia as it turned out;) she also had a previously unknown - to me anyway - adoration of All Things Camel.  This was a book about a lunatic female adventurer who crossed a desert solo with four of these spitting farting beasts.  And one black dog, called Diggity.  Enough said, because Mother's other love is All Things Canine.

That book remained forever at her house in her little bookcase in the entry hall, jutting out enticingly to me whenever I visited, and every now and then I'd flick out the book and relive Ms Davidson's adventures.  At some point, a stone camel took pride of place sitting just above where that book lived its dusty days.  And when Mum passed on to a better place on her birthday in 2006 at age 76 (seemingly deciding she'd had enough of being trapped in a body that didn't function anymore) that book came back to me, along with it's friend, the stone camel.  In fact the critter is sitting in all its sunbleached glory by my pool here in Noosa, as I sit here, dreamily lost in full creation mode.  My clumsy Boofter dog has broken its head off a couple of times and it's always been carefully recapitated (is that a word?) with Liquid Nails.  And the book, well that's beside me right now....

So getting to the point (and I do have one!) last night I FINALLY got to see the movie version of Tracks; it only took almost 40 years to be brought to the big screen, lasted a few nano seconds at the cinemas (yep I blinked and missed it!) and suddenly here it was in my lounge room on a Sunday night, for my viewing pleasure.  And I enjoyed it so much, I've felt like I'm going out of my brain with restlessness ever since!

When I first was exposed to this story, I was 28 and engaged.  And now here I sit, and I'm 50 and, yep, engaged.  I'm still getting to know this man I've met so recently and so spontaneously decided to marry; this decision wasn't one that was years in the making, this time it's been a matter of weeks.  Does it make it a bad decision?  No, there are no bad decisions.  Is it an interesting journey, living with and getting to know your fiance, rather than thinking you know him properly first and then deciding to marry?  Oh you betcha.  It's so much more fun!

Said fiance slept his way through the movie last night, which was just as it should be, because I needed to absorb it in my own time and space, albeit with a strong but comfy arm wrapped around me while I soaked it all in.  It was heaven, even the anxious moments where the camels took off, and the awful moment where Diggity's day was done.  It was a story so real, and so old and familiar to me, that I was right there in that desert with that lone lunatic; I'm following every track she made in those sweeping desert sands, in fact I could feel the prickly saltbush and had an even drier mouth, because I did not get up off that couch once to get a drink.  And it's a damn long movie.  And when she reached the ocean at the end of it, and swam with her camels and without her dog, I had the salty tears to make the whole experience complete.

A restless night's sleep followed, and this morning I couldn't wait to go out to my office and put my hands on The Book.  I knew exactly where it was too.  It was waiting for me.  I brought it inside the house, made a coffee, and started venturing back into that desert, slowly turning the glossy pages, soaking up her words that were of another age, that were of a time when women still felt cheated or trapped in some ways, but where this most adventurous soul decided she was actually going to do something about it.

A piece of paper, brown with age, dog eared its way out of the book, and I pulled on it with idle curiosity.  Is it book-marking something?  I'll never know, because it's not mine.  But there's some of my deceased mother's handwriting on it.  Looking closer at it, and with keen interest now, I see it's not actually writing, but numbers, written in her very distinctive hand.  Six numbers.  Two supplementary numbers.  It's Tattslotto numbers, that's what it is.  From my mother to me.  I was always going to find this one day, whenever I was meant to.  Did it take the film makers to make the movie, for me to watch that movie, so I'd go and revisit that old adventure again, this book I hadn't opened in at least a decade and maybe more; a book I might not have reopened for another decade, or maybe never?  I think we will leave that question to float out there on the ether, because I sure as hell can't answer it.

I showed my man the piece of paper, and of course his reaction was we have to put a Tattslotto ticket on.  It was my first reaction also.  On reflection, I'm not so sure.  I think that piece of paper had a much more profound impact in just being there.  It reminded me of my Mum, and how she loved adventures, and how much we both loved this story.  She and I certainly shared a few together; she was then in her 60s and me in my late 20s, and some of them in the wild Western Australian gorges that this book is also about.  It also reminded me that life is short, time's a-tickin', Mum has left the building some eight years now, and those aforementioned Winds of Change are picking up momentum...

I had a call from The Man about half an hour after he'd left to go to work this morning.  "You might think I'm crazy, but...." (words I've been waiting to hear from this soulmate of mine, because I just knew he had it in him, because that's why he's my soulmate!) ... and my reply?  "Let's do it."  A bit like our engagement cake a few weeks ago (after a courtship of only some weeks' duration) that had the Nike tick on it and a "just do it".

So... What are we doing? .................*
When are we doing it? ............. soonest!
Why? .................. why ever not......?
* insert dreams and/or imagination!



" The most difficult thing has always been the decision to act; the rest is mere tenacity.  And the fears are just paper tigers.  One really can do anything one has decided to do, whether it's changing a job, moving to a new place, divorcing a husband or whatever.  One really can act to change and control one's life; and the procedure and the process is its own reward.  Just do it"
 - Robyn Davidson (thank you) & CazHow Xxxx

The Power of Now!

