John Wayne, my big girl pants and committing little murders…….

It is the start of a brand new year and with that comes the opportunity to welcome in hope, possibility and change.  At the beginning of each new year I tweak my blog site just ever so slightly and although I view my stories as a mere drop in the ocean, I will continue with them.   I am so very grateful for this open door with which to write.  May it never close…….

There is a lovely French saying, we are straying from the sheep,  which is what I have done in this post.  We are retracing the journey homeward from the USA and my previous blogs have been reflecting this time and although our next stop was intended to be Seattle Washington, necessity it seems, has petitioned this post be written instead.

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It is summer here in Australia.  The sun is shining hard, the flies are slow and the baking almost scorch drive heat has everyone seeking shade, iced water and the comfort of air-conditioning.  I had thought the writing of this post was being made more difficult by the heat but I know the soaring temperatures are not to blame.  It is the subject itself which is the problem as it draws one back to the juncture of those who seem starved of any moral code.

Occasionally I find when at a cross-roads with a profoundly troubling issue I sometimes ask myself this:  ‘what would John Wayne do!’    You may think this odd but those who know me will know of my love and deep respect (a shy code for obsession) with John Wayne and his movies so on the odd occasion, I seek the big man out.

And what would the Duke do if faced with a conundrum like this!  Well he would rear back and shout ‘fill your hands you son of a bitch’ then with reins clenched between his teeth and a Colt revolver in one hand and his signature Winchester rifle in the other, he would gallop down the oppressors on a magnificent chestnut quarter horse guns blazing for the fight of his life.

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I have probably seen True Grit one hundred times and I will no doubt see it one hundred more…..

I have no horse nor a Colt or rifle but when fighting for something I deeply believe in, and especially when I know a sense of justice has been lost, I will always and very faithfully do this.  I pull on my big girl pants and with dignity and quiet respect I go in and I fight.  When I commit to take something on I do not take it lightly.  I take it on with all my heart, I get my facts straight and I do it.

I am also very mindful when passionately fighting for a cause that I do it with civility and with my moral compass pointed in the right direction.  I will never be deliberately unkind, I do not follow and I have no need to recruit.  I will not purposefully destroy another or their reputation and nor do I gossip, spread gossip or defame.  I never raise a hateful voice but I do however, most certainly raise my game!

This is the truth of my character and these attributes have very often been commended by many.   Very sadly however, this cannot be said of all which brings me to the point of this post as I am forever struck by how some will start an idea of you through gossip, and this seems especially true when you are not in a position to defend.   I very strongly believe that all battles undertaken should be honorable and just but it seems some people are often afforded the upper-hand in a situation and unfairly so.  With the trump card of opportunity and bereft of the morality handbook, they spread poison and doubt around which seeps itself through others like a cruel and pitiless migraine.  Having been force fed this endless diet of falsehoods, others will then allow this idea of you to fester even though it is not the truth of who you and your family are and nor is it the truth of a situation!

And I can assure you this.  There is little worse than being robbed your defence and your voice especially when lost to a thousand miles of sea.  Initially, this very destructive smear campaign gained momentum as soon as we crossed the Georgia state line but it became far more ruinous, and dangerously so, once we left American soil and it has been allowed to continue!  These attacks have been the intent of pure malice and although the lies and the very hateful words have had no wings, they have still managed journeys of many long miles.

I am committed to the principle that we are all entitled to our own opinions and our own voice and I will always fight for that belief.  What we are not allowed to do however, is use that voice to make up vile hate speeches then purposefully spread those offensive stories around to deliberately undermine and destroy.  Gossip is negative and it is very, very nasty and it serves absolutely no purpose other than to support the unkindness’s of those lacking self-worth.

The insensitive and venomous attacks upon us and our reputations have been unrelenting and they have bought about times where it has been near impossible to keep going given the gravity of what has and continues to be said.  The countless secular injustices of what happened were certainly afforded a very quick burial however these terrible slurs and the disparaging insults cast continue with devastating impact.  Such is the gift of perspective, you do eventually come to understand this is not about you or your family at all…….and it never was!   What it is however, is a sad and very deep reflection of the insecurities of those who have initiated this and who are purposefully continuing with it.

The American playwright and cartoonist Jules Feiffer refers to these sorts of attacks as ‘committing little murders’ and ‘nothing more than an assassination attempt by a coward’.   Words hold great power to uplift and they can also discourage but gossiping and boastful smear campaigning does not make one powerful and nor does it anoint some in status or pious elitism.   Believing you have gained some prestigious importance is just the bullshit you are telling yourself as the word prestigious is actually derived from the Latin praestigiosis which means ‘cunning’,  ‘deception’ and ‘conjurors trick’ which is precisely what gossip of this kind, as with any, is intended to do.

To be on the receiving end of all this has been torturous as it is a cruel and hateful way to attack but it is also a very sly and manipulative way for the weak and those with little credibility to garner support from others.  No doubt this is why it still continues almost 19 months on but is this what we do to people now!  Is this how we allow ourselves to behave simply because our immense hostility toward someone is so great that we will do and say anything to destroy them!

I do appreciate these terrible times as being symbolic, archetypal if you like of a chapter where nothing more than resentment and jealousy laid many of the foundations for much of what happened.  I have spent a great deal of time gently pulling at tiny clusters of threads and these unraveling strands have revealed much.  Also during this time, I have had many moments in which to ponder the emotion of hate and primarily of the resentment which continues to be directed toward us as I just cannot fathom this emotion.  Hate is very ugly and it does not sit easily with me.  I am very grateful it is not an emotion I feel toward others which is no doubt why the gravity of the sustained animosity toward us continues to shock me.  I do recognise however that the resentment of us and primarily what has transpired has all come from a place where some are driven only by their great insecurities, envy, spite and the disappointment they hold in themselves and their lives.  They gossip and spread hurt and damage simply because they do not feel good about themselves and hateful gossipers will always attack those whom they envy.   If only people could dismantle those terrible gods of jealousy and loathing which they so desperately cling to……….

