2018 Intentions Part I; Save for the chirping of occasional birds that flew by and the soft squish of snow trodden upon by rabbits or roe deer, I was alone as I scarfed down this bowl of granola-topped soy yoghurt. The world was quiet. And I listened. I've been trying to do more of this 'listening' thing of late. Not so much listening of the many a time ignored whispers of our Earth (for I feel this comes naturally to us all if we were to align our heart's intentions with the planet's energy), but more so of listening to other humans (for this, I feel, beckons a whole new dimension of practice, energy alignment with another soul, and composure). There was a thoughtcatalog article I once read, loved, and still love; it spoke about why we need to listen to others, and the writer described the beauty of being a listener flawlessly: It turns everything around, from the way you see that person to the tone their voice resonates in inside your head. Being let into someone’s life, into their head, is much like losing your sight only to gain a pair of brand new eyes. (I'll leave the link to the article in my bio. ❤️) // Everybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they’ve all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe.” - Neil Gaiman // The quieter we become, the more we will hear. The more we hear, the more we will know. The more we know, the more (effectively) we can do - help, assist, better, benefit, pray. Seeing as 2017 is coming to a conclusion, I see it fitting to begin setting my goals and visions for 2018. Three of which shall be, in Roy T. Bennett's words, to Listen with curiosity. Speak with honesty. Act with integrity. He adds that 'The greatest problem with communication is we don’t listen to understand. We listen to reply. When we listen with curiosity, we don’t listen with the intent to reply. We listen for what’s behind the words.' So here it is, it's out there, for You to hold me accountable, for me to be reminded lest I ever forget...
“I love the silent hour of night, For blissful dreams may then arise, Revealing to my charmed sight What may not bless my waking eyes.” ― Anne Bronte, Best Poems of the Bronte Sisters 🌕
I miss You and everything about this sliver of an afternoon that was gentle, kind, and tranquil. ❤️
Armed with beanies and hiking boots, out of our warm abode and into a frosty world we stumbled. Alpenglow was still about an hour away, which left us trudging along a moonlit path that was ever so slightly perilous, but nothing short of enchanting. While some mornings start warm with tea and HIIT, others start like this – cold, crisp, and with the seeming possession of the world at our fingertips. We never know where we will go, what we will see, when we will be back. Every step taken is never calculated, every decision made we owe to spontaneity. Both literally and metaphorically, life is lived on the edge – of mountains and mortality. In other news, T-3 till Mum arrives!
Chewing on an Aktivsemmel and gulping down innocent's 'Berry & Protein Super Smoothie', I'm sitting in a train taking me further and further away from Salzburg, and closer to Zell am See, closer to home. I look outside to a world crowded with architectural structures with a style unique to Pinzgau and blanketed with snow as speckly white as I remember it to be. Besides the numbers on the calendar, not much has changed: the mountains elegant, the trees - some with fog hanging over them and others without - tall and proud, and the rivers pulsating urgently and unapologetically. I realise that I've made full circle. I left for Australia in the heart of winter, and here I am returning from Australia in the heart of winter. A circle - what a great metaphor for a departure and an eventual return. It feels as if the world here had paused itself when I left to carve/ figure out my path in life, only to regain its momentum once more upon my arrival. If anything, the familiarity here... the feeling of being home, brings with it a wave of warmth amidst the cold, and a promise of safety, comfort, and repose from the rush of life that is required of me elsewhere, everywhere else. This simple moment swells with grace and beauty. In this moment, I am home.
I was on a busy tram this morning when an elderly lady randomly, and most shockingly, squeezed through the carriage to get to me, cupped my hands in hers, and said, yellow, the brightest of them, and violet, the most stunning hue of purple... honey your aura is beautiful. You are beautiful. You remind me of my younger days when I was freer than the ocean. Your spirit is joyful and healing. Stay spontaneous and unbound. I see your dreams, they scare you, don't they? Don't let them. And don't let anyone tell you they're unrealistic. You belong with the wildflowers. Ah yes and dogs... you must realise they are very drawn to yellows, do keep them close. She must have been a psychic for yellow and violet were the two predominant colours in the portrayal of my spirit, my aura. I wriggled my hands out of her handgrip so I could hold her wrinkled hands in mine. I looked straight into her eyes, which seemed to hold so much weight and sadness, and thanked her. I did not say anything else for our eyes sufficed for the relay of my intimate message - after the connection was made, words ceased to need to exist. I felt like I had known her since forever. We were standing where the sunlight pierced through the glass of the tram, and her eyes... they were like molten gold, oh how they shone and almost sparkled. Spectacular. A sight to behold. A sight to remember. The world in me quietened considerably, and the peace drowned out the noise of my proximity. This lady was a beacon of serenity... and hope. Just as I wished her well when she made her leave at the next stop, she looked back once more and mouthed, let go, child... slow down, fly, be free.