As long as six months ago, actually around the time my life's energy and focus really began to shift, a book kept being pushed gently into my consciousness by a number of different people I ran across in my day to day business.  "Have you read The Power of Now?"  "You must read The Power Of Now."  "This book changed my life.. have you read it?  It's called..."  Yeah, yeah, that Power of Now book, that I'd never heard of in nearly half a century on the planet, but which now the Universe has clearly decided it's my turn to absorb.

I decided I didn't want to buy it to add to my self help book collection.  I already own one or two, oh, thousand that is.  So it was easy enough to punch it up on our local library website.  Two copies, both out, both with reserves on them.  That's OK, no rush.  I hit the reserve button, thereby consigning the reading of said book to whatever date in the future it became available to me, and promptly forgot about it, reassured I'd done my bit.

But still, that damn book kept popping into conversations all around me!  Until just as I'd reached total frustration point, and was about to get on to Ebay and buy a copy to end the angst of "not knowing" (after my best friend happened to mention that she'd bought her ex-partner a copy of... guess what... yep!) when suddenly, an email arrived to tell me that My Book Was Ready for Collection.  Phew!  So I shot off down to the library and fetched the musty smelling, dog eared critter.  I could feel a sense of excitement even looking at the nondescript cover. The book fairly pulsated with promise.  What on earth could be in there that was so amazing?  And of course I couldn't wait to get started, but I knew just from the vibrations I was feeling that this was not going to be a quick flick, a speed read.  This was going to take some TIME.  I was going to have to absorb this one, word by word, paragraph by paragraph.  I was going to marinate my psyche in this creation and come out the other side a changed entity.  I just knew it.

I've now come to experience Eckhart Tolle's Power of Now.  I've joined the ranks of the enlightened.  We're like a little secret society, except not so secret because it turns out an awful lot of the planet has read this little gem.  Did it resonate with them all?  I sincerely doubt it.  Did it smack people between the eyes who were free and ready for its contents and deceptively simple message?  No doubt at all.

I could not have read this book even a year ago.  I could not have read it, and as for absorbing any of it, or even wanting to for that matter... I would have tried the first few pages, started skimming, then piffed it.  Actually I wouldn't even have got that far.  I would have picked it up at the library, read the first paragraph or so, and decided I didn't need to go any further; it wasn't for Me.  Then.

So.. the Power of Now...  The world makes sense.  The piece of the puzzle I've been missing all my life.  Key to Past, Present and Future.  Scrap that.  Key to Now, which is all that ever matters.  Because the past back then was Now, and the future doesn't exist until it becomes Now.  If you can live by this mantra, nothing from your past can ever affect you (because it's not now, where you now live your truth!) and nothing from the future can ever worry you (because it doesn't exist until it becomes Now).  So when you choose to dwell solely in the Now, there is nothing to focus on except Being.  Being is peaceful, unworried, untroubled.  It is the projecting backwards and forwards from here that causes us so much mind chatter, so much worry, and ultimately so much pain.

When do we cease being  "in the moment"?

 It's when we are elsewhere.  We are thinking about past wrongs, past things we might have done, or others have done.  Or we are looking into the future, worrying about what people will do, what we will do, how much money we're going to have (or not have!) and how we're going to cope or change or what we're going to do or see or buy, or what's going to happen to us.  As if we know anyway.

When we are operating on a thinking level, we are no longer merely Being.  We are often doing what's in the previous paragraph.  And suddenly there is no peace, because we are having anxiety and angst.  The thinking brain then obliges us yet further, and instigates emotions which attach to those thoughts, which create a whole raft of uncertainty and often a lot of pain.  We are reliving the past, we are imagining the future, and worrying about it.. and we are anywhere but in our Now.

Would you like to explore the Now?  It's my favorite place to hang out these days.  You do?  OK, deep breath... listen up..

I want you to go out of your mind (not literally of course!).  But I want you to strip away your thinking, to what lies beneath... So let's just Be. 

Don't worry about imagining lying on a beach or that sort of mumbo jumbo.  I can tell you from personal experience when I've tried that, I'd be lying there tensely, eyes tight shut, fists unknowingly clenched (so hard I'd be concentrating) dredging up images of palm trees and blue sky.. and damn if I wasn't THINKING about those things in trying to make the unthinkingness happen... totally defeats the purpose here....

So what is there, in your Now, when there's no thought going on?

Nothing.  A void, a silence, peace.  There is no endless "mind chatter," because here you've gone beneath the level of thinking, to your very core layer.  This is called being "in the now" or "in the present."

