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Unfamiliar Terrain

Today on my morning walk it rained. This was not a bad thing. I watched people ducking for cover; however, I like the rain. It is wet, not bad. The path takes me along the beachfront and eventually over a large headland. At one point I looked across a small beach inlet toward the headland and noticed a Pandanus tree up high, nestled into the rocks. I imagined what it would feel like to be sitting under that tree, sheltered from the rain, looking out to sea. Then it struck me…why imagine it, just climb up there and experience it! Pushing aside apprehension, ignoring my inner voice screaming at me that this is NOT something we do… I walked to the headland and climbed. Rock by rock. It was slippery and wet, I stumbled a few times, but I got there! Sitting under that Pandanus tree, (actually, hanging on for dear life) it felt just as I had imagined it, serene and simultaneously empowering! To my right the headland twisted around a corner, south to another beach. The tide was h
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Introduction

I sit across from her acutely aware of the unfamiliarity between us. At first glance she seems stable, sturdy, dependable, however we have only just met, so what do I know. She will show me in time, I am sure. I notice the years on her and feel her observing me also. Watchful, amused. Bemused? “We’ll see” she seems to say. Years of being there for whomever needed her have taken its toll, although her stoic determination to prevail has led her to me. What lies beneath her worn appearance? What stories will she tell as I spend time with her…love her…the best I can…with what I have to offer…for all that is worth. Today we just sit together. No pressure. No expectations. Tomorrow we will go a little deeper… not far…a few casual questions…some gentle enquiry and then we will see.
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Neuralyze me

Remember the Neuralyzer from the MIB (Men In Black) movies? One zap and all memory of what just happened was erased! Zappo. Gone! No-one ran from the scene in hysterics, screaming Aliens, Aliens, we’re all going to die! No one went home and built alien proof homes or developed elaborate alien detection systems…preparing for the worst. One zap and they simply continued their day, completely unaware and at peace in the moment. So, I have been thinking about this (and learning some stuff too). What if we couldn’t remember our past experiences? I mean really, didn’t know what we had been doing or feeling back there. What if we didn’t have any memory of our job, our finances, our likes and dis-likes?  What if we couldn’t conjure up past agreements with ourselves, ‘I’ll never do that again, I’ll be better next time, I won’t break it, drop it, lose it!” I wonder what we would do if we woke up one day with just the daylight and nothing else? How then, would our day unfold? I then
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Check Box

Those who know me, know I love to travel. Those who really know me…know I love planning the trip! Ah yes, the sweet, sweet, comfort of a check list. God, how I love something to tick. Give me a check box and a red pen and I’m in heaven! Planning a trip is exciting at best. You are going away, leaving behind routine, familiarity and the daily grind. What will you find when you get there? How will each day unfold, who will you meet, what stories will you tell on your return? Will you have frost bite, a suntan, sore feet or a blown-out credit card? The unknown is exciting, sometimes a little dauting, but always fluid and unpredictable. But for me, one of the best bits is the planning…the preparation. I’m not talking about organising every moment of the trip, far from it. I love stepping out each day afresh, embarking on Christopher Columbus style exploration! What I’m referring to is the little things, that in my Virgo mind, make the lead up to the big event so enjoyable.
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The Teacher

We are low releasing to the mat, surrendering, waiting to begin. Instinct, intuition and a wealth of knowledge, she observes the physical before her. Today’s plan abandoned, new plan…she sees and knows what is called for, Instruction given incrementally, outer pad of big toe, inner wrist, skin and breath. 200 hours? Try 200 hundred thousand and more, living, giving, being yoga. With wisdom and a life dedicated to the practice, she shares her expertise, Resistance, fear and self-judgement, we falter. We harden, unyielding, rigid. We are not there to be pampered, nor ignored, she is discerning, watchful, ever present. The impossible is possible, securely guided, supported, we grow stronger and softer, Each day we are shown the path forward, although not always do we journey. Sometimes we wander, distracted and disillusioned, however we suffer no judgement. Her presence is steadfast, respected, gratefully accepted. Back to the mat, forever chan
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Pastel Peace

Today I decided to crack open my art box. I’ve always loved to draw; however, I have never devoted much time to it. Why? Mainly because of the voices. You guessed it; we are following on from the theme of last week’s blog. Ego mind. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves… Art. I enjoy all forms of art, painting, drawing, sculpture, printing, decoupage, even furniture restoring! I have tried my hand at most of it. There is something etched inside me that yearns to create. I dream of tapestry and weaving (tried that), fabric landscapes, tile mosaics (tried that too) and mountains of paper iced with inks and liquid foils. (Inked it, drew it, painted them) However, whilst I have dabbled in most forms of art, I have rarely completed any project I have started! I have collected every manner of medium; pastels, pencils, acrylics, miles of fabric, wool, canvases and literally every type of paper! These lay stacked and stashed waiting for my attention. (A bit like my journals…
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Challenged??

I am a student yet. Still. Yoga is my teacher. I feel that I am getting it. I have achieved and I am good. Then Yoga shows me my ego. Bam! I am shown the truth. I struggle, this is hard. Really really, hard. I am uncomfortable. Challenged. I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel good. Yoga sees and knows, EVERYTHING. I can be humble and just be with where I am until I am able to move on, or I can berate myself, feel lacking in some way, angry with myself for some sort of failure. What to do? Which will I choose? I react in a very familiar way, I feel it coming…the tantrum. On the outside I am composed, on the inside, full scale dummy-spit…spade and bucket thrown…I storm from the sandpit. I’m not playing anymore! Sound familiar? We don’t like to be uncomfortable. We like smooth sailing, calm seas, a bridge over troubled waters and why not, it’s nice. Right? There are plenty who would argue that life is meant to be easy and we do not need to struggle and to
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