Pink is the new black.

October 29, 2014October 30, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Most people are surprised to hear that I am a hermit at heart. A solitary creature, who is used to keeping her own counsel. I made the distinction between needing “a fix” of people, to electing to enjoy their company. There is a difference. Usually when I enter a room, I feel awkward, and either stumble over my feet and walking stick, or blurt out something random, and unconnected to the conversation. On this occasion, I instantly felt at home. My friend Lisa is a nurse, and one of the gentlest and ethereal women I have had the privilege of knowing. Her beloved mother-in-law passed from breast cancer, and every year she organizes a high tea in her honour.

Colourful people arrive and donate goods, and money is raised to crush this disease. This year, the very talented Hannah Erika Crichton kindly donated her talents and time to sing for us. We were in a hall with women who had been through dark night’s of the soul, mind and body. I loathed the colour pink before having my daughter. I preferred black. I preferred anonymity. I now view pink as a colour of strength, of dreams and power. A colour you underestimate, until it knocks you to the ground with its force of will.

The women in the hall were strong, gutsy, plucky. I stood for a moment, and looked around. The ladies smiled amongst the easy banter at the tables. Bliss was produced with my friend Nicci’s cupcakes and Lisa’s divine soy candles. Pink, I loathed you for what you seemed to expect of me. I apologise in full. It was not you, but my culture that insisted I be demure, pandering and agreeable (at all times). Rather, you have always viewed women as strong, filled with vigour, a powerful voice, a buoyant heart and creative hands. I have had you all wrong. These women, cloaked in pink, have proven that to me.

Photos by Sharon’s Photography.

The Dawn’s.

October 27, 2014October 27, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Dawn and I. Didn’t know the camera was on video!

I have the privilege of having two Dawn’s in my life. Both are in their sixties, with artistic leanings and a feisty spirit. They haven’t had it easy. The first Dawn is featured above. We didn’t know that my phone was turned to video! I love her smile, and the spectacular way she dresses. I first met Dawn at the local bus stop when my daughter was a baby. Every time I go down the street, I bump into this magnificent lady. I sometimes loan her money, and a few days later, find it in my letterbox, along with a little gift. My little girl is often the recipient of chocolate or some other sweet treat, and wraps her arms tight around her Aunty Dawn. We gave her a lift home from the supermarket the other night, and she asked us to hold on for a moment when we reached her house.

She came out with this dear little notepad, on which she had written an invitation to her birthday celebrations. Lizzie was thrilled, as was I.

Our other friend is Dawn De Ramirez. She ran away and joined the circus as an adolescent, becoming their trapeze artist, travelling through Europe. Her future husband, Raffael, was the cook, and they married during this time. I met her when she judged the first poetry competition I entered. She rang me and we talked from the heart, something we continue to this day. She is a born entertainer, and an advocate for Aboriginal youth at risk of suicide. Dawn travelled to England a few years back, and was able to fund her adventures by passing around a hat at every pub she stopped at. It is such a blessing for my daughter to have the two Dawn’s in her life, providing colour, whimsy, poetry, art and kindness. The characters of this world shake us up with their authenticity. It is brave to be yourself in all your glory, to like who are and how you go about life.

‘I’m Bored.’

‘Say Cheese.’

Community.

October 24, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela994 Comments

My little girl’s friend needed to go to the Children’s Hospital for some tests, and my daughter knew she would be a bit scared. I agreed to let her go too, for moral support. It is such a confronting place. Essential items like toothbrushes are sold in vending machines, for parents who had no idea their mad dash to emergency would end up stretching out to a long-term stay. We saw a princess in a wheelchair, her sparkly hair accessories setting off the glint in her eyes. She was escorted by her mum and grandmother, and they smiled and made small-talk because the other options weren’t appealing. They had probably cried themselves dry. Our little friend endured her tests with bravery, and we planned to take the girls for a treat. My daughter held a hand to head, complaining that it hurt. By the time we got to the café, she looked pale and uncomfortable. My friend drove us home, and my daughter went downhill. Scooping her up, we took her to our nearest hospital. By then she couldn’t tolerate light, and vomited violently. We were put in the children’s room to await the doctor. When kid’s get sick, it often comes on swiftly, catching you by surprise.

