Gnomes and Destiny


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When I was nineteen, I started a business, selling my art and poetry, as well as crystals and curiosities at markets and on consignment. I was extremely busy during this ten-year period, particularly when I reflect on all the surgery I had at the same time! I lived in a grungy, funky part of Sydney, and would often walk down the street to hang out at the all-night bookstore and grab some fabulous Indian food. I was into ceramics, and had my Greenware fired in the kiln of a nearby business, before painting them. I only managed to hang onto two of my pieces from this time. Before I left the area, I retrieved them from the shop where they had recently been placed…

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I haven’t paid them much mind in the intervening years, only to gift them a smile as I passed them in my living room. I have pared back my commitments since Christmas, and have made time to clean and reflect, de-clutter and organize my home. I stopped yesterday and studied my little friends, reflecting on a time when I had created and painted, written and pottered. I recalled the nights spent painstakingly painting them; the joy I felt when what I had created was bought. I looked closer, and noted that they hadn’t been cleaned for a while. Getting a wipe, I lovingly set to work. I turned them over, and there on the base was my daughter’s name, a daughter I wouldn’t have for another decade. I don’t know why I had thought to send them off with the following: Painted with love by E.Rose.

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A chill went through me. When I had finally fallen pregnant with IVF, I had another name altogether picked out for this baby, if it was a girl. In my eighth month, I dreamed of her, and she said that her name was E. Rose. (full name obscured to protect privacy). I changed her name accordingly. I had no recollection of ever signing my work with her name years before. How many hundreds of times had I done so? I called to her and told her the story and she was as delighted as I. “You knew me even then! You loved and wanted me before I was here!” I certainly did. Slowing down and having time to notice my little gnomes gave me a great gift. My daughter was intrinsically entwined in my younger years, letting herself be known, even on an unconscious level. When you say “I can’t do this anymore,” and allow yourself to slow, it’s amazing what you notice. Gnomes may even hold a breath-taking, thrilling message, just for you.

Seeking Movement and Colour and Life (Part 1)


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I was meant to see Rod Stewart last week but due to circumstances out of my control, I couldn’t go. I put my granny knickers back in the drawer, and purchased two tickets to a charity screening of Cinderella instead. Saffron from Kid About and  Kaity are two local businesswomen who joined forces to raise money for Kids of Macarthur Health Foundation.  They put together a magnificent event, resplendent with face painting, photo props and raffles. My little girl and I  went beforehand to Coco Cubano and  shared a platter. Munchkin had a mango drink and I had a Mojito. We had endured a crazy schedule that day, starting off at drama lessons. Now to get there, we have to catch a train through the suburb where I fell. The building is right near the railway line, and visible in all its glory. Every week, I hold my breath, and shudder with conflicting emotions. Gratitude that I am alive two decades after the event. A feeling of absurdity that I am taking my daughter to her activities past the building which held the ledge which held the villain…A feeling of defiance. ‘Up yours! I am still here!’ A feeling of sorrow. ‘I was so little…’ I took this grainy picture and somehow it seemed fitting. The scratches upon the train window are evident. It is grainy as the building whizzed by, much like my life on that particular evening.

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Anyway, we had been to drama and then guitar lessons. Mummy’s spine was beyond agonizing. I leant over toward the seat in front for some relief on the bus. Mummy needed a Mojito by the time we got to our pre-movie café.

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I met many familiar faces at the movies, including Nicci, our cupcake aficionado.

 

I didn’t know what to expect with this retelling of Cinderella and it was beyond my imaginings. It held all the little girls spellbound, and the ladies gasped at the visual feast on-screen. The settings were  beautiful. The villains were beyond contemptible; vile and  bitter. Fortunately, they didn’t take Cinderella’s light. She didn’t end up a twisted old bat, wounding others as she had been. She became more of who she was inside. May that be the case with us all. I am so glad we went, to support our friends and the wonderful organization who was benefitting, and to see Cinderella come into her own.

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