Weekend Coffee Share: 11th March, 2024.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee share!

Before I start rattling the keyboard too much with my fingernails which are uncomfortably long for my invigorating stream of words to flow from my head appearing like magic on the blank screen above; let me offer you a bit of warm Australian hospitality. Your choice of tea, coffee, Mountain Dew (our son’s obsession).

Moreover, because I fancy myself as somewhat of a missionary of all things Australian, I’m going to offer you the thrill of trying “Vegemite Tower”. That’s my name for it, and I have no idea whether anyone beyond our family would have any idea what I’m talking about, although it might also be known as a “Jatz Stack”. In case you’re actually wanting to try this in real life and step on the wild side, you need four Jatz crackers. Put a scrape of butter and what you can cope with as a smear of Vegemite (I like quite a lot, but to use a phrase of my Dad’s, “it puts hair on your chest”. So, don’t say I didn’t warn you!!) To make my Vegemite Towers, I build up three crackers like this and a fourth cracker on top to seal it all in. That is my idea of YUM!!! It’s rare for me to get through the day without one, and usually two’s company.

Last week was exceptionally quiet due to a rather unwelcome visitor…Covid. We have been pretty careful and avoid crowds. Geoff has been driving to work instead of joining all the sardines packed into the train huffing and puffing all over each other inhaling goodness knows what germs. However, we haven’t wanted to condemn ourselves to a living death and we have our kids who are out there interacting with the world and swinging from the rafters here, there and everywhere. So, as you may recall, Miss turned 18 in my last post and she went out clubbing and hey presto, let me pull covid out of my hat. She had a couple of RATS but they all tested negative and I wasn’t really of a mindset where I could go through the whole covid thing all over again, and she didn’t isolate and I’m driving her around. I was a sitting duck. While I could get annoyed about it given how vulnerable I am and the rough year I had last year with my lungs, it feels pointless. I’ve explained, she should understand, take precautions, but doesn’t. It’s also very hard when the rest of the world has seemingly moved beyond covid. We no longer have those much appreciated 11.00am TV updates on the spread, and while they did ramp up the fear considerably, they also reminded us to be careful. Reminded the general population to be more careful around vulnerable people and that you don’t want to be the one who passes it onto particularly your elderly parents and kills them. Vigilance has dropped back, but perhaps a bit too far.

Anyway, it seems I’ve not only survived Covid Mark II, but seem to be okay. Again, it stayed in my sinuses and didn’t get near my lungs. Oh happy days!

Kids learning how to cook January 2007.

Meanwhile, Mr turned 20 on Friday! Happy Birthday! He’s been out during the great covid exchange, and somehow managed to miss it. After we turned positive, he stayed overnight at a mate’s place but then had to come home and furtively arrived late at night masked up with his pizza and Mountain Dew in hand. We were still infectious on the big day and so we bought his his favourite Caramel Mud Cake from Aldi, which was safely sealed away inside its plastic bubble. He’d already received a few presents from us but by Friday I was well enough to find where I’d stashed his card, a couple of presents and clear the kitchen table. Containing the endless tide of detritus which flows through this place is an ongoing battle.

While I was down with covid, I was reminded of that great healer from my youth…being home sick from school and watching “Days of Our Lives”. I think four generations of my family watched that show as the sands of our lives flowed through the hour glass. Did you used to watch it? It used to be an institution when I was growing up and the doors of suburbia closed down when “Days” was on, which I think was followed by the “Young and the Restless”. As if that wasn’t bad enough, we used to talk about the shows and Mum would go and visit my grandmother in Queensland and they were ahead of us and it was so so good. You might not want a crystal ball to see what lies ahead in your own life, but this was better than tickets to a Taylor Swift concert back then.

I felt a bit cheated that I couldn’t watch Days while I had covid. Well, not like it used to be anyway. I know there are episodes online. So, I decided to watch a DVD instead and let me tell you I have to be sick to watch a movie right through uninterrupted. I spotted The Goodies on the pile and thought a bit of humour would do me good. Humph! Not so sure about the Goodies these days. Have you ever watched The Goodies? Well, it’s not exactly wholesome viewing. It aired at 5.30pm here in Australia which was considered “after school” and was shown before Dr Who. I think some of the scenes from the DVD had been cut by the censor for TV.

BTW speaking of old childhood TV shows, do you remember Mr Ed the talking horse? I loved that show and have the DVD for that stashed somewhere in the cupboard.

Anyway, I had no intention of writing about old TV shows.

My Grandmother at the Australian Embassy in Washington, 1948.

