Ramblings from a wanderer

2011-09-04T22:28:00.000+09:30

The blood is on the wall.

We have done what we have done.

And become what we’ve become

Now we stand up.

Face the music.

And dance.

Peace in not so far away, it’s here in our next moment of grace.

whatever you are, whatever you look like

2011-06-26T18:02:00.004+09:30

whatever you are, whatever you look like
please keep the fire raging in our belly's
save us from the constraints of the polished finish, the outwardly acceptable
capture us in mystery so that we can't think too much

throw us into chaos so that we lean on and rub up against each other

move us deeper into our hearts, until we find that shared heart beat that fuels an irrational and unconditional love.
stir up a yearning for a bigger, deeper way that is so powerful it stops us in the midst of our well-intentioned doings
give us eyes that see through the veil, and minds that dare to embrace a
fullness we will never understand.

oh god, help me let the crap go and live.

First step

2011-05-07T23:49:00.001+09:30

While I was in London earlier this year, David (Turley) and I decided to play around with some recording ideas for a couple of songs I've written. Here's a link to idea number one.
I'm also currently in a gentle process of recording more tracks in a lovely studio up in the hills of Adelaide. I've not hit on 'my sound' yet, so the playing and exploring continues. x
P.S Click the title 'First step' for the song!!

Remembering

2011-04-04T22:44:00.001+09:30

I want to remember to live every day beyond the limited rhetoric of my mind. I want to be reminded to live in the vastness of all of this, of all that lies between the lines, that stretches beyond the horizon and which surges beneath our feet.

I've just searched my e-mail archives for old e-mails from our friend Ali who died four years ago today. The wonders of google mail rustle up loving words that remind me of her big-ness, and draw me out, once again, into the exhilarating - more.

Light and darkness, hand in hand, dance on still.

Letter to the High Commissioner to the United Kingdom re Julian Assange

2010-12-14T23:58:00.000+10:30

(Photos and details about the accompanying action in previous post.)

13 December 2010
High Commissioner to the United Kingdom
Australia House
Strand,
London WC2B 4LA

Dear Mr Dauth,

We Australians, here in London and from further afield, ask you to convey to our urgent and emphatic request to the Gillard Government to do its utmost to defend Julian Assange’s human rights and the free and lawful operation of Wikileaks.

Australians around the world watch with grave concern as an Australian citizen is vilified by his own Prime Minister and Attorney-General, experienced lawyers whose words display a shocking disregard for the human right to presumption of innocence, and risk prejudicing any legal proceedings Mr Assange may face.

We welcome the Government’s subsequent assurance that Mr Assange’s passport will not be cancelled and that your embassy will afford him “all appropriate consular assistance.”

We learn from an Australian Government website that the High Commission has a duty to ensure Mr Assange “is treated no less favourably than local citizens detained for similar offences.” UK citizens, of course, enjoy the protection of the Human Rights Act 1998 and the European Convention on Human Rights, which guarantee their right to freedom of expression, presumption of innocence and fair trial. That is, UK citizens enjoy a significantly higher degree of legal protection than do Australians, and the Australian High Commission must ensure Mr Assange’s treatment by UK authorities accords with those more stringent standards.

May we remind all consular staff and the Australian Government that Mr Assange “has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers” and to do so “without interference by public authority.”

Further, Mr Assange has a human and legal right to be “presumed innocent until proved guilty according to law” and to be given a fair trial.

As you must know well, it is unlawful under s104 of the Criminal Code Act 1995 for anyone intentionally or recklessly to cause death or serious harm to an Australian citizen outside Australia. And yet the Australian Government has voiced no objection to the death threats levelled against Mr Assange by high-profile US citizens and others.

In light of the above, we, the undersigned:

1.    Ask that Ms Gillard publicly and unequivocally withdraw her statement alleging illegal conduct on Mr Assange’s part, explain to the public why it was wrong for her to say that, and to apologise to Mr Assange.

2.    Call on the Gillard Government robustly to defend Mr Assange both at home and abroad and to respect and defend his right to receive information and impart information freely, without interference by any public authority.

3.    Ask the Attorney-General to initiate investigations into threats of violence against Mr Assange by persons in the United States and Canada, including Sarah Palin and Mike Huckabee, in violation of Australian law.

4.    Urge the Gillard Government to oppose strenuously any application to have Mr Assange extradited to the United States, because it is unlikely he would receive a fair trial there.

We thank you for your attention to these matters of fundamental importance to a free and democratic society.

Sincerely, your compatriots,

John Pilger (from Sydney) www.johnpilger.com
Peter Tatchell (from Melbourne) London-based human rights activist www.petertatchell.net
Michael Dutton (from Brisbane) Professor of Politics, Goldsmiths University of London
Deborah Kessler (from Brisbane) concerned citizen
Ciaron O’Reilly (from Brisbane) London Catholic Worker/Ploughshares
    www.londoncatholicworker.org
Eden Boucher (from Adelaide) musician ‘Lovers Electric’     http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lovers_Electric
David Turley (Adelaide) musician ‘Lovers Electric’
Sharon Turley (from Adelaide) classical musician
David Warburton (from Adelaide) Coffee Brewster
Saul Newman, teaches political theory at Goldsmiths, University of London.
John Hutnyk (from Melbourne) Prof. of Cultural Studies, Goldsmiths University of London
Peter Thomas (from Rockhampton, Queensland)
    teaches History of Political Thought at Brunel University, London
Maria Albrecht (from Melbourne) Catholic Worker Farmhouse
    www.thecatholicworkerfarm.org
Olivia Ball (Melbourne) http://rightsbase.org
Eric Snowball (from Sydney) social worker
Rik Lydon (from Sydney) sound engineer
Errol O’Neill (from Brisbane) actor
Mary Kelly (Brisbane) trade unionist

A bit of protesting and occupying in London re Wikileaks

2010-12-14T23:53:00.001+10:30

Yesterday a few of us attempted to deliver a letter to the High Commissioner at the Australian Embassy in London. Below are more details.

