Tag Archives: inspiration

A Photographer’s Dream.

“A tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure.”

Charlie Chaplin

On Thursday morning, a freakish sea of fog literally knocked on our front door, as the street and indeed our entire town vanished in the haze. We’ve been living here for 15 years but we’ve never seen anything like it before. While we’ve seen patches of fog over the beach and the river in the past, we live a few streets back. Eerie, intriguing, even beautiful and yet there was a nagging underlying concern: why is it so?!! Google can tell me how fog forms but that doesn’t account for why it’s here… an act if God or Mankind?

I don’t know but for now, I had more pressing concerns.

“A writer, photographer, dreamer, wife, mother, daughter, friend seizing each and every beautiful stunning moment and lighting its spark. That’s who I am.”

Rowena Newton.

Although I consider myself a writer first and photographer second, given these freakish weather conditions, I didn’t even stop to think. As I shuffled the kids into “Mum’s Taxi”, I threw my camera bag in the boot and all plans were off. I was off to the beach. Once I’m looking through the lens, that’s it.The rest of the world is gone.
Not that I had great expectations. With that much fog, the beach could well be a complete white-out. Yet, on the other hand, that mix of intense early morning sunlight and the thick milky haze could well be spectacular, creating something exceptionally good. I just didn’t know.Photography is like casting a line out into the ocean, you just don’t  know what you’re going to catch. You can read the landscape and weather conditions to improve your chances but ultimately there’s a strong element of luck…being in the right place at the right time.
That is, as well as playing the numbers game.
Mind you, you can ,take your 10,000 photos but if you don’t train your eye and learn how to maximise your equipment, you might catch the big one once but it won’t be a repeat performance.
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I pulled up at the beach and saw a thick blanket of fog through the sand dunes. Nothing that special.
couple walking

A Morning Walk.

Then, as I walked along the beach, I turned back around looking East. The sun was rising, still low on the horizon, blazing through the fog with a burning glow. There was no colour. The canvas had been painted silver grey etched with darkened silhouettes. It was eerily Post-Apocalyptic and I half expected a cloaked pirate to emerge from the haze…Captain Jack Sparrow, perhaps.
Father & Son

While Mummy is Sleeping…

Instead, there were just the usual early morning walkers and a father hanging out with his toddler son. Couldn’t help thinking Mum was at home trying to sleep or perhaps at home with the new baby. Or, perhaps she’s at work while Dad’s staying at home. Who knows? You can’t assume but remembering that staggering sleep deprivation, I’d be asleep!

“It is in the compelling zest of high adventure and of victory, and in creative action, that man finds his supreme joys.”

Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Wow! This was good…very, very good. The interplay between the sunlight and the fog and those darkened silhouettes was pure magic and all my senses suddenly sprang to life. I could feel that intense tug on the line as the rod bent over towards the sea, knowing beyond all doubt that I’d caught a whopper of a fish and needed to use every bit of nouse to bring it in.
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Seagulls Reaching for the Sun.

I am not a technical photographer and rely more on my eye, perspective and the magic of being in the right place at the right time and seizing the moment. At this point, I was focusing on the silhouettes…nothing special in normal light but seeing the familiar through the fog made it freakishly unusual. As I said, Post-Apocalyptic.
The sea gulls also added an intriguing element. They’re so common and yet through this fog and the muted light, they appeared somehow profound.
From not knowing how this expedition was going to turn out, I was absolutely stoked with the results.
These photos were such an unexpected gift. When I woke up that morning, I’d had no plans of going to the beach or taking photos. However, through capitalizing on the unexpected, I produced some of the best photos I’ve ever taken…the most atmospheric.

“Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.”

John Lennon

This would not have been possible if I didn’t have the space to create. To be able to down tools and just take off. Living beyond the clock, I can follow the twists and turns of fate, creating my own path as I go. Sometimes, I almost feel myself being pulled along, led somewhere beyond myself. Call it what you like… God, fate, serendipity but inspiration grabs me, sweeping me right off my feet and into the unexplored realms of imagination. No doubt, you have been there yourself and can’t quite explain how you arrived or quite how you left. Not everything comes with scientific proof.
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Beach Feet.