Moreover, I’ve actually been engaged in quite a lot of high brow activity while I’ve been down with covid. I have been working on my grandmother’s career as an international concert pianist, music critic and professor at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music. This has turned into an absolutely monumental project now that the old newspapers and magazines have been uploaded. I’ve been working away at it for years but more and more material keeps getting uploaded and then I’m having to correct the text as I go. I’ve been trying to capture everything and now realize I need to pull the eyes out of it and put some highlights together. I’ve done a timeline again with everything in it too, and it also needs its executive summary. Tonight, I was reading through some of the columns she wrote as a music critic and it was like listening to her over a cup of tea and she was back with me again. I’m so lucky to have this. I am working towards some kind of book. I also have a file of photos of her career which I’ll turn into a photo book fairly soon.

Well, I have written so much more than I’d intended. Indeed, I thought I really didn’t have much to say and it’s very late (or should I say early) here and well past my bedtime.

So, before I head off, how are you and what are you up to? I hope you’ve been well.

This has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Natalie the Explorer.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Weekend Coffee Share…25th February, 2024.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

My goodness! It’s been such a long time since we’ve caught up for coffee, that I’ve almost forgotten how to fire up my coffee machine, but fortunately the rust is falling off and I’m starting to come back to life.

My explanation for my extended absence is very simple…not enough hours in the day, and desperately wanting to live about three lifetimes simultaneously but unfortunately I’ve had my wings clipped and I have to accept I only have one life and to make the best of it.

Miss and Rosie

So, after that little meander, let me invite in for coffee, tea or whatever takes your fancy, and today I have something very special to offer you- a slice of my daughter’s 18th Birthday cake. Friends who know I bake, just assumed I made the cake. However, there are a few neon signs that she did most of it herself and I just made the basic icing. Firstly, she’s done a fabulous and fairly detailed effort icing the cake. My style this days is much more slap-dash and I prefer a more wind-swept, chaotic look. The other give away, which might be hard to detect unless your taste buds are super critical and you’re the princess and the pea incarnation of a fastidious Masterchef judge and can pick up a packet mix cake no matter how much icing has been piled on top. I am an absolute baking snob. I NEVER EVER USE PACKET MIXES. I ALWAYS BAKE FROM SCRATCH. Anyway, I loved what she did with the cake and it really did look amazing.

Needless to say, Miss turning 18 has been a big deal. For Miss it was an even bigger deal because many of her closest friends are two years older than her, and she has missed their 18th Birthday parties being under age and hasn’t been able to go clubbing with them. That all sounds good when it comes to being wholesome, and I do think it’s important to be your own age and to try not to jump ahead too much. Your time will come. Yet, at the same time, no one likes to be left out and some of her friends who still haven’t turned 18, weren’t able to join in on her birthday celebrations yesterday which focusing on going clubbing in Sydney. Golly! She couldn’t wait and had a new dress, shoes, bag, hair done. She looked a million dollars and had the best night.

We are still to get together and really celebrate her birthday as a family as her brother was working over the weekend. However, the three of us went out for breakfast at a local cafe yesterday morning. I put together a slide show to go up on Facebook, but I decided to print them out and given the excruciating shortage of space around here and the fact she wasn’t having a party where we could show a slide show, I printed the phones out and Blu tacked them to our kitchen cupboards. She was stoked and absolutely loved it and it really refueled her love tank. Indeed, she told her friends “my mum has made a shrine of me.” She wants it to stay there, of course, which poses a few problems with being even-Stevens with her brother and giving him his own photo door, but I’m only it and have about 8 days left to get it sorted before his 20th birthday. I highly recommend this as a chance to encourage someone and celebrate an eclectic life and having those doors just filled of photos of her, was such a morale boost for her and she loves it.

Anyway, as usual time’s got away from me and I’d better run.

This has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Natalie the Explorer.

Best wishes,

Rowena

The Musical Mind…A Portrait in Progress.

Have you ever wondered what it takes to create a musical genius, and indeed whether they are born or made?

My Grandmother at the Australian Embassy in Washington, 1948.

I Have. Not because I’m that way inclined myself, but because my grandmother was child prodigy Australian concert pianist, Eunice Gardiner and my mother was her pupil. (My Dad is Eunice’s son.) So, pianos have been so much more than furniture throughout my life. Indeed, I would’ve been listening to my mother playing the likes of Chopin, Beethoven and Liszt even before I was born, which is quite an extraordinary thought, especially when I’ve lived much of my life without any connection to music at all. However, I have been very interested in what it takes to makes a musical maestro and have been researching my grandmother’s extensive career for over 30 years on and off.