PRESS RELEASE December 14th. 2010

Armed Police Called to Australian Embassy in London as Australian Protesters Occupy Foyer Demanding the Release of Julian Assange

On Monday 13th December at 5 pm, concerned Australian academics, artists, activists and expats occupied the foyer of the Australian Embassy on The Strand, London. They refused instruction by embassy security to vacate the building reading aloud a letter of demands addressed to the Australian High Commissioner.

The letter calls for the Embassy to be proactive in securing the immediate release from custody of fellow Australian citizen and founder of WikiLeaks Julian Assange. The letter has been signed by celebrated journalist John Pilger, Australian born human rights activist Peter Tatchell, veteran Australian anti-war activist Ciaron O'Reilly and a growing number of British based Australians outraged with the persecution of the WikiLeaks founder. Assange is presently held in London's Wandsworth Prison having been denied bail at an intial hearing at Westminister Court last week. Mr. Assange's next bail appearance, which will take place on Tuesday 14th December.

Armed members of the Metropolitan Police’s Diplomatic Protection Unit were first to arrive on the scene, followed by three vans of riot police deployed in the vicinity for unrelated student protests and finally a more relaxed member of the local Charring Cross police station arrived on foot Following the exit of the five protestors, the closure of the embassy and the departure of the police the protestors commenced a vigil outside the embassy

The front steps of the embassy were employed as a makeshift stage as the vigil was addressed by Australian academics Proffesor Michael Dutton, university lecturer Saul Newman, Australian activist Ciaron O'Reilly and entertained by Australian band "Lovers Electric".

A makeshift shrine was constructed in front of the embassy consisting of candles, images of civilian victims of the war on Afghanistan and framed photographs of Julian Assange presently jailed at London's Wandsworth Prison, defendant in the initial U.S. military case against WikiLeaks Corporal Manning presently jailed at a U.S. marine base at Quantico, Virginia, USA and London resident Shaker Aamer who enters his eight year of detention in Guantanamo Bay

"Australians for the Immediate Release of Julian Assange" believes that the refusal to grant bail to Mr. Assange is unjust and unwarranted'. 'They argue that this denial of bail and present imprisonment of the WikiLeaks founder are politically driven by forces with which the Australian government are in connivance. They believe the actions of the Australian government and embassy in relation to Mr Assange, an Australian citizen, amount to a dereliction of duty. They are also demanding that the Australian government immediately cease co-operation in the persecution of Julian Assange and WikiLeaks.

A spokesperson for the group, veteran Australain anti-war activist Ciaron O'Reilly, stated:

"Many of us share Julian's background of being raised in the authoritarian state of Queensland where civil liberties were denied as matter of course. This formative experience shaped Julian in terms of his passion for free speech as it shaped us before him. Others of us are dismayed that, like Vietnam and Iraq, the present Australian government has followed the United States into another immoral, illegal and unwinnable war in Afghanistan. Julian's work with WikiLeaks has been courageous and revelatory. He's in that jail for us and we're out on the streets for him! We need to free him and bring this war and invasion of Afghanistan to an end!"

ENDS
For more info contact:
Ciaron O'Reilly Mobile 079 392 905 76
(outside the UK) +44 79 392 905 76

Note to editor:

Photographs available of the incident from Marcin Ph. 0797 191 0257
(outside UK) + 44 797 191 0257

- Video footage of the incident available from David 07985 027 049
(putside UK) +44 7985 027 049

* Present signatories of the (attached) Letter to the High Commisioner
Letter from "Australians for the Immediate Release of Julian Assange" to the Australian High Commissioner attached to this press release.

John Pilger (from Sydney, Australia) http://www.johnpilger.com/
Peter Tatchell, (from Melbourne, Australia) London based, Human Rights Activist
http://www.petertatchell.net/
Michael Dutton, (from Brisbane, Australia) Professor of Politics, Goldsmiths University of London.
Deborah Kessler, (from Brisbane, Australia) Concerned Citizen.
Ciaron O'Reilly, (from Brisbane, Australian), London Catholic Worker/ Ploughshares.
http://www.londoncatholicworker.org/
Eden Boucher, (from Adelaide, Australia) Musician "Lovers Electric".
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lovers_Electric
David Turley, (from Adelaide, Australia), Musician "Lovers Electric".
Sharon Turley, (from Adelaide, Australia) Classical Musician.
David Warburton (from Adelaide, Australia), Coffee Brewster
Saul Newman, teaches Political Theory at Goldsmiths, University of London.
John Hutnyk, (from Melbourne, Australia) Professor of Cultural Studies, Goldsmiths University of London.
Peter Thomas (from Rockhampton, Queensland) teaches History of Political Thought at Brunel University, London.
Maria Albrecht, (from Melbourne, Australia) Catholic Worker Farmhouse
http://www.thecatholicworkerfarm.org/
Olivia Ball (from Melbourne, Australia) Author
Eric Snowball (from Sydney, Australia) Social Worker.
Errol O'Neill (from Brisbane, Australia) Actor.
Mary Kelly (from Brisbane,Australia) Trade Unionist.
Dan O'Neill (from Brisbane, Australia) Scholar.
Dr Linnell Secomb (from Melbourne, Australia) Head of Department of Social, Political and Cultural Studies, University of Greenwich
Errin Collins, (from Lithgow, Australia) Occupational Therapist
Eric Snowball (from Sydney, Australia) Social Worker.
Rik (from Sydney, Australia), Sound Engineer.
Nick Gill (from Perth, Australia) Postdoctoral fellow at the University of Bristol