That was Thursday. It’s now Saturday and I still feel strangely intoxicated by the fusion of sun and fog, which completely dazzled my senses. It’s been like peering into something so beautiful or transcendental but then arriving back home with a thud. That nasty bang on the head…a reality check.
Welcome back to the “To-Do List”.
Perhaps, I should take a hint from Snagglepus and simply “exit stage left”. After all,
just like “taking the hair of the dog” is offered as a hangover cure, my solution could very well involve taking more photos!
Or, I could just write about it instead.
What’s been inspiring you lately?
Hope you’ve had a great week and are enjoying your weekend.
xx Rowena

Seagulls Reaching for the Sun.

“For most gulls it was not flying that matters, but eating. For this gull, though, it was not eating that mattered, but flight.”

― Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

Likewise, the photographer, the writer, the artist all live in the moment. Held captive. Possessed by the spark. Nothing else matters or even exists but what you see through the lens for that instant. Then, somehow you have caught it. Captured that vision like a falling star and tucked it into your heart, your imagination where it sets your entire being on fire.

It’s no wonder I have trouble when the real world knocks.

How about you?

xx Rowena

Giving My Kids the Spirit of Tagore.

“Children are living beings – more living than grown-up people who have built shells of habit around themselves. Therefore it is absolutely necessary for their mental health and development that they should not have mere schools for their lessons, but a world whose guiding spirit is personal love.”
― Rabindranath Tagore

Last night, I was trawling through Tagore quotes when I stumbled across this gem.

Actually, “trawling” is the wrong word because reading Tagore is so effortless and an incredible joy…very much like collecting stars from the night sky and somehow sneaking them them into your pocket and even your heart!

Each and every quote I read was incredibly inspiring.

This quote particularly resonated with me because it goes against the grain of practical, pragmatic parenting.

My kids are incredibly creative but this very creativity generates a veritable cyclone of inspiration all over my house, which is all too easily reclassified as: “mess”!

Moreover, when we go out, my kids are NOT those kids politely sitting in their chairs conforming to social expectations. Consequently, they can attract more than their share of disapproving glances.

Indeed, yesterday at a family party they were attaching pegs to all the guests clothing in the most sneaky and stealthy ways. However, instead of disapproval, they became a hit. I have never seen my kids laugh so much and my cousin said the pegging had become quite the “ice-breaker”. They were like the comic jesters they used to have in Medieval times and were very much loved and appreciated.

It warmed my heart!

So often, I feel like I’m trying to force my creative, exuberant kids into some kind of straight-jacket to somehow keep the show on the road. That it’s very hard work for us to reach “the norm”, even though it’s quite evident that’s never going to be our path.

Reading this quote from Tagore has let us off the hook. It is more important to break those shells of habit, than to be spotless. Moreover, this is the only way our kids will ever reach for the stars and and live and breathe the spirit of Tagore.

I don’t know how all this works in with getting to school on time. Doing their homework and keeping the house in some kind of order but without passion, without inspiration, can we truly say that we are even alive?

What are your thoughts?

Mister painintg himself.

Mister painintg himself.

A Lifesaving Journey with Anne Frank!

In the opening lines of The Diary of Anne Frank, Anne shared the excitement of unwrapping her diary: “Dear Kitty” …a gift for her 13th birthday. Likewise, on my 13th birthday, I had a similar rush of excitement when I unwrapped Anne’s diary, which was a gift from my mother, along with an empty journal to get me started.

Anne Frank writing in 1941.

Anne Frank writing in April, 1941.

Mum was forever trying to get me interested in reading but she also encouraged and nurtured my writing. When I was around 11 years old, she’d taught me how to spell “enthusiastic” and I was as proud as punch with my new word and liberally started adding it to my compositions at school to receive that all-important red tick and VG in the margin. That same year, Mum also gave me a thesaurus. Although it took me a few years to really master it, that precious book opened my mind to the real possibility of words and engendered a real love of words themselves. Words…not just as part of a sentence, or telling a story but words as individuals. All of a sudden, I could appreciate their unique sound and imagery in the same way you can appreciate the beauty in a single, musical note.

Anyway, having connected so strongly with Anne Frank, not unsurprisingly, I wrote my journal entries to: “Dear Anne”…the perfect friend and confidant. That said, to be honest, writing to her was a bit like staring in a pond at my own reflection. She knew, understood and accepted me in a way I didn’t even accept myself.

