The whims of the city.

 

http://weheartit.com/entry/6882838

As the train rolled into the station the dawn light offered up a soft warm glow that gave an almost celluloid quality to the scene.

After an arduous journey on the overnight train from Geneva I was excited to have finally arrived in Spain.  En route to Barcelona, city with a rich and rebellious history.  Home to artists and intellects, vagabonds and bohemians.  City of wide majestic boulevards and dark Gothic alleyways.  Of crumbling decay and architectural brilliance.

As we alighted the train to the platform, a chilly morning breeze greeted us and the first of the autumn leaves scuttled across the track.  Then I felt it, something warm and wet landed on my head. WELCOME TO SPAIN it seemed to say.

They say it's a sign of good luck when a bird craps on your head.  But it never feels that way at the time, and especially so after an all night journey on a crowded train.

A day or so later, in a hostel room in Barcelona, I jumped out of the shower and pulled on a tight white t-shirt.  I checked my reflection in the mirror.  Had my breasts grown?  Well that certainly would have been a great fortune, perhaps the bird poop theory really was true after all.

I twisted and turned, this way and that, trying to get a better look at myself from different angles, admiring the large pert breasts that had seemingly appeared overnight.  Perhaps I had just gained a little weight with all the bread and cheese on the backpacker menu.

Then it came to me.  From far off in the distance, within that 19 year old consciousness of mine, something was trying to grab my attention.  Leaping around waving a large bright flag.  And like the Bull to the Toro all I could see was red.

Pregnant.

As I watched, the reflection of the girl in front of me changed in an instant.  Just moments before she'd been bursting with the light and sparkle of a young woman brimming with the possibilities of her new found freedom.

Ashen face.  Grey eyes.  Panic in the pit of her stomach.  What would happen now?

I hated Barcelona in that moment.  For its dirt and noise and thieves.  For delivering this devastating news.  For providing the backdrop to what seemed like a great disaster.  For reducing my world to just four dirty stained walls.  For crushing my hopes and dreams.

I couldn't  have known then, that only a few years later, that same city would compensate me for this burden, open its heart and soul, and provide for me a liberating, seminal experience upon my journey as a young women finding her way in the world.

And then much later still would yet again provide the backdrop to the beginning of possibly one of the most unsettling yet enlightening periods of my life. 

I didn't have the baby.  It wasn't the time for us.

I was however spellbound by that city.  Sucked into her womb.  Beguiled by her beauty and wisdom.  Hypnotised by her charms.  At the mercy of her whims.

I'd be surprised to meet anyone that has spent time in Barcelona and not been moved in some way by her spirit.  Her enigmatic charm weaves tales for all that encounter her.

I know now the bird poop was indeed a welcome.  For a part of my soul was rejoicing.  A part of my soul had come home.  Over the years, since that fateful morning on the train platform, I have had a grand love affair with Spain.

In her embrace, under her watchful eye,  I grew up**.


(**A lot of my Spanish friends will be rolling off their chairs in fits of laughter reading that! Yeah I know I didn't behave like a grown up alot of the time, but you know what I mean!)

Mother Land

I feel truly blessed to call Australia home.

She always opens her arms to me when I need her most.

She always opens her arms to embrace her children. Never questioning, never judging. Unconditionally welcoming home all the sisters and brothers unto her warm and nurturing bosom.

Yet she never grips too tightly. Just enough to let you know there is always a place for you in her heart, no matter how far you stray.

Freedom to roam is our national birthright. Global wandering. Following our own particular songlines wherever they may take us. For many of us those lines lead us to prosperity and fulfillment in far off places.

I am grateful for her generosity. For her kindness. For knowing how to heal my wounds. For providing a safe and clean and comfortable sanctuary. For always believing in me. For encouraging me to follow my dreams. For giving me the self confidence and drive to pick myself up and carry on. Always knowing she is there to support me.

I love her like a Mother. It is tumultuous at times. She gets on my nerves just as much as I can't live without her. She is the wind beneath my wings yet living permanently within her clutches is stifling.

Like many Aussie's who choose to live abroad, and especially in loud, crowded, mad places like London there is an enduring lightness to our spirit. An ease with which we are able to face each day, brushing off the dirt and grime that so quickly gathers.