So, naturally when I heard about the documentary movie The Musical Mind…a Portrait In Process I had to go and see it, especially when it was showing at Avoca Beach Theatre.

The movie explores the thinking and musical processes of four superstar musicians brought together by Director Scott Hicks, who previously directed the blockbuster hit, Shine based on David Helfgott’s life. There’s Daniel Johns of Silverchair fame, concert pianist David Helfgott, Ben Folds and classical concert pianist and child prodigy Simon Tedeschi. While the musicians are talking, renowned artist Loribelle Spirovski (Simon Tedeschi’s wife) is painting their emerging portraits, adding a captivating dimension to the movie. Unfortunately, I didn’t quite pick up on this at the time, because I was focusing so much on what was being said and taking notes on my phone, but I’m hoping to buy the DVD when it comes out. This is definitely a movie I’ll need to watch again and again.

While I’m interested in the creation of musical genius, I’m also thoughtful of the almost inherent deficits and drawback. I’m sure most of us would run out of fingers counting the number of famous musicians who have succumbed to dire mental health or associated drug issues. How does somebody cope with having a mind which doesn’t switch off and is constantly whirling with ideas? David Helfgott has spent 12 years in mental health institutions, but finds swimming calming: “When you are swimming, you think more clearly. It blows away the cobwebs in your mind. Music and water are the language of the Gods.” Daniel Johns says he can’t the chaos off and watches cooking shows to unwind. “If I have silence, my mind turns into a hurricane.” Simon Tedeschi find humour a helpful release.

Personally, I have to be very careful about over-stimulating myself and I often use walking or photography to slow my mind down. After all, these issues affect writers too!

Anyway, this subject of the musical mind, and indeed the creative mind, desperately needs further investigation. Not only is it absolutely fascinating to find out more about what creates and inspires, we also need to reduce the casualty rate and help creatives to thrive and survive.

Have you ever experienced a creative whirlwind? How did it feel? Did you have concerns about it taking over and having trouble self-regulating? Or, was everything fine? It’s interesting to think about especially when most of what I hear is about overcoming block and not being swept away overstimulated in the creative flow.

I look forward to hearing from you!

Best wishes,

Rowena

Happy New Year From Australia!

“Tonight’s December thirty-first,
Something is about to burst.
The clock is crouching, dark and small,
Like a time bomb in the hall.
Hark, it’s midnight, children dear.
Duck! Here comes another year!”

-Ogden Nash

Happy New Year!

How was your New Year’s Eve? Where were you and what did you get up to?

Or, perhaps things are a little hazy…

We had a quite NYE at home watching the spectacular Sydney fireworks on TV and eating take away Thai with a very delectable Chocolate Dome for dessert. The “we” this year was Geoff, Mr 19, the three dogs and myself while Miss had taken off with friends camping and 4WDing through the Stockton Dunes just North of Newcastle.

However, our NYE wasn’t void of adventure. Geoff loaded the kayak otherwise known as the “Yellow Bathtub” but could well be renamed ”Big Bird” onto the back of the 4WD and we headed off to Patonga Creek, a tributary of the Hawkesbury River about 15 minutes drive away. This was a great choice, because although part of me wanted to party, I can also go contemplative for NYE and being immersed in unspoilt nature on the water was perfect. We had the water all to ourselves along with a few pelicans, cormorants and we even saw an impressive school of large mullet darting through the water. We paddled for about an hour and a half and I was very grateful for the fitness I’ve achieved at rehab later this year. No shortness of breath and improved muscular strength and balance as well. Of course, the challenge now is to keep it up, especially now that I’ve finished rehab for the time being.

On the way home, we stopped off at a local Thai restaurant and picked up Red Curry Duck, Masaman Beef and Coconut Prawns for dinner and were pleasantly surprised to find out that had an array of cakes including the scrumptious Chocolate Mouse Domes, which came from Sydney’s Marrickville. Of course, someone local could’ve done just as good a job and indeed Australia’s First Masterchef, Julie Goodwin, is a Central Coast local. However, being from Marrickville sounded so much more sophisticated and of course, they’d wouldn’t just taste better, but would be an experience. By the way, we weren’t disappointed either, but at $9.00 each, I’ll be trying to work out how to make them myself.

Then we watched the 9.00pm and midnight Sydney fireworks with the cricket in between. We loved the music in the lead up to the midnight fireworks especially Casey Donovan singing a bracket of Tina Turner songs. I highly recommend you click on the link and check her out.