Of course, I wasn’t conscious of any of this at the time. I just wrote and wrote, pouring out my very troubled heart to Anne Frank in a way that I couldn’t with anyone “real” at the time. After all, who can? As we traversed the years, Anne became drawn into and even a very part of my heart of hearts.On reflecton, I suspect these outpourings to “Dear Anne” were like writing to a much older, wiser part of myself. An inner dialogue with and to that essential, spiritual part of my being, which The Bible describes as having God living within us.That God was somehow speaking to me through her words…or was that my words or even His words??? Ouch! I’m so confused!!

There were so many, many times when writing in my diary saved me from that swirling vortex of pubescence, which really can engulf a teenager and certainly wasn’t unique or peculiar to me…just part of growing up.

After all, being a teenager can be a very perplexing and challenging time. As if simply growing up wasn’t hard enough, when you add all those surging hormones and mind, body and spirit all get thrown into the mix, you have one very explosive pressure cooker. As parents often lament, it doesn’t take much for the lot to explode! Writing to Anne Frank via my diary, was a kind of pressure valve, letting out the steam before the pressure cooker exploded leaving splat all over the ceiling.

“I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.”
― Anne Frank

Although I related intimately to Anne Frank, well you might question that connection. After all, we were two complete strangers living in such different worlds at different  times. What could we possibly have in common?

An snapshot of Anne's original diary.

An snapshot of Anne’s original diary.

“I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.”
― Anne Frank

Anne Frank was born in Germany in 1929 on the eve of the Great Depression and was actually the same age as my Great Aunt. Indeed, they were born only months apart, which has come to intrigue me. With the rising tide of anti-Semitism, the Franks fled to Amsterdam and ultimately went into hiding in the Secret Annexe where she was not only in hiding from the Nazis but was also living under the microscope in impossibly close quarters with her parents, sister and other residents. Indeed, she had to share her bedroom with an old, cranky male dentist, which seems highly inappropriate through modern eyes!! That would be a living hell for any teenager!!! Anyone!!!

Frank Family Photo May 1941

Frank Family Photo May 1941

What did I, a girl born in the late 1960s in sunny, suburban Sydney on the other side of the world during a time of peace and economic prosperity, have in common with Anne Frank?  The casual observer would say that a bad day was having to walk to school or fighting with my brother for control of the TV… such trivial concerns in the overall scheme of things!!

However, underneath the surface, my situation wasn’t quite that straight-forward, which was no doubt an another reason I connected with Anne Frank. We didn’t know it at the time but I was living in a weird sort of prison all of my own.

Anyway, beyond her circumstances, Anne Frank also expressed so much of the frustration, angst and confusion of being a teenager and she did so in such a way that millions have found solace in her words. Just like me writing away at my desk in suburban Sydney, millions of young women have also addressed their journals: “Dear Anne”.

Anne wrote about her strained relationship with her mother and living in the shadow of her perfect sister, Margot. She also felt that she was being constantly criticized by the other adults in the annexe who simply didn’t get her. These are experiences most of us can relate to and so through her words, we found a mirror of our own struggle as well as a much loved and needed friend and confidante.

I also related to Anne Frank as a person as well. We are both extroverts, wanted to be journalists and have inquiring minds. Both of us were obsessed with asking “why?”. We were both fascinated and intrigued by people and what makes them tick. We also struggled with our relationships with our mothers. These commonalities bridged the many, many gaps which lay between us. She was my friend, my confidante and at times, it seemed like the only person on this planet, who had ever walked in my shoes because we both felt a sense of being different, misunderstood and outcast.

“People can tell you to keep your mouth shut, but that doesn’t stop you from having your own opinion.”
― Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

Anne Frank also became the perfect soul mate for any teen, or anyone at all for that matter, who grapples with being different for whatever reason. Anne Frank’s sense of difference not only involved being a young Jewish girl being persecuted by the Nazis. Once living with her family in the annexe, her sense of difference stemmed more from everyone else in the annexe and it certainly wasn’t easy for her being the youngest and feeling like she was being treated as a child, even though she had become a young woman. At times, Anne feels persecuted by everybody in the annexe and feels she can’t do anything right. Haven’t we all been there?

