Until You’re You Again

Until You’re You Again

“Keep taking time for yourself until you’re you again.” Lalah Delia

For a long time after my Bear died last year, I didn’t think I’d ever be me again. The day he died, I went into shock. The following days, weeks, and months are a blur to me now, a hazy memory of trying to breathe, making myself eat, and doing the farm chores with tears streaming down my face as I told Bear over and over, “I can’t do this, babe, I can’t”.

My brain couldn’t accept the fact that my love was gone, that the creak I heard on the back steps wasn’t him coming up from the shed for a cuppa and chat, the ring of my phone wasn’t him calling to see how my day was going, that his side of the bed was empty when I’d reach for him in the night. It felt like nothing would ever be OK again.

And for a while, nothing was. Things got worse. Much worse.

spring harvest

Drought ravaged the farm creating cracks so big in the soil that I could slide my arm into them. Dogs and a fox got into my paddocks and killed half my herd and I spent days burning bodies. “Shiny, Happy People”, a documentary of the cult I was raised in, came out, triggering horrible dreams, PTSD, and severe flashbacks. Bushfires raged, I was hospitalised twice, and a nightmare litigation ensued.

I told Bear, “I can’t do this, babe, I can’t.” And felt him say in return, “I know, darlin’, it’s too much, but you will.”

So, I hung on. And when I couldn’t hang on, dear friends propped me up and gave me the love and support I needed to take another step forward. I went to therapy, read everything I could about grief, and sat with my shadows until I could see them for what they really were – my greatest strengths and the very things I needed to get through this life.

My neighbour helped me repair the irrigation so my plants and trees could have a fighting chance in the drought, I rebuilt fences and gates and made them dog and fox-proof, and I took ownership of my situation and studied Queensland law so I could navigate the litigation to the best of my ability.

summer harvest

In time, things got better. Rain came at last, putting out fires, filling in the cracks, and turning the whole region a dazzling green. Wounded animals recovered, rebuilt fences have done their job, and I’m no longer afraid of or intimidated by lawyers and litigation.

Even more precious is discovering that even though grief doesn’t go away, the soul/heart/spirit, whatever you want to call it, expands and stretches and makes room for peace and joy and love too. They’ve squeezed in alongside my loneliness and heartbreak and despair until they’re all nestled together quite cosily, enabling me somehow to live again. The pain of Bear’s death will always be with me, but as I care well for myself and stay close to my steadfastly loving people, I find that it gets cushioned, its sharp edges softened.

summer vegetables

I understand now that I’ll never be me again, not the old me. She is gone. But I can be the new me, the now me, the ever-changing, never-give-up, plant-seeds-in-drought me.

I know bushfires will flare up again, drought will return, and I will lose people I love. Unkind people will need to be stood up to, animals will die, and life will go all sorts of wonky, but I will be OK. Now I know to my very bones that no matter what happens, even when I can’t do it, I will.

Create Space

Create Space

Create space.

Create space for what matters to me. Space for what I want to learn, experience, understand, taste, and see. Create space for the life I want to live.

I’ve been mulling over these thoughts recently, taking time to observe how I spend my time and if it really, truly reflects what is important to me. My friend Mary recently shared this quote by Victoria Erickson:

“If you inherently long for something, become it first.
If you want gardens, become the gardener.
If you want love, embody love.
If you want mental stimulation, change the conversation.
If you want peace, exude calmness.
If you want to fill your world with artists, begin to paint.
If you want to be valued, respect your own time.
If you want to live ecstatically, find the ecstasy within yourself.
This is how to draw it in, day by day, inch by inch.”

Reading these words made me smile as it sent my mind whirling into the realms of what do I long for? What do I want? What delights, intrigues, and inspires me as I am now?

I’ve been playing with ideas for months, painting them, writing them, talking them through with Bear. I follow ideas like breadcrumbs, ideas for work and play and adventure and connection, experimenting as I go, embracing what sticks and releasing those notions that float on by.

path through the trees

In the beginning, it was really hard. My answers to my questions were mostly, “I don’t know.” My thoughts were muddied by musts and shoulds and by giving weight to voices not my own. But, I stuck with it, returning again and again to the question, “What do I want?” And slowly, steadily, clarity came, sometimes in bursts of inspiration, sometimes in gentle knowing. Each discovery was a gift, an affirmation deep in my heart, a hearty, confident YES.

flowering vine

I learned that I need to do a much, much better job at looking after myself. I need more rest, more downtime, more fun, more community, more adventure, more discovery. I’ve been creating space for those things and it has been so good for me, my marriage, my clients, my friendships, everything. I love seeing the glorious ripple effect of true self-care.