2010-10-24T16:43:00.000+10:30

she's hear again.

restlessness.

she creeps up slowly at first, quietly circling, stirring the air around me and gently swaying my thoughts and soul. moment by moment she increases her speed until before i know it, i'm in the middle of a whirl-wind.
with her comes a sweet but persistent rain, each drop dissolving a little more that glossy protector i've carefully built up around myself. she's pulling me onwards, inwards and im scared, and alone. her breath feels like a wild fire, threatening to raze all that is unnecessary to the ground. she's bold in her purpose and simple in her trusting; out of ashes will rise beauty.

the fire, the wind, the rain moves me to clear out the cupboards, slow down the pace, be gentle in my striving,
to let go of false realities that weigh down the spirit and for heavens sake, stop looking in the mirror as if it has the power to validate my existence.

but as the constructs melt away, my raw inner-workings are exposed to the elements and i'm as vulnerable as f***k.
all that is left is what lies within this vast border-less soul.
a kind of dread mixed with nervous excitement saturates me...for here is where the work must be done.
you can drive out the demons, but if you've nothing to fill the void...

so where are you courage?
you are the gutsy companion i must employ for this journey, to tackle those mountains and those oft mentioned valleys and navigate the roaring wild seas.
strength of will, i need you too, will you stand at the door and force the old habits to turn away? while creativity, you untamed child, could you summon vibrant and vast moments to fill the void those habits leave gaping? and wisdom, will you listen to the realities of the world, and guide my willing hands?
while hope...could you just promise the stick around?
i have a hunch that there is more to be found. x

Perform in a musical: DONE

2010-10-11T11:11:00.004+10:30

ok. so, that was intense.

it's the morning after closing night. the tea is very strong, the make-up is very dark under the eyes and the head is fragile.

the show was sondheim's 'into the woods' - a musical full of weird and wonderful characters all searching for something more.

my character, jack's mother is a frumpy, old, fiercely protective mother who battles her way through what life has dealt her (mainly an incredibly stupid son who sells their cow for beans and such things) with duster in hand and a rather in-your-face disposition.

and she dies, protecting her son.
in her final moments she sees a vision of him and reaches out to touch her beloved son 'Jack....Jack....' and just like that, the life drops from her face and she is left standing, rigid, to be carried off-stage, mouth gaping open. job done.

yup, my first proper theatre role was that glamorous. brilliant, loved it!

performing with others from the Con was a delight. each person brought their own intelligence and unique understanding to their character - and those voices! beautiful voices! but it was the many beautiful off-stage moments that really got me. the nearly peeing myself with stifled laughter in the wings just before going on, the constant hugs and encouragement when i was nearly dead with the flu on opening night, the dancing, the rallying together, the sharing of make-up tips, the flowers, the cue reminders (only once!). the love and encouragement and care that everyone gave to each other during this whole process has been so uplifting and motivating...these are truly an incredible bunch of kind, caring, creative people.

oh and this was fun - because opening night clearly isn't dramatic enough in itself, i thought i needed to up the diva anti and faint. yeah. for the second time ever in my life, i fainted, two hours before curtains went up, in the shower, on my own, at home. hmmm, that was interesting, and not at all glamorous, and, it hurt like hell (had bruises and everything, yep, was pretty proud)! the flu which had settled in the day before became my nerve-busting buddy, i had no energy to think about nerves, i just had to rely on the work already done (during the previous 17 days straight of rehearsals...hmm) and get out there, drugged up on tablets and much love and prayers from the many angels who pulled me through those couple of days. i love remembering all the little moments of love and care from my dear dear people! From Dib answering my call on that first delirious day, to Aly sharing health wisdom on facebook, to Mum brewing up a magical chicken soup, to Dad flying in from Darwin just at the right time to taxi it over and drag me into the car on opening night, swollen eye and bruised knees and all! to Guila coming to my dressing room and dressing me and doing my make-up just before the show while i sat in a daze of fever, to Fi giving me hugs of encouragement all night.
for something that isn't deadly here, the flu certainly does a pretty good job of making you feel like death warmed up. Thank you everyone for everything!

and now this show must go on. next it's french, german and italian songs for exams, and back into the studio to work on the album before hopefully hopping over to blighty for some hugs and perhaps a slinky show or two.
and the sun is shining.
xx

correction

2010-09-13T16:04:00.000+09:30

ok, so i so didn't perform in st paul's cathedral on saturday night. make that st peter's. although if i may say so myself...i have had the pleasure of performing in both (blows on knuckles and rubs them on lapel). yes yes, that's right, the other one is in london. yes, i know darling. it is divine.

