{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual inspired by Soulemamma. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

A Samhain Shower

The Altar

It was a beautiful day. My mother shower fell on the festival of Samhain (Beltaine in the North) and we began with all the triumphant beauty of a sunny Autumn day.

All of the women gathered in the red tent that had been set up in our lounge room. The red tent that has been the backdrop for some many rites of passage, so many brides, so many mamma's-to-be and so many celebrations of lifes gifts. The red tent that my hubby and I had created with our own two hands, that has been embellished and seasoned by the hard work and love of Lausy and Tracey during the many years that we have worked together, and that has meant so much to so many.

Flower Crown

I was welcomed into the ruby womb space through an archway of raised arms, my little Beansters included, while two of my women drummed for me. It was funny and sweet and symbolic of returning to a safe, pre-birth space where I was held and loved in total and absolute joy. I was welcomed and smudged and crowned with flowers as I contemplated the imminent arrival of a second precious little flower into our family. I was given the opportunity to share my fears and to offer my gratitude for all that I have and to let it all go into the perfection of the moment, knowing that there is only one way out of this journey now and that is through it. Trying to find that trust inside of me that knows how to live this birthing journey and trusting the baby inside of me to tell me when and how to move with the tide when it eventually rises.

Becoming a Big Sister

Lily was honoured with her very own flower crown (and totally outshone her mother in it's wearing) and was gifted with her very own Big Sister ceremony. A simple outpouring of love from my big hearted sisters with a blessing on her changing status. Nothing fancy or difficult for a little one to understand, simply an acknowledgment that as my life changes, so does hers.

And then the time of the pappa arrived. He read out a letter to his beautiful wife (that's me) and to his new, as yet unknown, baby. It was beautiful, moving and eloquent as only my man can be and reminded me yet again of how very, very lucky I am to have such a man at my side and in my arms (when he fits!).

My Man, My Child, My Belly and Me

There was not a dry eye in the house for most of the proceedings and I surprised myself by how much I could cry in company. I wouldn't say it was exactly a comfortable experience to be so vulnerable, even with the women who love me and whom I love so much, but it was a cleansing. I think, in some small way my inability to control myself, as I spend so much of my life trying to do, broke down barriers that have needed breaching for a long time. Indeed, when asked about what fears these beautiful women had for me in life and in labour, 'not reaching out for help' was definitely at the top of the list. They reminded me that they know when I'm struggling, even as I try to hide it or retreat in the face of it. They reminded me that I am held even when I think that I am alone. They reminded me that my community of women is so much more than the individuals within it, it is a place to be healed and to be seen, even when you are at your worst and cannot even face yourself. A deep and wonderful blessing indeed.

Beautiful, beautiful Beanie

It was an unforgettable day. Chanting, playing, creating, honouring, sharing and feasting together. Samhain could not have been celebrated more joyfully or more poignantly. And the ripe round bellies of two others of my circle, added to the beauty of the day. I know that I will be just as blessed to attend their Mother Showers when their time comes, as I have been to sit inside my own sacred circle of women and be blessed by their warmth.

 

The Circle is Sacred

And to cap it all off, my mum had flown all the way from the UK at the tender age of 79 to share the day with me and to be a part of this monumental journey into the unknown. She's hoping it's a boy.

Three Generations

And so, as the full moon wanes, as the heavy rains flood the gardens, as autumn takes of hold of my senses and my rhythms I find myself, if not at peace, then at a place of acceptance. Trusting that when my time comes I will be ready, I will find strength, I will be enough. I am able to ride the occasional tide of panic, I am able to sit with all that is and not try so hard to change it. I am able to be here, in this place of suspended animation, waiting for the door to be flung open and for my descent into the unknown to begin. I am able, despite my flaws and my often graceless handling of life's difficulties, to acknowledge how very blessed I am, to see the beauty and the wonder of my life in it's unfolding because this IS my life happening. I am a part of it unfolding whether I am willing or unwilling to participate fully. The 'what is' IS and I am here, witnessing, uncomfortable, afraid, stoical, unready, willing and waiting for it all to unfold into it's inevitable perfection. And I am grateful.