“Although I’m only fourteen, I know quite well what I want, I know who is right and who is wrong. I have my opinions, my own ideas and principles, and although it may sound pretty mad from an adolescent, I feel more of a person than a child, I feel quite independent of anyone.”
― Anne Frank, The Diary of Anne Frank

However, as my journey continued beyond the turbulent teens, I outgrew calling my journal Anne, although I’ve never outgrown my love for her. Once I’d left school and started university, I discovered that people come in all sorts of packages and that diversity is a blessing, not a curse.When I was backpacking through Europe back in 1992, I visited Anne Frank’s House in Amsterdam, which was certainly an incredibly special, deeply,deeply personal experience. I have never forgotten what she meant to me and how writing to her saved a drowning soul so many times all those years ago.

It was only as my journey continued that I came to realise just how much Anne Frank had helped me. All my life, I’d felt different but didn’t know why. I had this deep sense and knowledge that something was wrong but couldn’t work out what or put a name to it. There was something deep and unfathomable going on and I searched, really ploughing the depths it all but it still remained a mystery. Once I reached university, I found out I wasn’t so alone and there were indeed thousands like me but still that nagging doubt persisted. Something was wrong.I developed an intense interest in psychology, philosophy, literature, prayed and wrote angst-ridden poems in an almighty quest to try and unravel my own inner mystery and somehow understand myself.

Meanwhile, I was diagnosed with serious anxiety.

It was only when I was around 27 when these seemingly vague symptoms stepped out of the closet and spiraled out of control, that the mystery was revealed. After feeling like the room was spinning round, I went to the GP who asked me to put my finger on my nose, a classic neurological test and I missed. He referred me to the neurologist and I was diagnosed with Dandy-Walker Syndrome, a variation of hydrocephalus. Suddenly, a myriad of weird symptoms fell into place and the unexplained started to make sense. Apparently, I’d had this all my life and it was probably caused my my very difficult birth. Although the symptoms had always been bubbling quietly under the surface, six months after diagnosis, I descended into a neurological hell, which was right out of Oliver Sack’s: The Man Who Mistook His Wife For A Hat.  I went on to have brain surgery and was given a shunt, which managed the pressure in my head. It was a long road back to anything approaching “normal” and I went through six months of intensive rehab where I learned to walk again (this time without staggering around with the broad gait of a sailor on a shaky skiff) and well as overcoming serious short-term memory issues and having virtually no ability to organise myself.

Unwittingly, Anne Frank helped me survive those torturous teenage years where the symptoms of the hydrocephalus were there but written off simply as “Rowena”. Since re-adjusting the settings, it’s been quite a journey…incredibly frustrating and slow moving at first but intriguing in retrospect. While I am still me, there are definitely traits that weren’t “me” at all and were symptoms which have since faded, if not gone altogether. Even now, almost 20 years after surgery, I am still noticing improvements but still have some lingering struggles.  I can now play the violin, ski but more importantly, I met and married my husband and have largely been able to look after our two children and the dogs. I also returned to work as a Marketing Manager, although chemo two years ago has put work on hold for the time being.

I am still an extrovert and full of all the contradictions I shared with Anne Frank and I hope, have a deeper sense of compassion for people who don’t fit the norm and maybe don’t have a “Dear Anne” they can call their own.

These days, I am also a parent and next year, our son will dip his toe into that swirling vortex of pubescence when he starts high school. Somehow, I can’t see him writing to “Dear Anne” but he does Scouts and plays the guitar and I hope these outlets will bridge the gaps for him.

Meanwhile, our 9 year old daughter dabbles with writing in her diary and also loves drawing in there as well. I’m looking forward to giving her a copy of The Diary of Anne Frank when she turns 13 so she can also perhaps experience that same connection I found so many, many years ago.

Last year, I stumbled across this interview with Anne Frank’s father, Otto, who spoke dare I say frankly about reading her diary. This is an absolute must!!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWRBinP7ans

Did you ever write a journal growing up and any suggestions on helping boys get through the teenage years would be appreciated!!

xx Rowena

PS: I think you’ll all agree that Anne frank achieved this goal:

“I don’t want to have lived in vain like most people. I want to be useful or bring enjoyment to all people, even those I’ve never met. I want to go on living even after my death!”
― Anne Frank

Hahndorf, South Australia: the Blacksmith and the Artists.

