an hour to myself

had an hour to myself yesterday

while my brother was getting a massage,
i walked up the road and got lost in wildflowers by the sidewalk for a while…

i got mesmerised by the twisting branches

and the tree’s sweet leaves

the sky was sublimely blue

i got distracted by a huge rope tower for children to play on
and i placed down my bag, kicked off my shoes
and i made my conquest
hands, arms, feet hurting that wonderful goodness
as i giggled my way to the top
i felt like rapunzel up there

the rope made beautiful patterns across the sky above

after i finished, i surveyed the little park i was in.
i sat on the bench, and searched through my bag

all i need to amuse me is~

a notepad (with gorillas on the cover), my camera, water, a bag from venice (thanks little sister!) and a book (Moon Rites in this instance)

i took some self portraits

i soaked in the warmth of the sun on a park bench

then i crawled under a canopy of bush trees to read my book
in there i found the most beautiful, serendipitious thing ~
a tree which looked like the goddesses i read of…

it was my friend as i sat there,
reading, watching ants scurry in the earth beneath me.

that was one hour of my day.
a gloriously free, unkept hour in my life
when no one expected me to be anywhere,
i had nothing to do,
but be.
and it was beautiful.

war memorial

the wall of honour. too many names, too many dead.

boofy and me went to the war memorial yesterday…

and it was touching, sad, beautiful, depressing.

we had a tour guide ~ an old soldier, and he was the most wonderful guide
the perfect blend of sombre and funny
he kept saying
what was it all for? nothing
what did war acheive? 109 000 aussies dead, millions upon millions of others
he said
i thought we’d learned our lessons ~ that we wouldn’t dare enter war again
but now … it’s almost a lifestyle, a given.

a Papua New Guinean soldier

my gosh.
we all have such simple, easy lives don’t we?
in comparison to those men who lived for years in muddy trenches,
each moment without death a gift
precious moments, as bullets pelted overhead.

me and my brother’s feet, yesterday.

and from that, i learn the most.
that each moment is divine.
we may not be at war,
but death gives life its tender, magical quality
life is a gift
be gracious, be grateful

domed ceiling of the tomb of the unknown soldier.

even sadness shines.


Wildflower, growing by the side of the road, today.

“Just as a flower gives out its fragrance to whomsoever approaches or uses it, so love from within us radiates towards everybody and manifests as spontaneous service.”
~ Swami Ramdas

Picked up my brother from the airport yesterday…
Today we’ve been hanging out. Hanging out, with my big brother.
First a visit to the War Memorial (did you know 50 million people died in WW2? That sucks.)
Then some rice paper rolls for lunch.
Then I took Brett to Ellanita’s place for a massage,
and while he snored on the massage table,
I went for a photo adventure by myself.
It was glorious fun, to be completely vacant in a park for an hour on my own.
With only a water bottle, a camera, a book and a notepad to amuse me.

It’s the best thing ever to wear matching thongs and walk the same streets as my big bro.

oooh! a new feature!

Hey there party people!
I’ve just implemented a new feature here ~
a new COMMENTS section that will make it MUCH MUCH easier for people to comment with.

You can access it by clicking Comments (#) at the bottom of each post.

People at work should now be able to comment ~ and you don’t have to be signed up to blogger at all now!
Test it out, and let me know what you think. Please! 🙂

Unfortunately it had to white out old comments to do it…
I still have the hard records of it, just not on here.
I’ve pasted in those comments i hadn’t replied to yet ~ and answered them.

And for those interested ~ comments from

new yummy ways to C O N N E C T