My sister once explained this as a secret we all carry in our souls. A strength and resolve gained from the knowledge that a haven exists for us . A special place to which we may retreat, retire, restore.

I have used her for all of those reasons these last few years. I thank her for that privilege.

When next I call I know she'll put the kettle on and make up my bed, and there will be joy in her heart as she welcomes home another child to recount their adventures.

Wrapping her arms gently around me as I place my head against her chest and feel her warmth. All will be well in the World.

Grateful for....

As I was hanging up yet another load of washing on this fine and glorious day (which incidentally I am very grateful for; the sunshine and being able to get a tonne of washing done) a strange and totally foreign thought entered my mind.

I wasn't feeling the usual dread at the imminent arrival of my Mother-in-Law but rather a sense of relief. And believe me, 'relief' and 'Mother-in-Law' are certainly not concepts which usually go together when contemplating the arrival.

But you see she is arriving with a task already laid out for which she may apply herself contentedly. Brad slashed his foot in a surfing accident yesterday afternoon. Foot and leg injuries are his forte.

Instead of spending my Friday night curled up with a glass of red and a good movie I was in fact at the local A&E awaiting the patient to emerge. And emerge he did with a giant bandage and multiple stitches and strict instruction not to move about very much for 3 days.

School holidays. Crippled husband. Things weren't looking promising. But alas our very own nurse maid is soon to arrive. For this I am grateful. Although maybe I am speaking too soon.

On a metaphysical or spiritual level the feet are all to do with one's connection to Mother Earth. Or the Mother! Injuries can represent our fear of moving forward, literally slowing us down and perhaps making us take a deeper look.  Also they are said to be the storage location for old grief and resentments, stored in the feet far away from the heart.

"Louise Hay suggests that feet represent our understanding of ourselves, of Life, and others, and toes represent minor details of the future." Compassionate Dragon

And I am always grateful for delving beneath the surface and conquering fear, releasing blockage and understanding ourselves on a deeper level.

As usual this is all part of Maxabella's Grateful blog hop, check it out.

Have a GREAT weekend.

Bedazzling down under

 image care of http://www.reviveme.com.au/vajazzling/

There’s been a recent wave of blog posts dedicated to the new black of vagina grooming (here and here and this one is hilarious).  That is: Vajazzling.  Otherwise known as bedazzling your private bits, as brought to the wider global audience thanks to Jennifer Love Hewitt.   So I thought I would join the bandwagon.

I initially posted a little status update and link on my FB page earlier this week, I won't link that here as it's a little inappropriate and might attract the wrong kind of audience.  Needless to say there was a huge response in the comments section.  The whole idea really captured the collective imagination.

My errant husband returns from an epic 6 week trip abroad tomorrow.  He hasn’t seen a vajajay in a while.  I am not sure he could care less about the vajazzle, and quite frankly I doubt he’d even notice in the initial frenzy that possesses a deprived man.  That’s not to say I didn’t prepare myself to a suitably presentable standard.  It’s the least I could do.

But when a friend mentioned he’d been ‘Pejazzling’ for some time now I began to question just how far I’d slipped off the fashion radar.  I spotted my daughters jar of craft jewels and a stick of UHU and considered the possibilities. 

In searching around on google, it's amazing what you can discover.  And although I took the 'pejazzle' comment with a grain of salt, I did actually come across a rather disturbing image and the insightful information that it's set to be the European summer's biggest trend.  

So guys, if you are keen to add a bit of swarovski brilliance to your sword, game is on!   It's like the stuff of fairy tales.  The story of the Knight in shining armour and his jewel encrusted sword.  He is the envy of all the land.  The combination of his talented swordsmanship and magical tool leave all that encounter his brilliance quivering in anticipation and awe.  It's the stuff dreams are made of.

But until now it seems us ladies have been the only ones putting ourselves under enormous pressure and physical pain to keep our landscape design up with the latest trends.

One of my favourite photographers Rankin, who is way ahead of his time and also loves a good vagina shot, may have hit on a more achievable home style vajazzle experience.  Let's call it the vajsprinkle.  

Easy to achieve with a few commonly found household products.  Best of all it's totally edible.  That's got to add a little more spice than a couple of fake diamonds.  It also removes the need for all those pesky questions about what happens when the hair starts sprouting again or if the guys hair gets all tangled up around the crystals.