Some of the changes are really simple. I need more sleep than the average person, and I’ve finally made peace with it. I stopped setting my alarm and sleep until I wake up. I schedule meetings for later in the day so I can have a peaceful and leisurely start to my day and approach my projects and work and commitments from a place of rest and calm. My stress has plummeted and I have more time and energy to live my life rather than recovering from it.

I learned that walking and hiking are the best exercises for me. I hate going to the gym, running is the devil, but my whole being lights up at the thought of a hike in the mountains or a walk through the woods. Weight training is important for my strength and resilience, so I get that in through lifting feed bags, hauling rocks, and using a 6-foot crowbar to dig holes for trees, bushes, and fence posts. Rebuilding my body is no longer a misery. I know it will be a long process and I’m finally enjoying it and loving my body as it is even while I help it get fitter and stronger.

gum trees

Other changes required some grieving and letting go. I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and I must adjust my life accordingly as I no longer have the strength and energy I once did. After grieving the loss of Old Me, I’m learning how to build a good life with Chronic Fatigue.

I still love gardening, but I’m shifting to gardens of mostly perennials, things that self-seed and look after themselves, plants that provide us with food without requiring so much effort from me. So, I’ve put in a lot of fruit trees, berry bushes, perennial herbs, and veggies like artichokes and asparagus that just keep going and going. I’ve put in drip-hoses to make watering easy, hung shadecloth to protect from the fierce Aussie sun and wind, and have Seasol and organic fertilizer pellets on hand to easily keep things well-fed.

We still love our farm, but we’re cutting way back on stock to make things easy to manage. When we sat down and talked things through we realised that we’d rather spend more time with each other and our luvs doing fun projects, visiting around the fire, and enjoying life. It will take time to downsize, but we’re looking forward to it.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about community. Covid has wreaked havoc in this area, disrupting so many events, traditions, and experiences where community is built and nourished. One way I’m connecting with people is through my workshops. I don’t do them to make money, but to create opportunities for relationships. Workshops are expensive to put on and I barely cover my costs each time, but I don’t mind because they give me a chance to get to know people and let them get to know me. For a few hours each month, we can immerse ourselves in creating something fun and interesting while being brave and opening ourselves to connections with potential kindred spirits.

I’ve loved every workshop. I’ve met wonderful strangers and forged new memories with old friends, heard amazing stories, laughed hard over the craziness of life, and even shared grief. No matter who attends the workshop or if things go smoothly, I always return home with a full heart, hopeful for the state of the world, grateful to the folks who take time out of their busy lives to invest in community.

Muntapa Railway Tunnel

I love that I never stop learning and growing and changing. I’ve heard folks say that people never really change, but I disagree completely. I’ve seen liars become truth-tellers, broken people become whole, fear turned into incredible courage. We can change, and that is a gift worth embracing and creating space for.

What is something you want to create space for in your life? xo

 

Good for Me

Good for Me

We’re having the most spectacular weather at the moment with endless sunshine and wonderfully cool breezes sending the gum trees dancing. The drought continues unabated as we return to severe water restrictions and hope, hope, hope for rain, but outside my office is a stretch of green, my green patch that I water faithfully when the wind turns the windmill and fills our bore water tanks.

This green patch kept our geese, chickens, and the wild birds healthy and strong through last year’s hellish season of drought and bushfires, so I’m determined to keep it going again this year. While everything dries up around us after a brief flush of green from a couple of winter rains, this oasis cheers us no end. We love sitting on the back verandah and watching the life that is drawn like a magnet to this verdant patch. From tiny finches and fairy wrens to magpies, cockatoos, grass parrots, and rainbow lorikeets, they all take turns foraging through the grass to find food for themselves and their babies.

We keep troughs of water filled around our property so there is always water available for our animals, our neighbors’ sheep and horses, and the kangaroos, wallabies, wombats, echidnas, goannas, and other species that call our farm home. We can’t do much about growing the wild grasses, flowers, and herbs they need to thrive until the rains come, but at least they won’t go thirsty.

apple blossom pink

While we hope for rain, we prepare for drought and the brutal summer heat. I’ve been working hard making our gardens and orchards as resilient as possible by installing drip water systems, thick layers of mulch, and covering the fences with shade cloth to protect them from wind and heat.