polishing up the surface with a harmony or two

2010-09-12T00:15:00.000+09:30

just performed in a beautiful choir with a beautiful orchestra in the beautiful st paul's cathedral in the beautiful parklands in this beautiful city.

the uni crew have spent hours rehearsing in the cathedral this last week, marveling at the acoustics, daydreaming out the stained glass windows. i mostly wanted to run about clapping my hands and singing big loud opera-voice notes, or laugh too loud and hear it trill around the pillars, but there was much work to be done and seriously stunning music to be sung.

listening to those rich harmonies lingering in the cathedral makes me fantasize that in this big old world, every note sung, every string plucked, ever horn blown, every absent-minded hum, lingers, often just out of ear shot for longer than we imagine,barely perceptible harmonics vibrating and traveling through the air, adding another dimension, perhaps a shimmering golden hue to our lives and to this place.

nanna and grandpa turned out for the show. nanna rugged up warm with her special hat on- her body not so resilient at the moment. And grandpa, the most loving, caring partner anyone could hope for, always by her side.
i imagined we were singing for you tonight nanna and grandpa. i know you read this. thank you for coming out when it must have felt like climbing a mountain.

love always and beyond.
x

A wee recording

2010-09-04T22:45:00.000+09:30

I had the honour to be a part of another beautiful happening this week, the launch of the album Strike a Chord. It’s a compilation of songs written by young people that my flat mate works with through the organisation Life Without Barriers.
These are young folk that have lived through more shit in their short lives than I hope I’ll ever have to in my whole life. And the songs are powerful, well crafted pieces of work.
Each of them directed the creative process on their own tracks, working with a professional producer and engineer. On it there’s rap, there’s rock, there’s straight pop. Many of the lyrics are heart breaking in their maturity and insight, especially if you know a little of the story behind them, and the lyrics are honest, straight from the heart with no attempt at poetic mystery. Clearly these young people felt safe and empowered to share their stories - which is the whole purpose of the work that Dani, Dan and Ben do in the Living Arts project.
One of the requests was for a female singer, so I got to sing on an Evanescence-style track (yeaew!), put together by a young man (I shouldn’t use his name here) who has a fascination for Anastasia the last Russian princess, hence she is the theme of the song.
He is such a cool young teenager. His resilience and love for others is challenging and inspiring, and he has this way of dropping pearls of wisdom into conversations that you could easily miss if you’re not paying real attention. The brief recording session was quite a stretch for my not very rock orientated voice, but I feel really privileged to be a part of it. More beautiful people doing beautiful things.

Go hear to have a wee listen and I’ll post info when I have it on where you can buy the album to support the project if you fancy:
http://soundcloud.com/search?q%5Bfulltext%5D=strike+a+chord

ah, this

2010-09-01T14:40:00.000+09:30

those places i have been are too familiar to my soul
for this length they've been my home, but now i'll let them go!

show me orange fields and purple seas
blue forests and green skies

let me run along the unknown path
the one we've passed with a suspicious glance.

and that spiral which we walk, offering steady change...
give me more, give me yours if it's only to waste

i will welcome it at last.
i will let it strip me clean

for clasping blackened treasures of wayward moments past
only serves to deaden, this willing throbbing heart

I choose you

2010-08-31T19:55:00.002+09:30

I say "I choose you"...

...and she squeals and spins around in a circle, clapping her hands in delight. Her wild mousy-brown hair rushes about her as it tries to keep up with it's keeper before coming to rest again on her shoulders.
But not for long, for this child has much to be, and she is off again on her dance. Spinning, running, jumping, gliding. She is moving, always moving.
Objects that were once solid, once all important, bend and warp, their colours lifting and swirling, making space for this precious child and her vast soul.
She makes music with her heart and the mind gives up the fight with a relenting smile, laying down it's words, it's definitions. It knows this was inevitable, this was always the point. It begins to gently sway to her song.
And the chorus swells.

women hold up half the sky

2010-07-26T22:32:00.003+09:30

I went to a beautiful event on Saturday called 'Women hold up half the sky' put on by Tear, the development agency. We sat and listened and chatted with women, wonderful women who are following their hearts and doing what they can to not only be loving mothers, grandmothers, sisters and friends in their own communities, but to challenge the very stark global inequality between men and women.

They told us things like...one mother dies every minute due to avoidable complications in child birth...and apparently women do 61% of the work globally but get 10% of the pay....

There is an incredible amount of good work being done by both men and women to right these injustices and of course, so much more to do.

What I was so appreciative of was the chance to hear stories about the extraordinary things people are doing in their lives to effect change, not out of some kind of guilt or obligation, but because their hearts, their instincts lead them and they don't argue, they don't ask too many questions, they just get up each morning and say yes.

Like the woman who lives on a rubbish tip in a tin shed and although devastatingly financially poor herself, saw a need, so without a big fuss, simply tacked on a tarp to the side of her home and from that first step, set up an after school care program, a soup kitchen, a church, a day-care program...on a rubbish mountain!!! She didn't have glossy fliers, she didn't send out a press release, she didn’t wait for funding…she just got up one day and tacked on a tarp...