Welcome to Hahndorf, a German-Australian village in South Australia’s Adelaide Hills.  As you prepare for landing, could you please switch you clocks back well into last century to an era where there were few, if any, cars and the horse and cart were still being serviced at HA Haebich’s Smithy on Main Road, Hahndorf. That was before WWI when Hahndorf’s name was changed to Ambleside, as a reflection of fierce anti-German sentiment and changed back again in 1935.

Map showing the location of Hahndorf.

I send my apologies in advance as this is only going to be a rudimentary tour. This will only be a fleeting day trip for the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. I promise I’ll pop back later for a more in depth visit.

My much loved Grandfather, Bert Haebich, was not only born in Hahndorf but was also descended from the Hartmann and Paech families, who were among the very first German settlers to arrive in Australia back in 1838. These Lutherans were escaping persecution in Prussia and came to South Australia in search of religious freedom. They were an extremely stoic and hardworking community who used to walk their produce into Adelaide on foot and certainly weren’t afraid of backbreaking hard work!!

Hahndorf is a thriving tourist attraction these days and something of a living museum. In so many ways, it looks like a chunk of 19th century Germany, which was dug up and transplanted to the South Australia. Many of the original houses have been retained and restored including Haebich’s Cottage, the family’s home on Main Street, which was built in the late 1850’s by J.Georg. Haebich. It is a substantial ‘fachwerk’ (basically a timber skeleton with infill of pug [straw/mud], brick or stone) German cottage and is absolutely gorgeous.

As this is just a fleeting tour, I’m going to cut to the chase and introduce you to the Blacksmith and the artists.

Heinrich August Haebich, my Great Great Grandfather had a Smithy on Main Street, Hahndorf and lived in Haebich’s Cottage next door. August was was born in Hahndorf on the 17th March, 1851 to Johann George HAEBICH (1813-1872) and Christiane SCHILLER (-1857). August married Maria Amalie Thiele in 1874 but she died less than a year later and on 12th April, 1877, he married Caroline Maria Paech. They had 9 children and I think all four boys worked in the Smithy at some time. With the advent of the car, the business slowly wound down and my Great Grandfather Ed left to work as an engineer with the railways and later as a market gardener. His brother Bill was the last Haebich blacksmith…the end of the line.

My grandfather loved telling me stories of growing up in Hahndorf and I was enchanted. There was an incredible cast of characters and antics like tying a goat to the Church bells so they rang every time to goat reached out to eat more grass. There was also an explosion of some sort during WWII, which sparked fears of a Japanese invasion but was yet another prank. There was a cockatoo which allegedly used to walk across the road leaning to one side with its wing bent staggering along saying: “Drunk again! Drunk again!” Hahndorf is a short distance from the Barossa Valley, one of Australia’s most famous wine-growing regions and there is even a Lutheran Church planted, or should I surrounded by vineyards. I think that should put you in the picture!

While most of the characters in my grandfather’s stories remained anonymous, one name certainly stood out. That was the world-renowned artist Sir Hans Heysen, who lived in Hahndorf with his wife Sallie and family in a spectacular home called: “The Cedars”.

Hans Heysen, "White Gums".

Hans Heysen, “White Gums”.

“Its (the gum tree) main appeal to me has been its combination of mightiness and delicacy – mighty in its strength of limb and delicate in the colouring of its covering. Then it has distinctive qualities; in fact I know of no other tree which is more decorative, both as regards the flow of its limbs and the patterns the bark makes on its main trunk. In all its stages the gum tree is extremely beautiful.”

SIR HANS HEYSEN

 

Heysen had what you could describe as a spiritual relationship with the Australian Gum Tree and he was also captivated by light and trying to capture and infuse light onto the canvas. Understandably, Heysen was quite the conservationist, particularly where saving these glorious gum trees, which were threatened by the installation of electric wires but also by development. He deeply lamented each tree which was lost. Indeed, it was his through his protection of the local gum trees that Hans Heysen entered my Grandfather’s stories. It was known that if anybody wanted to chop down one of these trees, they would have to speak to Hans Heysen first and he was a formidable force. I also found out that my grandfather’s sister, Ivy, worked as a housekeeper for the Heysen’s. That still intrigues me and unfortunately I need had the chance to discuss this with her.