There is no pain in the Now.  There are no negative feelings in the Now.  All that bad stuff flows from the unconscious prattle of what we like to think of as "productive thinking" or on the flip side, the worrying that goes on in our heads, all day and every day.  And I guess many people never realise how counterproductive to your peace and happiness this sort of torture is, or that it isn't necessary or even helpful!  From that ceaseless thinking, flows emotion.. and emotion is what causes us to feel a certain way, both positive and negative, but unfortunately quite often negative.  It is emotion that has been spawned from one's thoughts, either positive or negative.. but never from the core self.  It therefore follows that your thoughts create your feelings.  Once you lose that mind chatter, life is suddenly tranquil and easy.

An example?  I used to think about an ex-partner. A lot!  I would relive the relationship, wonder why it couldn't have worked, what I didn't do, what I should've done, and think how much I missed him and all the reasons I thought I did.  From those thoughts (all regarding the past of course) would spring emotions: sadness, loss, emptiness, disappointment, longing for what was.  Suddenly I'd feel like I could easily burst into tears from the pain!  And worse still, I'd want to ACT on that pain!  Make it go away by either (a) trying to contact him, (b) distract myself, often by doing something unhelpful, or (c) obliterate the pain with some sort of substance, to give me at least some temporary relief.  Yet nothing had changed from five minutes ago; it was only my thoughts creating all this emotion, and out of the PAST for heaven's sake.  This wasn't my Now.

Similarly (and because I'm such a versatile sorta gal and am so unilaterally talented of course) I could project into the future on the same topic: Will he ever come back?  Will he ever contact me again?  Does he even miss me?  Who is he with?  What is he doing?  Is he suffering the way I am?  Err.. I doubt it!!
Oh, and yes, here comes the emotion and associated pain that loves to ride shotgun with those thoughts of the Future That Will Never Be... yep, my old mates Loss, Disappointment, Angst, Bereft & Co., come to torture me once again.  Damn, if only I'd not gone there and just stayed in the Now!

The Now is the ONLY place, once you find it and embrace it, that you ever want to be or will ever need to be.  It's that incredibly, beautifully simple!

I lived nearly my whole life incessantly thinking, evaluating, judging, planning..  Doh!  I'm a "thinking woman."  This is to be admired, I always thought.  And so did others!  Whilst never admired for my great beauty (damn it Janet!) I've always received compliments on my cerebral abilities.  And I took them.  Hell, a compliment is a compliment, and especially when you're no spring chicken anymore, compliments can be thin on the ground.

Thinking is really another word for trying to maintain control, or get control of something or somebody.  It's your ego, and oh it does love to be in charge! 

Think that one over....!

So... picture this.  As we move through life, and perceive that we can't seem to get control of our lives (listening to our mind chatter here again), and thereby causing the emotion of "I'm a big fat failure at this game called Life" many of us then move one step further on from thinking (because we can no longer bear our thoughts which make us feel this bad) and into something truly destructive, in order to squash/smother/kill those thoughts, and of course the emotion that attaches to them.  We don't want to feel that pain anymore, that agony of not being able to sort ourselves out, take control or whatever.  So we anaesthesise our thinking brain with a substance like alcohol, drugs, food, cigarettes, or even actions such as compulsive shopping, spending, travel, tattooing, piercing, cutting - anything to blanket the pain.

(I might add, I love to travel and shop, and also am known to imbibe the odd lager.  Can I make the distinction here that when you're doing these things out of a sheer joy of being, rather than trying to blot out and squash your misery or loneliness or boredom or whatever, there is a massive difference - the latter being that if you're doing these things negatively, they've become a compulsion, and often one you can't afford because they are indulged in so incessantly... which again adds to the doom and gloom because now your financial status is yet another problem you can't seem to get any sort of grip on!)

Before anyone thinks I better dismount from my lofty horse, I'll also assure you that I have drank myself into a coma, and quite regularly, for many, many years... and it affected me in every way possible, including financial, and never ever in a positive way.  The reason I did that?  I used to overthink about, oh, everything... and could never solve anything on that level, and in the end it was instant gratification to blot it out, if only for a little while.  It was only my deep seated fear of becoming alcoholic, having grown up with a raging example of why that wasn't a road I wanted to tread, thank you very much, that prevented me from thinking my way into a serious addiction.

So, where to Now?  I'm in my Now, writing this post.  For me, and for you.  The reason?  I'm wanting to share the simple joy of being.  That's first and foremost.  I'm hoping to fold this powerful message up inside my own prose, for my own future safekeeping, but also that it might resonate in a most simple, beautiful and profound way for You, my reader, whoever you may be; perhaps giving you the gift of a shortcut into the joy of the Now.... where there is no time, no past and no future.  Man, I love this road!

“Life isn't as serious as the mind makes it out to be.”
― Eckhart Tolle

Plastic Surgery: A Quick Fix ?

I was reading an interesting thread on Facebook this afternoon, following on from a post by a sunshine coast woman asking for a good plastic surgeon so she could get herself fitted with a nice new rack...

This didn't greatly surprise me; but what did truly shock me was the frenzy of replies, mostly from very knowledgeable devotees of all things surgical, in the name of perfection.  There followed details of a flurry of surgeons, operators, back-yarders, even some from other parts of this country, as well as, of course, good old Thailand (Destination Beauty apparently).

