I’ve always loved this song and can never get it out of my head on my dawn runs. So beautiful, simple and says it all.
The autumn light is so perfect in Sydney, bathing all the old shabby terraces and city streets in honey-haze. I have begun the Currawong book and working steadily.
I hadn’t planned to start as I still had research to do but the moon cycle was perfect and sometimes you have to take the risk, shut your eyes, trust in spirits and allow yourself to fall down the rabbit-hole of the story.
Sometimes it’s only when falling that I get the meaning and twists of the narrative. This book is filled with many things I love to read. I love diving into the story and watching the stars start to form a pattern I can follow. I’m at the first 10 000 words so only around 90 000 to go.
But as always, when you’re a mother as well as a writer, life interrupts and just as I found my rhythm for the words and watching with excitement the word count begin… I have to start taking Daisy to more medical appointments. This time we have seen a real miracle worker in the form of Dr Peter Bablis, a highly recommended kinesiologist, homeopath, chiropractor and host of other skills. Daisy just says he is ‘handsome and looks like Chief Powhatan from Pocahontas’
I have never visited a kinesiologist before and must say I was incredibly impressed by how he picked up exact stages of her life (including in the womb) when traumatic events occurred.
It’s always frustrating, however, when you can’t get the words out because of domestic life.
I’m spiralling into space and trusting the story is waiting for me around each twist and curve.
That’s the only timing that makes sense to me. Not the fob-watch or calendar but the stars, the night, the moon and the sun.
polaroid image of room top source
other images source weheartit
I keep remembering those bleak London streets in 1997, strangely silent with the exception of a few screams and sobs. The enormous waiting crowd, united in shocked grief. And two tiny boys, walking with bowed heads, their lives shattered by that car wreck in Paris.
And the heartbreaking sight of one simple word MUMMY on a wreath.
So pleased to see some happiness for one of those stoic little boys in 2011. Kate Middleton has achieved what my six-year-old daughter sighs for – to marry a Prince. May they live happily ever after.
And a death in India of the Guru, Sathya Sai Baba, who died this Easter. I’ve been a long time on a spiritual path and during my quest, I spent time at his ashram in India. I found him to be a fully-realised man who not only answered the question that had tormented me for years, but sent me away from his ashram saying ‘I didn’t need to follow the guru’.
Through Sai Baba, I met several people I have respected and loved over the years. I have felt quite melancholy all week remembering the ashram, the smell of the blessed food, the incense and the early morning devotions and Darshan.
Above is a photo of a younger me (no make-up and I had been very ill when I first arrived in India) with one of my stunning Italian friends, Raffaella, who I met at the ashram.
The Italian women always looked beautiful at the ashram. They wore fresh flowers in their hair. The monkeys bit and terrified; the elephants were glorious in their baths. Food never tasted as delicious as the simple food there. And Baba was like an elegant, gentle child whose energy would strike the large crowds as he appeared for Darshan.
Om Sai Ram