“The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul…” —Gilbert K. Chesterton

In case you missed it, my word for 2024 is vision. This was inspired by buying some new glasses and improving my physical sight, but I’m having a fresh start in 2024 and I really need some vision and prayer about where I’m heading. Our youngest finished school last year and will be moving out to study ballet full time in Newcastle. Both kids are very close to getting their P’s and becoming independent drivers, which will also set Geoff and I free. We won’t know ourselves. We will miss the kids, but after almost 20 years of parenting, it’s time to spread our wings too. We are hoping to get over to Europe for a few months, but are just waiting to see how my lungs are going. They seem a lot better and I’d like to get over there as soon as possible just in case I’m needing to fast track the lung transplant (which at this point has been deferred). Last year, I made good inroads towards having a serious overhaul at home and getting rid of a whole heap of stuff, but still have a very long way to go. We have been living here for about 22 years now and while the stability has been good, without the culling of frequent moving staying put is often it’s often fatal for accumulating too much stuff and we are no exception. Indeed, we are a textbook case. However, managing the house is very much a secondary goal to writing my book this year and it’s time to sit down, plan it out and start writing. I am also think about a casual/part time job.

So, with those thoughts in mind, this quote really appealed:

“It is never too late to be what you might have been.” —George Eliot

Anyway, I hope you’ve had a great launch into 2024 and you and yours have a blessed and wonderfilled year.

Love and blessings,

Rowena

My Tribe

Yesterday, I wrote about my quest for vision in the New Year. I also mentioned that I’ve been getting rid of stuff, and how this has helped me create greater clarity. Although I still have a long way to go, I’ve made significant progress and in the process have made quite a few finds, while also observing certain patterns emerge.

“Those who know that they are profound strive for clarity. Those who would like to seem profound to the crowd strive for obscurity. For the crowd believes that if it cannot see to the bottom of something it must be profound. It is so timid and dislikes going into the water.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science: With a Prelude in Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs

Naturally, some of these discoveries raise concerns, and hold up something of a mirror to aspects of myself which might’ve been best left buried beneath all the “stuff”, “crap” or “paraphernalia” just like “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”. Don’t worry. I didn’t find a dead rat, but when I moved a few things around, I did have further confirmation of why I called my blog “Beyond the Flow” and that I’m quirky. Or, maybe I’m just more honest about my idiosyncrasies and obviously I don’t see what other people are like behind closed doors letting their hair hang down. Indeed, they might actually make me appear “normal”, and maybe they also have a tribe of weird and wacky characters lined up on their bed.

Or, maybe not.

Introducing my Rainbow Unicorn Squishmallow

These characters usually don’t hang out together and had been scattered around the house. I decided to move the Pink Troll out of the loungeroom onto our bed where it met up with the alien-looking Squishmallow. Once I saw them together, I pulled down the patchwork dog I’d bought at the hospital. It very much felt like an outward reflection of my inner brokenness when I was having chemo to treat my auto-immune disease ten years ago. Then, there was the Green Sheep, who reminded me of my friend Stephen who was also alternative, eccentric, his own person or whatever you care to call it. He passed away alone in his flat about 18 months ago, but at least we and his neighbours came looking and called for a Police check. By the way, before I took this photo, the green sheep was actually parked beside the front door waiting to head back to the op shop. However, now our daughter wants it to stay and who am I to move him on?

The Green Sheep

When I see my tribe together like this, I see and feel a lot of pain. There’s a lot of reflected struggle, which I can’t easily put into words or express to anyone including myself. Yet, through them I can acknowledge I’m not okay. That I have been through a hell of a hard time and I can also use the Squishmallow as a pillow and feel really cosy.

Of course, this isn’t my full story. There are plenty of ups as well as the downs. Ironically given how hard things have been at times, perhaps it’s not surprising that I also experience intense and beautiful joy not just now and then as the exception; but as part of my everyday life. Indeed, we have a saying: “the darker the shadow, the brighter the light”.

Yet, while my tribe has been gathered to support me through the hard times, the question remains…Do I need them? Do I still need them now? After all, I’m in my mid-50’s and do I really need toys? Naturally, I could create quite lot of space if I got rid of them all and even then there would still be too much stuff.

The Pink Troll

Of particular concern, is the Pink Troll. which is highly endangered because it is big and much bigger than I’d anticipated when I saw it on Salvo’s Online. Clearly with it’s bright pink hair and permanent smile, it’s very quirky and is “an acquired taste”. The funny thing is that I bought the troll because it reminded me of my late grandmother. Clearly, she wasn’t your average grannie, but she’d also been to Norway and had a thing for trolls and my cousin had bought her a stuffed troll. This is why I bought the troll, but it was about four times as big as my grandmother’s troll and not something I could discreetly snuggle into the bookshelf next to the family photos. Rather, it really stands out and seriously begs the question: “What is that thing doing there?”, especially should we ever have guests! It’s a bit like having the Hunchback of Notre Dame living in your house, and having to explain to more regular folk why he’s there. Much easier to have a bunch of Barbies these days.