After all, look at what I already have.

Mine

All Mine

The Solitude of Small Things

*photograph by mslume flickr

“You and I can turn and look at the silent river and wait. We know the current is there, hidden; and there are comings and goings from miles away that hold the stillness exactly before us. What the river says, that is what I say.”

Stafford

30-Days of Happiness have flung themselves past me with rude haste. It has been a mammoth month of family, friends, birthday's, anniversary's and the run up to Christmas. I have barely had time to take a breath, let alone a full pause for reflection. Hence the almost month long absence.

This morning as I sat in our sunroom, curled into my golden armchair, letting the (soon to be too hot) sun warm me and drinking tea, I allowed myself to relax. The invisible tension that normally holds me seeped away as the room got warmer. I allowed myself the luxury of silent, unspoiled, uninterrupted moments of nothing more than tea and sunshine. I even read a few chapters of a charming book I'm reading by Louise Erdrich. Her prose lulls me into a deeper contemplation of life and pulls up from the deep, the sensual pleasure of the solitude of small things. I am at ease. I am awake. I am present. It is delicious.

So many things have happened these last two months. We had October, the months of weddings. All of them beautiful, all of them enjoyable but only one of them truly mine. The beautiful Sol-y-luna married her lovely ging and all was well with the world.

Me and My Sister - in true form

November became the month of celebrations and family. My sister arrived from England for a month and, as I always find when we spend this much time in each other's company, our relationship opens and deepens. I have so much respect for my sister. Her life is not an easy one and she seems to have to fight for every inch of space and relief available to her, but she is still full of the life, the joi de vivre for which she is famous. Her youngest child (one of six - four of them an adopted family) is autistic and approaching the very difficult rite of passage that is puberty. It is difficult for most but even more so for children with autism. As she tries to negotiate his needs and desires and ensure that he gets the care and attention he needs in a mainstream school, she must also be on the lookout for those complications that come with puberty - things that can severely offset his health and happiness, like Epilepsy, to which autistic children become prone to around this time. Obviously, her month away from her child has been an adjustment for him too and it has shown in his increasing meltdowns. But this is her life. She is enured to it and he is the main focus of her existence right now. Such is a mother's love. Such is life.

What takes my breath away is that she does it all largely unsupported, with no-one to hand over to at the end of the very long day. There is no man at her back. No-one to crumple into when it all gets too hard, as it often does. There is no-one there to share the burden of her child's difficulties, our aging mother's infirmities and our brother's mental illness. Too much has been loaded onto her plate and it starts to show through the cracks in her armour. Strangely, I welcome the cracks. I love the parts where we start to break apart, to become real with one another. Not that the indomitable willed woman you are most likely to meet is not the real her, believe me it is. It's just that when the soft underbelly is exposed, that's when I love her most. Because I feel her pain, I share it and I understand it. I want to help. Even if it is only in the holding of the moment with her. I am grateful for these little insights into another's life, particularly when that other is my sister.

The hubble embracing Movember in style

November was also the month of my 40th birthday. And what a week that was. My gorgeous man showered me with love, affection and a beautiful white gold and diamond encrusted 'Eternity' ring. There was the surprise party (which was a total surprise!) which included being serenaded (for the first and only time in our 8-year relationship) by my husband, with a song he wrote just for me and which was as funny and sweet as a ditty from Flight of the Conchords. Then came the night in the swanky hotel, the date at the cinema followed by the sharing of very messy Nachos and much talking. It was, without exception, the best of birthdays.



