lost – one mind, one body


The third post in the loss trilogy prompt series screams ‘lost and found’ – immediately remembered the email…


We had a lost and found box at our old office. On the first day of most weeks at least one new weekend visitor item – study notes, umbrellas, flasks, the occasional wallet, once a monk’s undergarments I kid you not.

And then we downsized. No one but us uses our new office and so those days are gone. We get emails and phone calls about every weird and wonderful thing you couldn’t imagine though.  We had an email a few months ago about some lost items, found.

She told of finding them in a park, some laid out (shrine like, she didn’t know that), and some…well she’d opened the backpack and looked through it. Wet from the early morning walk dew. Thorough – she photographed everything, left it there, another day brought it home. She thought we were the right people to contact, to offer it to.

I thought we were too. My boss said ‘tell her to contact the police’. ‘Foul play’, ‘maybe murder’. I’m thinking a homeless, mentally ill guy. Why do I immediately suspect male you wonder? The email and photos upset me beyond the contents. My mind flew to my son. My greatest fear homelessness. Someone’s son is living rough and now lost? Precious belongings left with leafy natural altar.

I told her ‘we can’t take the artefacts’ and ‘I think you should contact the police, and tell them everything’. Then I did a little detective work of my own and realised my fears. Delusion claimed his mind some time ago – what has become of his body unknown. What became of his precious keepsakes, of respect and practice, also unknown. Lost, or found?

Why should living outside unnerve me so? The Buddha himself was itinerant – no attachment, nothing lost…



hit the snooze button


Avoiding sleep? or just living the dream…


Throw me the command ‘sleep’ and toothpicks prop open my eyes. I do like being awake though, alone and when all the world wants nothing from me. I’ve always been an owl – my body clock is just armed that way. When you’re a parent, and your children move beyond the tiny years, it’s fascinating seeing the natural rhythm of their wake sleep. I’d say only one of my three inherited the night prowling, though during their teens they all were pretenders.

Anyhoo – what do I do that prevents me from shutting eyes while darkness hangs around the house outside and any sound is an intruder?

I worry / think too much. Meditate, shut it down. I read. Close the book, clear the bed. I open web pages. Leave that laptop downstairs girl. I put the tv on sleep, turn the volume down really low, roll over…

In the morning I’ll hit the snooze button at least three times. Wake me when you’ve sorted it all out.



Size does matter


Tell me about your childhood home, specifically where were you living at the age of twelve?

I loved that house so much. My life was a mass of confusion at twelve though. Is that common? Perhaps it is – a jumping point between innocent time and hormones. The beginning of knowing you’re going to be responsible for how the hell it all turns out. One foot on your way…

Anyway I loved that house. Through childish eyes it was huge. We lived in a frigging mansion. Our backyard was a national park. No really, it was five or six bedrooms depending on your configuration, and several other rooms including a big old country kitchen, and all surrounded by verandahs.  The front verandah for skateboards, ping pong, large lunches on wet days. Reading and piano on the back verandah. Out the back door, and down the path to the washhouse, memories of blue-o, and double concrete tubs, a wringer maybe? That’s hazy… and the coal pit at the back under the house. How lucky is the parent whose child thinks scooping the coal is fun!  One bathroom, normal back in the day but wow, the waiting! Solid dark dividing doors, leadlight windows, high ceilings with roses and plaster mouldings. Endless nights tracing those patterns til sleep…

The house and land took up probably three normal size blocks, not counting the paddock down the side. Obviously not a national park! but wonderland for a child, a private forest and a great green expanse for any and all ball games and the running of my imagination.

You can never go back, but when I did, and looked with adult eyes, I found that it was actually a big house, a large block of land and while Yes, Virginia, size Does matter, in terms of a home it isn’t the physical size that makes it big. The biggest thing about my childhood home was the innocence, safety, and happiness I felt there.



who’s that girl?


Interesting characters – a Daily Post challenge


She doesn’t ask for, or need, approval – to be liked. On first meeting she seems a little prickly, not someone you’d warm to. She’s tall and thin, not good looking if we’re being honest…moves a little awkwardly. She’s a bit too loud, and a bit brash.

Is my perception of her physical characteristics swayed by how much she’s annoyed me, in our purely textual relationship, til now? Her emails are always too wordy. She often sends them to the wrong address, and forwards them inappropriately. She’s so annoying. 