The general consensus is a new set of tits will set you back about 10K, the works (tits, tummy tuck and lipo) is 15K, but if you're not that financially abundant, there are lots of other things you can do to yourself, such as the botox, the fillers, collagen implants, chemical peels and heaven knows what else.  Also if you go for any of these minor league players, you have to be careful never to smoke or to drink through a straw, because the lines come right back!  See, I learnt something!

There was also debate about arm tucks to get rid of batwings, collagen injections, lots of errant noses, frown lines (hmm I'm frowning now, oops) and lips that simply aren't fat enough, but for what, I don't know, maybe to hide those imperfect teeth.  Hmm, are there any cosmetic dentists reading this?

I threw a couple of well timed posts in there regarding caution (mainly as a cure for death and disfigurement) and acceptance of one's looks as a first port of call... and well, let's just say I was the proverbial salmon swimming upstream against a veritable downpour of carp (with big lips of course!).  I was howled down, derided, castigated, and asked to exit stage left.  Which of course, I did.

Interestingly, my posts attracted a frenzy of Likes as well... hmm maybe they just liked the drama.

Ah, all in a day's work!

I have concerns about a world where plastic surgery is flicked around as commonly as eating a bar of chocolate, and with as little danger.  Of course it has its place in certain medical situations.  But is it just another excuse for a new "addiction" - like we don't have enough already - because after all, women rarely seem to stop at one procedure, and are actively encouraged to get the "deluxe package," all in the name of finding that confidence and self esteem which seems to elude them from the inside, which really is the only place one is ever going to find any, if they but knew.  Sometimes you can't see the sky for the trees.  As for knowing when enough is enough.....just ask Jocelyn and Pammy....

You've sort of got to wonder: these two women can afford the best surgeons money can buy too...
 enough said.  This is getting boring now.  I'm off to chisel my nose and wallpaper my breasts, and then I'm going outside to start on the dog's kneecaps (payback!) :-)

Cheers xxx

Queen For A Day!

I had an enormous (exciting) shock earlier in the week, when I received a phone call from a lady named Kym, telling me I had won a full day pamper package competition that I had entered into on Facebook quite a few weeks ago, and had totally forgotten about.  Not that I enter many competitions, mind you.  I'm one of those poor sods who simply doesn't win things, these days as much from the fact I don't enter hardly any competitions.. after all, one can only handle so much disappointment!  But this particular entry was a special one that I simply couldn't let slip by, and it was all to do with the timing of it.  OK, the pampering ran a close second.

The winner of the competition would receive a full day's pampering and indulgence on 5 December.  That was the clincher.  Because 5 December to me personally means a hell of a lot of things.  It's my mother's birthday.  And then it's the day my mother passed away in a car accident.  Miserable memories, happy memories, and seven years of coping with this particular day each year as it rolled around inexorably, as it does.  So before Mum passed away, it had always been a lovely day to spend with her, to take her out, to indulge in good food and laughs, and then watch her get tipsy on the tiny bit of wine it took.  Fun times.

The last seven years has been about remembering the things we can longer do, and longing to have another dream of her (I've had two since she died, both very memorable and real).  Mother's Day is sort of similar, and I deal with that by being in the ocean because nature heals all.  But the day she was born and the day she also died - well, that's more personal, and also harder to deal with.  I still go to the beach, and always cry a bit.  I try and keep busy as well.  And I'm always glad when the day is done, for another year.  I'm not sure if Mum was being considerate by dying on the same day she was born, but it does give me one less memorial date to suffer through in the calendar year.  Thanks Mum.  It certainly makes you very unique, but we knew that!

So this year was now going to be different, because how I would spend the day would be radically different.  In fact, I'd never ever spent a whole day like that, ever!.  So of course it's worthy of a good blog, so here it is!

I work up early as usual, showered, and defuzzed my legs even more than usual, because I didn't want the poor masseuse combing through my hairy legs with her fingernails.  OK, I'm not that bad.  So I combed my wet hair, looked in the mirror at my almost half a century year old face, and wondered what on earth anyone can do with that!  Well, I was about to see.  So I didn't bother with makeup, knowing the facial was going to be taking it all off anyway, and not that I wear much at all anyhow.  It's just too damn hot here, and plus I'm always in the water.  My skin has the texture of an expensive handbag these days, and all is right in my world, hehehe

I felt I should wear a dress for the photo shoot which would happen at the end of the day, because I'd apparently be looking so glam and so unlike myself, I might as well go the whole hog and not be myself... So I slipped on a dress I'd had for a little while and never worn, and then tried to get used to the idea.  I almost got there.. and then my daughter woke up and glanced at me as she was walking to the bathroom.  "Oh... what's that?" with a disinterested sideways glance, and then she disappeared.  I called a little anxiously after her, "It's a dress, honey.  What do you think?"  No answer.  "What do you think?"  Still no answer.  Sigh.  I go back to the mirror and look at myself searchingly.  I see a woman who's no longer young.  Scrap that.  A woman who no longer LOOKS young.  Raggedy looking wet hair dripping down my neck, a non descript blonde with dark roots.  Well I hope they're dark.  They're probably grey.