THEN came the wonderful transitional event planned and executed brilliantly by the gorgeous Sol-y-luna. A red tent extravaganza which I can barely even begin to describe. I was massaged, bathed in rose petals, fed bowls of berries and nourishing teas. I was escorted down my own candle-lit stairs by my closest friends, each offering spirit gifts and blessings along the way and finally, I was smudged and shown into a red tent suffused with candle light and filled with the love and the generosity of the suprising and inspiring women in my life. It was enchantment.

It's a butterfly, ok? Just look at the hair - its fabulous!

This event was an opportunity to revisit my life, to share the steps that had led me to this place - this gateway into the afternoon of my life - and a chance to bless it all and release it all before continuing on my way. It was an opportunity for the women in my life to be present, to hold space for me in a sacred and timeless way and to offer me a container into which I could pour myself over and again. Plus, there were pressies! We danced, we laughed, we shared and the love and gratitude overflowed like good wine. It was an extraordinary few hours and a thing of enormous beauty. I have been held in that beauty and grace ever since. And I am very blessed by the women who shared that time with me.

We also shared two anniversary's. The first, our own. The hubble and I have been married now for five years. The second was the first year in our own house. Both were poignant, both were happy, both make me smile.

So, you can see why I may have been less than present in cyber-space, no? It has been a crazy time but a beautiful one and I'm not likely to forget any of it any time soon.

Plus there were these precious moments:

The evil pleasure of watching small children trying to eat doughnuts with no hands...heh heh heh (dress by the lovely and talented Nettles)

Looking for Puffing Billy (the train)

What's snorkelling mummy?

Fossicking around in rock pools - glorious beach days.

Roo Love.

And so, now comes the stilling of the rapidly beating life heart. As it settles into its usual casual (if slightly erratic) rhythm, my inner life can once again come into focus. I can sit and listen and write. I can prepare. I can acknowledge the fiery, spirited women who comprise my family and friends. I can hold my fears and my failings up to the light and know that I am loved no matter what. I can take a deep breath, fill my lungs with the air of silence that now pervades and allow it to take me where it will. I can pay attention to the life that nudges inside of me.

Bellycast

Today I am 17 1/2 weeks pregnant. I feel the baby roll inside me from time to time. The delicate touch of its little hands or feet on my womb that radiates a smile of pleasure through me. The reassuring little knocks and pokes that lets me know all is well within. It has been tiring and will no doubt continue to be so. I have a wired, active, busy and demanding toddler to love, cherish and grumble at. I hit these walls in the middle of the afternoon that have my feet taking me towards bed and sleep, even while my head screams 'Can't!' and my toddler seeks out my hand and my awareness. I am rarely alone with this new life and there is some small sadness in that. But so it is with the second and probably third and fourth children. We are not able to give the fierce attention to the second that was the right of the first. We are not able to sit with the little life inside of us and imagine the perfection of each little finger and toe. We are occasionally reminded of its presence through the miracle of movement and then, for a moment, the grace of motherhood peeps through. The rest of the time its business as usual with small children and of course, life as we know it. So I am grateful for these rare moments alone. Or rather, not alone but with child.



Today is likely to reach a horrific 39 degrees. It is a day of Extreme weather warning which means bushfires are likely. I am spending the day sweating and moaning in the city sharing a Christmas lunch with one of my beautiful women friends. My Beanie is spending the day in the air conditioned goodness of her nanna's house and the cat, I'm afraid, is on her own. No doubt under the house lounging in the dirt, which is the coolest place around here, even now at 9am in the morning.

My 30-days of happiness has passed and, though I didn't have a chance to record it all here, consider this a mini roundup of all the bestest bits.

30 Days of Happiness Days Eight & Nine

Here I am again. Seeking out the little things that make me smile, that make me feel tremendously grateful for my life and for all the joy I have available to me.