It has been difficult not to hold a grudge as I am, by my own admission, an unmovable rock of stubbornness at times.  I am not sure, as much as I have tried, that forgiveness is the simple answer though because the act of clemency must be honorable and it must be deeply heartfelt.  I understand too that forgiveness is the only grace by which to move forward with just as I acknowledge that to forgive them is not forgiving the acts of vengeance and great harm but it will be the kindest way in which to clean these very deepest of wounds.

Committing to forgiveness is far more difficult though because you can only forgive when you are ready to do so and when your great sorrow and despair has all but dissipated.  Perhaps one day their private guilt will manifest into the grief that surely awaits those who perversely love nothing more than to purposefully cause trouble for others.  In saying that though, I do wish for them to find a composed dignity which will allow them to cease behaving in such brutally cruel ways for the life you lead does not always have to be the only life you live.

And holy cats.  Although I absolutely abhor violence on any level please don’t ever think I did not want to punch this pair in their big fat old vaginas because I DID!   Very thankfully, my self respect and the slow movement of time has somewhat restored my faith in human nature again.  As much as it all so aggressively very nearly unbuttoned everything I believe in, I will not let these unkind acts drive my heart.  I will always let a flood of kindness and light pour in no matter how much someone sets their course to annihilate me and my little part of the world.  I have learned to absorb these graceless attacks and I have found a meaning and good in all that has transpired since so for that, I will graciously thank them.

I appreciate too that those inflicting this wrath of hatred are not strong.   Devoid of moral boundaries they cannot and do not champion women’s rights and nor do they support or defend women’s issues and causes.   They do not reflect the ideals of strong women for strong women encourage, they have empathy and they are positive, confident and inspiring individuals.  Strong women have their own voices and therefore do not need to parrot, they do not scheme nor coerce wedges between others and they do not perceive other women as competition.  Strong women also have no need to rally followers through untruths, they do not boast and nor do they bully.  They do not shame with hateful insults and they do not measure their worth by how unkind they can be to others.

And you won’t find the truly strong women curled up fetal position in the corner sucking their thumb while constantly criticising  what anyone else would be immensely  grateful for as they are far too compelled in getting back up on their feet.  No matter how low someone drives them down, all while putting a heel in just for good measure, those women still get back up and they face the world.  Their courage and dignity will not allow them to give up because they are the ones who fight with their lives for what they believe in and they do it with absolute conviction every single time.   Strong women can always confidently go it alone when others are left to forlornly suckle on the saggy old dried up tit of resentment and they keep up the fight even when all seems impossibly lost.

I guess what I am saying in this post is simply this.  Please do not be taken in by gossip, by these hateful stories and by those who keep spreading them.  Do not believe all that you are being told either because gossipers always rely solely on cowardice and the desperate carelessness of their stories.  Do not feed the ugly monster of sly rumormongering by listening or by partaking in it because gossip and hateful stories will only die when reaching the ear of a person wise enough not to listen!

These attacks have been like a raging infection in that they are difficult to contain and they continue to spread.  The most sorrowful part of all for me however, has been the absolute joy and delight they have derived from this determined and purposeful act to destroy another!

Everyone, no matter who they are, has the right to be respected and be treated with civility and no one will ever truly understand the impact of something until it happens to them.  When you do not suffer it you cannot acknowledge how it feels so just take a moment to think how you would feel if placed in our position.   Reflect on how very one-sided this has been, on who has been constantly spreading this hateful gossip and also remember what unkindness they have said to you about other people as this, by their own boastful admissions, ain’t their first rodeo baby!

As much as many have urged us to come out, speak out and attack back against what has been said we will not.  As deeply distressing and insensitive as these attacks have been we do not need to defend as the truth of the matter will vindicate itself and refuge is sought in the knowledge of this.  We also do not have egos nor actions to protect therefore we have not, did not and will not disparage or defame.  Vilely attacking others does not show strength or power but it does shine a very big spotlight to the fact some have lost all class, credibility and self-worth.

In the end though, the harsher reality is very simply this – those who are maliciously gossiping to you have also gossiped about you.   Do not believe for a moment, regardless who you are or how much you have suddenly gained their obsequious attention, that you have never been on the receiving end of their very cruel tongues.  And believe me, my very wise ear heard it all!

So what would John Wayne have done.  Well, I’d like to think he would have sat back in his saddle in that laconic way he had about his handsome self and said ‘baby sister, I was born game and I intend to go out that way’……… (Marshal Reuben J. ‘Rooster’ Cogburn, True Grit).

Well me too Duke because at any give moment we all have the power to say ‘this is not how my story ends’.  Stories are those deeper reaches of what it means to be human and everyone has a story be it of hope, courage, love, new beginnings, pain or loss.  Some stories you read, some are kept deeply to the heart and some ‘stories’ are unkindly spread but no one ever has the right to tell your story but you!

And this is not how my story ends.  I will always fight for what I believe in even if it means I will be left to stand alone.  When other voices remain silent through fear of being shunned and ostracised, through fear of them believing they will be next in line for the brunt of cruel attacks or simply because they think someone else will speak up they are allowing bullying, injustice and inhumanity to thrive but my voice will always remain strong.   I may not win every battle but at least I have had the courage to stand up for what I believe in and in the end, that’s all that truly matters.

