Love this!
I no longer want
to cut myself into pieces
for people who will not
accept all of me.
No more masks
roles to play
pretending to agree
when I do not
I do not ask you
to agree with me
or change your point
of view. Only to
accept who I am,
imperfections and
differences, a person
just like you.
Yep, being authentic is cool!
How do you define “cool”? Webster’s Dictionary defines it as, “fashionably attractive or impressive.” But that seems rather relative, don’t you think? I mean who defines what’s fashionably attractive or impressive? And what is our culture’s obsession with wanting to be “cool”?
As if the “cool” concept wasn’t already complicated enough, now, thanks to Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and the like, we are watching what is “cool” unfold, transform, and solidify right before our very eyes. Everyday images on our computers and iPhones are infiltrating our minds and heavily influencing, even manipulating, our thoughts. We see pictures of celebrities rocking an eclectic haircut then we go out and get it because we think it’s cool. We see our friends rocking a particular fashion style, everybody is doing it, and so it must be cool! Without a doubt, social networking sites have screwed up our already skewed definition of “cool”. So, using…
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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!
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
We have all done it. Assumed that someone has the perfect marriage, family, home, career, life. Time has taught me to leave presumptions and assumptions at the door. I knew a successful couple through a charity I was involved in. The lady was the life of the party, hosting many events, always surrounded by people, a glass of champagne in hand. I heard that she needed to go to hospital, for surgery on what they believed was cancer. “You have to go be with her, Raphie,” a little voice insisted. I told that voice that it was silly, that she would have scores of people at the hospital as she checked in. The voice wouldn’t let me be, so I put together a little pack of toiletries and magazines, and made my way to the private hospital. I had to look twice to make sure the little hunched-over lady in the backless gown was her, sitting all alone. When she saw me, she burst into tears. She was there by herself, alright. It was then and there that I threw my presumptions regarding someone’s life into the garbage, where they belonged. The amount of times I have visited people in hospital, to have them burst into tears that somebody actually came, is astounding. We tell ourselves that we don’t want to intrude. That there will be scores of friends and family surrounding the individual. Believe me, it is often not the case.
Through the charities I have been involved in, I have learnt that many of those folks living in freshly made homes in brand new suburbs are under housing stress. They can’t afford electricity payments to their abode’s, let alone curtains. The necessities are bought on credit, and teeth are neglected, dentists considered a luxury. No life is perfect, and much is hidden from public view. It is not out of deceit. Rather, pride and bravery and temerity. Not wanting to burden others with our darkness. Sometimes, it is hard to find the words to explain what we are going through. I have been through one of the darkest times of my life in the past eighteen months. I have retreated and gone to ground, been severely depressed and had months without rest. Yet I still have commitments. I have to front up to daily activities, my makeup on, dressed in fresh clothes. You bet I smile. I contain the sadness within. I don’t want it spilling out in front of unsafe people, and within the pleasantries of a social event. There have been times I have been down to my last dollar, and wondered how on earth I was going to provide the basics that week. There have been times I have been on the floor, unable to move. There have been days when I have rocked myself on the sofa, curtains drawn. There have been times I have worked on projects for twelve hours straight, for weeks on end. When we ask if somebody is okay, we need to listen for the answer. Often its told through body language, changes in behaviour and routine. Leave your presumptions behind, and gently rap on their door. Go visit the hospital. Befriend the one who appears to have the glittering life.
When you see me about, enjoying a festival or other event, it is because I have managed to squirrel away a little money, and have found a small pocket of time to get out and relax. My child and I need the theatre and art for our oxygen, giving us the focus to stay on track regarding our goals and dreams. It is not a perfect life. It can be immensely painful, soul-destroying and sad, like any other life. So when you see the pictures on Facebook, and read the update about a friend’s holiday, perhaps spend a moment thinking of how long they have saved, what they are needing to escape from, and what is beneath the surface. We have our own Atlantis lurking beneath the image. Be kind and be alert.
I am pleased to announce that Lived to Tell is now available as an ebook.
http://www.portcampbellpress.com.au/TitleDetail.php?recordID=9780992590093
Little miss and I were invited to spend the long weekend camping with friends. As a child, I joined the GFS (Girls Friendly Society). I didn’t last long. Those chicks participated in sedentary activities, mostly indoors. I quit, and enlisted in CEBS (Church of England Boys Society). There was concern about having a girl along at the camp’s, but they couldn’t find an actual rule that forbade my becoming involved. The boys were mostly wounded soldiers, involved in familial wars via conscription. One young boy came from such a fractious family that they were featured on 60 Minutes. We were comrades. From nine years of age through to adolescence, I would join the boys on camps. We camped in the Australian outback, didn’t wash for a week and dug our own toilets. I would pitch my little tent besides the boy’s large canopy shelter, and raid the supply tent in the middle of the night. After my back was snapped, I never went on another camp.
I tossed up my friend’s invitation, and was indecisive for a while. I was concerned about my spine. Would I be so crippled with pain that I wouldn’t be able to move? There wouldn’t be reception where we were headed. There are other health issues going on, that need attending to in the next few weeks. I felt anxiety about being away from my comforts, and wondered how I would cope. I was surprised that the idea of going bush conjured up so much fear, where it once provided such joy. The deciding factor’s were the people I was going to join, and the enthusiasm of my little girl. My friends would look out for us, and my daughter was excited about sleeping in a tent, her first experience! A part of my life which had been comatose since my fall, was awakened, and I felt freedom and wildness and trust that I hadn’t felt in such a long time.
