It’s hard to think about…and harder to act perhaps

It’s hard to think about the fact that so many people in the world are in difficult, if not dangerous situations right this moment. It’s hard to think about people who have fled persecution and harm and are now locked away in detention by us, the lucky country people. It’s hard to think about the thousands of families grieving and distressed after senseless attacks of terrorism across the globe. It’s hard to think about individuals and families who have been effected by illness and death in the past year. It’s hard to think about children, women and men who have been frightened and abused by people whom they trusted. It’s hard to think about people waking up on Christmas morning after sleeping rough under a bridge or in a shopping mall doorway. It’s hard to think about kids who wake up to ‘no’ presents from Santa because they live in poverty.

Now I don’t want to be the ‘Christmas grouch’ or a ‘wet blanket’ but I just can’t ignore the state of our world anymore, even for Christmas. And yes, I intend to celebrate Christmas but not without a hefty awareness of the above issues and consideration about what I, we, our government can or should be doing. After all, we can’t hide from these serious issues because sooner or later the very same circumstances might arrive on our doorstep and effect our families and loved ones, if that isn’t already the case for some of us. To look after our future and the futures of our kids and their kids, I think that I / we have to act with good will and stand  against inequality, poor government decisions and intolerable world conditions that threaten the rights of the disadvantaged, small minorities and our broader communities.

Yep, difficult stuff is hard to think about…and harder to act against but I think the time is here…

Christmas tree

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Rosalie Ham and ‘The Dressmaker’

the-dressmakerToday I saw the film ‘The Dressmaker’ and I loved it. Quite a few years ago I read Rosalie Ham’s book ‘The Dressmaker’ and I loved that too. So I couldn’t wait to see this depiction on the big screen. Of course, the characters were wonderful and played to amazing perfection by a brilliant cast and the costumes and clothing were stunning. The quirky small town of Dungatar captured the essence of many other small Australian towns only with a good dose of extreme imagination thrown in to create an edgy atmosphere. Nothing detracted from the central story line and that’s what I loved about this film, the book had the same impact when I read it.

At a library talk a couple of years ago, I asked  Rosalie Ham how she had developed her sense of humour that almost borders on bizarre? She responded by talking about the observations she made as a kid living in country towns. Well I can relate to that, growing up in a small country town does result in knowing stories that are passed along from family to family or group to group. They may be true, have some truth, fabricated or  completely untrue.  It also occurs to me that humorous and tragic stories get their fair share of repeating and therefore often suffer the most from differing versions and judgements. Country towns are good at this, hence they provide wonderful material for story writing.

I remember when I first read ‘The Dressmaker’, some of my friends loved it but some quite disliked it. I suspect that the disliking may have been the bizarre edge that required a tolerance of the author ‘stretching the envelope’ just a bit. Maybe the movie has the advantage of a visual medium that utilises the bizarre bit by taking the best of the book and playing with the wonderful colourful characterisations.

However, a pleasing aspect of this film for me, was to witness the exciting success of a writer who took her experiences from country Australia and weaved them into a fascinating if not quirky first novel. Seems to me, for a writer it must be the ultimate compliment to have your novel turned into film. Excited for Rosalie Ham, a wonderful Australian writer.

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Stingray, no tail

mGZhveIHe points across my shoulder, my eyes follow arthritic fingers, knotted hand, brawny arm, then toward the weathered face, staring seaward

Old man knowing, showing, stingray, no tail, dark shadow, magnified blue water, jetty rotted crumbling

Childhood memories, seventy years before, sea, salt, fish in harbour, shallow water quickly drops to dark deep beyond, stretches ocean bound

A stingray moves close, seen by eager eyes that know the secrets of the sea, familiar landscape, yacht’s in distance, boats moored still

Seaweed, smelly fish in buckets, fresh ocean breeze wafts the shore, stingray moves beyond, deep blue beckons, the old man watches…

Stingray, no tail

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Trams in the distance

The noise, just enough to resonate within my brain,
then it’s gone

I don’t think about the tram until the sound repeats
seven minutes or even nine later
rumbling, clanging, scraping
familiar and comforting

The background noise
it comes and goes, a wave of consolation
portraying a world beyond
my window panes

I’m transported to the daily lives of suburban people
who move like ants across the metropolis
school kids with overstuffed backpacks
and exaggerated actions

Business men and women
neat and suited, to display their serious intent
older people, a day out, an appointment
not hurried but watching

Factory workers whose eyes hold no interest for anything but home
tired, they carry the daily shop in plastic bags
young people on I-phones, slouch at angles in their seats
jerkily they rise and they are off

The noise, just enough to resonate within my brain,
then it’s gone


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Do we take ourselves too seriously?