Be brave, be inspiring, be compassionate and be kind always and next stop, the lovely city on Puget Sound…..xx

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Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway……..John Wayne

Chicago Part III with Lady O and a little Goodwill………

I really am a city girl and Chicago had me from the moment I set foot upon its sidewalks.  Dependent on where I am, I can tend to fall in love with places…….just a little.  It is a  love of the casual kind.  An unpretentious and easy-going bond which can develop for a place one has visited, lived or a place one just longs to be.

Chicago for me was all about those frequent busy streets, those soaring skyscrapers, the cherished anonymity one feels in the presence of many strangers and the wind gusting down the lanes.  It was the colors of the antiqued copper, the dark glass and the greys and silvers of the steel.  It was the sound of the traffic, the grilled shop fronts, the symbols of great imagination and the mathematics of the city blocks made into such perfect squares and rectangles.  Around every corner there seemed something interesting, curious and uniquely Chicagoesque and even under a grim sky it was always a stunningly beautiful city.

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Wherever I find myself in the world, I also like to take a little time out.  In these quiet moments I will literally walk for miles and miles and miles.  My walking brings a blur of happiness and a deeper appreciation of all things as I see parts of a city and its neighborhoods so often lost to the eyes of others.  Solitude is something I easily slip into and when alone, I seem to garner a little more appreciation of all things.  When you have gratitude, as we all should, your appreciation can become boundless.

I was also on a bit of a mission in my alone time too as I was on the look out for a Goodwill store.  And this was no ordinary Goodwill store either.  This was the largest store in Chicago.  In the back pocket of my jeans and neatly folded I had my trusted little paper map of the city, some money for my impending purchases (always optimistically hopeful) about my person and no doubt there was a little spring in my step.   I walked up Washington Boulevard lost in my thoughts when I stumbled upon this………….

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Ms Lady O’s Harpo studio.  The home of The Oprah Winfrey Show.  The studio was huge and took up almost an entire city block.  On the day I saw the studio production had ceased so there were no lines of audience members and there was little traffic on the boulevard.  Now Oprah may not be everyone’s cup of tea and truth be told, I would rather be someone’s good shot of rye whiskey than cup of tea, but you really do have to admire this woman and what she has achieved.  Born into poverty in Mississippi she rose to become a world renowned philanthropist, billionaire, talk show host and multimedia personality.  An impressive achievement in anyone’s book.

And the Goodwill store?  Well that was everything I ever hoped and dreamed it would be and although I was travelling light on this journey back to Australia, I still managed to fit in a couple of little pre-loved purchases into my port.  Happy days x

Although I ended up walking much further than I anticipated, I did eventually make it back to the hotel room and the next day we headed out together to the Lincoln Park Conservatory and Park District which is located near the shores of Lake Michigan.  The Conservatory is a beautiful Victorian Glasshouse built between 1890 and 1895.   Within its walls is an exotic, lush-green oasis of orchids, ponds, paths and rare and beautiful plants.  It really is a lovely and peaceful way to while away a few hours in Chicago.

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Next stop was The Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum.  A charming museum founded in 1857 and now one of Americas oldest scientific institutions.

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Walk through the 2,700 foot greenhouse which is home to over 1,000 butterflies.  Wander the nature trails and seek out the sculptures hidden amongst the tussocky grasslands and in particular look for the ‘Lost Bird Project’.  This is a bronze image depicting 5 birds of North America now lost forever to the tragedy of modern extinction.  Inside the museum brows through their impressive scientific collections and exhibits of eggs, birds, manuscripts, motion picture film, fossils, artifacts, reptiles, amphibians and photographs.

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A snap shot of our final days in Chicago……

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The odd thing about time is that it marches forth even if you are not ready to do so.  The memories of the trip back to Australia are still vivid and at times achingly raw yet one day I know they will begin to fade.  How much I will preserve of this time I do not know for no matter how much we try to contain some things, we really have no control over how it can contain us.

So goodbye Chicago and next stop, lovely Seattle where it was anything but sleepless……. xx

Nothing gets on my goat more…….

Part II – Eat, Drink, Love Chicago…….

As lovely as the architecture in this cloud scraping city is, Chicago is also an epicureans delight.  Here you will hit the absolute mother load in terms of great restaurants and great bars.

In Newcastle there is a saying and that is – ‘there isn’t a pub on every corner but every pub is on a corner’.   Well in Chicago, it can be stated this – ‘there really is a bar on every corner!’

Hip and beautiful cocktail bars, cosy or noisy bars, lounge bars, dive bars (always a favorite of mine), sip wine and eat charcuterie and pate and elegant cheese platter bars, slick bars, sports bars, roof top bars – a perfect accompaniment for summer, outdoor bars, old world bars and coffee bars……yes, there are such things as coffee bars and they will serve you up wonderful hand roasted bean water to perfection.  And Chicago really does do great coffee!

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Beer, and in particular craft beers, are big in Chicago.  As with most places in the world the craft beer industry has really taken off but sometimes you just want to go a little old school.  You want to find a beloved watering hole, faded and as well-worn as your granddads favorite old slippers.  So how do you find the perfect old school Ale house amid the thousands of Ale houses in Chicago and its neighborhoods!  Well that’s easy. You just need to look up.

