Muzu Creative

From the Travel Log     Destination: Mornington Peninsula. I had heard about the wineries in this region, the cheese and the wine. Did I say that already? Wine. There I go again. I had never been to a winery, have drank plenty of wine, but had never had the experience of wine tasting, the whole sniff, swirl, taste and spit process would be a first. Needless to say, I was excited. Needless to say, there would not be very much spitting…if any. I would be staying with my cousin and her partner at their home in Blairgowrie for a few days and I could hardly contain myself. Like a child in the back seat, ”Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” Finally, we arrive.   Outside of the car a light breeze carries a salty signature that I am familiar with. The ocean?? I cannot see it, or even hear it, however I feel it’s presence. Don’t ask me why, I was never very good at geography, however, for some reason I never associated the Mornington Peninsula with the o...

I made an angel. Created her out of clay. Painstakingly I sculpted and moulded her. I loved her. I loved her heavy wings, they way they sheltered her and protected her heart. I loved that tiny heart, the way she looked down on to it "I will always look after you" she whispered, "you are safe".  Until the day she broke.   My son rang me on my way home. His voice was shaky, apprehensive. "Something terrible has happened" he mumbled. Moving straight into mother mode, I panicked. "What is it?? Are you ok??" "I broke her...I didn't mean to... she fell...I tried to catch her...I wasn't quick enough"  Oh My god... who?, where? What the?????? "Your angel mum... she smashed!!" The poor boy. He knew I loved her, created her, protected her. But the sense of relief was instant. Just a sculpture, not a life, a girl or an animal. Just a sculpture. It wasn't long however that the realisation of what had just...

Walking... breathing in, breathing out. Time passes, an hour or more. Walking. Steps taken? Not known. Distance travelled? Not known. Pace kept... not known and certainly not concerned about. The walking is not about exercise it is but a means to the peace, to the connection. When I walk my mind changes direction. Where it may have been going straight ahead North, it turns abruptly and heads out West. It takes the winding back roads and the dusty not so trodden paths. I sometimes walk the same route, but each time it is as if I have never wandered there before. Occasionally I look out from my minds eye and find that I have absolutely no idea where I am or which direction I have come from. I am only aware of the beauty surrounding me. I feel an almost out of body experience as I traverse through the neighbour hood. I could be anywhere in the world. I could be anybody, somebody, nobody. Although I feel I should be used...

  I walk the beach as often as I can. I am lucky in that it is only a five-minute drive from where I live.   The beach I walk is fairly remote. Once you pass the car park area, the caravan park and the few homes on that stretch, what lays before you are sand, sea and dunes. Bliss.   My husband asked if he could join me on my walk. This is not something he usually does. He prefers to smash punching bags and huff and puff his way through extreme workouts!   Nevertheless, here he was, on my beach…walking. As soon as we hit the sand, he starts to jog toward the water’s edge, calling to me to get my heart rate up. Funny man. My heart is singing the moment I smell the ocean. I attempt a half arsed shuffle in the soft sand, my ankles screaming at me, knees buckling, my heart demanding “what the fuck?” Laughing at myself and the look of horror on his face, I cease this ridiculous pantomime and apologise profusely to the various parts of my body whic...

Like  most people, when I make my bed I shove my pyjamas under my pillow. This morning I smile as I observe the unevenness of the bed pillows. On my husbands side two pillows sit straight and to attention, on my side the pillows balance precariously, on my stack of pyjamas, threatening to topple off at any moment. What can I say, I like my Jammies. To me my Jim Jams are part of my emotional and physical support team. They offer me comfort when I need nurturing, they enable me to be free thinking and unobstructed, they say "AAAaaahhhhhh time to let go, relaaaaax!" or "You are free to create!" It is not uncommon for me to be in my PJ's by 4pm. Sometimes with wine in hand. Not always, but sometimes. PJ's signal letting go. To me they represent true authenticity. Completely unguarded and open. No holding on or digging in. Loose, soft, free. It is not uncommon for me to stay in my Jam Jams until midday. I love to write in my pyjamas. I love to cook in my...

Once upon a time there was a girl. A girl with aspirations and dreams. Dreams of colour, of movement, of dance. Of spirit and angels and love. As the girl grew she was taught a great many things. How to walk, how to hold herself, what to think, what to wear, how to act. The girl with the dreams kept dreaming but her dreams were now in the background and her REAL life was all around her. Every now and then the girl would focus on her forgotten dream and in return the dream would sing to her. The dream-song was so beautiful. It sang of a life of purpose and peace. The girl tried to follow the music of her dream-song however she often lost her way and the song would fade into the background again. After many years of this following and fading, the girl fell to her knees and wept. She wept for the dream lost. She wept for the futility of her REAL life. Her face awash with broken hearted tears, the girl gave up. Gave up trying to find balance between her dreams and her responsibi...

So where has my faith led me? Where am I now? I am my own boss. I am the director, the CEO, the general and the captain of my own ship. How did I get here? I stood at the precipice, pausing only long enough to gaze upward, toward the skies, taking in the sunlight for a brief moment before stepping outward. Did I look down? Not likely. Looking down is dangerous. For far below, in the depths, lie fear, insecurity, self-judgement and whole lot of what-ifs. "What-if I fail?" What-if I get hurt, lose face, crash to the ground, broken and spent? So I looked outward. I stepped outward. My instinct and my intuition led the way. Step by correct step. Am I a fool? Is this a safe way to travel? It is for me. Past experiences have taught me that when I follow someone else lead, I end up lost with my path a tiny dot in the distance. So I decided to just listen to what I felt deep inside and do it. Sell the house....OK Start your own business...OK Build your own website, desi...