The dress is colourful and cheery, and makes me look, to my way of thinking, quite the opposite.  I don't think it's going to get a run today.  Then Nicolle emerges again, glances at me and says, "Are you gonna wear that?"  I guess that, as one would say, was my A-ha moment.  A-ha, this dress looks crap on me.  I glance at my watch; 15 minutes before I need to leave.  Just enough time, I'm thinking, as the dress gets pulled over my head and thrown into a corner, and I reach for something more "Me."

This turns out to be a pair of 3/4 length pants in a dark khaki, a white singlet top with a black lacy overtop, and my clunky black sandals.  A-ha.  Better.  No makeup or hair to do, so I simply grab my bag that I'd prepared earlier, and flee out the door before Nicolle can say anything else to have me doing another costume change, but this time with only 5 minutes to go.  I'm on my way!

My first stop is at Sunshine Beach, a little cafe called The Deck.  My host Kym is there, and she's looking very polished in a navy dress with white polka dots (why do they called them polka dots anyway, why not just dots for heaven's sake; and why do I wonder about such stupid shit anyway!) and she's wearing red patent shoes which look really funky to walk in, and a matching red belt.  She's beautifully made up and groomed, and I of course am not.  And I know she is the lady I am meeting, by the big red basket sitting on the table beside her, resplendent with interesting looking girly gifts.  It can only be her, and I guess that basket can only be for me!  I can feel a big grin already splitting my face wide open; I'm feeling like the kid in the candy store already.

So we sit down, order our coffees, and start chatting.  Kym is very easy to talk to, and we natter away easily, and enjoy those delicious aromatic coffees on that sunny big deck overlooking the park, with the waves of Sunshine Beach foaming away just beyond.  It's a lovely spot, and it's already quite warm.  A year ago, I would have been quite intimidated by meeting someone who looked so professional and polished, being the diamond in the rough that I am.  But it's amazing how different it is when you're operating from a positive mind space, because suddenly there are no limits as to what you can do, or who you can relate to!  It didn't hurt too that Kym was very down to earth, and great fun!

After running through the agenda for the day, and inspecting that glorious basket (mmm there's even chocolates in there) it's time to get to my first appointment, which is with Melanie at Sunrise Beauty.  Melanie operates a home business, and she greets us at the door of her sunny townhouse with a big friendly smile and greeting.  She then leads me into her treatment room, which is warmly decorated in sunny tones, and is quite the prettiest  massage venue I've ever attended.  It's time to strip off and envelop myself in those big fluffy towels, and then she comes back in and starts the massage.  We chat a little, and it's great.  Not an annoying endless stream of mindless conversation to fill a silent space, or any stony silences.  There's lovely relaxing music in the background, and I feel myself sinking further and further into sublime bliss as the massage goes on.  After a while, it's time to flip over, and we gradually slip into the facial part of the treatment.  Melanie tells me what she's using at each phase, but I'm off with the fairies by now, and can only tell you there was a bamboo scrubby something or other, not its technical title by the way!   In between waiting for masks to set and the like, she's giving me head massages or other attentions.  At no time did she apply something and then just wander off while I lay there waiting; she kept the momentum going, and even somehow managed to slip in a new set of eyebrows for me!

So after enjoying over two hours with her, and feeling incredibly soft and silky and totally rejuvenated, Kym was back to take me on to our next adventure, which was the Rose Room Cafe on the Noosa River for lunch, and to meet with my stylist, Amanda, for a consultation on, well, style (or my lack thereof!).

We were greeted by Amanda from iAM Styling on the deck of the Rose Room, and she looked very smiley and welcoming and, well, stylish... and after a couple of photos, it was time to sit down, order up, and then start talking - you guessed it - styling!

After a quick fun quiz on my style savvy, it was confirmed that I was a "comfy" dresser who was also a bit "eclectic".  Hmm, must be that funky zebra skin thingy I bought the other week that's tipped me over from plain boring to borderline interesting, but anyhow it saved me from the scarily dull label of Mrs Comfy Dresser. But the whole thing was so much fun, laughs, and even some useful tips that I took away with me.  I now know how to focus people's attention on the bits I want them to notice.  OK, the zebra skin thingy might get a run yet, cos you sure can't help noticing that!

Amanda and I also had a giggle about the fact that she was wearing a dress but had almost worn 3/4 length pants and a singlet top, but changed her mind at the last minute and put on the dress... while I did the exact opposite.  Her dress was very similar to the dress I hadn't worn.  It was obviously the Universe's way of ensuring we didn't get confused, and start fighting over who was in fact the stylist.

The food at the Rose Room was divine, as was the pineapple punch.  The chocolate brownie that we shared was to die for, and its creator Deb came up and gave me a big congratulatory hug for winning a competition that she originally brought to my attention on Facebook.  It takes a lovely soul to do that, and I hope she remembers me for her next batch of brownies, because they truly are the best I've ever had!  Thanks Deb!