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Above the door-ways of most good Ale houses you will find either a flashing vintage neon sign or look for a wooden swinging ‘ye olde’ sign.  These places tend to be real Chicago gems and I think if anyone ever tried to change or modernise these places into a hip gastro-pub then there would probably be rioting on the streets.  I love that much of the original charm and nostalgia of these places remains.

Quite often the guy behind the bar with the large white tea-towel draped across his shoulder is, by rule of thumb, the one who owns it.  These guys are genuine and down to earth and have an ancestry which dates back decades of tough working class immigrant families.  Their history, by way of old black and white photographs, adorn the walls of their establishments and these photos tell stories of many years passed.

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I guess you really have to admire a place that greets you with a warning sign as soon as you step through the door………….

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The Billy Goat Tavern is a place you are either going to love or run screaming from.  Grab a seat at the bar as this is the perfect place to people watch while you chow down on your cheezborger.  And here’s the thing……..the cheezborger is so simple but ridiculously good.  The tavern is located under Michigan Avenue so it can be a little hard to find but everyone who lives or works in Chicago knows where this place is and they can tell you how to get there.billy-goat-tavern1

This is where, on a good night (or day) or both, you can chug handles of warmish beer and eat humble cheezborgers ’til your heart’s content all while chatting with the locals, the newspaper journalists from papers such as the Chicago Tribune, old guys, old sports guys, the occasional D grade celeb and tourists.

Now truth be told, this place isn’t for everyone. People come in, look around then very often (and hastily) take their leave. But if you are up for some local history, a good ‘borger’ (and my tip for that would be to go the two patty) and if you don’t have a shitty attitude…….and honestly, nothing gets on my goat more than a whiny negative attitude!!  then you will be most welcome and you will have a great time.

Sometimes when it comes to food, I have little resistance.  Please note that dark chocolate (always 70% and over)  and ice-cream should never be placed in arms reach of me plus I am a sucker for hot chips and gravy.  But in Chicago we found the real Holy Grail Trinity of food:

  1. The Legendary Deep Dish Pizza – Chicago’s most iconic of big cheesy food.
  2. The Authentic Chicago Style Hot Dog – an all-beef frankfurter on a bun which has been sprinkled with poppy seeds and stuffed with fresh tomato, onions, sport peppers, a pickle spear, drizzled with yellow mustard and finished with a dusting of celery salt.
  3. The Italian Beef Sandwich – heaven!

No fancy pants dining or airs and graces required because this food will hold its own.  Just great Chicago food where little more needs to be said other than these will be some of the best things you will ever eat…….and this is coming from someone who is not ‘big’ on pizza.  I guess perhaps that’s just the comfort of food sometimes.

You will also find rib sticking Polish food, fantastic smokehouses, sandwich shops which are no ordinary sandwich shops, popcorn shops given popcorn is Illinois’ official snack food and it fabulously comes covered in cheese and caramel, iconic steak houses, roasted pig face….hello and more deli’s than you could ever imagine.

Life is so much more than your little microcosm of the world.  It won’t always be perfect and sometimes it won’t work out the way you planned but do make every single wonderful moment of it count and in the mean time……. eat, drink and love where ever you are xx.

Love is the real nuclear bomb that destroys all our enemies, because when we love all living beings, we have no enemies……..Geshe Kelsang Gyatso

First stop, Chicago Illinois…….

“I just flew in from the windy city.  The windy city is mighty pretty…….”

I had always thought the name ‘Windy City’, a tag used to describe Chicago, was due to the bleak and frigid gusts which must come off Lake Michigan during Winter.  According to the Chicago Historical Society however, that now famous moniker came about from an observation made in the late 19th century of windbag politicians blustering hot air!  Hmmmm, I guess not a lot has changed since those days but one thing I will say is this!  Chicago is one hell of town!

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I love cities. I love being in them and I love living in them.  For me, cities hold extraordinary beauty and a thrum of inexplicable energy which almost feels like a heart beat.  I am however, very mindful of the fact that cities, for all their allure can be as fickle and as harsh as a foe and for some, and this is particularly true of the homeless, they can be a cold, unforgiving and often brutal place.  No doubt some big cities are difficult locations for one to find their feet or their rightful place in life and everyone, no matter their circumstance, are deserving of that one small mercy………

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The city of Chicago is world class and well set out.  And the best way to appreciate it!  Well that would be on foot.  Chicago really is the perfect city for walkers.  There are a couple of very good designated walks to take including the ‘Magnificent Mile’ and ‘The Loop’.  The ‘Magnificent Mile’ is an easy walk beginning at the Michigan Avenue Bridge then encompassing the Chicago River, towers and buildings, retailers, landmarks, restaurants, the famous Billy Goat Tavern (more on that little gem later), the John Hancock Center and it ends at the shoreline of Lake Michigan.

‘The Loop’ runs through the heart of Chicago’s downtown financial hub.  This walk begins on Jackson Boulevard and takes you through the labyrinth of densely packed commercial buildings, skyscrapers and architectural history and ends in the theatre district near Washington Street.

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The people of Chicago are easy to like.   They are friendly, generous and very proud of their city and rightly so.  They have a nice blend of non-arrogant swagger, a grounding of blue-collar edginess and a little uber cool white-collar hustle.  The real draw-card however, are those towering skyscrapers.

These massive structures punctuate the skyline with their steel, glass and granite.  There is a mix of stunning Art Deco exteriors, modern and post modern facades, Gothic splendor and iconic and elegant structures.  Some buildings, including their stair-cases, elevators and fire-escapes are graced with the most beautifully ornamental ironwork.  It is timeless, elegant and very intricate and these buildings alone are well worth seeking out.

