What does nature want for you?

A different kind of blog today.  Some pictures taken on a roadtrip inland, back from Sydney.  I had been visiting my Mum in a nursing home, her Dementia rapidly advancing.  Such special and emotional time, in a relationship that had been, well, frankly, fraught.

The trip took forever, but the landscape had something for me.


Miles in to miles.


Me and the road and the boulders.

It was an aching drive and an opening drive.

A stupidly long and boring drive.


More and more distance between Mum and I, yet how big she is in my heart along the lines of rust metal fences, broken down road and yellow wild flowers.


Slowing for each small town, a pub or a church, and letting the big country get inside, open the walls, let the breath get big. Surreal. Crazy tired. Slightly dissociated.


White flowers now, like fields of snow under the parched sun.


Past Armidale with memories of stories from Dad and his travels and onward north, to the boulders that split my heart, big from the ground, pouring the love from me and meeting it strong. Safe. Pink glow, late sun.


This country is in me. It’s here for me when nothing else is. It fills the spaces inside me and loves me.


Art in motion

“Women walking are like art in motion,” said my friend Scottie last night and I really got it, as I watched his head turn to follow the trajectory of several women while we were having dinner.

I saw him sit in open admiration and make a comment about the uniqueness of each woman – one in a curvy body, a colourful silky dress and completely at ease, breathing freely in her body and surrounds, one a concentrated light source, mesmerizing like the moon, another all perky tossing of the pony-tail and yet a real strength underneath the show.

At one point I found myself drifting from the conversation to follow a path of light one woman was creating as she left The Palmy Café, quietly radiant.  Looking to her partner I saw he was an attractive man and yet something about the radiance of this woman demanded a second look before I laughed at myself and brought my attention back to our conversation.

“So that’s how it is for men” I thought.  Art in motion.  What a beautiful way to see the world and the women in it.

I have been noticing the last little while a seriousness creeping into my life, a tunnel-like quality of thinking as I focus on some business goals and extend myself to achieve them.  All got a little too serious I noted and it had been a little while since I gave myself permission to feel and be and breathe and move as art in motion.

So this morning I woke up and took a breath.  A long, slow breath and felt it move languidly through my body, opening cells, relaxing the habit of tightness, allowing time to open up and spaciousness to move gently through and all around.  And my mind kicked in with a to do list and I politely asked it to bugger off.  And in this a little creative spark got lit, less an idea and more a movement to create.  A welcome return of a state of being that nourishes me and guides me into greater joy and connection and truth.

So women – what’s it like for you to experience yourself as art in motion?  How do you move and stretch and walk or dance, what qualities would my friend Scottie notice as you wandered through his field?

And for all of us – permission here to allow ourselves the joy and wonder of noticing a woman, shining from within, walking past in all her glory.