While I was eating and styling away with Amanda, Kym my lovely hostess was off checking out the parking situation, and making sure I didn't score a parking ticket to dampen my joy.  Nothing was too much trouble for her, and the hardest thing for me was just to thank, and accept, accept, accept today... whew!  She then came back and made sure we placed my car in the right spot for the afternoon session, which would be what turned out to be a long haul at the hairdressers for cut, colour and full makeup.  This wasn't going to be a minor service; this was a damn overhaul!

We arrived at River Terrace Hair Studio also on the Noosa River, a very funky upstairs salon with a very charming view straight across to the water.  I was introduced to Lisa and her daughter Emma, and then after a little bit of discussion and clever guidance from Lisa, the old tired locks started to fall.. and fall.. and fall.  There was way more hair on the floor than on my head, and oh it felt good!  Then my hair was washed and dried, and you could see how good the style was going to look, even before the colour.  And then I had roughly 176,549 foils applied to my head, ok maybe not quite that many, then got to sit under what looked like a spaceship orbiting around my head (but which was in fact a dryer) and then it was time to wash it all away, and dry and style and fluff me into the incredibly pampered creature I was fast becoming...

Meanwhile my photographer Melanie McNiven had arrived, and she ended up having to wait for quite some time while I was fluffed and buffed, and whilst Emma then worked her makeup magic on me.  The end result was a very natural but polished look.  Meg Ryan I wasn't, but I sure liked what I was seeing!

The next and final thing to do was get some great photography happening down on the riverfront, and then I really felt like I was getting the star treatment, playing up to the camera, and enjoying lots of different locations along the river.  My lovely friend Denise had come to the hair salon, so she joined in with the photography fun along the river, and we even managed a besties shot that I'll treasure forever... and it was then time to say farewell to the wonderful Kym who had made this day possible for me, and also to Melanie our very creative photographer.  I'd been rubbed and buffed and preened and fluffed, and now it was time to fly the coop for an exciting evening.  My day wasn't over yet!

Denise then drove me down to main beach for the sunset, after stopping on the way to collect a cool six pack of my favorite, and we then walked over towards Little Cove beach where I'd scattered Mum's remaining ashes some months ago now, and there we cracked open beers, enjoyed a breathtaking sunset, and drank to my amazing and gorgeous mother, who would have been out enjoying the waves, just as she always did in life.  Here's to you, Mum! And here's to the most beautiful soul restoring place on this planet, that we are so lucky to enjoy each and every day of our lives here, and here's to the most amazing friends that I'm so privileged to have in my life, both here today and elsewhere.  Cheers, cheers, cheers!

And still my day's not over yet!

After picking up my car down at the river, I collected my daughter some dinner (not one drive-thru takeaway, but two, as my girl deserved a Mackers frappe with her Red Rooster chicken of course) and then went home to deliver said dinner, freshen up (not that I needed too much of that!) and then I was being whisked away to a gorgeous steak and seafood dinner back down on the river with my special friend, Vic, who carefully told me how gorgeous and young I looked (carefully because as he said, it's always dangerous telling women they look better and younger, in case they then feel that previously they looked older and worse!)  Dinner was stunning, and I felt stunning..and incredibly spoilt!  And then it was down to Hastings Street for some Nitrogenie ice cream to finish off with, and admire the incredible light show that Noosa has put on this year for us all to enjoy.  OK, we even stopped to take photos like a pair of awestruck tourists, because it just begged for that.  Then it was time to head home, and call it a day...

Just because you've not spoilt yourself in years, doesn't mean you ought never do it.  And just because someone you love has passed on, doesn't make them dead.  They still live in your memory, and in a thousand little visions and insights you have, especially on these sorts of days.  My mother was alive in every ripple in that ocean, with the sun setting across Laguna Bay, to the tune of a funky pink and golden speckled sky.  Mum was saying to me I deserved this day.  So did all those nearest and dearest to me.  So I'm going to accept that for myself, not just for this day, but going forward, and from hereon I declare 5 December to be a most special day on my calendar, one which is going to be filled with great things, good cheer, and much happiness.  It started with this day.  The path is always there, sometimes you just need an angel guiding you in the best way forward.

My heartfelt gratitude to Kym, genius and shareshop extraordinnaire, and all round amazing person, with the coolest red shoes ever!  Thank you to Melanie of Sunrise Hair and Beauty, you reawakened the joys of being spoilt again in a person who'd truly forgotten that side of things.  I'll be back to see you soon, with daughter in tow!  Thank you to Amanda of iAM Styling, such a fun lunch filled with clever styling tips, and thanks for sharing your brownie with me too, glad I could help! To the crew at Noosa Terrace Hair Studio, Lisa and Emma, you both rock, and so does your studio!  To Melanie McNiven, guru of all things photographic, thank you for the fun and inventive shoot, I really was queen for a day!  And to my dearest buddy Denise, what more can I say but I love you more than any words here are ever going to express, you know it, and we get to live the dream up here together every day of our lives and are truly blessed.  To my gorgeous dream child Nicolle, love you most of all, and thank you for your very un-teenage patience on this, my ultimate indulgence day, and especially going into the evening as well, so I could end the day by enjoying a lovely dinner with a very special man.. Vic, thank you for joining in making this day so perfectly wonderful!