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These massive silhouettes cast an impressive shadowy gloom and this is especially true on very cold days but almost all of the buildings are floodlit in a perfect golden glow from dusk until dawn.  One building in particular, the Art Deco inspired Merchandise Mart, with its 372,000 squares of interior space was so large when first built in the 1930’s it even had its own postcode (zip code).

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This city is architectural splendor at its very best and although you can appreciate it all from the relative safety of the pavement you really do need to go up.  And when I say up, I mean nothing under 90 floors.  Up in the clouds you not only get a birds eye view but you will also get up close and very personal with Chicago.  Most skyscrapers have offered to open their top floors to the public and from these vantage points there is no better way to see this city.

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Frank Sinatra said it best when he sang ‘My kind of town.  Chicago is, my kind of town…….’ so grab an Old Fashion (or seven), sit back and enjoy the view.  The sky really is the limit in this stunning city……. xx

 

‘Gimme a Bullet’……….

I am sitting in the lovely Spring sunshine tapping away at the key board in the company of the little cat while listening to some old AC/DC tracks.  And by old, I mean tracks that originally came out on vinyl in the 70’s kids.

I guess everyone has a song which connects them, defines a moment in their life or makes them a fan of a band and this particular AC/DC song ‘Gimme a Bullet’ from the Powerage album of 1978 is that for me.  It will be on the soundtrack of my life……well pretty much anything from the early days of AC/DC with Bon Scott on lead vocals would make it as these songs forge moments of happiness, nostalgia and a juncture of rock-chickiness.

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My favorite AC/DC album cover…..

My lovely morning also began with an early surf.  Although I have two really great boards and a nipper board I decided to take my old and rather battered boogie board out for a run.  I had forgotten how much fun this little board is but I did initially take a couple of pretty good nose dives until I got back into the swing of it.  Slight compression mark to my board and major dent to my ego 🙂

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While out in that glorious surf I let my mind wander and it led to my blog.  You see I have a little niggling issue with it and that is, I have posts sitting on the back-burner.  These posts are ones to be written about the countries and places we visited during our return home to Australia from the USA.

I have let these stories stagnate without offering them their rightful and very deserving place on my blog.  I find as time passes my memories of these places have not faded.  There were far too many immense, far too many lovely and far too many majestic happenings not write about them.  All of these places, the adventures and the memories such as the incredible beauty of Prince William Sound, the cat voted Mayor of a township, spam – the spiced meat in a can variety not the unsolicited internet type, the velvety antler of the moose and how to slurp soba noodles in a dingy Tokyo café all deserve acknowledgement.

I guess sometimes you just have to make that leap.  It will not be an easy place to re-visit given it moved us into the shadow of grief and despair but there comes a time where you have to just jump right on in.  And when you take that mighty leap, jump with all your heart and whether you stick your landing or not it doesn’t matter a dot.

I could not help but wonder too that in writing the next lot of posts it will beget that which is so often lost in social media.  I know when used for all the right reasons that social media can be an impressive tool.  It can highlight injustice, it can jolt the social conscience, hope can vanquish pessimism and it has the power to make the world fall in love with something all of which, are not so bad in my book.

I can say too that 18 months on and a minor weight has lifted.  Life after all, continues on.  Grief can be a terrible place to find yourself but it doesn’t mean you have to live there forever.  The past can never be changed or erased and what happens….well that just happens.  So until my next post I hope you spend a little time doing that which nourishes your soul and brings you joy.

Be mindful, be grateful and be kind.  Happy days all………xx

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Ukulele Baby…….

It was a cold and grey Spring morning that broke with an awful lot of rain squalling about.  Perfect weather for ducks and for the potted herbs and plants I am growing on the balcony but not so much for skulking around in.  Now normally on a Saturday morning if the weather is like this, and unless I was going outrigging, I would have had little desire to get out of my warm bed but in another part of Newcastle, a lovely ray of sunshine was about to break and it was called the Newkulele Festival.

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This is a festival dedicated entirely to the ukulele.  How perfectly wonderful because apart from my passion for yodeling and velvet paintings from the early 1970’s, I also adore the ukulele.  I have owned a uke for many years.  Even before it was hip to do so.  When I first became acquainted with this dear little accoutrement I felt as though I had run a marathon, eaten an entire block of chocolate and simultaneously met the love of my life…….which it turned out I had!

I find the ukulele charming and it’s a lot of fun.  It is quite easy to learn to play as there are only four strings so once you master the basic chords along with a bit of basic strumming technique, you are pretty much on your way.   Thing is, it does require a little skill and a lot of practice to play the ukulele well.

I am not often one to acknowledge my abilities however I do recognise my once barely there playing skills have improved considerably over the years.  I haven’t had lessons but I do have a handbook and I also watch the occasional video on YouTube about playing.   I just prefer to noodle away on my own, often in the company of Zoe, or I’ll strum along to a tune or ten which crackle out from my old transistor radio set to the Golden Oldies station. I even wrote two songs on my ukulele.  Hey, I never said they were good.  The first one I wrote about 10 years ago was for Gus and the other was a little jazzy number about insomnia.  I should point out I cannot sing.  I have the most terrible voice and I am, for the absolute life of me, unable to hold a tune or sing in key.  Mere technicality though.

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This is how I think I look playing the ukulele…….

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This is probably how I really look……..

The Newkulele Festival ran work shops for beginners to advanced players, singing and harmony sessions, finger picking, ukulele arranging, swing hokum and ragtime lessons, rock and roll and simple chord progression.  You could even book in to make your own ukulele.  There were stalls and market stalls where you could try out and buy a new uke.  I mean really, why have one when you could have seven.

