Our Inner Voice

“You’ll have bad times, but it’ll always wake you up to the good stuff you weren’t paying attention to.”Good Will Hunting (1997)DSC_3221
There are times to speak out and times to be silent. When your heart feels that it is filled with shards of glass and you reach out to those you love but feel unheard and ignored, those shards dig deeper. Often silence wraps a blanket around you after the explosion and you sit with it, waiting for the light to shine and lead you in a new direction. When the direction comes, the path you choose is entirely up to you alone but when shared with others, perhaps that can lead you out of the dark.

The past few months have had sharp contrasts of highs and lows. People have let me down and others have surprised me with their kindness and compassion. There have been shades of gray that lead to reflection and self -evaluation. In these gray zones is where I let my intuition and truth guide me, dropping ego and looking for the path to balance.

Depression. What is it? How is it that some survive it and others succumb to its disastrous effects? We live in a world that is ever increasing in isolation and disconnection led by greed and destruction. The values that make us most endearing as humans are being lost in the cluttered world we live in. However, on the other side of this is the yearning for connection and the increasing rise of people coming together in collaboration and spirit.

Robin Williams died this week. The world was shocked by the sudden surprise and the grief rippled from households across the world. Memories of “favorite” movies and moments and quotes poured from the pages of social media and in conversations had. I know that I have been depressed but I do not have clinical depression. My life has been touched by others who were clinically depressed; by those who have taken their own lives through suicide, and they have left their mark. The act is so final and so complete and yet it’s effects ripple through families and friendships and lead us to question and sometimes judge. Is this judgment cruel or is it an attempt to understand something that cannot truly be understood unless you are “in” it?

I know that I have questioned whether or not I have said enough, did enough or supported enough when I lost a dear friend to suicide. I cannot imagine if it had been someone in my family. I do not know how their family coped and went on.

We are all touched by a bit of madness in this world. Can we create balance when mental illness, drug abuse, alcoholism, addictions and an overall race to go nowhere seem to be the driving factor in many around us? Can we speak our truth without causing pain and destruction? When we come to understand, truly listen and practice principals of kindness in our own homes then we can give better out in the world. When we set boundaries of safety around us and those we love, then we can show respect through our self- discipline. Letting go of the destructive forces that drive and manipulate some are difficult when we are wearing blinders within ourselves as to how we see the world.

The music of nature and its balance are the cures I wish for the world. When we see the perfection and grace of joy and laughter as well as pain and tears, then perhaps in balance the fulcrum will rest in the middle of the depth of human perception and all we are created to be.

Blessings to anyone who is struggling in this crazy world we live in. Love each other and importantly love yourself enough to not destroy the goodness within. Show respect to those that differ in opinion and rest in the knowledge that you are unique and special in a vast wilderness of sky, space and eternity. Step out and do your best. We all beat to an inner rhythm that in unison creates harmony and peace. Perception is the heart of our reality.


Dreaming in Doonan


The steps leading to the veranda invite a smile. The fruit shop is quiet, as is the café’. The hanging, hand-knit beanies draw Josh’s gaze. Dewdrops remain on the ramp from this morning’s rain. The staff greet the day with care and the touch of a succulent and an olive tree growing from a recycled soybean oil container catch my eye, reminding me of a place faraway, perhaps Italy or the south of France. But no, I am in Australia. The kookaburra articulates his morning songs to his mate in the canopy as we order.

The deli items entice but a sit-down breakfast is what we seek. We pick a number, woven of colourful, woolen yarn stretched over nails shaped on a wooden block. These are new and give a splash of bright tonal contrast to the bench. They sit next to the frequent coffee club box filled with cards of local customers. I am one of them and today our coffees are free! Our number is 4 and we find a table at the edge of the porch overlooking the bush. We sit facing each other and I study my son. His dreadlocks blend into his woven jacket and portray his musical nature. He looks tired despite a good nights rest. I look out and see tables scattered across the green grass leading to the road. Cars and trucks whizz past. They are oblivious to this quiet gem with fantastic coffee. The trees provide a canopy of shade.

DSC_9329A magpie swoops down and sits on a chair overseeing the food service. A customer shoos him away but he’ll be back. I am out for morning breakfast with Josh and I am grateful for his presence and this gift of time. The morning is perfect.