And I’ve been planting. So much. It may sound silly to plant things during a drought, but if there’s one major thing I’ve learned through this drought, it’s this: the land thrives longer and bounces back quicker if it has things growing in it.

So I’ve filled my gardens with a mix of trees, bushes, leafy plants, vines, and root vegetables and herbs. The trees provide shelter for the smaller plants, while the leafy plants work as mulch to keep the roots of the trees cool and damp. The deep rooted plants keep the soil loose and friable and herbs like comfrey and yarrow provide endless fodder for the compost bin and compost tea so I can keep feeding the soil. And they all provide food for us, our animals, local wildlife, and bees while making the land stronger, healthier, and more resilient.

It’s hard work but good work and I love it so much.

blue bowl of fresh veggies

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve planted lilly pilly bushes that are already starting to produce the purple and magenta fruits that I’ll turn into cordials, liqueurs, teas, and preserves, blueberry bushes that are covered with pale green berries, and elderberry bushes that are festooned with frothy white blooms. The apple, pomegranate, and citrus trees are flowering beautifully and we’re so hopeful that we’ll get a good harvest this year. The mulberry trees have new black berries for us every day and the feijoas, jaboticabas, and plum trees are sprouting vibrant new leaves and getting taller and stronger.

My friend Stacey and I have been studying about native bush tucker foods this past year, and we’re planting as many varieties as we can source. This week I put in a native currant bush, a native apple tree, several sea asparagus, and warrigal greens. Next up are native capers, Tasmanian mountain pepper, and native elderberry that produces bright yellow berries instead of the dark purple variety. I love learning about these plants and the ways they are used in food and medicine by the Aboriginal tribes that have managed this land for millennia.

quail eggs in a basket

My other great joy these days is my medieval herb garden. I love seeing the bare earth dotted with seedlings of motherwort, tansy, mugwort, rue, tulsi, calendula, chamomile, horseradish, galangal, turmeric, rose geranium, spearmint, marshmallow, burdock, peppermint, wormwood, lemon balm, yarrow, comfrey, and so many others. It’s even more fun harvesting them, drying them, and using them in all sorts of foods and herbal medicines. This week I’ve been making herbal tea mixtures, stirring together various combinations in big bowls before storing them in glass jars to use as the need arises. Yesterday I made one that relieves allergy and headache symptoms, one that strengthens the heart, and another that soothes the nervous system. In winter I like them hot, but in spring and summer, Bear and I prefer them iced and sweetened with honey or maple syrup.

herbal tea mixes

I’ve been thinking a lot about the choices I make each day. Choices that either support the things I value or distract from them. I’ve been learning to get up each day, evaluate how I’m doing in mind, body, and spirit, and plan my day accordingly, doing what is good for me and the people and things I care about. It has really become that simple, just asking myself, “What is good for me today?”

My life doesn’t look like most lives, and that’s OK. It is good for me, good for Bear, good for the life we are building together. I’m finding new freedom and peace in making my good choices whether others understand or approve of them or not. I love that we can all have different passions, different cares, different things that drive, delight, and fulfill us. We need these differences to make the world a more balanced and loving and interesting place. It is comforting to know I can cheer on the passions of my loves without embracing them myself, to fully support their right to engage in what matters to them without taking it on and distracting myself from the life I am building. I read a phrase this week that thrilled me: “breathe in your trueness“. I love the picture those words create. I clarify my values, confirm my next good steps, then close my eyes, hang onto those thoughts and breathe them in, deep and sure, letting them filter down into my whole being so my path is clear. It makes it so much easier to say no and yes when opportunities present themselves because I’m not responding out of guilt or shame, but out of clarity of purpose. I love it.

What good things are you doing these days? xo

Merry and Bright

Merry and Bright

It’s a soft and quiet morning on our farm, animals snoozing in the early sunshine, chooks and geese up early looking for insects in the grass.

Last night I finished my final writing project of the year, sent it off to England, and felt all the stress of deadlines melt away, replaced with near giddiness because it’s finally time to celebrate. And that is a gift in itself.

sunrise through spiders web

Merry and bright. These are words that I treasure. For many years Christmas has been a sad time for me, one fraught with anxiety and deep grief and loss. I merely went through the motions, stuffing down the nausea and panic attacks that were brought on by near-constant triggers.

It’s different now. So different.

The journey I took this year has healed me so deeply that Yule is sheer joy to me.

sunrise through wormwood

I’ve loved figuring out a Christmas/Yule hodgepodge that truly reflects what brings me joy.