Anyway, all this got me thinking about different sorts of mothering or nurturing, like not just in a have-sex-carry-a-baby-for-nine months-then-give-birth kind of way, although that is pretty cool.

I got thinking about how women mother and nurture and hold things together on so many levels. And I am totally not forgetting the amazing men that stand side-by-side with these women.

I want to learn how to strike a balance between 1) home-making/local community building, 2) doing my little bit to help right injustices in the global community. 3) Pursuing personal dreams and personal discoveries…

That feels like a lot, but I think it's worth a try. Three tiered mothering?! Ha. Thank you to the women who do manage it, every day. Some of them I get to count as friends!

Deep breath!!!

A wee hope/prayer/thought:
May we keep encouraging each other to appreciate and honour our natural instincts – in both men and women - and in them, realise our potential to keep creating magic out of normalcy – and in THAT, change the world (just like that).x

Oh death

2010-06-28T09:33:00.001+09:30

I drove my friend up into the hills the other day so she could say goodbye to her dying friend. She was shaken by the text that was sent to invite her to come and be with him in his last hours, but she sensed it coming. In the little hints, the gestures, the apparent coincidences, The Universe has been preparing for his departure, sounding the last notes of his interwoven song.

And my friend took note of these moments, storing them away with a simple nod of recognition, too close for now to see the whole canvas, but unconsciously knowing that in some way, somehow in this vast studio, each moment combines to create a masterpiece. An offering of life.

I sit in a café and wait, while up the road the family gathers around their father, their husband, their son, their uncle, their friend. For them right now, there is only this. There is only his breath, the lingering gazes, the heat of the gathered bodies, the red eyes, the wet cheeks. There is only this as they wait, together, devastated, for his last.

Oh death. You gather us, you unravel us, and you care not for us. You cling to life’s cycle with a narcissistic stubbornness. Narrow minded, a stickler for the rules. How could you be so cold?

If we could only know a little more, be a little sure. Perhaps then we could be prepared for the finality of it all? Why do you hide yourself so, and then spring up and throw your devastating blow? In that moment the lights go and we are left alone, bewildered, shattered.

In our normalcy we are blinded by the glittering surface of things, by the measured movement of time, compelling us to begin again and again. And then, occasionally – for some more often than others – we meet the crushing force, the winding shock of death. We are yanked below the surface, disoriented and blinded by the sudden change in light. Usual conduct, accepted behaviours and expectations dissolve and morph together into a grey sludge, heavy, sticky and un-mappable.

But then, by the grace of the Mysterious, the More, we are guided gently deeper, towards the warm glow, the cool water, the stillness of all things.
And for a while we may rest there.

And then, our journey, as by nature it must, draws us on. Just when we can, at the exact moment when we feel it’s possible, we stretch a finger, wiggle a toe, take a step out, further into the stillness, it’s intensity holding our soul and mind. Our senses become acutely attuned to the softest touch or delicate brush of the More. And the scent of the Knowing distinct and enticing leads us further into its vast body, it’s depth, it’s still presence.

We chart places previously unknown to us and it is good, it is broad and it is deep. The learning’s - those treasures - take their place in our foundations, seeping into the cracks, and like mortar, cementing, making more solid what was once shifting, floating, unsteady under foot.

And then, standing a little firmer, we move further on, weaving our stories, abandoned to the ebb and flow, we change, we grow, we move, always forward, into the unknown. The story unfolds.

Today

2010-06-27T00:04:00.001+09:30

Bright blue coats and wanderings through the parklands...
Coffee, tea, salad and long conversations…
You, inspirational lady, are a true life-long friend.
From that moment when independence was thrust onto us as we walked into our first day of school…
…to today, sitting by the pond in our grown-up clothes and talking our grown-up talk...

Thank you to that mysterious time-rich philanthropist that gifted us this day.

You are a light in my life.

Xx

The Peace of Wild Things

2010-06-21T17:49:00.003+09:30

When despair for the world grows in me, and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the waters, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry

2010-06-21T17:31:00.001+09:30

"There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion"
Sir Francis Bacon (I think)

Just wondering

2010-06-17T16:39:00.010+09:30

I can be quite the wonder-er when I want to be. And look where it’s got me? (Where? Where? I hear you screaming). It’s got me atop this glorious mound as high as a splash pool is deep. And look at me waving my flag. Oh what sweet success. I am an explorer going places no one else can ever go. I will always hold the record for these discoveries in me.

Yet I don’t have a plane- I don’t have a birds-eye view. I can’t see where to go next, I’m not even sure where I am now, and any memories of the trials and tribulations past grow dim. The map? Ha, the map is a sense, a hidden treasure in itself, accessible when I really mean it, when I really care about it, when I really get over myself.

Or the map could be a set of perceived expectations. I won’t harp on about the expectations of society (I can’t pretend I’m deeply alternative…I like to shave my legs, I watch TV, I have a Mac for goodness sake), but I think we’ve noticed there are a few unhelpful ones out there and if we don’t stay alert, we can loose ourselves in this kind of map.

I’m just wondering…am I allowed to live a life less ordinary (yes, yes, of course you are)...but one where I only do what I want? Where I only do stuff that brings me and others (hopefully – that’s the intention) joy?