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There was a youth stage and a main marquee for day and night gigs which saw some of the best of local and international acts.  Ukulele teachers shared information, lessons and strumming secrets and then there was my favorite.  The open mic.

No doubt this was the best part of the festival for me.  A ‘first timers session’ where everyone, no matter who they were or what their level of skill got up and performed.  Egos, worries and hipster attitudes were all left at the door and everyone in the bistro bar at the Newie Jockey club just rooted for each performer.  Don’t you love the power of positive and encouraging attitudes.  Stray cats, alley cats, hep cats, stolen kisses, rainbows, original songs and covers, a little base a little blues and little rock and roll, love and riptides were all strummed plus there was even a moment of yodeling.  Oh happy days!

You know, sometimes I can feel a little like a five-legged pony in a field of thoroughbreds and I would dearly love to have had the confidence to get up and play.  I don’t nor have I ever performed with other ukulele players, for others or in front of others with the exception of my cats so therein lies a slight problem.  Who knows though, perhaps one day I will.  After all, stranger things have been known to happen.

Ukulele players are a bit of a quirky lot too and never in one place will you see so much floral or colourful print outside of Hawaii or such happy, soul beautiful and carefree people.   You always see a happy face on a uke player.  My thought would be that this is because there is a high string at the top and the bottom  of your ukulele so whether you strum up or down you will always end on high (and happy note).  The ukulele is also a very agreeable travelling companion so here is a great tip – never leave home without your ukulele!   I left mine in Australia when I went to live in America and deeply regretted that decision.  It was however, one very happy moment of unpacking it two years later though.

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The ukulele originated in Hawaii and luckily I not only discovered outrigging while there last year, but I also found myself smack bang in ukulele heaven. Quite simply there is nothing more comforting than the smell of coconut oil, rum cocktails served in tiki heads and being surrounded by ukuleles. And if you want to buy a ukulele then this probably the place to be. Every shop in Hawaii sells them but if you want a better quality one and not just a toy souvenir, then don’t buy from the larger souvenir shops such as Hilo Hattie, ABC or Whalers General.

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I found a beautiful little ukulele while in Hawaii.  Vintage and perfectly pre-loved. I picked it up.  I put it down. I strummed it and I plucked its faultless strings. It had a lovely sound and it sat perfectly in my hands and against my body. I worried about the wood ……just a little.  I worried about not buying it….an awful lot. I wanted it more than anything but I let it go and I have been kicking myself ever since. Perhaps, it really is just all about holding on and letting go…….. or heading back to Hawaii to buy it.

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This is a 1928 pineapple ukulele.  Do I want one.  Yes!  Do I need one.  Oh absolutely!!

Sadly, we are going to have to wait another two years for the festival to come back around to Newcastle.  In the meantime though, it will give you a chance to discover the ukulele if you haven’t already done so and it will also give me the opportunity to perfect the riff from AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.

There really is just something quite lovely about this little flea that brings joy and happiness and sometimes, you can’t ask for more than that.  So here’s hoping your week is full of good music, kindness and anything else that makes you feel pretty  wonderful ……..xx

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Nearer my donut to thee…….

It is almost 12 am and I’m propped up in bed with the sweet little cat for company while trying to catch up on my blog.  Hold up like this I have the mood of a convalescing character in a Bronte novel, but this really is a lovely time.  It is dark, quiet and peaceful, save for the occasional rattle of the glass in my bedroom window thanks to a low pressure system which moved across our coastline earlier this evening.  I have just discovered too the difficulty in compelling one’s self to write something for a blog post, especially about nothing in particular.  So given this, I will just concentrate on the past week or so which has been kind of big.

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As I write this post I realise too that I have somehow slid very nicely in to my 50’s not at all feeling my age.  At this moment I am alert, happy and feeling a little invincible but that could also be due to the fact I was outrigging on the harbour again earlier this evening. And hand on heart I will say this – outrigging by moonlight is pretty darn wonderful!   Below you, inky deep water of the channels and above, a huge slice of a stunning night sky.  The evening air of Newcastle port, one of the largest and busiest working harbours in the world, smells deeply of the ocean too and little more. With over 90 million tonnes of coal shipped throughout the year and also being the passage for many large tankers and ships, it is undoubtedly an incredibly healthy and stunning waterway.

It really is a lovely time to be out but it is also bloody hard work.  Outrigging is challenging and physically demanding and holy cats, have I had some sore muscles and blisters to prove it.  It does however, drive me out of my comfort zone and it also necessitates me to mix again with others.  Not something most of my readers will appreciate, I relish with any enthusiasm.   Nevertheless, it is a worthy marker by which to test myself as outrigging appears to make one strong in so many ways.  Perhaps too it will also offer the opportunity to smooth down some of my occasional sharp edges and be the grease to loosen my often disquiet gears.

I first became aware of outrigging when in Hawaii last year after seeing the canoes drawn up on the sand.  Later that afternoon, I watched a group of men paddle one out but did not know that things would move and gather to where I would find myself in an outrigger almost 14 months later.

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I have discovered there is real discipline to this sport and a beauty within the liquid flowing movement required to pull the outrigger through the water.  It is the succinct union of mind and body, not always easily accomplished, which demands my attention to just being present, digging that paddle in and powering on.  I am learning much and I am deeply appreciative and respectful of my very tolerable and accomplished instructors as I am of the established yet welcoming paddlers already in the group.