My grandfather took this photo at the Hahndorf Centenary Celebrations in 1938 and I believe that in Hans Heysen standing on the RHS wearing a white coat and his characteristic knickerbockers and long boots.

My grandfather took this photo at the Hahndorf Centenary Celebrations in 1938 and I believe that in Hans Heysen standing on the RHS wearing a white coat and his characteristic knickerbockers and long boots.

Here is a link to some of Hans Heysen’s works: http://www.artgallery.sa.gov.au/agsa/home/Learning/docs/Online_Resources/Heysen_Trail.pdf

With his love and reverence for the Australian Gum Tree, I guess it is fair to say that Heysen’s outlook fitted in better with the more pastoral and bush portrayal of Australia and Heysen certainly despised Modernism and all its trappings. This was reflected in paintings such as The Toilers (1920) where Hans Heysen painted a local farmer “Old Kramm” and his horses.

Perhaps, it was Heysen’s love for this passing pre-mechanised world,which inspired Hans Heysen to undertake an etching of Haebich’s Smithy in 1912. My grandfather had a print of this painting and it was something we knew about and I guess were proud of without knowing any background to it at all.

Hans Heysen, "The Old Blacksmith's Shop, Hahndorf." (1912)

Hans Heysen, “The Old Blacksmith’s Shop, Hahndorf.” (1912)

It was only last year, that I really questioned Heysen’s perspective of the Blacksmith’s shop and how his still life contrasted to my grandfather’s animated stories of a busy, flourishing workshop. I remember how my grandfather;s face would light up, even as an old man, talking about how the water would whoosh up when the red hot steel rim for the wheel would be dunked in water producing an incredible gush of steam. He was a small boy once again mesmerised by the whole experience and and there was such theatre.

In addition to questioning Heysen’s still life of a place which was anything but still, I also realised that Heysen’s work portrayed the more traditional tools of blacksmithing at a time when the Smithy was already being mechanised. August Haebich and his eldest son Otto, were innovative engineers who invented the Wattle Stripper and engines. They were hardly relics from the past or living and breathing museum pieces.

So, there was a bit of food for thought, which I’ll need to investigate further.

In the meantime, while  doing yet another Google search and romping through the online newspapers at Trove, I made quite a discovery. It might not warrant global acclaim but it felt like I’d found a gold nugget in my own backyard. Believe me!  I was shouting “Eureka”from the rafters even though no one else was listening!

It turned out that Hans Heysen wasn’t the only famous artist who had depicted the Haebich Smithy. Hans and Sallie Heysen entertained numerous artists and performers at The Cedars. Indeed, famous singer Dame Nellie Melba was a regular visitor and naturally fellow artists also came to stay. Naturally, they roamed around Hahndorf and did what artists do…sketch. After all, the very quaint German buildings are what we would now call very “photogenic”.

Lionel Lindsay: "The Smithy Window, Ambleside" (1924).

Lionel Lindsay: “The Smithy Window, Ambleside” (1924).

So, consequently, I have unearthed other sketches of the Haebich Smithy. There was one by Sir Lionel Lindsay, brother of artist and author Norman Lindsay of Magic Pudding fame as well as artist and art publisher Sydney Ure Smith. Sydney Ure Smith was so smitten with Hahndorf, that he included scenes in his book: Old Colonial By-Ways (1928)…alongside much more recognised Sydney landmarks such as the buildings in Macquarie Street and Elizabeth Farm House in Parramatta, which is the oldest house in Australasia. Elizabeth Farm House was built In 1793 Sir John MacArthur and was where he con ducted his experiments with merino sheep, giving birth to the Australian wool industry.

Sydney Ure Smith: The Blacksmith's Shop, Ambleside (1925).

Sydney Ure Smith: The Blacksmith’s Shop, Ambleside (1925).

So, immortalised alongside, Elizabeth Farm House, is Haebich’s Smithy.

When you look at it like that, it really does seem rather incredible and amazing and yes, I’m impressed, proud and so many superlatives that I couldn’t possibly get them all down without sounding like a thesaurus!

xx Rowena

Accepting the Very Inspiring Bloggers Award

I would like to thank Phoebe from Musings of  Puppydoc http://phoebemd.com/2015/01/05/blog-awards/ for nominating me for the Very Inspiring Bloggers Award.