What if it means never having financial security? What if it means never marrying? What if it means - heaven forbid for a woman – never having children? What if it means paying an accountant to do my tax or skipping my theory exam?

Like, what if it means not being realistic very often?

If you’re like me you’ve talked about this late into the night with like-minded mates a dozen times before, buoying each other up with sweeping statements about the conditioning we've all suffered and the amazing talents and alternatives we have to offer….but that’s the bit that gets me…what amazing alternative? Must it be amazing? Or can it be simple? Does it have to be spectacular? Or can it just be a few thousand simple moments stacked up to make a life? A cup of tea, a short song, a sweet fling, a shopping trip, a family dinner, one too many drinks, an early night, an hour or two practicing. What do these things have in common? Should I be able to make them fit, to make a whole, to make a success of it?

What if there is no ultimately groundbreaking reason for me not walking the obvious path? Or heaven forbid, what if I’m just lazy, undisciplined? Lacking in good hard work ethic? A spoilt child of the middle-class making the most of a knack in turning up, waffling on and nodding at the right time? And what if…what if I’m just hiding behind all this earnest philosophising?

Ha.

I guess in the end, sometimes I just don’t feel strong enough, or clever enough to intentionally wander outside of the well-trodden path, to follow my own map, without at least holding onto something, anything that vaguely resembles proper life-living etiquette. I know this is where I must remember we are never alone in our wondering and I'm immensely grateful for that, we can push and prod each other out of our comfort zones. But it is tricky to shake the desire to do life better, on my own, to get it all right, on my own. To cope, on my own, like a big girl now.

I can only hope that by trusting the vague map in my soul, I'll be challenged to constantly get over myself!
x

I like it when

2010-06-16T22:16:00.004+09:30

I like it when you play a chord and it makes sense, when you sing a note and it connects, somewhere deep inside..where?
It's an almost sensual feeling - like the smoothing of a feather-down duvet - in that gentle moment a little something is healed, perhaps a little voice is acknowledged, and an unnamed trouble is put to rest.

Beautiful eh?
x

Back again

2010-06-10T15:13:00.003+09:30

To be honest I think I write this blog purely for myself. More especially when I’m wandering, it’s a grounding thing - but it hides under a thin veil of less self absorbed intent. That being, to record my life a little so I can share it with whoever you are (Kara, I’m finally writing!!)
I could attempt to satisfy this need to be heard, and to tell, by becoming a columnist or even writing a terribly self-indulgent book that would take up physical space it probably wouldn’t deserve. But instead I’ll waffle on here for a while safe in the knowledge that the internet is infinite and unless you’re my Mum, you don’t have to read this.

Apologies and justifications made;

Its been a while old friend. I’ve second-guessed writing this entry (just a little more apologising), re-opening a blog that has once been very close to my heart, that has told stories that are no longer. Like looking at photos of you in the once trendy clothes of the decade gone, I mildly cringe as I read the blogs from longer than a year ago. But it feels good to be reminded sometimes, and to note that although a lot of things can change (thank God sometimes!), the essence of ourselves remain and I guess its the moments when we discover more of that - those magic moments, that compel me to write.

Still feeling at home in Adelaide, which is more about what I’m doing and how I’m being than the place. It is beautiful, but so are a lot of cities. This one is just so kindly sharing its jewels with me. Jewels like wide open spaces, houses to sing in and not disturb, universities to learn in and not feel judged, beautiful people to meet and share it all with, and room to create my way or let it unfold.

Some days it is all bliss. Other days my brain nearly melts working over-time trying to control everything and get the best out of it all. Or simply get the washing done. My dear friends here tell me to chill out, but sometimes I think I missed that step in my Aussie conditioning!!

Moments worth breathing for:

Singing with 400 people and a massive orchestra for Mahler Syphony No.8 .

Playing the sexy cello and singing in Kathy Pike and Rosemary Jackson’s show ‘Lullaby for a Restless Soul’ in the Adelaide Fringe.

Early one Sunday morning pulling over to the side of the highway and taking a call from my brother in London with tears streaming down my face as he announces the arrival of my nephew, Auburn Francis Turley.

Making music with Si and Kathy…and learning to appreciate the simple songs that come out of my heart and head.

Singing in Verailius: A Requiem.
Autopsy and mass combined in a choral theatre show I’ve not yet managed to describe adequately with words – only with a lot of hands to the heart and still moments to let it all be absorbed and to wonder. “Here at the terminus, nothing matters.” ;)

And of course, there have been many more I want to remember, and others I probably won't.

But for now, that’s enough.

Perhaps next time I’ll just write about my dinner.

Lovelove as always.

Shazzy

the health

2009-08-01T10:32:00.003+09:30

My story is changing.

For too long its been a story of fragile energy and the many knock-on effects of that.
For so long we’ve been looking for the source of the problem.
And now, I'm finally getting somewhere.

A woman with incredible knowledge of the body – a doctor called Jenny Chou who practices Chinese medicine - has blown my mind and given me hope!

A bit of background...

I'm on such an intriguing journey into the complexities of our bodies, and the reality of how little we know.
Western medicine is in its infancy. There’s so much about the body we don't understand. The body is more complex than the universe…contemplate that…

My doctor believes, and I too have believed, that so many of us are walking around with illnesses we just don’t have the technology to see. We still don't have readily available access to powerful technology that would allow us to analyse in detail what's going on on a cellular level within each of us. Science can't make sense of it, so it mustn't be true...(also so poignant in regards to the spiritual and mental dimension of illness) So we take pills and label ourselves with a variety of issues, and trudge on.