Outrigging it seems, has become a notable fever that cannot be cooled even from the occasional dousing thrown up by the bow waves of the passing tug-boats or ferry or as with tonight, when a fortuitous thunderstorm drenched us to the bone.  I am yet to encounter one of the massive tankers while out on the water but perhaps fate will see our paths cross in the not to distant future.  In the mean time though, it’s about finding what you enjoy and just doing that……which brings me to donuts!

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Now they say it takes 21 days to make or break a habit and I am about to put that theory to the test as I have eaten more than my fair share of donuts lately.  To say I have over-indulged would be an understatement so given this, I am about attempt a little detox or if my resolve holds, a very good shot at complete abstinence from my donut addiction.

You see I love donuts. Donuts are both my comfort food and my go to celebration food.   My donuts however, as with most things, must meet some very strict criteria:

  1. They must be served hot,
  2. They must be rolled in cinnamon sugar once straight out of the boiling fat and the all-important third requirement,
  3. They must only come from Donut King.

And here is an interesting fact about donuts.  They are far healthier for you than crack cocaine.

The realisation of my donut affliction has been acutely pricked as recently I have experienced the joy of celebration and the sorrow of loss.  Changes are a foot and there had been some small but niggling worries which dogged my week.   The insensitive and intrusive use a mobile phone camera being one of them.

Mal, I have learned too is leaving to live in Queensland.  Notice of his impending departure has not sat easily with me.  Mal became my surf buddy after we met on a rock platform at Cowrie Hole shortly after my return from the USA earlier this year.  Although his lack of fondness for dairy and coffee is highly questionable, I will miss his good company.  We have a month and a half remaining so cometh those beautiful early morning waves.

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On a sadder note, handsome and gentle Bozo Bob has gone.  Bozo Bob was an incredibly sweet and lovely old dog who I had been walking for an elderly gentle man Mac.  This dear dog with his slow and waddling gait won himself plenty of fans and he was a treasured old boy to many.  I have such great affection for animals and I much prefer their company to that of humans any day. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just the way I am.  People very often disillusion however animals expect nothing more than the commonality of genuine kindness, love and quiet respect.

Bozo’s life could no longer be sustained.  To say it was a heartbreaking moment is trivial because the loss of a companion is never easy.  The silence of his soul leaving was deafening but it is the sound of sorrow which has filled the cavernous hole his quiet loss created that is most undeniable.  It is understated in the extreme to say Bozo is missed but I have profound empathy for Mac as he is suffering greater pain and sorrow than I at this moment.

We took Bozo Bob’s ashes to Horseshoe Bay early this morning and we let the gentle tide carry him out for one last swim. Standing with Mac on the sand I felt that strange mix of love and deep sorrow which seems to so intricately weave itself around those left behind. I realised too while standing there, that Bozo had a wonderful life where he was deeply loved and cherished which is something all beings should experience during their lifetime. Therein, I truly appreciate the importance of living a meaningful and almost breathtaking life and accept as heartwarming, a passing.

I don’t want to make any grand sentimental statements about loss because it affects everyone very differently but to me loss and heartache are very much like a dull bruising of ones’ spirit.  A penance of sorts that will sear its pain so deeply and acutely that you cannot forget it is there.  Death is one of life’s certainties and the loss initiated by it often drives me to seek answers. Loss and death are unavoidable in life and when that moment comes and is narrowed to its very sharpest of points, relinquishment of that soul is the only grace by which to move forward with.

Though there have been difficulties, they have sat side by side many other good things. I had some work published in an anthology collection. Viewing my work in print profoundly humbles yet it also bestows a deep yearning that is driving me to work much harder toward something I truly want to accomplish……and I will.

I also witnessed the immense goodness of people at a rally in Sydney to end live export. The merciless reality of this industry is not inescapable yet out of such enormous cruelty, inhumanity and brutal lack of compassion for animals came the elegant and strong voices for justice, comfort and reason. Always fight for what you believe in no matter the consequence!

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I know whatever life throws at me I will always come out on the side of optimism and hope.  Life will always hold with it loss, challenges and sadness but with that also comes so very much to be grateful for. Solace will beckon from your acknowledgement that you have had and will continue to have wonderful experiences, good people coming into your life, amazing opportunities, wonderful friendships and many donuts and from this alone, the elegance of gratitude and love will win out every time.

For me, the real beauty in any challenge or the change it brings is that you will find the person who begins a journey is never the same one to end it.   We all experience difficulties and challenges but it is what we do with these hurdles that determines who we are and who we become.  I am certainly not the same woman who set foot back on Australian soil earlier this year.  I know I am far more resilient and I am strong.  I have had the very great privilege of knowing and returning from what others fear most but more importantly, I no longer limit what my true possibilities are.

And from what I thought to be nothing much at all came a blog post and on that note, we will say goodnight and wish the world the very sweetest of dreams……. xx

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The first day of Spring and the earth sighs with beauty…….

The eternal enchantment of Spring is finally here after a rather cold winter.  For good reason this lovely seasonal change, akin to natures renaissance, is universally admired by so many.  It is almost like a promise of beautiful things to come such as ducklings and sun-showers, spring fevers and fragrant blooms.  It is also toward the end of Spring when the whales will return.

Everything with Spring seems lighter, brighter and more lovely.  Jeans and heavy coats, woolen jumpers and knitted scarves have all been relegated to the back of the wardrobe and my light and pretty vintage dresses have once again taken their rightful place toward the front.

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The sun is shining a little more warmly, the skies are lapis blue, buds will burst into colour and the birds are happy with song.  This really is about rejuvenation, renewal and new beginnings.

Happy Spring everyone……..xx

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A kick up the arts…….