The tables, topped with rustic cloth, give the impression of a farm country cottage and the kitchen provides the aroma of herbs and garlic and apple and cinnamon. The atmosphere is homey and warm and welcoming.

The family staff cooks our meals. Josh picks up the sounds of the song, A “Horse With No Name”. He sings along and remembers our road-trip playlists together. As we sip our Cappuccino’s, we talk about our lives and share. Sometimes we are silent.

We hear the blender and Josh orders a juice. The books lining the shelves and the scattered art lead the eye to the tree branches attempting to enter the café from beneath the aluminium roof. They wind their branches as they enter. Flower vases balance the natural wood and the stools beside the grille whisper conversation. Breakfast is served.

We Are One

 ConnectedI met T in January when she was speaking onstage at the Woodford Folk Festival inside the “Green Room”. Her topic was “Transformative Activism”. As I recently had begun this journey of alliance and bringing people together to achieve the perceived unachievable, we were heading towards something extraordinary together on parallel paths, entering into a world of known and unknown simultaneously. It was time for a change and a time to build a new story. These words spoke directly to my soul and I listened. I was captivated. Today, her words and her recommendations lie deep within me and motivate me to move forward sometimes in the face of doubt. I am grateful as I speak the truth.

Pure joy and deep emotion crossed the lines of what it meant to be an activist in T’s eyes. Her warm and welcome smile and American accent drew me in. I felt a connection and a mutual understanding. Her mannerisms and the way she tilted her head led me to feel truly heard and understood. She was like a breath of fresh air in a world closed and “all good”. We spoke briefly over a cuppa as she engaged in deep conversation with each person under that warm tent on that stormy day. The moisture and humidity hung thick in the air like a curtain waiting to fall. I knew that we would meet again. I could feel it in my heart.


The Festival ended and we kept missing each other as we tried to communicate and catch up. Time passed and then an email relationship began over the planning of our Workshop. Email became skype and we could “see” each other. I learned of the “stand up” workstation that she created for herself and that I will create now as I build the new editing studio. Detail was exhibited and T’s deep process led to many hours planning, molding and forming the content of the creative space we would engage in at Wild Mountains. I continued to be awed by the purity of spirit and heart that was expressed over time. She shared a copy of “The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know Is Possible” (Sacred Activism) by Charles Eisenstein and I continue to reference this in process of our connection and to those that attended the workshop. Words such as “Hope shows us a destination, but a vast territory, the territory of despair, lies between it and us.” Come from this writing and ring true.


Our workshop was an exercise of wonder. We came together from all states of Australia and the combined facilitation and venue were perfect. The rustic nature of accommodation proved difficult and challenging for some but this was all a part of the process. T, once again, showed resilience and integrity as she maneuvered and adapted to the change and direction that was led by all. Cynicism led to hope and connection. Campfire stories became truths and secrets to hold onto. We were in this together and the road was just being paved. In just one weekend we journeyed deep and far. The momentum now, is wavering but beginning to take shape.

I go back to the stage at “Woodford” and I feel that hope as I go on. We burned the heart and are creating our web inside the parameters of the now. I thank T for inspiring a change within that holds true to the “new” story being written out of the ashes of despair. As we write this new story, we let go of the ways that no longer serve and speak up bravely for what we know to be true.



Triple Memory Inspired by Song





I love this assignment!!!!!!! 15 minutes of “free” writing inspired by songs? Easy!

I immediately turned on youtube and looked up videos of the first 3 songs that came to mind. I listened. I sang along. Now I begin to write.


The first song I thought of is one that has inspired me my entire life! “Landslide.”

Meghan singing young

“Belting It”

I remember walking in a field of snow, the ice puddles crackling with each step. It was winter and I was in between breaks of a school trip. I believe it was a cheerleading competition and I was in 7th or 8th grade. Stevie Nicks was my idol and she was whom I most related to at the time. I was a young girl looking for love and music was so important to me. I sang that song on that day as I walked in a field of snow and I imagined that I “was” Stevie belting out the song for all the quiet winter world to hear on that day. I had friends that loved FM as much as I and one that particularly stands out is my Gypsy friend, Michelle.