I was so stoked to receive this award because after all my trials and tribulations, I would like to be able to inspire others to claw their way forward when they go through periods of adversity. If you are ever going through a phase of darkness, know that the sun never sets. That it’s always shining. It’s just they we don’t see it.

Three favourite quotes which have inspired me through times of hardship are:

“Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not: nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not: the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.”

Calvin Coolidge

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

― Kahlil Gibran

The last quote came from our son’s pre-school teacher. Early childhood had some difficult moments, particularly due due my debilitating health which saw me hospitalised for 7 weeks when Mister was 3 and Miss was 18 months old. Initially, I would cynically snigger to myself that tomorrow would just bring more of the same but the reality was actually quite different. One day actually could be quite different to another.

“Tomorrow is another day.”

The Sun Set Byron Bay

Sun Set Byron Bay

Three things which have inspired me this week or in recent times are:

1) I heard TV interviews with the hostages who survived the terrorist siege in Sydney’s Lindt Cafe in Martin Place and I was incredibly touched and moved by their courage, survival skills and endurance. There were so many inspirational stories but I was particular moved by the thoughfulness of Marcia Mikhael who calm down two of the younger hostages when they had panic attacks and talked through through some relaxation and meditation techniques to calm them down. She also swapped places with them and moved from a very good vantage point where she could have escaped to being next to the gunman.

2) The outpouring of grief and compassion after the terrorist attacks in Martin Place, Sydney and in Paris. It was inspirational to see how good triumphed over evil.

3) I have signed up to be a part of a global blogging movement called #One Thousand Voices Speak for Compassion. where we will write a post about compassion on 20th February, 2015 …the International UN Day of Social Justice. Read more herehttps://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2015/01/19/bloggers-unite-for-a-better-world-1000-voices-speak-for-compassion/

You will find that many of the bloggers I have nominated live with chronic and serious medical conditions and refer to these on their blogs. I am inspired by their courage though great adversity and the love and encouragement they share.

There are also a few dog blogs on the list. These largely involve stories of dogs who have been rescued and lovingly given a new life yet still carry the emotional scars. There is also a blog about a therapy dog.

Here are the rules for accepting this award (purely voluntary):

1.  Thank the person who nominated you by including a link to his/her blog in your response, and display the award logo on your site.

2.  Nominate 15 other blogs (more or less). Include links to their blogs on your post, and inform them about the nomination.

3.  Mention three things that inspired you the most this week (you can talk about last week’s inspiration too or before that).

My nominations for the VIB award are as follows:

Miniscule Moments of Inspiration: http://www.kathunsworth.com

Bruises You can Touch: http://bruisesyoucantouch.com/

Journeyintopoetry: https://journeyintopoetry.wordpress.com

Yvonne Spence – http://yvonnespence.com/

Lizzi Rogers – http://summat2thinkon.wordpress.com/

Poetry Photos and Musings Oh my!    https://poetryphotosandmusingsohmy.wordpress.com/

Butterfly Mumma: http://butterflymumma.com/

Monika and Sam the therapy dog: Tails Around the Ranch: https://tailsaroundtheranch.wordpress.com/

Psychologistmimi: http://psychologistmimi.com/

Behind the White Coat : https://doctorly.wordpress.com/

#1000 Voices for Compassion: http://1000speak.wordpress.com/

Rachel Mankowitz: https://rachelmankowitz.wordpress.com/

Such Small Hands: https://lilyellyn.wordpress.com/about/

Ali Isaac Storyteller: http://aliisaacstoryteller.com/

Sirena Tales: https://sirenatales.wordpress.com/

Jackie at Lethargic Smiles: https://lethargicsmiles.wordpress.com/

I am Not A Sick Boy: http://iamnotsickboy.com/

Max the Dog: https://withinthekstreets.wordpress.com/  ….Max has inspired me with his very cute doggy looks and I now want to visit Hawaii.

Love & best wishes,

Rowena

The Sun Sets on 2014

Sun Set Byron Bay looking towards Mt Warning. Byron Bay is the Most Eastern Point of Australia and will be the first place in Australia to see the sun rise on the New Year. It has to be one of the most relaxing places on earth.