Don’t you think Troll looks just a bit too happy?

Another point worth considering, is what would happen if I get rid of all my quirky stuff and all my so-called clutter, and also have the ideal neat and ordered house with barely anything in it? Would I find acceptance, belonging and magically blend in? Yet, do I want to blend in? What if I actually enjoy being different, quirky, the clunky wheel? What if that is me? Do really want or am I capable of being someone else?

Big questions.

Are these questions other people ask?

However, before I sign off, I have one more question left. A very simple one.

Who am I?

Moreover, being a creative type, I also need to ask: Who do I want to be? After all, who I am isn’t set in stone. It’s all a bit like creating a character, mixing paints together, planting a few seeds and adding water and you don’t even need cosmetic surgery.

Or, am I wrong? Are we set in stone?

Or, do we set ourselves in stone by limiting ourselves….what we do, where we go, who we hang out with.

I heard someone say they don’t want to be like their parents reliving the same year on repeat for thirty year. 

“There would be no need for love if perfection were possible. Love arises from our imperfection, from our being different and always in need of the forgiveness, encouragement and that missing half of ourselves that we are searching for, as the Greek myth tells us, in order to complete ourselves.”

–Eugene Kennedy

“Today you are you! That is truer than true! There is no one alive that is you-er than you!”

-Dr Suess

Embracing the pink trolls of this world offers to take us on a different route and along the road less travelled which is a good thing. We just need to find the courage to embrace ourselves and launch into the great unknown ahead. Moreover, with all the blind faith we have in the blank page of a new year, now is the time to do it. Now, is the time to set sail.

Will you join me?

Best wishes for the New Year,

Rowena

New Vision – My Word for 2024.

Years ago, when I was reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love, I was introduced to the idea of having a word to sum up the new year. This was seen as an alternative to the grand tradition of setting resolutions we generally never implement, let alone keep. I quite fancied the idea and a few of my friends also got into it, and my word every year has been “ACTION”.

“Do you want to know who you are? Don’t ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.”

-Thomas Jefferson

Action was a very appropriate word for me. I’m a classic procrastinator and for some bizarre reason I’ve never understood, I’ve even struggled to implement the good stuff, let alone the tough or undesirable. Of course, I’ve been busy and I have had some not insignificant personal achievements, but also some significant gaps, voids and dare I mention the dreaded F word…FAILURES. However, when it comes to my forever life goal of not only writing a book but also getting it published and being successful, I want to write a book that makes a difference and inspires ideally millions of people. So, perhaps it’s not so strange I haven’t pulled it off yet. I am trying to be the top of the top before I’ve even written a word on the page. Pretty daunting, isn’t it?!! No wonder I’ve been too daunted to get started and have reworked and reworked the first few lines of this epic tale in my poor exhausted brain for over a decade without putting pen to paper or tap tap tapping away. I am a good writer, but to be a writer you need to write and to be an author you need to write a book. That’s who I really want to be. I have quite a few book projects in various stages of development, but the one I really want to write and which is the toughest of all and the most meaningful and important concerns how I have survived my acute health challenges and this is how I can be there for so many who are doing it tough and hopefully in a personal and intimate way through my published words where I can reach so many more people than talking one-on-one. But can I make it just as meaningful and effective? I don’t know, but next year is my year. Our daughter has finished school and I’m finally a free agent moving beyond the obligations of being a school parent, which somehow included driving her to and from school from the first to the very last day with only occasional trips on the bus.

Anyway, I’d forgotten all about choosing my word for the new year until I was trying on some new glasses in Specsavers a few days ago and I sent the above photo of me in my new frames to some friends saying I was “getting new vision for the new year”. It was actually a bit of a joke, but I realized there was a deeper meaning. My glasses were long overdue for a replacement. They’re badly scratched, and as I found out, the prescription for reading had changed which explained why I was taking my glasses off to use my phone and read. Of course, I blamed the glasses and not my deteriorating eyesight for this nuisance. Moreover, just to add to the mess, I don’t clean my glasses very often and they often look like they’ve been smeared with Vaseline. Buying new glasses is such a grudge purchase, especially s I’ve always hated wearing glasses and they are so expensive. Yet, procrastination on this front doesn’t do wonders for visual acuity or my sense of vision.