My friend Vicki, who works in food services, came by and chatted for a while, making the wait less lonely. Another friend, Lisa, who works as a nurse at the hospital, heard that Lizzie was there, and stopped in too. Their wishes of healing and the soothing words they spoke, helped my little girl. The doctor thought it may be a migraine. We were allowed home after a few hours, and as my daughter rested, I answered messages from friends enquiring about her, and those who wanted to know if they could sit with us at the hospital.

My washing machine stopped working, and the next day I had friends at my door asking if they could do a load for me. I had many enquiries online too, and accepted an offer of a second-hand machine. My friend Gabby, came by with a parcel of goods for Lizzie. She sat up in bed and looked through the bag with great joy. “Aren’t people kind, mummy?” “Yes, they are,” I smiled. She has severe tonsillitis, so is still at home with me. I am humbled at the love my community shows one another. If someone is ill, they are there. It’s a circle of kindness that goes around, without end. It is a risk to let love in, after disappointment and pain. If you do let love in, and accept offers of kindness, it can heal the gaping wound, sealing it without need for sutures. I am so grateful to our beautiful community, sitting on the edge of Sydney, where pastoral scenes resplendent with horses, vineyards and a river still exist.

Rosa.

October 15, 2014 raphaela993 Comments

I wrote the following ten years ago, when I met an exquisite artist named Rosa. Her sister had taken her life in the same clinic I had been put into at fourteen. I may have known her.

Tortoiseshell tresses slide down her shoulders.

Ground sunshine irradiated from her soulful eyes.

Her voice is a feather, floating through the ether as a dream.

Rosa is a mermaid or Undine;

A fey creature flicking the contents of fountains and springs,

Quenching our very hearts.

In her gentle hands she holds coral in rich hues of garnet and peach.

As she catalogues history and restores houses, Rosa restores my faith in the endearing strength of sweetness.

I reflect on delicate lace work built of iron, which shall never break.

When I speak to sister Rosa, it is akin to whispering the contents of my heart to an ephemeral cloud.

A cloud which is fine, like gossamer, and is able to reach in and touch my soul with an opaque love.

Rosa, our beautiful rose, grafted from a past which was both sweet and tumultuous.

She is a wondrous combination of rubies and roses, lemons and lavender.

The Old Married Couple.

October 14, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

We love festivals! A marvellous opportunity to get together with friends and share food, conversation and ambience in the fresh air. We attended Picnic on The Green at Gledswood Homestead and Winery on Sunday, and had an absolute ball. Pretty Picnics outdid herself!

Daughter and her little friend dancing to the music. — My daughter and her friend, feeling the music. Scott Mills Photography.

P1090257 — Cupcakes in Camden, Pretty Picnics, myself and The Old Married Couple.

I was delighted to catch up with my friend, Katie Beech, and her husband, Riley, who are The Old Married Couple, a very talented duo. Their music carries me away, into sunny fields of daisies and sunflowers, a flower crown atop my head. No worries or cares in their land of whimsy. They are an indie-folk couple from Sydney. They play at weddings and events, festivals and fairs. They perform both originals and cover songs. They also offer personalized songs for weddings and other occasions. They are the whole package, man! I had to find out more of the history of my gorgeous friends. Riley: “We started as a young dating couple ten years ago, but formed a musical duo a year ago, when I wrote a duet song (Stuck with me), for my solo album. As the song discussed so many things from our relationship, it made sense that Kate would sing the female parts. I started leaning towards writing for the duo, and The Old Married Couple organically formed over a few months.” Katie: “We got married in March this year after being a couple for ten years. We met at school, when Riley’s best friend tried to pick up by following me to the train station, attempting to convince me to hang out with him. He meant well, but it was intimidating. Riley was there with him and something about him made me feel more comfortable. Over the next few weeks, we ended up together!”