So if you are seeking a new experience look no further than the baking section of your local supermarket and get vajsprinkling today!

Grateful For Boys

This week I posted this photo and comment on my Facebook page.

My daughter Suki. She astounds me daily with her wisdom, beauty, creativity, humour, generosity, intelligence, ingenuity, originality, care, thoughtfulness and OH so many things.

But today I am grateful for boys.  For boys and their untrappable, endless energy. 

At a skating event today the air of anticipation was palpable as the town's boys and young men mulled about waiting to take the stage.  Soaring through the air on thin planks of wood.  Impressing us all with their skill and bravery.  Encouraging and supporting each other through the highs and lows.   

I wanted to bottle the collective spirit and energy in that space.  You could seriously run a small town on the force that runs through boys veins.

Living with boys in your life is often like living with your heart permanently in your throat.  Boys do stupid stuff all the time.  They leap and dive and somersault.  They keep on going and going, often surviving on what seems like little more than air.  But don't get me wrong, at some point the pain in their stomachs will override and they will eat you out of house and home.

I love their vibrancy.  Their vest for life and adventure.  Their curiosity and bravery.  I love their uncomplicated mateship and sense of competitiveness.

There is nothing better than sharing a space with boys doing what they were meant to do. 

And I also love that they all, young and old, still need a hug and a smooch from their Mum from time to time.

This is part of Maxabella's Grateful blog hop, check it out.

New Beginnings

Not ever having been a fan of Valentine's Day I am a little reticent to make a VD posting (unfortunate abbreviation for a day about making love).

Reminds me of a story I once heard about Victoria and David Beckham.  Someone I knew once was a guest of theirs and had been flown in to their UK estate by helicopter.  Upon his arrival he noticed two neon signs.  One with the initial V and the other with the initial D.  I don't think anyone had ever bothered to point out the embarrassing coincidence.  Perhaps a neon heart would have been a better welcome to Beckingham Palace.

And talking about V& D Beckham it brings me to the theme of the post: BLING.  A fitting theme for Valentine's Day and a link up with  Gifts of Serendipity's Bling On Love.

Today my husband leaves for Sri Lanka.  He'll be gone six weeks for the World Cup Cricket.  I feel like I am standing at the base of an all too familiar mountain.  One that I have climbed too many times this past year and I really just can't muster the energy to do it again.  I am emotionally lethargic just thinking about it.  But I hope it's the final hurdle before we make some changes.

The upside of trips to Sri Lanka are the jewels and I have received a few over the years.  My most prized being this aquamarine.

The Lichtenstein in the background speaks volumes about my emotional state during the absences.

It seems Ceylon jewels have featured a bit in my family history.  My Grandmother had a gorgeous Alexandrite which I never actually saw, but it's a family legend.  She left it in a hotel room drawer.  Maybe it looked something like this.

My Father's step Mother had this beautiful aqua ring made in Ceylon.  It now belongs to my cousin.  I think the rose gold suits this greeny aqua beautifully.

Anyhow this trip I haven't requested jewels but rather a re-setting of my engagement diamond.  We recently celebrated 10 years.  The last few have been a tough and testing time.  But we made it.  As a symbol for our new beginnings I wanted a whole new ring.  In using the same diamond and some of the original gold I hope that this translates as respect for our past and all that we have learnt.

This is how I hope it will look. (Although my diamond is never going to look that big!)

Happy VD!

Grateful for.....

Today I am grateful for making phone calls.  The one's you've been avoiding.  Too afraid to confront.  I am grateful for the opportunities to heal wounds.  For forgiveness.  For leaving the past behind and moving forward.  Light and breezy.

I recently came across this fabulous blog called Brave Girls Club.  If you sign up they'll send you one of their daily truths.  Lovely little emails that for me have been quite eerily spot on.

Yesterday the message I received was this one.  There was a call I needed to make.  I took a deep breath.  Planned my words.  Picked up the phone.

It was easier than I thought.  I felt so relieved.  A huge weight lifted from my shoulders.  The burden I had been carrying for while was so simply taken away.

Be brave.  Make peace with the past.  Go forth with love and light.

*This blog post is a part of something much grander.  Check it out here at Maxbella Loves.

Grateful Four.

Living Here

Having them.

Loving him.

Sandy Bums!

Inspired by Maxbella Loves