“The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision.”

-Helen Keller

Yet, vision goes well beyond sight. Indeed, one of my friends who is legally blind sees physical objects some of us (particularly me) miss. She notices things about people others miss. None of us, her included, can work it out, but there is a greater force at work here and I’m not really referring to God. I’m talking about seeing beyond seeing. For some of you, that won’t make a lot of sense. However, perhaps you know what I mean. Vision is particularly important when it comes to understanding and perceiving who we are as an essence and beyond our job description, family situation and particularly how much money we have in the bank.

“You are not here merely to make a living. You are here in order to enable the world to live more amply, with greater vision, with a finer spirit of hope and achievement. You are here to enrich the world, and you impoverish yourself if you forget the errand.”

Woodrow Wilson

Moreover, it’s not just what you see with your eyes. As strange as this might sound, it also includes what we sense through our feet which can be used as a second set of eyes especially in the dark. That might be something which I experience more personally, because I live right near the beach and frequently walk barefoot on the sand, and get my feet wet in the waves. I also go barefoot on rocks, grass, and on the carpet and tiles at home. Somehow, what I sense with my feet also informs my vision and how I interpret the world around me. I am also a spiritual being and that is integral to every part of me. All these factors combine to give me sharper more in-tune vision and it’s an integrated thing.

“In order to carry a positive action we must develop here a positive vision.”

Dalai Lama

By the way, I also wanted to share that I’ve been doing quite a lot of work on myself in 2023 and mostly not by choice. My lung function plummeted, and I’ve been flat out trying to put off having a lung transplant by going to a rehab gym twice a week for the last three months and having an infusion called rituximab which wiped out my B cells to reduce inflammation. Goes to show that even a legendary procrastinator like myself can switch into gear and get moving when their life depends on it. I have lost over 20 kilos and done a massive clean-up of the house which is still just the tip of the iceberg and by the way, this cleanup is also helping my vision cause I can see what’s here much better now.

I love watching clouds and seeing them reflected in the shallows on the sand.

I have largely achieved this by becoming more conscious and intentional of how I’m spending my time, what I’m eating and also exercising and moving about more. While it seems logical that big problems need big solutions, it can equally be true that a series of small steps can amalgamate into significant change and this is what James Clear argues in Atomic Habits, which has really helped me radically change my life.

By the way, it just belated struck me that having clear vision is all about being conscious and intentional.

Here I am on the exercise bike at rehab. Go girl!

It also involves your identity and how you perceive yourself. For this reason, I called myself an “exercise fanatic” when I started out at the rehab gym and I deliberately bought active wear and wore my joggers so I would look and feel the part. I even managed to pick up a Nike t-shirt with “Just Do It” printed on the front. That slogan was definitely meant for me. No more overthinking, procrastination or avoidance. Just do it, and I largely have.

Thankfully, my lungs have improved enough to put off the lung transplant for now.

So, now I’m left with reinventing myself needing to keep up the good work and maintain the gains I’ve made. Our daughter is moving out in January to study ballet full time and hopefully both the kids will have their driving licences very soon and I’ll be liberated from taxi duties. We are hoping to spend a few months in Europe if I’m up to it and in addition to the book project, I’m wanting to get a part-time job and look into doing some freelance journalism. Lastly, I’m also looking at expanding my social circle and finding my tribe, whatever that entails.

I must say working on all of this has been very illuminating, and it has given my vision greater clarity. But, and indeed there’s always a but and it’s usually in capital letters, bold huge print…

BUT

Implementation, persistence, commitment and dare I say it ACTION are the oxygen which sees vision become reality.

“It was character that got us out of bed, commitment that moved us into action, and discipline that enabled us to follow through.”

-Zig Ziglar

For me, this means setting a time and place for writing my book every day. It means setting a time and place for doing my exercise everyday. Reading my Bible and praying everyday as well (and not like a robot either). It means planning my week so the essentials are in the schedule and I’m prioritising. It means writing lists and making sure I don’t lose them and have that satisfaction of ticking things off and knowing I’m making progress. I also need to make sure life has fun, and I’m not squeezing the screws too tight. Vision doesn’t mean perfection. Hey, after all we’re still human and having a vision of ourselves as human beings, not as human doings or as all conquering super heroes. rather, being a bit scruffy can be a good and desirable thing. Otherwise, we’d be a machine.

Do you have a word for 2024 or perhaps so resolutions? Also, any thoughts about clarifying and working towards your vision? If so, I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

Meanwhile, I’d like to wish you and yours a Visionary New Year.