Although we are a nation known for sun, sand and surf we can still deliver up some pretty impressive winter weather.  And it has been a cold winter this year.  Much colder than I have ever experienced it to be in Australia with good dustings of snow here and there.  I guess it is mother natures gentle reminder that we are not just a country of baking hot days, deeply tanned summer skin and bone dry lands.

That said however, the days on the whole have been quite lovely and it was on one of these days with the sky ever so blue and the snow clouds having slung themselves low over the Blue Mountain ranges, that we headed for a little place tucked away amongst almost 43 acres of Australian bush at Faulconbridge – The Norman Lindsay Gallery and Museum.

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This lovely time capsule, preserved in near original condition, is an unflinching look at art, history and an avant-garde lifestyle long since passed.   Although considered controversial and often a provocateur to the morals and standards of middle class society during his time, Lindsay was and is regarded as one of Australia’s greatest artists.

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Prolific and extraordinarily talented this wonderfully contentious man worked with water colour, ink, pencil and oils.  He was a sculptor of both bronze and concrete, a cartoonist, a social commentator and an inventor.  He wrote several novels during his time including the wonderful Australian classic The Magic Pudding which he brilliantly illustrated.  Lindsay was also an etcher, a visionary, a boxer and an accomplished builder of the most intricate model boats built exactly to scale.

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Though living part of his life through a decadent period it was also the era of indigence, poverty stricken artists and the depression.   There was no electricity, no telephone and no ease of life and nor were there most of the luxuries we experience today but it was during this time Lindsay managed to produce an enormous body of work.

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This collective is run by the National Trust and it is a living treasure with gardens, paths, fountains, the original sandstone home, art work on display, the painting studio, etching studio, sculptures and abundant fauna and flora.  The oil painting studio Lindsay used has been preserved as it was at the time of his death at the age of almost 91 with unfinished oil paintings and the materials he used on display.

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This place will fill your eyes, your mind and your heart with delight and there are moments where you may find the sheer beauty of his work could actually dissolve you in to a pool of tears.  It is also one of the few galleries where you are allowed the privilege (and great pleasure) of running your hands over these beautiful sculptures.  These slightly weathered creations are still as lustrous as they were when first produced and to caress the curves, swells and rounded forms feels so damn good.

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Lindsay’s home has been lovingly preserved and it serves as the gallery which displays much of his work.  It is a privilege to view his glorious works of beautifully solid yet lithe bodies and as you study the art work you will start to see the familiar and elegant faces of his favorite muses.

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Guided tours are available and I highly recommend taking one as the volunteer guides are knowledgeable and passionate.  These tours also allow you access to his studio and the etching room.  Other than that you can wander the grounds at your leisure, admire his beautiful art work of gorgeous nudes or take a moment or two to enjoy the café.

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There are many and varied things which I love and admire.  Quality baked goods, yodeling and the unattractive babies depicted in Renaissance paintings are just a small few.  You see art is objective and very personal and there is no right or wrong to what you like or do not like.

Faulconbridge is a lovely place to visit.  You will be enriched by this journey and you don’t even have to be a lover of art to enjoy it……..xx

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*  The Norman Lindsay Museum and Gallery is located at 14 Norman Lindsay Cres, Faulconbridge New South Wales

 

Colour Me Happy – the ‘Street Art Walk’ of Katoomba…….

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Located west of Sydney, lovely Katoomba with its backdrop of the spectacular World Heritage listed Blue Mountains, steep streets, art deco buildings and heritage homes is one of the most popular mountain townships in New South Wales.  It is here you will also find an emerging and very impressive restaurant subculture, hip wine bars, fab op shops, a vibrant community and …………street art!

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There is something about street art that I absolutely love.  Perhaps it is the visual impact or the fact I adore the slightly rebellious undertone of it all but I do know that wherever I am in the world I seek this sort of work out.

I tend to like big mural works, pieces and stencils and I am now also discovering ‘yarn bombing’.   A granny graffiti of sorts which I find rather sweet.  Creative knitters and crocheters who will cover pretty much anything with wool, cotton thread or twine.

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And in Katoomba, with brick and concrete as their canvases, passionate and creative artists along with the support of the Blue Mountains community have created a dynamic street art gallery.   This visually stunning space is located right in the heart of Katoomba and it has seemingly transformed a once grim urban landscape with color, vibrancy and thought provoking beauty.

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Street art has become a global phenomenon and I really do believe there is a depth of cultural significance and great worth to this clever, entertaining, often powerful and engaging work.  A unique open air gallery for all to enjoy and where selfless street artists, no longer marginalised or vilified, freely offered up their work.  And when you think about it, that really does have a lovely sense of karma to it…………

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Recently in Newcastle we lost a stunning piece of street art by artist Guido Van Helton.  I saw this work easily three times a week and loved the beauty of it and the fact it reminded me of crumpled paper.  Naturally I ask the question ?, as do many……..

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We are coming to end of winter here in Australia and I viewed the Katoomba work on a bitterly cold and wind swept day.  Standing under a brittle grey sky I realised over time this work will no doubt erode or fade due to the influence of our severe and unforgiving Australian elements but such is the ephemeral nature of this sort of art.

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In the meantime though……. touch it, see it, appreciate it, photograph it and be coloured happy by these works of art which have breathed life into a previously neglected and unappealing city area.

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**Open all hours and free, the Street Art Walk is located at Beverly Place Katoomba**

With a rainy and cold winters evening upon us I am about to settle in with the sweet little Zoe cat, a glass of red and begin to unravel the history of yarn bombing.  Cheers to a bit of knit one purl one………xx