Lastly thank you Noosa, for being that special magical place we call home Xooxxx

Volunteering Pets For Life Program

It's funny how there is a shift in our priorities as we get older.  When I was in my 20s or 30s, volunteering was something that seemed almost for the clinically insane.  What?  You devote your precious time to working for nothing??  No matter what the cause or how worthy it might be, it's all about that money, honey!  Volunteering is for people who can't get a REAL job!

Or so I thought...

I had been pondering the idea of volunteering for some time now.  And yes, I am gainfully employed, and my hours are indeed short.  Especially since I moved to Noosa, because there is always something exciting to do around here, and all year round at that.  But I guess I feel so privileged to live in a place like this, when so few can and do, that the pressing to "give something back" has gone from a silent little murmur of someday, to an insistent scream of Do It, and Now!

I guess it's simple.  When you're operating from a happy place in your life, you can't help but want to give something back!  It's a great position and mindset to be in.

So here I am.  As usual, in just about everything I do these days, I allow the Universe to show me the way.  Because I find that since I started living this philosophy, it always does do just that.  What I'm not meant to do, doesn't present itself no matter how hard I push at it.  And what I'm meant to do, just slips on to my radar, presents itself, I follow and explore it a little way, and then it becomes solid, possible, meaningful, and clearly my next path and adventure.

So it was with Pets For Life.

An article in our local paper quite a few weeks ago now about this program, had me jumping straight for the phone, before I could tear out the article and put it somewhere on my desk "to do" even.  I just did it.  Picked up the phone.  Talked to a lovely lady named Jodie.  Arranged an appointment to chat about it.  Chat we did.  Sign up I did.  And yesterday I had my first training day which was at the Sunshine Coast Animal Refuge at Sippy Creek.

I whizzed the 50Ks or so in my open top black toy car, the Cazhowmobile, which is like driving a very fast slot car, so tiny it is, and yet so insistently fast!  The sun was blazing.  It was going to be a hot one, 31 they said.  And it's only the 10th day of Spring.  I was sunscreened up, lip balmed, hatted, and so damn alive!  And I was there in no time!

The place is set out on acreage just off the Bruce Highway, and one of the first things that struck me were the gardens, tropical, vibrant, alive with scent and colour.  Gorgeous parrots doing their raucous morning shenanigans.  And the dogs.  Barking, barking, barking!  But it wasn't a sad place, like many of these types of places are.  It felt positive, energetic, happy.  Possibly because I, and as it turned out, MANY others, were there to do a very positive thing.

There were about 30 of us, from all walks of life.  Many were older, had the time on their hands, so to speak.  None the less worthy, because here they are, wanting to make a difference.  And there were those like me, still working, but wanting to do the same.  There were a few that weren't able to work a "real job" for whatever reason, beautiful souls who also wanted to make a difference to our wonderful world.

The morning sped by.  After we had been name tagged, introduced to each other and to our course conveners, we started with a dog handling session with Abby, who turned out to be the Guru of All Creatures Canine.  In fact I'd go one further, with her attitude and zest and joy, I don't think there would be much she couldn't handle.  She showed us dog behaviours, body language, and teaching the dogs in a kindly but no-nonsense way that we could all understand readily.  She chose her "victims" from the pool of doggies at that shelter, specifically selected her actors to play certain roles and display certain behaviours, so we could see firsthand what a dog looks like when he's just curious, alert, stressed, passive, submissive, or simply ready to tear you limb from limb!  The four-legged "actors" did role play together, only for them it wasn't role play; they were simply following their doggy instincts.  It was Abby's job to show us all how to manage and control the controllable. It was a fascinating education that I felt so privileged to be a part of.

Having taken dogs to puppy school in the past, even had a "dog whisperer" come to our house to deal with our "problem dog" I can categorically say that the world at large has it entirely wrong with regard to our glorious pooches.  There are no problem dogs.  There are problem owners who create them.  And they can also be uncreated.  You just have to know the right way.

Following on from that, we did a tour of the shelter with Jodie.  Despite her asking us to stick together and listen, of course there are always some randoms who can't, but I just couldn't get enough of what these amazing people had to tell me.  I literally followed her around (like a dog!) and waited for more!

There were all sorts of dogs there of course, in all types of enclosures.  Runs, bigger runs, huge shady yards filled with toys.  Happy, well kept dogs.  I didn't see or smell even a dog turd anywhere.  Volunteers, walking, playing, training dogs in the runs.  Everyone smiling.  Those dogs looked happier to be there than most I have seen in life.  There was lots of building going on, for new runs, new extensions.  A new vet area.  A special "surrender" area with its own entrance, so people having to relinquish their much loved pets for their own sad situations, could have some privacy when doing so, and not be judged by anybody.