The ego of impatience has pre-judged her thus.

She’s not annoying at all! She has so much compassion I am a humbled student as she teaches without intention. A Bodhisattva at work in our midst, not in training. 

A room full of volunteering uninitiated sit spellbound as she shares her work in corrective services. Inspiring enough without the back story – I’m left speechless from our pre-workshop speedy rundown of her life. She is dyslexic, coeliac, with a cricket team of children. The oldest few adopted from overseas, long before it was celebrity, before it was quite common, and as a single woman. The prison is a long drive from home, the ‘boys’ grateful weekly for the visits, and the rest of her waking time filled with equally inspirational doings. She fits well more than a week can hold surely, into her every 7 days. I am humbled. 

How distorted our perceptions and first impressions can be – so far from annoying, I am in awe of her and would love to be able to call her friend.





this loss trilogy – the first post


This doesn’t have to be a depressing exercise, this challenge, but it so is.


I have lost contact with my son. I can’t say that out loud – writing it is painful. A great big rip in my heart. Blood drips down to my feet, stains the stratosphere under my footprints. How am I still standing.

I don’t know how it happened and I can’t fix it. If I spend too long thinking on it I teeter on the edge of my sanity. I could so very easily slip and go over, go under. That doesn’t mean for one second that I don’t think of my son. My darling boy takes up a good part of my every single day. If only that would bring him back. No questions asked, no judgement no expectation – I dream of a big hug.

There is nothing more to say. The darkness is closing in but sleep is a way off. I’ll wrestle with my thoughts into the small hours.


this loss trilogy

hug awaits my prodigal

breathing in and out




where ocean meets sky


The Daily Post : A room with a view 


Ah, how can I describe it in words for you.

There’s a point, just passed half way there, when the road becomes a colonial bush painting and the mood of your day becomes holiday. From there onwards it’s all om.  It’s not that it’s an easy drive by any means, there’s the ‘bends’ all twists and narrow turns, low visibility, hurtling buses and lycra deathwish men. Add the irrational speed limit changes, three lanes to one, pedestrians on akuna matata – watch out for them. Native wildlife meanders at home – the road to paradise is littered with road kill! 

By the time you pull into the driveway, of what looks like any suburban house in the street, your breathing has slowed, shoulders relaxed. My face is a smile for however many days my allotted time is… 

It’s not my house but the minute I walk through the front door I’m home. It’s like I’m surrounded by hug. I’ve felt that from day one – when we went through on an open house inspection, pre-auction. A sharp, sudden intake of breath, a hug, smile…home.  Totally safe here. My happy place.

You have to turn your head to the right and there’s the sea. Nothing else matters. You can sit anywhere in that room, on one of the wicker chairs, either of the armchairs, any chair at the dining table, or let the couch welcome you…you’ll be drawn to the horizon, where ocean meets sky. 

I’ve often wondered how long you’d have to live there to take that view for granted. Go about your daily life without really noticing. I doubt it could happen. When I’m staying a few days, other than the joy of birdwatching, the ocean is the thing…I pretend to read, might turn the tv on now and then for rhubarb, but my eyes, my mind barely leave the water. Hypnotically addictive – it calms, it heals, it clears out all the debris.




mind monologue


write 20 minutes stream of consciousness and hit the publish button


There’s a very weak, tiny patch of sunlight in the side garden. I was lured out to sit in it but turned out I had to sit right up against the basement skylight, and tilt my head that way, to just catch it. Attempt to get my fifteen minutes of Vitamin D thwarted today.

Apparently it’s a thing in Australia. Vitamin D deficiency. We’ve been indoctrinated into staying out of the sun, avoid skin cancer. Now we are being re-educated that we need 15 mins a day to avoid osteoporosis. It’s a fine line isn’t it. The health juggle. Anyway, no luck for me in the garden today. I’ll have to replenish my bone cells another day… must remember! 