David & Eliza's Huck's Night // Five little things from this beautiful evening that eased into a calm, moonlit night: 1. A 'huck's night' is a short form of the traditional 'hen's and buck's night'; 2. Mel has a laughter that could crack up a whole town; 3. Khai has mad cautionary reflexes; 4. Zee loves stretchy clothing; 5. Bless Dave and Eliza, they're perfect for each other. :')
It's minutes away from midnight as I write this. It's late, but I can't stop my feet from twirling around in pirouettes. I've switched off all of my lights except for my salt lamp which glows in a colour I could so easily liken to 'the colour behind your eyelids when you kiss'. In a letter Miriam recently wrote to me, she used this very expression to describe the colours of 'joie de vivre', an exquisite painting she saw at the Art Gallery of NSW. She has such a way with words. I've been realising with increasing frequency that so much of the world around me glows in the same shades of red or dark orange that I could associate with that beautiful 'behind-eye colour'. Maybe it's because this colour also happens to be that of warm sunlight, grounding citrine gemstones, and the aura of loving souls -- it's simple, commonplace, and all around us. I have Flor filling my headspace with tunes of gentleness, comfort, and memories (remember 'let me in'? -- Hold you close till I see you go, know I can't hold on for long; Hold you tight till you need to go, know you can't be still for long), and it's making me feel like I'm stepping on clouds... in an ethereal world where the moon is always bright, stars always twinkle, and pain fails to exist. The world here has dimmed considerably, we've slipped into midnight blue, and the moon child in me is feeling alive. It's one of those divine nights that I know will break into a dawn You'd call 'a feast for one's soul', as is Your wont when describing things that are beautiful beyond earthly standards. Stay warm this coming winter, things will get better. Missing You always. x
This was just the cutest day. The friendship You two share is infinitely precious and special. I'm so glad You found each other in Ormond. ❤️ This was supposed to be an early birthday meal for Mimi, but of course, she didn't know. My sister and I wanted to surprise her with cake at the end of the meal so I tried to discreetly approach the staff member behind the counter if they happened to have spare candles lying around that they could perhaps put on a slice of our cake of choice. He told me he'd ask his manager (i.e. the guy next to Mimi in this picture haha 😅), so I returned to my seat and resumed 'acting normally'. What did you ask him? Mimi asked. I froze, and I could see my sister did too. I frantically scanned the table for something I could use as a prompt for a white lie. A JUG OF WATER! (I know I know, amazing choice.) Oh, I just asked if we could get a refill for the water because I'm feeling very thirsty and I know I'd down this jug in seconds, I managed to say... mentally facepalm-ing myself SO HARD. I mean, seriously Nat. 🤦🏻♀️ Mimi wasn't impressed, and my sister was biting her lip, holding back laughter. I brushed it off as well as I could, but 5 minutes later, the manager came and asked, whose birthday is it? My eyes must have doubled in size in horror for he knew straight away he shouldn't have asked that and promptly used both hands to cover his mouth. All of us - Mimi included, having made sense of the situation - dissolved into fits of laughter. He apologised profusely, but, You know, I somehow adored the way things unfolded. It had a good dose of hilarity and memorability. 😂 He came back minutes after with a folded note which he passed to me under the table. It read, SORRY we have no candels. (Yes, candels haha) I could barely keep a straight face as I told him it was all good and that things were perfect as they were. We shared a nourishing rainbow salad, a fancy avo sprouted-seed-toast, and ended off with a bang: apple-rhubard 'custard' waffle, which had the prettiest sprinkle of violet petals. I mean, really, it was a perfect afternoon with two beautiful angels. My heart bloomed. 🌷