No dogs are ever put down at this glorious Doggy Heaven; the only exception being if they are ill and cannot be saved, or are in pain.  All dogs are worked with, retrained, cared for.  They are first vaccinated, desexed, microchipped, and then the repair process begins.  They start off with the best food money can buy, to give them a great start and get them healthy.  Many arrive in a run down condition, as roughly 70% that come into the shelter are unclaimed.  The other 30% are surrender animals who at least have a history, and are generally in better condition.  But all dogs receive that caring start on the road to a new furever home.  Dogs come in who have been tortured, or who have brain injuries.  Like Misty, a gorgeous white but big bitza pup, who was doing her weird cantering and head twirling action which resulted from some sort of neurological disorder, Jodie told us.  She was being worked with by her handlers and the vets, who are hoping to resolve her condition and find a lovely special home for her.  For a very special doggy.

The fact that these animals are valued, worked with, cared for, each and every one of them, and not purely a number on death row with time and life ticking away for them, speaks volumes about why the place feels so very positive and is a joy to be there, and part of.  I think of some of the dreary soulless and hopeless places that I had visited in my time in Melbourne, when the dogs looked at you with dead eyes, shivering on cold wet concrete, stepping in their faeces, howling their last few days away.  And I know the people who work in those shelters are also caring souls who do their very best.  But you come away from those places feeling very, very sad for all the animals you can't "save."

These dogs are already saved.  In fact, one dog, a big golden lab X, Brandy, has been back there three times, simply because she hasn't been able to settle anywhere else but at that shelter!  She has lived there on and off for two and a half years now, is a shelter pet, and is smiling at us from ear to ear.  Bless her little doggy heart!

Following on from that, we did the "human handling component" which involved talking about the participants in the scheme, what our role as volunteers is, and how to manage the human behaviour which arises as a result of what we're doing.  Interesting talk about boundaries and how to set them, and what we are wanting to create in our new and very important roles.  We also covered the uglies of administration matters, insurances, and I guess in our litigious society, that one is a no-brainer.  Even so far as what to do if a participant dies, or their pet dies, or we do!  Well, that last one is pretty easy.

There was then a glorious lunch (following on from the lovely morning tea which was real coffee and tea, Arnotts cream biscuits and a lovely fruit selection for the more healthily inclined - which just happens to be ME these days.  (But on this occasion I gave the biccies a run instead).  Lunch was the most amazing breads, spreads and dips, lots of cold meats, salads, sundried tomatoes, and one of the best fresh fruit salads I've seen in years, and which I had to keep going back for more.  It didn't matter; there was enough to feed about 100 rather than 30.  Then as a parting gift, we were asked to line up, and we received more paperwork, a Pets For Life baseball cap (cool as!) and a $20 fuel card for taking the time to come and spend the best morning I've had in ages.  It truly was the icing on the best cake I've not eaten in years!

And I just can't wait to get started!

Pets For Life is a volunteer program which was started four years ago on the Sunshine Coast, in conjunction with the animal shelter, when it was noted that many of the surrendered animal incidents were occurring because the elderly could no longer care for their beloved pets properly in their own homes.   This is a shattering and tragic reality for those in our world who are elderly and virtually alone, bar for their precious pets, when their health starts to fail and they then must relinquish their pet.  Generally these people don't last long after that, and if they do, their soul has died in the process anyway.  So a Pets For Life volunteer, having been trained up in managing dogs (and their owners to some extent) will visit an elderly person in their home at agreed times per week, walk their dog, help them with their animal, whether it be feeding, grooming, washing the dog, brushing the cat, cleaning a litter tray or a birdcage.  Whatever it takes to keep the animal safe and cared for, and the owner confident that their animal is still being looked after properly.  In the process of course, there is a cup of tea with the owner perhaps and a chat, which helps keeps the elderly person who may be very isolated, connected to our society, and their further needs can be identified by their volunteer, and help sourced for them through our facilitators.  It's just a no-brainer!  It keeps the elderly and their pets together, keeps more pets out of shelters, and gives the elderly a caring connection to the world.

The program which started at the southern end of the sunny coast, has now spread all the way up to the top end where I am, and hence my opportunity to be part of this fantastic group.  Oh yes please!!  It has now also received government funding to keep it going, and let's hope it can spread even further in the near future.

Thanks to Jodie for introducing me to the program, you rock!  Thanks to Abby for showing me that there really aren't incompatible dogs, just clueless owners who can learn, and then teach those dogs as well!  Tomas, thank you for making what would be the otherwise dull admin side of things an absolute scream of laughter from beginning to end.. and I don't think anyone wanted the morning to end!  And thanks to all the amazing people that keep that shelter rolling, because it gives us all, humans and dogs included, hopes of a better and happier world.

See you soon.  I'll be back for another training day soon (and for the free lunch of course, Tomas).  I'll be the chick with the crazy hair and the PFL hat! Xoxxx