"Stevie Like" What a Night!

“Stevie Like” What a Night!


“I took this love and I took it down. I climbed a mountain and I turned around and I saw my reflection in the snow -covered hills, until the landslide brought me down. Oh mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? Uh-Uh, I don’t know. I’ve been afraid of changing cuz I’ve built my life around you but time makes you bolder. Children get older. I’m getting older too. Yes, I’m getting older too!”So?


Later in life, I sang this song to my kids as a lullaby. I remember tip-toeing into Rachel’s room when she was 2 or 3 and she would still be sitting wide-eyed in her bed. She would beg, please sing me a song. Please!!!!!!! So I would sit at the edge of the bed and stroke her forehead and sing to my hearts content. I don’t remember singing it to Josh as much but Sarah and Rachel, yes. It kind of became “our song”. As they got older, they sang it with me. We even sing it today!


The next song that came to mind was “Paradise by the Dashboard Lights”

Fragments come to mind. It is teenage angst and anticipation and power and lust! It represents that feeling of the emotional tug and pull of the heartstrings and in the loins. It meant dancing and sing-shouting with my friends as we were lost in the abandonment of the moment. I remember the prom where all the girls went together and where we sang and danced and lived as if there were no tomorrow.

dancing with lisa

“Well I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday.

It’s cold and lonely in the deep dark night. I can see paradise by the dashboard lights. You gotta do what you can and let mother nature do the rest. There ain’t no doubt about it we were doubly blessed. We were barely 17 and we were barely dressed! Before we go any further, do you love me, will you love me forever??

It was long ago and it was far away but it was so much better than it is today…..”


What power and emotion that song had! Oh yes, times have changed and I see my children suffer as they grapple with the pains of growing up. We suffered too, likely very similar. It was a time of change and revolution! We were on fire! Our music still motivates us to let it all go and I wonder if these songs I sung and remember will be included in the songs my kids remember? Occasionally, they still witness me singing with abandon when a favorite old tune comes blasting over the speakers. Sarah got to witness it today as I prepared to write this and she sang along to Meatloaf too so, you never know?

on horse


… and then there is “Your Song” by Elton John.

It is a song that has stood the tests of time. We sang it at our wedding nearly 25 years ago as Rex and I exchanged vows in Laguna Beach, Ca. We have lived all around the world. We have had big houses and small houses. We have owned and we have rented. We have been “rich” and we have been “poor” but we can never say we were ever bored! Life has been a fantastic adventure and it continues to challenge and inspire me. Sometimes it gets me down but music can lift me right back up and today I will spend my time with music as I write.

wedding two

“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside, I’m not one of those who can easily hide.

I don’t have much money but boy if I did, I’d buy a big house where we both could live. If I were a sculptor, but then again no, or a man who makes potions in the traveling show. I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do. My gift is my song and this one’s for you.

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss. Well a few of the verses well they’ve got me quite cross.

But the sun’s been quite kind while I wrote this song. It’s for people like you that keep it turned on.

So excuse me forgetting but these things I do, you see, I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue

Anyway the thing is, what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.

And you can tell everybody that this is your song. It may be quite simple but now that it’s done. I hope you don’t mind. I hope you don’t mind. That I put down in words.

How wonderful life is while you’re in the world.”


To all of the people who have shared my life and have influenced my life, the power of music memory, brings you all back! You know who you are.

1. Landslide, Fleetwood Mac https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1sQ7cuYgjzw

2. Paradise by the Dashboard Lights, Meatloaf http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1ijqd_meatloaf-paradise-by-the-dashboard_music

3. Your Song, Elton John https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwzdVHTNpXs




A Window in Time

with father

If I could go anywhere in the world, I would step back in time and travel to my bedroom of 1978.
I would lie down and gaze out at the small bush beside the flat garage roof with a small peephole into the sky outside my window! I would change history and go back to when life was simple and the world was gentler. My room was at ground level and my bedroom was partially underground alongside the foundation of the duplex we lived in under the Maple trees in Western NY. When I opened the window just a crack, I could feel the seasonal changes and smell the woods. In the winter, the snow would leave fingerprints of crystals upon the glass and gave the feeling of being in an ice cave but warm and toasty under the flannel duvet. I could become a fairy princess or an ice queen in a horse driven carriage. I could become anything I wished to be just by closing the door and imagining.