The generator was turned off, and we retreated to our tents. My little girl and I cuddled down and relayed stories, then she fell asleep. I read for a bit then drifted off. We woke with a start by the feel of possums pressing on us through the roof of the tent. A whole family of them were twittering. “What is that mummy?!” little miss asked. “Just possums,” I hoped. I had never seen Wolf Creek, and was very glad that I am not into horror movies. When you are laying in a camping ground in the pitch black, your imagination is active enough. We both needed the loo, and unable to stand it any longer, we crept out to the port-a-loo. “Look up!” my companion gasped, and I had my breath pulled from my lungs. The stars were incredible, as though the angels had poked delicate fingers through the navy crepe paper of the sky and allowed us a tease of heaven’s sparkle. We stood there for several minutes, looking up. Finding our way back via a fading torch proved fun, and we both giggled. I am so glad that we ticked a goal off our bucket list. I am so glad that the fear of pain; of being in agony far away from home was quashed. If you have never heard the cacophony of birds waking at the break of dawn in the Australian Bush, you need to. It was the purest and sweetest sound I can recall. I came home tired, grubby, in pain but replenished. I learnt never to limit myself, nor talk myself out of doing something that is unfamiliar or out of my comfort zone. That is often where the best experiences lay in wait.
Bless this beautiful and inspirational lady.
“Spirituality is not to be learned by flight from the world, or by running away from things, or by turning solitary and going apart from the world. Rather, we must learn an inner solitude wherever or with whomsoever we may be. We must learn to penetrate things and find God there.”
― Meister Eckhart
Very late yesterday afternoon I had a sudden urge to go and water my vegetable garden.
It had been a difficult day, after a series of difficult days. I’ve been in tremendous pain from my current lyme medications, and doing my best to just simply sit with that pain. I’m not fighting my pain. I’m merely breathing and being aware of the pain within my body. The pain is so intense that normal functioning is a challenge. Instead I have given in to what is. I am riding each wave until I am thrown up onto the shore once more.
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I am a survivor. Was it really me who endured such dark events? I now have access to the sun. The suncatcher in my window splinters light into rainbows, reaching out across the floorboards and walls, like fingers of hope. The darkness has been vanquished and I can see where I am going. To solidify the direction I want to head in, I write it all down, my hopes and fears. Vision boards are regularly made, and my daughter reminds me if it has been a while between their creation. I am a friend, a mother, a writer and a rebel. I am not a victim, stupid, irretrievably broken, nor any of the many labels stuck on my skin throughout the years. Other’s can’t define you if you do it first. Their definitions cant adhere, if you have your protective shield in place. Mine is now operational, at last! At last! I am hopeful, and positive that the future shall be grand. I know this, because despite the annoyances and issues I encounter, each day is grand. I am astounded that I have reached the end of the month of #ProjectPositive, and am so thankful to Anastasia Amour for challenging me, supporting me and being my friend. I love you dearly. xxx
My Life goals haven’t changed all that much throughout the years. I guess the bar has been lifted higher, so the goals have expanded and become buoyant. I wanted so much to have a happy home, without screaming and friction. Oh, and I wanted to live, to see what it would be like to make it to say, sixteen. How terribly old! To have this little girl in my life, whom I had dreamt of for many years, that was the biggest goal accomplished. To have my book published was also a major goal ticked off. My goal’s now? The things I want to see come to fruition are many and varied. I want more life. I have more than doubled my goal of sixteen years. I am hungry for more. I want to travel with my daughter, to see New York, London and Paris. I want to travel around Australia, and see it all. Our country is stunning. I want to be able to purchase a quant and enchanted cottage for us. To have a bountiful garden and tree house, gnomes and fairy dells. I want to write more books. My little girl and I are almost through with book number four of a series of children’s books. Her ideas are amazing! I want to see her grow into a confident woman, happy and content. I accept that I may have physical challenges as time catches up with my scaffolding. I ask for the temerity to deal with whatever befalls, and that I may keep my body as strong and healthy as possible. I want to speak to people, and spark their inner rebel. I want to write and love and be thankful all my days. These are my goals.
Never again to put up with cruelty masked as sarcasm or humour. Never again enduring cruelty, the sort taking low blows and lifting up the other whilst grinding me into the dirt. No more shame or feeling ashamed. I have been on a twenty year odyssey to reclaim the life they tried to take away. No more. I will not have it and it will not do. Never again to find myself within a game I didn’t want to join, and haven’t been told the rules to. Never again to do too much and exhaust myself, leaving my body reeling in agony. I have put up with a lot, too much. Never again.
Never again to doubt myself, and ignore my gut instincts. I know what to do, and how to do it. Never again to hurt this body with diets and starvation. When I have a treat, such as my beloved cinnamon rolls, I will enjoy it, and refuse to feel guilty. Never again to put up with deceit, and people who don’t have my best interests at heart. I work hard and try my very best, and that is enough. I am one person, standing alone. Never again will I feel that it is not enough; that I am not enough. Never again to have my wings clipped, my voice muffled, my body broken, my mind assaulted, and my integrity questioned. I am free and the list above shall not recur. Never again.
RAPHAELA ANGELOU 