Love,

Rowena

Bondi, Copenhagen…Friday Fictioneers 13th December, 2023.

“You can take the girl out of Australia, but you can’t take Australia out of the girl,” Kylie laughed. Christmas Eve in a freezing Danish Winter, Kylie applied her fake tan, slunk into her bikini, set up her towel, lit a galaxy of tealight candles and took a selfie: Bondi, Copenhagen and posted it on Insta. Next stop was dinner with her host family: roast duck, caramelised potatoes and pickled red cabbage followed by Risalamande with hot cherry sauce. What she would give for a Vegemite sandwich! As much as she loved a white Christmas, there was no place like home.

….

100 words PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Rouchard

I’ve only ever celebrated Christmas in Australia and almost exclusively with my Dad’s family. Christmas has always involved going to Church Christmas Eve and almost always on Christmas Day. Christmas is hot. Well, mostly it’s hot although there’s been the odd year it’s rained. I have German heritage on my Mum’s side and I came very close to spending Christmas 1992 in Germany, but I couldn’t do it. I became incredibly homesick and came home. I regret it a bit now because so far it was the opportunity of a lifetime, which hasn’t represented itself. Yet, I wasn’t used to all those hours of darkness either and was most definitely a fish out of water.

BTW I have never tried Risalamande with hot cherry sauce, but I think I’ll make it in the lead up to Christmas. Risalamande is rice pudding Risalamande is a traditional Danish dessert served at Christmas dinner and julefrokost. It is made of rice pudding mixed with whipped cream, sugar, vanilla, and chopped almonds. It is served cold with either warm or cold cherry sauce. It also has a quirky little tradition where an almond is hidden in the dish and whoever receives the almond wins a prize, often a marzipan pig. The catch is that everyone has to keep eating the pudding until the almond is found, no matter how full they are!

Hopefully, I’ll get around to making that and I’ll be able to report back how it went. Have any of you tried it?

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where we write 100 words or less to a photo prompt. I really enjoy it and find it really stimulates my writing.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Graduation Concert…One More Sleep!

Tomorrow night, Miss will be performing at her last dance concert with our local dance Studio, Dancin’ Mates. Miss started dancing there when she was three turning four 14 years ago. More than when she finished school, I find myself choked up with emotion. Saying good bye to this part of our lives is absolutely massive and as much as I am looking forward to tomorrow night’s concert, I’d also like to press the pause button and hover in limbo so it never ends. Then, she will always be my girl, and not quite the woman she is becoming who will soon drive herself off into a Newcastle sunset to study ballet full time next year at the Newcastle Ballet Theatre.

Earlier this year, I had a chance to revisit Amelia’s ballet beginnings during open week. Miss is an assistant teacher for two junior ballet classes and it was captivating watching the little girls consciously making a diamond, putting their feet into first position and even so cautiously doing a plie. Everything was very much in slow motion for the first more junior class and more relaxed and comfortable for the next one. You could see they’d “got it”.

Me Aged 9

There is something so timeless about learning ballet and it seems like little has changed since I was learning ballet as a little girl. I learned ballet for something like six years and I think we actually had a live pianist doing the music when I started out, and not just a recording. The first ballet school was run by Prudence Bowen and then I learned from Penelope Lancaster and I wore a black leotard. I distinctly remember doing an umbrella dance and still remember a few of the steps. We moved out to Galston and I learned ballet at the Dural Hall where we had a pale blue leotard and I remember doing a bird cage dance. Have no idea who my teacher was there, but I do remember her eating fish and chips during our lesson, which sounds like I’m making it up, but I swear it’s the truth, and the whole truth.

Why did I quit? I don’t know.

How did I become a dance Mum?

I don’t know that either.

I just remember taking Miss to her first ballet class and the door closing behind her and I couldn’t see in. Fast forward, and I remember trying to do her hair for the end of year concert. My goodness, I can speak two foreign languages but trying to get the brush through fine, flyaway hair and beat it into submission was a challenge. Golly, I should’ve taken out shares in a gel factory. I’m sure so many other mums have gone through this incredible stress, the absolute need for perfection with the ballet bun without a hair out of place, and a fancy tiara.

Not easy being a dance Mum, even a mediocre dance Mum. It’s so much more than simply driving the tutu taxi.

Yet, it’s not about me. It’s about her. This whole journey is about her, although she’s also taken me along for the ride. I have been watching fifteen years of dance, dance concerts, and feeling the dance and the incredible music flow through me like a mighty river, and I’ve even done some adult classes. Mama ballerina might not have been destined for stardom, but I’ve certainly grown exponentially and spread my wings and was probably lucky not to break a leg. I, also, btw, didn’t humiliate myself either.