This bedroom was my respite. It was tiny and the one window across from my single bed had white doily curtains, which hung below its length to draw the eyes downward to the dresser below. The view was simple but satisfying. The curtains were tied on each side by a yellow ribbon and this brought light and cheer into my little haven. My mom would also bring me a sunflower or a bunch of daisies from the garden to sit in a vase on the armoire and upon this sat a framed photograph of my dog, Princess, the Dalmatian who I had for only a short time. To the left of the window and slightly higher on the wall hung a large painting of Abraham Lincoln, whom represented a sense of justice in my world. He was always my favorite US President for he showed kindness in an unkind and prejudice time in history.

My bed was beside the door and when the door stood open beside it, this provided a cozy little cubby to write in. I felt safe and secure. There was a shelf on the wall beside me where perched was my diary which history was waiting to be written in. This book was my best friend and as an only child, I often spent days and evenings creating and writing. I would sketch or tell stories and I would gaze out the window for inspiration. If I were sitting my view was completely different than if I were lying down. Day and night provided different views as well. Everything I needed was in this room.

Below me, my bed had secret drawers and when I had a friend sleepover, there was a trundle bed that pulled out. This bed spread out towards the bookshelf with the pull down desk. The books on the shelves were of farm and animal stories, medicine, science and studies of the natural world. I loved horses, the outdoors and riding in the woods. I dreamt that I was going to be a Doctor one day or a Veterinarian. I had a boyfriend who was my first love at this time so it should have been a happy time in my life. However, there was a dark cloud above me as my father was very ill. This reality often broke my thoughts and my happy dreams. I was a child becoming an adult too quickly and I could not slow down this process. My father was dying and I was only 16 years old! Alcohol was killing him.

This reality was often not spoken about. It just was there, leaking from the corners of the rooms within and casting a shadow on the “ideal” life I saw in my dreams. My bedroom was my happy place, my sad place, the place where I could be “all me” open and vulnerable.

If I could go back there now, I would spend more time with my dad. I would talk and ask questions. I would listen more and judge less. Because I was 16, I wasn’t too keen with his volatile temper and mood swings. His drunken silliness where he escaped to was a source of embarrassment. I could not see that he was hurting, as I see now. My father was caught in a web of genetic tendency, a tough life and deep damage due to WWII in which he fought. He was a deep soul and an artist and yet he went to war and suffered from what we now know to be post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Had he been treated and didn’t seek alcohol, he likely would have lived longer than 57 years.

The memories come rushing in and I am right back in that room with all the thoughts of a 16 year old. There are many stories to be told.

These stories lie beneath the surface waiting to be told. If I could go back to my room and gaze out my window once more, I believe that these truths would come pouring out onto the pages and they would contain traces of my tears. I would look out in day and remember the light and the texture of that space and at night I would gaze into the stars and still dream of a better world. The dark shadows would lift as I fly free.
DSC_3191 - Version 2

Upworthy and Free


Upworthy and Free

Today I woke up and the air was crisp. The cats were snuggled up one on each side and “Cookie” was at my feet. Rex said goodbye and off he went to travel north. I could have gone back to sleep but my mind was active and inspired by 2 stories I came across.

I have been silent for a bit as life and koalas have drawn me away. The dividing lines are being drawn like warfare in government and corporate driven economy all around me yet the people are standing up and speaking their truths with passion. It seems two steps forward and one step back yet we learn with each mistake and we move forward nonetheless. Old ways are changing and this transition is difficult for some. It means we must step out of apathy and the status quo of consumerism and greed and stand up for our basic rights. We live a bit more simply and we learn to connect again in profound ways. It reminds me of the 60’s and 70’s when I was growing up and I am grateful. People are drawing together in common cause and this is strengthening the community. There are bridges between the causes that connect us all.
I believe, that through principals of kindness and authenticity, the truth will be told and the world will continue shifting. It won’t be easy but we will have fun along the way! Our blogs and our connections will be the true media of the future and the corporate owned twisted stories will be transparent. Writing gives us freedom to express our inner selves so I have decided that I have waited too long!
Today is the day I start my book and these are the stories that inspired me to begin.