My son in law has made an amazing garden out the back. Even so, I don’t want to stay here. The gingers have gone feral – absolutely wild! When he planted he told me they’d grow upwards and give privacy from the apartments behind us. They’ve grown out and down. It’s all good, we got some of the much desired (by me) privacy with other plants, and the gingers are just spectacular. I still don’t want to stay here. In the back lane, birds have taken up residence in the council planted trees with a vengeance. Their voices joined in choir are just soul lifting. And for that I am indescribably grateful, my joy overflows but I’d still rather move… I can see the city buildings through that gap in the trees. The roofs of the street behind us, one corrugated iron between two old fashioned slate tiled. Iron roof functional, financially the better option, but mmm fugly.

I walk back in to the kitchen, to look through the back doors at the garden and try to imagine I’m seeing it for the first time. A friend visited yesterday and I’m being her. I see a lot of dead foliage – did she think it messy? It’s his idea of art. When a palm frond drops from the top its beauty isn’t over – it’s moved to a different part of the courtyard, and is decorative. 

The big cat is pacing. Hoping on hope to get outside herself. Not today sweet thing. I can live without the worry of imposed home time which cats don’t respect. Dusk becomes the witching hour and once passed the feline is out for the night. On the prowl. So today, with no one else home, I’m keeping you safe. 

My back hurts. I should go for a walk but something in the lower back is complaining. Instead I might just curl up on the couch and sleep for a bit. I haven’t done that in a while actually – it used to be a common occurrence. I have two hours before I need to think about mother’s dinner and I haven’t been sleeping well at night. 

I’ve done all I need to do today, and a little extra. So why not zzzzzzzzzzz.





the kissing list


The tenth list


I don’t want to list 10 guys I’ve kissed. The first and second, who coincidentally are also the most recent and the one before that (with a few faces, and a lot of years gap in between), are the ones I remember in dreams, the ones I measure by. 

I should have stayed with either one. I don’t know what happened…well I do, but with the wisdom that passing years uncovered, the reasons for each end are meaningless.

A few years ago I reconnected with both – such fine wines those two men. Surely life would have been happy with either. Thirty years ago, doors slid shut, and I was on the other side each time.  The view from this side has varied – it is what it is now, the memories bring smiles.

I believe in karma, we are where we are meant to be – I hope you’re content with the side of the door you ended up on too 🙂









blog your block – blog the room


Writing Challenge – blog your block 


I took the big cat to the vet today. It’s been awhile. I’m going to need to board her there while I breathe my ancestors’ air later this year. And they’re going to need her to be vaccinated so…

She does this whole I’m dead routine. Lies flat out on the consultation table – couldn’t even slide a coin under her. Head tucked in. The big cat has white coat syndrome. Maybe she’s meditating. Breathing in, breathing out. Her heart rate is chill apparently. 

She’s 14. The only other cat we met is 22! What the? Wow, well done human keeping him alive all that time. His human uses her backpack like a baby sling – cat carrier. He’s living the dream, out for a block walk. 

That surgery is spotless. No smell. No dust. Not a hair out of place. Two cats in our house and it’s hair city!

Even though it wasn’t traumatic – I mean the vet gave her a massage and used a goo goo voice at her – when we got home the big cat flew up to the attic to show me what she thought of the outing. Spent the rest of the day up there. The ‘safe’ room of her first days with us…





where would you go


I’ve had times when I couldn’t walk to the letter box, and I travelled all over in my mind, through other wanderer’s words and photos never expecting that to change.

I’ve ticked Japan off my imaginary list – was the first place, and for the longest time only, that I really really had to go… 

Over time I’ve found a couple of places, that I didn’t even know I wanted to be, are magic and now deep in my psyche. Fields of  longing…to be there again. To stay when I arrive. 

So, I can’t list the top 5 places that I’ve always wanted to visit – the list changes as I age, and as I discover the world’s corners slowly, and unexpectedly.

Here’s my current thoughts :

  1. Ireland – in July and August I will stand where my ancestors stood. There’ll be lots of photos, and no doubt tears 😉
  1. I’d like to revisit Japan, Italy and USA – yes dear reader I KNOW that’s three 🙂 but I made up my own rules and added a subcategory.
  1. Greece – ancient buildings to stand in awe of. 
  1. Lots of this country that I haven’t seen – for example Ayers Rock/Uluru.
  1. Tibet, Nepal, India – another cluster, and I just think it’s all too late in this life for me to get there…

Everywhere is a long way from Australia! Unless a few things in life change I believe it’ll be Ireland, America and that’s it for this list other than local jaunts. Things do change though, don’t they 😉