Recently at the funeral of a lovely ninety-three year old woman, I was particularly taken by one of the many beautiful, funny and endearing comments made about her. One of the things said about her was that she had ‘the ability to not take herself too seriously’ and she often advised others to do the same. This resulted in a life lived honestly, with humour and with a good sense of personal self and enjoyment. She was loved by her family, flourished in roles as parent, grand-parent and great grand-parent. She lived a simple life but a life that had meaning.

I thought about the comment for some time. I admire people who can live straight forward lives and be clear about where they stand on issues, big and small. I love to see people passionate about specific interests and pursue them with genuine enjoyment and fun.

Now I know the example I give is about someone who lived the majority of her life when perhaps, personal choices were less and times where more defined regarding employment, gender, social and economical opportunities. However,  when I listen to the stories and lives of our older generations, I can’t help but think that perhaps they had a few things right.  Not that for one moment, do I want to forgo the opportunities that my generation and my children’s cohort are experiencing but maybe, just maybe, there are lessons to be learnt about how to think about our lives and how we manage ourselves within these new and exciting if not demanding times.

So, when I heard the term ‘she didn’t take herself too seriously’ it struck a chord.  I could well afford to stop and think about that notion. Perhaps we are too tense, too worried, too anxious, too intent on getting what we want in life, too focused on appearing successful and on it goes. Somehow, when we pursue the above we inadvertently develop a seriousness that permeates all aspects of our lived experience, we lose the ability to be ourselves. When we take this course we forgo the joy of being able to enjoy simple things, to laugh at ourselves and to just be happy…perhaps. Anyway, from now I’m going to try to remember to loosen up, just a bit!


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Lazy days, well maybe not!

It’s slightly off-season in this beautiful seaside resort, only those with time to spare are here. The view from the third floor balcony is idyllic. Palm trees, lush green manicured gardens and then, as if that’s not enough, lapping at the edges of all of this, is the ocean. Waves break the shore in a monotonous but gratifying way, they lap the sand and send a frothy top that dissipates from the swell to the edge. Sounds of the sea, lazy, relaxing.

A man in his mid-sixties, maybe, sits staring seaward – sunglasses shield his eyes from the clear blue sky. He doesn’t look happy, he doesn’t look sad, he’s just sitting there on his balcony watching the ocean role. I watch him for a few minutes, off and on, to get a sense of his purpose, he doesn’t move and I lose interest.

A couple walk along the edge of the sand. She has thick white hair, sharply styled, his is grey and he’s semi-bald. The two look lean and fit and are dressed in long shorts to their knees. She has her collar fashionably turned upwards. As they saunter along I wonder what their day has in store…do they go back to one of the beautiful balconies and stare seaward also?

Two mature aged women sit on chairs watching the same thing that everyone else is watching, that is, whoever is walking or riding past. They chat occasionally, pick up their books, then chat again. One woman checks her watch from time to time. They look like they are having a lovely relaxed day. But, I have a sneaking suspicion they would like something to do, I could be wrong.

It’s quiet here. The sound of the waves are constant, representing the familiar association with company that never leaves. The well-appointed luxury apartments glimmer in the sun. Relaxing and lazy. There is a sort of silent rider saying ‘we have earned this.’

The sparkling blue pool sits splendid in full view of the spotless balconies with their sun lounges and fancy glass-topped tables and chairs. The pool is mostly untouched by activity. No kids squealing, jumping and calling. The families are elsewhere it seems. Their parents juggling work and the stress of daily life. They haven’t earned the ‘lazy life’ yet it seems. Yes, the pool adds to the aesthetic value,  calm and relaxed, you can do what you want, you can even swim! I watch, read and consider being the only person in the pool.

And just when the oldies outnumber everyone, along come two small boys – however, who is close behind them?…Gramps and Nana! The kids parents work and live in the area and the grandparents are visiting!

So, here I am in this wonderland of ‘something’. Nothing to worry me, nothing to distract me except at my own doing. I can choose to read, walk the beach, swim in the shiny pool, drink coffee or even open a bottle of wine. So, why do I find myself looking at these fabulous surroundings and thinking ‘what’s this all about?’

Maybe, just maybe it feels a little too good, too quiet, too lazy, too shiny, too clean and too wonderful! I may fit the age profile and have the time to take a bit of a holiday but there is something about doing nothing that scares me, just a bit.  And, doing it a with a whole lot of other people my age makes me a tad nervous.

So, no disrespect to the beautiful setting, the lovely apartments and the other folk my age, I just haven’t found the recipe to become a good lazy holiday candidate.  Maybe, I haven’t earned it yet!