Wouldn't it be so much easier to treat conditions if we could see and name them under a microscope? However apparently there are only three or four microscopes in the world powerful enough to pick up on viruses on a cellular/DNA level… and these incredible tools still took two months to 'find' and work out what the swine flue virus is…

So, we do what we can, and for me, my doctor is going through a process of elimination and very careful observations to try and pin point my bodies issues..
She takes into account my physical reactions to the regime's she puts me on (diet, rest etc), my body temperature, my pulse rate...all sorts of things. And as we go, my gut feelings continue to resonate with what she’s saying and what my body is presenting.

We’ve deduced that my pancreas is screwed. So we’re on the path to fixing that. But also, amazingly, its just been discovered that possibly I have a virus – on the cellular/DNA level…............no wonder other doctors couldn't find it.

In the last three weeks she's been working on my immnue system and pancreas, and as they improve, their ability to fight improves, but in turn the virus turns up the activity and starts to fight back...there's a war going on in my body!

This makes me laugh and cry. To have someone with such obvious experience and knowledge, name the problem and work towards rectifying it is so exciting. This has happened a bit before, but not in such an extensive way. I've known for a long time there's something going on right inside, but because i have such a strong body over-all, I've just kept pushing and pushing….this is the first time I've properly stopped, turned, and faced this bloody thing with the resolve to hold on and hold out ‘till its done and over with.

And I'm ready to fight from my bed!
Except.
I don't believe in fighting....
Its funny, once she said there was a 'war' going on in my body, I immediately wanted to FIGHT. FIGHT this thing with all the strength I have, cleanse my body of it and GET ON WITH MY LIFE!

But almost immediately I was reminded in a random conversation with a friend (the best kind) about that radical non-violent resister guy I so admire - yeah Jesus. He didn’t ‘fight’...He lived in truth. He shone true light, bright and strong and free. If we live in the light, there is no room for the dark.

Is this not Shalom?

So after literally YEARS of living on such an incredibly small percentage of my over all possible energy (and putting up quite a good front thanks to my strong body), this lady full of deeper knowledge about the body is shining a torch and leading me on the pathway to LIFE and SHALOM on a cellular level!!!

And all I need to do is stay in the light (and take lots of weird looking herbal things).

As I keep progressing the doctor might discover other things going on in my body, but for now, I feel we’re on the right track and I can glimpse a healthier future.

Some days I feel it, other days are a bit confusing, but I haven't been depressed. I know I'm in the right place and on the good road. I'm aware of the mental and spiritual journey I need to take hand in hand with the physical one and every day there are little miracles in that. I feel really really held. I am sick, and there is a certain freedom in saying that. I am in bed a lot – experiencing the worst period of fatigue yet (and some of you reading this have seen some pretty crap times!). But in this knowledge I can stop fighting and pushing and I can stop feeling like a total idiot or a failure and live for the now - the now that involves letting go and trusting, eating well and resting - because there are plans for me. I want to live the fullest and be the healthiest I can so I can take part in the deepest way I can in whatever my purpose is...all this, you, them, me - it all connects to the bigger wider thing.

I said to a friend in an e-mail the other day, that I feel like a caterpillar in a cocoon, waiting to become a butterfly. More truthfully, I feel like a partly formed butterfly, I know even through feeling crap a lot of the time, that I've still lived relatively well...so if the last 9-10 years could be so full of life, then I get a bit excited about what the next years will be like with a full tank and healthy body!!

I didn't realise that I was starting to give up a bit, questioning my abilities and the whole point of this, but step by step, healthy cell, by healthy cell, my will, my intellect, my strength is coming back and once again I feel like I can dream of doing anything, and believe I can fulfill my purposes.

Thanks so much for your constant love my dear friends...this has been dragging on for a crazy long time (since high school!!) and I can't wait to have a new story. Thanks for hanging in there with me in my bewilderment. I can't imagine doing it without you.

love yous
love shazza
xx

Shazza's Monday Morning Adventure

2009-04-27T11:39:00.000+09:30

I woke up to waves on my street today.

I’d already woken up late, so I’d scurried around, thrown on some clothes, had a glass of water and was all ready to jump in the car and zoom around filling my day with very honourable tasks, when I stepped out my front door onto the banks of a dirty murky flood of water - my street was a river and my car is no boat!

Change of plans.

I stood with my cup of tea, under the front porch while the rain still rained and watched one or two cars cautiously inch their way through the flood. Then a four-wheel drive just charged on through and the waves lapped at my front steps.

I went inside.
The sun started to shine.
The council work-men came around and we all stood and marvelled at the river together. Its ok they said, it’s going down now and I should be free to back my little car out of the drive in about half an hour.

And in fact, if I’m to be honest, the water has nearly completely drained now and I’ve just been out to salute the street sweeper man who’s already here to clear the dead leaves.

So, I could get on with my important day now, but you see, I still want to imagine I’m stranded in my little house, locked away from the world, making do with what I have, on my Monday morning adventure.