Today's Big Happy is the results of my maternal serum tests. I am (despite my geriatric age in pregnancy terms) in the low risk spectrum for Downs Syndrome! As I would have seriously considered having an amnio this time if the results had been different, I feel pretty happy about that. The risk is the same as that of a much younger woman. Gotta feel pretty happy about that too really! So - as far as we can tell (and we are prepared to trust the Gods on this one), our bubsy is going to be a healthy, happy little bubba not unlike our little Beanie. This also means that the hubble (who has been dying to spill the beans to friends and work colleagues for the last two weeks) can FINALLY tell everyone his wife is up the duff.

My wee girl is on a trip to the Botanical Gardens with her Auntie Elaine and Uncle Pam at the moment, so I have some rare and enjoyable time to myself. I can't help but have minor anxiety about her being without me all day though. I know it's silly, my sister is perfectly capable of keeping her safe but I'm just this way inclined. It will no doubt change with the arrival of the new baby and more responsibility. It's just I know how quick she is and how just a fraction of a second of distraction can be all it takes for something to happen. Ah the joys of nervous motherhood! She will have a lovely time, lots of fresh air and tons of attention. What could be better for a small fry eh?

A lovely clean kitchen is another thing making me smile, especially as I didn't have to clean it! i've also been enjoying the early mornings in our little inside/outside porch bit. The sun streams in there in the morning making it the warmest place in the house and with my new lovely armchairs and our little wooden table (op-shopped for a bargain!), it's just lovely and quiet and still and meditative. The view is across gardens blooming with flowers and trees coming into big leafy green displays. It's just glorious - even with a 3 yr old climbing all over my lap and shuggling my tea! My sister has taken to joining me and we've had many happy conversations there this week.

Anyhoo, it's time for a little lie down, so I'll see y'all tomorrow.

30 Days of Happiness - Day Three

The wonderful Tenzin Gyatso, the fourteenth Dalai Lama. I love this image of him. It so cheeky, like he was caught out by a really good joke.


Well, it's my day off today, so that's something to be happy about. My Beanie-girl is at her Nanna's for the day, (no doubt maintaining her worm farm and planting potatoes), while I prepare our home for incoming. My sister and her (very verbose and 'hyper' friend) are arriving this evening, for a stay of 3-4 weeks. Whilst I am looking forward to some time with my sister and will no doubt enjoy meeting her friend, I am also bracing myself for a break in the peace and quiet I have been enjoying recently. I'm not good with constant noise and I hate constant talking for the sake of it. My family is very, very good at talking and absolutely terrible at listening. In fact, the reason we are so very good at talking is probably because there has never been a lull in the conversation long enough for any of us to actually be heard. It's all about who is the loudest and who can keep going the longest. So, if my beloved sister describes her friend as 'talkative' I can pretty much guarantee that she is going to be a handful. Oh dear Lord.

Still, it's good to meet new people and the nice bit about having visitors is that they keep me in 'good parent' mode. I am definitely a better parent when other people are watching, LOL. They will also provide entertainment for my extremely active toddler AND my sisters friend is Indian, so she wants to spend her time with us cooking traditional Indian dishes. I am ALL up for that. I LOVE Indian food and have very fond memories of Masal Dosa's for brekkie and lovely veggie curries and naan at night, when we were travelling through there. Yummo.

I have spent all morning emptying our closets and preparing bed's in our study/spare room (which has recently been revamped) and in our living room. They look pretty comfy considering. Excellent score of the week was the discovery of three packs of double bed sized, fresh, white cotten sheets for the bargain price of $5 the lot. They must have been in someone's attic for years because the packaging is vintage and the price was a supermarket sticker of $2.50 each! I even put out fresh towels and flannels on the end of the bed, like hotels do. It made me smile.

Interestingly enough, I have had two different pictures of the Dalai Lama come to me in the past week. I have always loved him. I refer to him as Daddy Dalai. My dad was so far from ideal I thought I would choose my own. He is it. Anyway, the two pics came at the same time as a reminder that the Dalai Lama would be in Australia in December for a series of talks.