What are your musical influences? “We love our Australian music. We find a lot of inspiration in artists like Things of Stone and Wood, Frente and Darren Hanlon, as well as other duo’s like She and Him and Simon and Garfunkel. Mostly our songs come from each other’s quirks and quotes.“ What are your goals for the future? “We’re very focused on the immediate future and we like to set small goals and change them as they happen. Things have been growing very quickly and our focus right now is to keep them growing in terms of the quality of our music and performance. Our number one goal has always been reaching as many people as we can and forcing smiles onto even the sourest of faces.” The Old Married Couple have just completed a tour around Melbourne, and I asked how they found it? “Melbourne was a major moment for The Old Married Couple. We were treated so kindly and professionally by the industry and audience down there, that it gave us the motivation to grow. We want to have the same experience in Sydney, and then all around the country and in time, the world.” I have no doubt that they shall. If you want to discover whimsy through music, this is the duo for you. For further information, or to purchase their CD, go to www.theoldmarriedcouple.com or www.facebook.com/theoldmarriedcouple

#ProjectPositive, September 10th. Friends and Family.

September 9, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Friends and family say that I’m… I asked my daughter and one of the first words that came to mind was stubborn. She reminded me that in all situations, we look at each other, and state our motto, “the Angelou girls never give in, and never give up!” It has held me in good stead over the years, and I am sure stubbornness shall treat my daughter well too. I must say, that we are flexible, and despite having a fused spine, my spirit is capable of bending like a reed (at least one part of me is bendy!) Not only do I love listening to other’s viewpoints and beliefs, I am able to respect them. Stubbornness and flexibility, a good combo! My friends and family are spectacular! Unconditional love springs forth from them all, and I know I am valued. Great people… Back to stubbornness; I implore you to never let go of what you know you are meant to do. I started writing my book when I was an adolescent. Making notes, getting the events clear in my mind. When I lay flat on the rotorbed for months, I questioned why I had survived. When I slept, I dreamt of holding a book. Writer, I had to become a writer! I sent the book away when I was pregnant with my daughter, and it was accepted. The dear fellow had a small publishing company, and his sister had actually been in the same clinic as detailed in the book. We worked on the book together, then I received a call. My publisher had died suddenly. Crestfallen, the manuscript was put away. I sent it again when my daughter was two, and it was picked up by an international publisher. Then, the financial crisis hit. The accounting department were reluctant to spend any money on publicising a new author. I posted it off again, then moved house. A year later, I woke at midnight, and felt compelled to look in the spam email box! I didn’t know why the hell I was doing so, until I spotted it. It was from the publisher I had last sent the synopsis to. It said that they had tried my home number and address and if I wanted to be published with them, to please call! The spam were just about to be discarded! As I said, stubbornness and never letting go of dreams has worked well for me.

Eccentric. I can’t ignore this one! I dance to my own beat, a beat others can’t hear and I can only detect faintly. Still, it is there, and I must follow it. I talk to animals, and every night, when it is time to put my little birds to bed, I call out “birdie bedtime!” The budgies climb back into their house and onto their double swing and wait for me to close the door. The canaries and finches hop up to their perches and fluff up. I have my funny little ways. My friends can’t miss me down the street, as I am always colourful, even when I try to be demure.

I would lay down my life not only for a friend or family member, but also a stranger. In fact, that has nearly happened a few times. I am glad I did what I felt was right. So there you have it, stubborn, eccentric and willing to sacrifice everything. I make my daughter laugh, and am both irreverent and cheeky. After a long battle to reclaim my core, I like who I am.