I’ve been reading fabulous children’s books and watching beloved old movies, for they are full of imagination and creativity and sheer fun. They highlight the magical, loving goodness in the world and remind me that I get the chance to create that in my life every single day.

I’ve been embracing my inner child by making art, so much art, drawing pictures, making stars out of rosemary sprigs, and decorating fallen logs with armloads of elder flowers for the unfettered happiness of it.

sunrise and wormwood

Bear has joined me in the simple pursuit of doing things that make us happy. He’s been painting medieval helmets, making medieval shields, and building the most gorgeous medieval high-backed chair. In between writing articles I go out there with him to design, wood-burn, and paint my own high-backed medieval chair, and we have the nicest time just hanging out with each other making cool things.

We bought a macadamia tree and a cherry tree for our Christmas trees, and today we’ll trim them with shiny baubles. Later we will plant them in the orchard and reap harvests of fat cherries and scrumptious macadamias for many years to come.

This afternoon I’m teaching him how to make Canadian butter tarts and he’s teaching me how to make Australian mince pies.

It makes me smile so big to see us not worry one smidgen about musts and shoulds and have-tos, just focusing on good, soul-nourishing things that delight us.

sunrise through yarrow

We’ve also loved spending time with our beloved medieval friends. Last week we got to spend a wonderful day with our Danish/Aussie Viking mates, Paula and Nikolaj. They made us a veritable feast of Danish Yule treats – spicy peppernuts, butter cookies piped in swirls of crunchy goodness, heavenly white wine glogg full of almonds, raisins, and whole spices, and bowls of creamy rice pudding with cherry sauce. It was just fabulous to sit outside on a hot Aussie summer afternoon, talking for hours about history and travel and gardens and building things and food, glorious food.

This week we get to spend Christmas Day with our Canadian Viking friends, feasting on home-raised turkey with all our favourite Canadian trimmings and desserts. Cannot wait!!!

And next weekend we’re having a whole gang of medieval folks over for 3 days of camping, bonfires, archery, medieval combat, a Middle Eastern feast, and our very own Yule Goat to hand out the pressies.

Merry and bright. Yes, at long last, it truly is. xo

Wishing you a beautiful holiday, dear ones, and much joy, real love, and deep peace in the New Year. xo

Hiking to An Alpine Meadow in the Bunya Mountains

Hiking to An Alpine Meadow in the Bunya Mountains

Growing up near the exquisitely beautiful Rocky Mountains in Canada made me a lifelong lover of alpine meadows. My childhood was spent hiking them with my parents and three little brothers, assorted cousins, aunts, uncles, and family friends. We young ones would race across the lush expanse, leaping as high as we could off obliging logs and stumps, collect fistfuls of wildflowers, and search the undergrowth for tiny alpine strawberries.

I search out alpine meadows wherever I can find them. I’ve hiked to them in British Columbia, Italy, and Alberta, Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, Slovenia, Bosnia, and Albania. Each one is unique yet boasts the same elements: stunning views, cool, fresh air, and wondrous beauty.

Hiking in the Bunya Mountains was my first experience of an Australian alpine meadow, and I wasn’t disappointed.

alpine meadow Queensland

The instant recognition in my heart almost hurt with its intensity. Emotionally I was whisked back to my childhood, and wouldn’t have been surprised in the least to see Bighorn Sheep grazing in the distance or a black bear ambling along to the next berry patch.

alpine meadow Bunya Mountains

I couldn’t stop smiling as we wandered through, watching millions of wildflowers dancing in the buffeting winds, stopping to watch a huge goanna waddle across our path and hustle into the undergrowth.

wildflowers in alpine meadow

The trees, flowers, and wildlife in an Australian alpine meadow may be different to what I’m used to, but the feeling is the same: freedom, space, unfettered joy.

white wildflowers in alpine meadow

Sue and I walked slower through the meadow than we did on any other part of our trek through the Bunya Mountains, both of us wanting to soak up the bliss of cool winds and gorgeous vistas. We were so glad we chose the 10 km hike so we didn’t miss out on this treasure of a place.

purple wildflowers in alpine meadow

At last we couldn’t drag our heels any longer and bid farewell to the alpine meadow.

It certainly helped that the next part of our hike was entered through this magical archway. Who could resist such loveliness?

trail into Bunya Mountain rainforest

Do you have a place from your childhood that always brings back happy memories? xo