Happy making is also finally getting excited about having a little someone small enough to fit into a pair of these. Now if I can just bribe someone to crochet them for me...

Subterranean Homesick Blues

This beautiful picture sings to me. I have a great, nay, a whopping, raging love for Bears and their medicine, so here is Bear and Woman by Jackie Morris.

I'm feeling a bit better today than I did yesterday, thank goodness. I collapsed in a big wet heap in my husbands arms and ranted and cried myself silly while he cuddled me. Good man. He then went to the shop and bought me sticky toffee pudding, custard and my favourite ice cream. Ah, comfort food - it brings such, well, comfort. Felt much more like a hooman after that.



Today I was searching through some work by other bloggers, in particular Endicott Studio which will unfortunately be disappearing, along with its wonderful mythic art, from our viewing pleasure very soon, and found a clip of Kate Rusby singing in her wonderful folky way, 'Who will sing me lullabies' . Well, this got me to thinking about another of my favourite folk singer, Nigel Mazlyn Jones, whose vinyl has been long since extinct and whose music I've been desperately trying to track down for these past many years. Well, I typed in his name, half jokingly, truly not expecting to find anything and buggar me if I didn't find a whole raft of YouTube videos of him singing some of my favourite songs. I keep trying to figure out how to add the video for 'Sentinel' on the blog but its not working so far. So, if you are interested go to 'Whats on the Toob' and click on the vid that comes up Sentinel when you scroll over it and it will take you to the place. It's one of the most hauntingly beautiful songs I've ever heard. From this snippet on YouTube I then found his website and consequently have ordered myself a copy of the wonderful Ship to Shore album and eagerly await the remastered to CD version of the album Sentinel. I can't tell you how happy I am to get my hands on his music again after all this time. My tape of it is so stretched and warbly now it sounds like Pinky and Perky are doing cover versions.

Unfortunately, with the lovely must come the not so lovely. All his singing about cliffs and sentinels and ships to shore and his wonderful, wonderful song The Man and the Deer, sung from the point of view of the Hunter and with a response from the Stag, got me feeling completely homesick for Ye Olde Englande and in particular the South West where I lived for a good long while. Its Summer over there now and I know that there would be a lush green carpet of goodness waiting for me if I went over there now. I long to walk the ancient ruins of my homeland.



The beautiful stone circles of Cornwall. How dear to my heart are thee.

I yearn to sit on the cliffs and listen to the gulls and the crash of the cold, cruel sea. I long to visit again despite the fact that I went home only last December (cold Christmas - yummy!) and it was a disappointment due to illness, the stress of seeing everyone after 4 years in Australia and the frustration of dealing with family. In truth, I don't miss my family as much as I miss my country. It sounds harsh I know and its not to say that I don't miss them at all, I do and I love them very much but they are, like most family's, difficult and trying to get a word in edgeways? Forget it. My family know how to talk. Hoh yes. But listening is an art they have no time for. Sadly this means that we rarely get, or give, the support that would be most nourishing for us.

So now, I sit here listening to Nigel on the toob with a soul feeling all windswept and longing for the forests of the land of my birth - the monstrous Cypress - guardians of the dead, the Kingly Oak, the slender Willow - and feel all the sighs rolling over me like a cool breeze. I guess we always romanticise the places and people we leave behind but I know instinctively that though I live and love in Australia, I will never be truly 'home' until I am home - on English soil - up to my neck in irritating British people who don't know how to pick up litter.

Ah well.

I'll leave you with some beautiful images of beautiful Cornwall and will disappear into my living room with a cuppa and nice bowl of steaming hot sticky date pudding and custard to soothe my Midlands soul.


It's my scary Fogou! I have walked right to the back of this deep, darkness wading through the ancient freezing waters barefoot and I have snuggled in the darkest of its antechambers and immersed myself in the still dark womb of the mother.


I've done ritual work here in the Minack Theatre and I've seen wonderful productions at night. What a view at night. At any time of day really. So wild.


