The virtues of a Toller

I am eating my dinner, and Smudge is keeping a respectable distance. On her mat across the room where she is supposed to be.

And then it begins....slowly she works her way across to where I am seated enjoying my meal. She takes her time, each movement is measured. She gets to the rug, the half way point and nonchalantly lays down in an attempt to imply she is more comfortable there. Then after some time she returns to her mission, stealth so that I don't pick up on her lack of manners.

She moves alongside me and realises that she is too close- she is risking it all. She will be sent back to her mat and it is very difficult to look cute and starving at the same time from way over there. She deftly moves to the only spot left to her. Here!

Heaven forgive me I gave her some of my dinner. Because I gave her some I had to give Dash a little as well.

And this is why we have no children, I would reward bad behaviour if it was sufficiently cute.

A single drop of water

What if I were
a single drop of water?

Falling on the mountain
through the sweet cool air I would plunge.

To then meet with the earth,
dancing first through the leaves of a tree.

There I would lie, joined by others
seeping slowly and carefully through soil and then rock.

From here I could feel the pulse of the planet,
a giant heart beating surely against mine so small.

One day I would return to the surface
where the sun burns me blissfully.

I evaporate and rise like a magic carpet
seemingly piloted by no-one.

I am cleansed, reborn, pure again,
and ready to plunge.

A single drop of water
falling silently to the earth.

A little fear is good for you

In March if all goes well Chris (my husband) and I will travel to Sydney for a short break. We intend while there to do the Sydney harbour Bridge Climb.

Chris sometimes experiences a level of anxiety at heights, especially when there is little underneath him. But he is keen to give it a crack. Another girlfriend experiences great and uncontrollable fear when high up. She is in general terrified by the experience. I have taught many people while a ski instructor who have battled this particular demon with varying degrees of success.

Fear for me is a useful tool. There is a lot to be afraid of in this world, choices everywhere you turn. You can be afraid of something that is there, something that is not there, something that will shortly be there or something that was there. Endless choices. But it is naughty of me to use the word 'choice'. I do not believe we decide or choose to be afraid of something in all cases. But I certainly do believe we decide to continue to be afraid! And this can lead to inaction. Stagnation.

I am not speaking about the paralysing fear, where for example a person has been the victim of a crime and understandably fearful as a result. When I speak of a little fear is good for you, I mean the day to day fears we experience. I am talking about the fear that spawns a new you. If we push through it we learn something about ourselves, we change in a small imperceptible way, we begin to evolve. We are sometimes even surprised and enchanted with what we discover about ourselves.

We all have a few fears, and some are very healthy. They ensure we don't get too close to the edge of the bridge when driving for example. We know for a fact we will get hurt. When a fear of doing something because there is a chance we will be hurt, this is worth exploring. This is where we should stop and consider fear to be something worth enduring to reap a reward from the experience.

We need to weigh it up. What might we gain in giving something a go? I have had countless discussions with others around this very debate. Some will say to me that what we may gain from the experience is not sufficient to outweigh the chance of being hurt. My argument is how do you know that. If each experience is unique, how can you possibly predict what the payoff will be. It is unknown.

But then I want to evolve, I want to continue to push my personal boundaries. Perhaps others don't require this constant motion, they are completely content with the state of all their own affairs. If that is true, then I think that is brilliant.  But it sure as hell is not the head I inhabit.

As yet I am not addicted to fear but it is certainly one of my vices. It is a preference to have a little shot of it each day if I can. A little fear is good for me, I am ashamed to say it reminds me I am alive.

"Usually we think that brave people have no fear. The truth is that are intimate with it." - Pema Chodron

Hot, damn hot, and more to come

I know that I live in Australia. I understand, yes it will get hot in Summer.

We are working up to a steamer over the next few days, and will reach the sticky climax on Monday with 41deg.

Knowing something to be true does not mean I am ready to accept it.

I am ill prepared. I am in denial.

I am here.......

Solly's breakfast beetles

My sister and her husband have a dog called Solly. He is large and bumbling and beautiful.

Like all dogs he has some less than savoury behaviours. He likes to eat Christmas beetles and the poor blighters have no defences against his voracious appetite particularly in the morning when they are on their backs, tired from the night's activities. I know how they feel.

This last Christmas Eve I joined my sister to make some Christmas crackers. We are far from Martha Stewart, just sick of cheap plastic gifts probably manufactured by some poor kid and tired old jokes that you only laugh at when you have well and truely passed your bubble juice quota. As we left the house I noticed a number of Christmas beetles flapping and flopping around the verandah lights, the first time I had seen them in such numbers since coming back to Australia three years ago, or is it four? 

I became nostalgic, and recalled memories from past seasons as a child. God how horrible it is to succomb to sentimentalities. Here I go...down reminisce road.

Christmas as a child was about the smell of the pine tree, the excitement of trying to guess what my presents where before unwrapping them, the taste of Nanna's Louie pudding, the presence of Christmas beetles and the fun of a family cricket match. The presence of the beetle that night teleported me straight back to being 7 again and all the wonderment at the day ahead. How lucky I am!

And I owe this all to the humble Christmas beetle, which I know nothing about other than Solly likes them for breakfast.

So in homage to the beetle I did a bit of research. It is after all only right that should they give me the gift of 'wonder', I at least know who they are.

They belong to the scarab family (Scarabaeidae), the same family that spawned that horrible scene in 'The Mummy' where Beni Gabor a cowardly Hungarian thief,  is devoured by a hoard of them. The scarab family is about 30,000 strong and I guess every family has to have someone who goes off the rails and devours someone! The Christmas beetle is far more likable. They come out at Christmas time to mate and lay eggs into the soil surface, and stumble into human domain as they are attracted to our bright lights in the evening. Where I am from they are greenish black or brown in colour and around 2cm in size. They are very fond of eucalypts and feed on the leaves often with much leaf matter falling to the ground in waste. I think they may be bingeing! Much like many of us at Christmas.

Solly's breakfast beetles were a welcome addition to my holiday season. They filled Solly's belly and gave me a little more Christmas spirit.