The Dawn’s.

 

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.

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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.
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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.’

 

 

365 Days of Typography: Day 29

🌼 Edelweiss 🌼's avatarEXPLORE . ADVENTURE . DISCOVER .

HAPPY FRIDAY EVERYONE!

HAVE A SAFE AND WONDERFUL WEEKEND!

ENJOY EVERY MOMENT.

NEVER TAKE ANYTHING FOR GRANTED.

♥   ♥   ♥

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Community.

Flowers I bought munchkin.
Flowers I bought munchkin.

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.

Lived to Tell is now an ebook!

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You can purchase Lived to Tell as an ebook from Amazon or ITunes 

This book was a labour of love, begun when I was going through the events depicted in the book. It has a happy ending, I promise!

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Anastasia Amour

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Anastasia Amour (pseudonym Stardust), sent me a little package of affirmative stickers. My daughter was very excited when I said Stardust had sent us a gift. Her little face fell when she searched the empty envelope. “Where is the stardust?” she pouted. I told her it was invisible, imbued on the stickers.

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Words have such power. You know, these days its cool to be disaffected and sarcastic, caustic and negative. Its easy to cut the groove in the rotating vinyl record inside your head. Doing Anastasia’s ProjectPositive changed my world. I felt connected to a vibrant group of people doing life, endeavouring to work out the snags. I learnt that I am worthy of love just as I am. I examined what beauty and self-love actually is, and what it isn’t. I was humbled and my self-talk was certainly transformed. Not only are her sticker’s embedded with Stardust, but Anastasia is as well. www.anastasiaamour.com

Lizzie’s Art.

Art is a beautiful medium of expression. My little girl loves her art, and attends a local studio each Saturday. She is there for almost three hours. I love seeing the pure joy on her face when she shows me her latest creation. My house is filled with her art. It provides a visual showing […]

It’s a Wonderful Life (with a touch of melancholy thrown in).

Bright and Happy To Do List.
Bright and Happy To Do List.

I have been hit by melancholy, a low-grade depression. It has been skulking up on me, playing the old and tired game of shadowing. I feel a tap on my shoulder, turn around, and find nothing. It walks so closely that it mimics my moves. It starts with feeling overwhelmed. Seeing what needs to be done, but with no idea where to start or how to fit it all into a day. More caffeine is drank, and less sleep is had. My hands shake. I worry if I am loved, if I do enough, if I am enough. I look for assurance and guarantees. The fragility builds upon itself, like particles of sand atop each other. Seemingly compact, though at risk of caving in at any moment. So many changes shall be taking place next year, and my child will need me to strong. She will also need to see tears and vulnerability. She needs me to show her how to do feelings. Perhaps that is one of the issues. We almost become disassociated shells as we go about our day. Never checking in with our minds and hearts, perusing our to-do lists. It’s funny what you let slide when melancholy hits. You cease to exercise, eat regularly, drink water, take your tonics, meditate, stop. You cease to contact friends and plan adventures. All the stuff you actually require. I know what my triggers are, and I know what to do to feel better.

A very brave friend has shown me  you are allowed to say when you need to retreat, and bow out on a particular day. After all, you have some inner filing to sort. She also showed me how to reach out in a meaningful way, to suggest a dinner or movie. She showed me how to make overtures of friendship without fear of rejection. She is doing some major work, eating well and taking time for herself. She is glowing. I want to glow too. I first heard the song, It’s a Wonderful Life by Black a week before I was abducted. I loved the melancholic overtone running through the hope in the undertone. They created the perfect song with the perfect video clip. It is a wonderful life… I really am of an age where experience has shown me that melancholy doesn’t  jump me in a dark alley. Events and comments and the world and the news shadow us all, and we need to consistently dive into our tool kit. I just enquired of myself what might be needed this afternoon. I am going to make a pot of green tea, a salad wrap, sit outside for five minutes, and eat freshly baked lavender scones this afternoon. That is what I shall do.

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Rosa.

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.