The first is “A Nine Year Lesson in Bravery” by my good friend Joell.

We learn so much when one close to us dies and there are times when even those we know not too well, catch our hearts and we are touched deep within our souls. Thank you Gabriela. I remember your smile and the fire in your soul.


The second story is one that I connected to deeply as I watched the TED talk by Amanda Palmer.

Amanda is honest and true and she lives with less fear than most outwardly. She is authentic and raw so you get a glimpse of the true yearning within as she walks us through her truth.

I am on a journey that is taking me places I have never discovered before within myself. It is exciting! It is frightening! and… It is real!
We live in the molds we create for ourselves because it is rare that we feel safe. I recognize this because I have recently felt fearful and this was foreign to me albeit but a few times in my 52 years. I am stepping out of the mold.


May you all be inspired today and may your actions be true and authentic. Off I go to begin……

Writerly Reflections: Rain

A rainy day inspires me to write and it always has. There is something so cosy about brewing a cup of tea, setting up my workspace and beginning the process. Beginning, however is what is most difficult for me. I awoke this morning keen to write but I had other things that I must attend to first. I had much on my mind.  I cleared the incoming emails and answered those that were most important. I cleaned the house up a bit. I meditated. I did yoga. I spent time with the animals. Ideas kept swirling around my head and the inspirations kept coming, yet I struggled to begin.



As I sit in silence on my bed with my laptop open, the rain falls softly outside the screen door window. My fingers touch the keyboard and I look into the bush where the birds are singing. I feel as though I am being watched and it is true!  There is a kookaburra perched upon the lamppost just outside the door peering in at me. I thank him for being there with me. What a blessing! His feathers are covered in raindrops and he looks disheveled yet inquisitive. He swoops down and pulls out a giant worm and devours it before me, then flies off into the bush satisfied. I am distracted again and I go and grab my camera, in case he returns. I think about the past couple of weeks and all that has happened. I think about animals and their food. I think of humans and where will their food come from when water is a luxury. Of course, I think about koalas!!!!!!

Queensland has been in drought and the farmers are crying. Their dams have run dry. I no longer eat meat so this does not effect me much but I think of the poor animals starving and the land that they graze upon that is shrivelled up and dying. I pray for their welfare and that they do not suffer. I believe there is a better way. My small herb garden is taking shape and I have learned about “wicked” gardens from my friend Judy, which I will use to plant my winter vegetables.Judy's Garden These gardens are likely to become a way for future home growers to provide food and nourishment in the droughts. Climate change… what climate change? Right! (head shaking up and down in sarcastic vane).

This week I drove north and was fortunate enough to see a couple of koalas and give a small tour to David Strassman so that he could witness the beauty of these animals in the wild. He took time from his busy tour and this will help Queensland Koala Crusaders Inc. in our quest to raise funds for land and sanctuary. I am grateful for Tegan and her quiet inspiration that touched my daughter. Dave Strussman and tedEbare with 2 young Koala Crusaders!It was hot and humid and rain was threatening but not coming to fruition. We walked the bush in Tinana and it wasn’t too difficult to find the koalas, thanks to our expert spotter Natalie who gave us a tip! Koalas are still fairly numerous here, but their numbers have been greatly reduced and some are sick. This next breeding season may lead to their tipping point. TornadoPassing the Time That is why we must act timely and strategically.  I am so grateful for the many that are coming onboard and who are working collaboratively. Our efforts will lead to a better place for animals and humans alike. One day, our kids and our grandkids will look back and see the efforts of those of us who care deeply and put our own needs aside to do better for ALL, and hopefully see that these efforts made the difference that saved the koala and all animals living underneath their umbrella. 

We cannot depend upon government and we can only each do our individual best. We can live more simply and use less. We can be grateful and we can be kind. This starts in our families and with our relationships and it spreads further as we live authentically. We may stumble and we may fall but all we can do is try. As the rain washes the earth, may it cleanse us all and lead us to a place of peace and harmony. It’s time for me to go out and dance in the rain!