I've stayed in this cottage many, many times whilst administrating at workshops.

My Twilight Dreams

*I added this picture purely because it's called Twilight and I love the simplicity and drama of the image. I haven't read the book or seen the movie but now that I've seen this, I might.

Ahhh - I love this time of day in Winter (which it officially is now). The day is emptying of its busyness as people move indoors to end their day and to maybe build a fire or perhaps prepare something warm and yummy for their families. At this time of day I like sit in my gorgeous bush garden just for a few moments as the cool mist starts to creep in. I breathe deeply and watch the sun slipping its heavy golden head below the horizon. It's a time to surrender the day to the Sun God and to welcome the Dark Night Goddess as her slivered moon rises slowly in the West.

Basking in those few moments of lingering gold I wonder how anything could ever be wrong in my world. We are surrounded by such beauty, such diversity and such wonder if we can just sit still enough to see it and, more importantly, let it see us. I am not someone who meditates regularly so these few moments in the twilight of each day are my time to reconnect with all that is most important to me. I can sing chants or simply 'OM' into the shadows while my wee girl chases our black furball around the garden. Poor Belladonna, not much of a chance for peace while the beanie is around but she wears it all well and is (mostly) patient with her rather rough ministrations. I am also not someone who finds it particularly easy to surrender - to anything, wanted or unwanted. I think that I am relatively highly strung by nature and so spend most of my waking unconsious hours clinging on to my life with ever whiter knuckles so again, these twilight times are my way of acknowledging that there is something, some Great Mystery that is so much bigger than me and yet is also a part of me and in which I am learning to trust. I can breathe and sing and let go. Sometimes this time brings me an wonderful sense of peace which I can take into my last activities of the day - preparing a meal for my family, washing up, following the usual bed time rituals with my girl and all the way into sleep. Sometimes it lasts just long enough to prevent me from snapping at my daughter as she paints the kitchen floor with my tenderly prepared soul food. Occasionally, it reminds me to forgo the tiny pleasures of the goggle box and to sit quietly with my Beloved man and read in companiable silence. On even more quiet spirited evenings, this glossy silence allows us to enter into the soul-gazing and generous lovemaking that we hope will result in another little soul being welcomed into our tiny family, to stretch our hearts and to expand our small world. And from these small adventures in my bush garden I am able to remember that I am, to coin a cliche, a spiritual being having a human experience which is, in turn, a reminder to be awake to each moment and to be grateful.

As I sit here in my study, candles burning, incense wafting through the warm air currents created by the ducted heating, I watch with growing love, my hubby and my daughter doing father/daughter stuff in the garden. He throwing her around like a stuffed teddy, she giggling with delight. Both waving up at me from the darkening green and smiling with affection and humour. I am blessed. I know this. The sun is nearly gone now and it is almost too dark in this room to see but I am loath to turn on a light and lose these cosy feelings of connectedness with everything. Electric lights seem to bleach all the atmosphere from a room and I am a creature for whom atmosphere is important. Still, I must go. Like many mothers my culinary expertise is needed in the kitchen and there is a cubed pumpkin with my name on it waiting to be turned into some hearty pumpkin soup.

It is a night for poetry of the spirit so I will leave you with an offering from my Beloved Rumi: Dance with the Bandage Torn Off.

Dance, when you're broken open.
Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you're perfectly free.

Struck, the dancers hear a tambourine inside them,
as a wave turns to foam on its very top, begin.

Maybe you don't hear that tambourine,
or the trees leaves clapping time.

Close the ears on your head
that listen mostly to lies and cynical jokes.
There are other things to hear and see:
dance-music and a brilliant city
inside the Soul.
God said of Muhammed,
He is an ear.
He was wholly ear and eye,
and we are refreshed and fed by that,
as an infant boy is at his mother's breast.

Good night and may the Goddess of this deep and dark bring you strange and brilliant dreams.