September 3rd. #ProjectPositive, Friendship

September 2, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela992 Comments

I was always referred to as an eccentric kid, who danced to the beat of her own drum. Group games and sports never interested me, and I was in fact scared of groups of people. I kept my own counsel, and observed. I loved the fringe-dwellers at school, those who also danced to their own music. I was welcomed to join the “crowd,” though never felt the need to. There were times when friendships ran hot and cold, and someone wouldn’t be my friend anymore after not doing what they commanded. It mystified and hurt me. By the time I was fourteen, I was a loved member of a friendship group I found on the streets. They were from different schools, though all had damaged homes. They were mother hens to this troubled chick, making sure I ate, and that I felt loved. When I was taken to the clinic, I lost my support base. I knew nobody, and was very alone. It didn’t take long for friendships to come into my sphere again. In a clinic, the façade of “the crowd” has been stripped away and there is a rawness that is as exquisite as it is confronting. No fake smiles or small talk. Straight into why you want to die, and what will make living bearable for you. Holding a friend’s bowl, whilst she dry-retches and sponging her forehead. Holding a wounded girl in your arms whilst she sobs. The sort of emotional intimacy it would take years to build up, is accomplished in five minutes. I hated this place, though I loved the people. My friends didn’t just break into pieces one day. It took years of chiselling and whittling to provide the circumstances in which they happened to be admitted. They tried to spare me my fate. They could see it happening, could see him circling. They would have done anything. They tried.

After several months in hospital, I went home after the fall. I had no friends, for my peers had gotten on with their lives and I had been forever changed. The next three years were spent doing correspondence school, seeing doctors and police officers. It was a strange existence, though one I am grateful for. When one isn’t exposed to a myriad of people each day, one gets to know oneself intimately. The downside was that when I went out into the world at eighteen, I thought everybody was lovely and had good intent. Some didn’t. Some wanted to use me, drain me, wound me. I had to learn to protect my heart whilst collecting friendships. When one comes across a forever friend, you know you have found a treasure. No need to hide. Love and support are offered in abundance. I love all my friendships, and wish I could see these dear people on a daily basis. I try to catch up whenever I can. When one has known profound loneliness and isolation, it makes you appreciate your companions all the more. Each is a gossamer thread in the tapestry of my life, contributing detail. I try to be a good friend, and when their heart’s break, mine does too. My dearest wish is that they all know how loved and treasured they are. It has taken a long while to find them all, but now that I have, I feel humbled. You cant orchestrate the natural coming together of individuals. Part of the joy is seeing it unravel over time. I love you all, my friends. All unique; the dreamers, artists, writers, doers of good. You have sustained me, and helped tie the loose ends of my life into a beautiful bow. I will try and be worthy of your kindness.

Raphaela’s Companions-Nicci Peverill

August 28, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Nicci Peverill owns Cupcakes in Camden, and runs food tours via her site, Made in Macarthur As if those two endeavours aren’t enough, she is also a resident writer at In Macarthur Magazine She is a whimsical nature spirit, resplendent with colour and art, flowers and fairies. “Often my biggest risks turn into my biggest triumphs!” She was born across the ditch in Auckland, and came to Australia at 27. She moved into Camden three years ago, and everybody has fallen in love, both with Nicci and her cakes! She has degrees in psychology and zoology, and after having her gorgeous daughter Liv, she brought her small business to fruition. She did an inventory of all the equipment she would require, and then practiced and refined recipes. “If you are determined, and have a love for something, anything is possible!”
She has a love of nature, and bakes from her heart, using natural resources. She is a storyteller, and clients open up to her, knowing their hearts are safe. It isn’t just about cake, but rather building a story around this ancient tradition. There is an affiliation between life and baking “Every wedding story that I tell- every event that I bake for- I really try and capture the personality of the people, whether it’s through a colour or a flavour. Food and emotion go together and food brings people together. I try to make the cake interactive. It’s not just about putting cake on the table.” She loves experimenting with flavours, and is a gluten-free expert, baking for local gourmet haven, The Epicure Store

Persian Love Cake and Salted Caramel Brownie.