While I’m onto my side of things at the dance school, it’s not just about my daughter leaving her friends behind. What about me? I’ve spent years chatting to my friends out in the waiting room, especially pre-covid when parents waited anonymously behind their heavy window tinting. Now, most of their kids drive themselves to class anyway and I only see them at competitions and concerts, although I have kept in touch with a few outside. Meanwhile, some still have kids coming through the ranks and I know I’ll be back to see them because…just because.

Growing up is happy yet it can also be sad leaving people, places and parts of yourself behind, and it’s strange as a parent to know quite what’s happened to the bits of you you’ve left in all sorts of random places over the years, which had nothing to do with who you were as a person initially but somehow rubbed off and changed you and created fresh meaning, interests and universes all attached to that young person at the centre of your universe. No doubt some of these will stick, while others will fade out. A new world awaits me next year, just as much as a new world awaits her.

Yet, it can take its time and as much as she might want to rush over to the other side, I’m just happy to walk….or even sit.

Me and my girl.

And now there is only one more sleep and then it’s done.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Frozen… Friday Fictioneers: 8th December, 2023.

“How could I even attempt to walk in their shoes? While I’d always thought myself a good shoulder to lean on and capable of great compassion, their suffering was so far beyond comprehension, that I was frozen to the core. Every pair of shoes had been worn day in day out not by a religion or a creed, but by a living, breathing human being deeply loved. In this preserved farmhouse near Kraków, a Jewish family was slaughtered by heartless hate. Their boots are all that remain. How could I ever understand, when I’m only someone looking back at history?!”

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100 words PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

This week I stepped very much into Rochelle’s territory as the prompt reminded me of piles of shoes I’d heard about in the concentration camps…horrific. Ever since we studied “To Kill A Mockingbird” at school, I have loved and lived by this wonderful quote:

“You never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them.”

— Harper Lee

However, some things are just too horrific to comprehend and perhaps we can’t ever really step into someone else’s shoes, but we still need to keep trying. There’s a memorial beside the River Danube in Hungary has 60 pairs of shoes representing Hungarian Jews who, in the winter of 1944-1945, were shot on the banks of the Danube River by the members of the Arrow Cross Party:  https://www.yadvashem.org/articles/general/shoes-on-the-danube-promenade.html

I also recently listened to an interview with William Waller, a holocaust survivor who concealed his Jewish identity and managed to survive, although he was still sent to Auschwitz but managed to survive. He ended up moving to Melbourne where he became friends with my friend’s father who had been a Polish bomber pilot in the RAF during WWII. They were both high up in the textile industry in Melbourne, and after my friend’s dad had a heart attack it was Bill who used to go walking with him to help him out. Roland’s father was Catholic, but his uncle had been a partisan and maybe helped Jewish people escape I’m not sure. Apparently, members of their family died in Auschwitz. Anyway, here’s a link to Bill’s story and I highly recommend listening to it.

Anyway, if you’d like to read more of our stories or even write one of your own, please join us at Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields,

Best wishes,

Rowena

Grandma’s Sunflower Patch: Friday Fictioneers 29th November, 2023.

“Come see my new garden,” Grandma called enthusiastically as soon as we pulled up at the farm. Thanks to all the lockdowns, we hadn’t seen her for a year, but she was as irrepressible as ever – 85 years young.

Suddenly, my jaw dropped. Grandma had rolled Grandpa’s 1970 Ford Falcon XY GT out of the shed and was growing sunflowers under the bonnet. That car was worth a fortune, and a recent barn find had sold for $230K. With the farm mortgaged to the hilt, selling the car was meant to be their salvation.

Still, it did look beautiful.

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100 words PHOTO PROMPT © Fleur Lind

Thank you so much for this week’s photo, Fleur. I loved it.

For my story this week, I’ve fused it with a story I saw on the news tonight about a 1970 Ford Falcon XY GT being found in a shed in Queensland and selling for $230K. Gray’s auctioned the car and put two videos together which capture a wonderful story and all the mechanical details for any car enthusiasts.

Well, I hope you enjoyed that. I’m not that into cars myself and even I found it fascinating. Back when I was a child, my brother and cousin and I would go exploring under my grandparents’ house and it was like we were searching for hidden treasure. It was so much fun!

Anyway, this has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers, which is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields from Addicted to Purple and we right up to 100 words to a photo prompt and then share our efforts. Maybe, you’d like to join us.

Best wishes,

Rowena