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20150815_124037[1]Three cups of hot steaming tea

Three serious writers

Three unpublished manuscripts

Three glasses of cold chilled wine

Three hours later

Three writers laughing

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Letting go of toxic behaviour

There are some themes that just keep coming up for me. I hear people talking about the hurt in their lives. Well, they don’t actually name it as hurt, often as grievances they hold against others around them or toward people in their families.  Why do we hold firm to the things that in the past have been affronts to us? It’s as if we want the offending person to do the mending work and then that leaves us justified in being angry in the first place.

Being angry and offended by others is a way of keeping the hurt alive. In fact it’s a perfect way of never having to look at our own part in difficulties when things go wrong. Holding a firm position and taking a ‘holier than thou’ position is usually a sign that the issue will never be resolved. In fact, to hold this position is to assume that you are right and the other person is absolutely wrong. Nothing can be further from the truth.

20150501_155731The old saying about ‘there are always two sides to any story’ is, I believe a fair statement. In families for instance, there can be hugely differing views between how events were played out and who said what and who did what. Most of us have different perspectives to those around us relating to certain events and circumstances. Somewhere in the middle there is a position that may resemble reality, I suspect.

It’s how we manage these differences that matter. Generosity and goodwill play big roles in families being able to resolve matters that are upsetting or even have potential for family members to become estranged from each other. I think it’s fair to say that some families have greater capacity to work through tough times whilst other families have a fragility  or lack the will and generosity to put the more important aim of family harmony to the forefront. It’s well-known that some families and individuals have learned thematic behaviours that result in holding onto hurts which can result in certain family members being set aside and estranged.

Letting go or being able to loosen the ties to how many hurts are on the hurt list is a necessity to being able to move forward. The person who holds on to past differences is punishing themselves more than the family member they are cross with. Festering hurts and old grudges are poison to ongoing health and life happiness. We all know friends and relatives who live their lives complaining and degrading others in order to justify their own positions. Letting go of the toxic habit of holding grudge lists and resentments can free us from ongoing unhappiness. However, the will to do so, takes generosity and good will.

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Having a ‘Retro’ moment or two

A few days ago I visited a very clever person. This artistic woman had turned her home into a showroom for a range of retro furnishings  collected, restored and made by her.  I was immediately engaged with colour, style and the wonderful use of all things old, used and precious. Stacks of beautiful tartan blankets brought back to life through a clean, wash and comfort process. Tartan scarves from Scotland and England and mohair wraps lovingly returned to their splendour. Dinky stools covered in bright tartan fabric and matching cushions with big buttons. Little tables painted in striking and soft colours using a chalk paint technique. There were soft comforters from the fifties, colourful table cloths, framed prints and shaped lamps. Buttons, jewellery and carefully selected fashion books completed this wonderland of retro everything!

Then I realised why this collection was different.  It was of course, style. Yes, the style and finesse that accompanied the pieces and the putting together of the collection was the edge that made the difference. I have seen many displays of retro furnishings, fabrics and clothes but the pieces are often lost when completing with each other for attention. In fact, I think that some retro displays can border on being gaudy. Not this display, it was simply beautiful, right down to the tags explaining the item and the process used to collect, restore and invigorate each piece.


Needless to say, I didn’t come home empty-handed.  A couple of  ‘I can’t leave them behind’ items were loaded into my car with the help of a friend. Thanks Marion, you’re a marvel but most of all you are inspiring.

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Sometimes it takes a fellow writer to pass from this world in order to hear the story behind the person. Today, I heard a story about a wonderful woman, whom I am sorry to say, I didn’t know well enough. A fellow writer from a writer’s group I belong to, died suddenly after a very short illness.

At her funeral today, I was inspired by what I heard about her life. A story of strength, courage, intelligence, humanity and life long caring for others was uncovered. A life of action and determination to do what most of us would never hope to achieve in two lifetimes.

Work, study, family, marriage, children, divorce, writing, fostering, volunteering, knitting and a multitude of other life achievements.  She could, sing, act, write and discuss philosophy with the best of people. How is it that some people are gifted and somehow know how to use their gifts? This fellow writer was a beautiful soul but a soul that I’m sorry to say I wish I had know better , which probably means she was modest and respectful and didn’t ‘blow her own trumpet’. She did however, have good cause to do so, such is a dignified life…

I was left thinking about the journey of life. The challenges that sometimes we / I shirk and avoid. I feel a little ashamed as I reflect on these matters. How is it that some people, like the woman who’s funeral I attended to-day, could pack so much into one lifetime whilst some of us shy away from the big issues of life and waste our time being morose or uncertain? I was left wondering why some people are inspired and others not so and who inspires the inspired?

Anyway, today I was inspired. Saddened in the first instance then urged on to achieve goals, to do more for others and to have the courage to act now and not wait until tomorrow. If my fellow writer had waited to do all that she has achieved in her lifetime (and most of it was for others), we would not have heard about this journey of life fulfilment caring and joy.

Yes, today I was inspired!

Thanks Pamela.


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