I asked what triggered Nicci’s love of baking. “My grandmother did loads of baking for her family. It’s always been a love of mine. I looked at the skills that I had, I was pretty determined!” I asked Nicci about how she unwinds, as one of the challenges of running a home business is that you are always accessible. “I have to be strict with myself. I do really simple things. Livi and I go on nature walks after school. We also escape Camden and travel to the city or Southern Highlands, normally outdoors and centred around food, shared with other people. Every morning, gear yourself up with a good attitude. You might not feel great each day, but it is how you conduct yourself. Life is not an easy thing. You need to look after yourself. I see a lot of people not doing that. I think it is the most important thing, as a woman operating in society with all its demands. We have to take time out to look after our wellbeing, physically and emotionally. Most of the time I am pretty good at doing that, but other times I have to remind myself. It is having that awareness there.” There is a family link to depression. Nicci’s father was a Vietnam Vet who came back from the conflict with deep depression. When he passed away, she went through a dark time. She forced herself to get out into the world, rather than retreat. “It’s the natural stuff which helped, exercise and friendships.” She has a very happy life today. “So many people get bogged down with everyday life. You see it and you want to tell them!”

What is your vision for the next year?
“There are some amazing people who have moved into the area. I think it’s really started to change Camden, and we are on the creative map! Growing my gluten-free baking range. I always want to be a small boutique operation where people can come and get an old-fashioned cake. I will continue to experiment!” I have no doubt this cake artiste shall do all this and more. I am honoured to have a friend of such generous spirit, wisdom, love and laughter in my life.

24 Hours

July 26, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela993 Comments

Yesterday I woke up feeling ill. My specialist has put me on a new medication, and I know I have to give myself time to adjust. It was bitterly cold and the sky was grey. Someone had smeared the sky with charcoal. My stomach was distended as the endometriosis grew, fed by this new drug, which I need. “Look at the big picture, Raphie,” I urged. Always look at the big picture. I felt the urge to scream from the pain, and the desire to clean and discard. I did both. Why the hell do we keep the things we do? Old numbers on scraps of paper, old ways of being. I put an angel who had lost her wings into the pile of donations. I had stored my maternity clothes in a special drawer. I looked at them, and wondered why I had held on so long. My subconscious must surely have been seared every time I went past that drawer, even if I was unaware. As I washed up, I exhaled heavily. A burden had been lifted. I then heard the ‘snap’ of my spine as I was dragged along the ground after my fall. It was as distinct as though it were happening then and there. “Oh my God!” I cried, bursting into tears. I sat with the memory a while. I assured myself that it was natural to have events, sounds, smells and more clamour to the forefront on the anniversary. On White Ribbon Night.

After school pickup, a friend popped in. She hugged me, and said how sorry she was that today was “the day.” It meant the world to have it acknowledged. This lady knows all about “those days.” The pain ramped up, and I was in a holding pattern of agony, fevers and chills. There was to be a meeting of gentle souls around the corner that evening, and I determined that I would go. I didn’t want to be home with my memories. The hostess is a vegan, and she had made this delicious main meal.

We laughed and talked about foster kids, homelessness, travelling, art and beauty. We sipped coconut water and made sure room was saved for this.

I didn’t stay late, and I gave my gorgeous friend a tight hug and thanked her. My mind had been summoned to wondrous places, leaving that dark building on a winter’s night. The pain was softened by the graciousness of a nourishing meal and a room full of good people. I went home and hugged my little girl, smoothing her tendrils of honeyed hair. “May your world be markedly different, my darling.”

New Life.

July 3, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

We met a dear lady and her little girl, and were strolling the streets of our home town when my daughter asked to visit the local pet shop. There he was. The new life we both craved and needed. I burst out laughing as this little man with a fluffy bouffant and skun-like tail sauntered along his pen. “He looks like Pepe Le Pew!” I said to my friend. “Can we get him? Can we?!” my little girl begged. “Of course my darling,” I said. He was placed in a box, which was unsealed by the time we left the pet shop. The two little girls had turns holding him, and took him to the park.

This six week old gave such joy to both my daughter and her little friend. They played with him for hours in the park, and when we got home, my daughter lovingly fed him. Death and destruction occur, and as much as we try to shield our kids, pets die and pain comes, unannounced and with swiftness. New life and unexpected joy then arrive, like an angel’s trumpet, heralding all that is good. Meeting Peppi was our symbol of hope.