So I’ve resolved to make my trip to the shops an adventure, and my study at the library an adventure. I’ll pack some supplies (lunch and a bottle of water), tuck my compass into my pocket (just for the vibe), and see what happens.

donna

2009-04-03T00:10:00.001+10:30

today i met a beautiful lady on a jetty.
Donna, an indian or pakistani woman in her 50's.
her and her husband were fishing off the jetty and had been for eight hours by the time we met.
she was so HAPPY!
it seemed that the hours and hours she had spent out in the sea breeze had cleansed her through and through and by the time i was talking to her any worries she might have (tho it was hard to imagine her with any) were far out to sea.
she was glowing.
donna loves fishing...she can just get up and go anywhere...sometimes her and her husband don't know where they're going but she always has food in the house to pack and take - some kind of currie...and they just go.
i like to imagine Donna gracing jetties all over south australia, brightening the walks of many solitary a walker with her warm smile and light-ness...shifting the perspective of people like me who sometimes storm up and down jetties in an attempt to stomp away the latest intensity of emotion.

a quote

2009-03-17T09:32:00.002+10:30

You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.
- Frederick Buechner. Telling the Truth

Catch up...in no particular order...

2009-03-05T16:51:00.002+10:30

Installments to come….

• The other side of the world
• The other, other side of the world
• The scooter
• The love
• The long hair
• The queen size bed
• The air conditioning
• The old cello with new strings
• The music industry
• The family
• The depressing anti-depressants
• The past
• The reality.
• The people

But first -
The Past

Lots to tell.
But in short:

2008 Summer (and a bit more) was all about Europe (and Iceland and Dubai - I am so traveled, yep, I am) and performing Slinkies and ‘managing’ the Slinkies stuff and wandering around the country in a motorhome, and making cups of tea in a whistling kettle and catching up and saying goodbye and soaking up as much of the northern half of the world as possible.

Oh gosh and so much more.

Like the time Dad and I went to the Alps and played in Slinkies in the rain and I ran through the streets with my new Italian friend and he blaged me into a stunning church lit by candles where a famous Italian singer serenaded a packed audience.
And the time Mikey and I performed outside a tent in the middle of a field as the sun went down in Holland.
Or the time Jo and I sat in the cute marquee boy’s van drinking tea outside the biggest dress in the world..
Or the time my little friend Saphie and I bounced on the bed for AGES and ages and ages while I played silly songs on the guitar.
Or walking under a waterfall in Wales, fully clothed, with some buddies I met through a friend in Cardiff the night before.
Or the ride on the rickety old tricycle an eccentric, beautiful man Elena and I met in a pub in Cambridge had bought instead of a sports car for his mid-life crisis.
And performing to two hundred people gathered in a square in Reykjavik, Iceland with John.
And the two minute dip in the Blue Lagoon with John.
The Crowded House concert in the forest with Elena.
Exploring the Welshness of Wales with Carl.
Train trips just Asha and me up through the beautiful UK countryside.
Train trips with Asha, Kirin and Chris.
Devon with 40 gorgeous London kids and Ciaron – a bigger aussie kid!
The girls (and Frej?) piled in the van on a trip to Suffolk to see beautiful Franny in her amazing play.
And that beautiful birthday dinner Becca and Ben and Danny and Ang put on for me when I turned 25...

And now I’m back in Oz…
Adelaide - beautiful, gorgeous, calm, Adelaide.
I’ve not come BACK, I’m moving FORWARD. I’m resting and gathering and exploring and hoping and investing in every moment. I’m looking for stillness and a home and some of it is here in this place, some of it is already here in me, it just got a bit smothered.

So yeah...a pretty amazing and full on year…so much more has happened and so much more is happening now….more to come!

Xxxx

2008-02-03T09:41:00.000+10:30

im spilling over with things to tell you.

Im in Australia (yay yay!) and its very beautiful here. john howard has finally buggered off and now we have a very nice prime minister called kevin rudd who not only looks cool but signs climate change agreements and cares about refugees. There is hope for this silly country.

catching up on time lost – arguing with mum, long chats with nanna, coffee’s with friends and sugar-free carob almonds. the beach I grew up by and probably the place where I first dipped my toes into the deep blue has transformed (in my mind) into an unassuming paradise, and I’ve been swimming plenty.

Landed in Sydney in November and was treated to a four-day tour of its finest by my dear mate Daniel. Even got to meet one of its stars – a gorgeous new-comer called jonah – the little boy of some friends, chris and clare. Oh my goodness, could babies BE any cuter?

So then it was on to adelaide and i’ve been staying in lots of places with mum as she house sits and hops her way around her new life.
I’ve had hours to myself in Australian size houses attached to Australian size back yards boasting every colour brown, with just a hint of green and always the obligatory fruit trees – lemon, apricot, peach. I can sing in these places and imagine no-one is listening, and I can play cheesy piano without caring.

Then there’s been the hooning around in a little car with the windows down and terrible early 90’s music blaring. the steering wheel and seat belt burning my hands after a minute out in the hot sun.

Took a trip through the dessert up to the centre of this massive country with mum, dave and eden. Over 1000k and 20 hours of dessert driving – hours between any sign of life. We nearly killed each other, especially when trying to find lunch in dry towns where the temperature is reaching 45 degrees, but we made it in the end and had a gorgeous time with dad and jana, staying on the banks of the todd river – dry as a bone 360 days a year – ghostly gum trees the height of three story buildings lining its side all the same.

and hours and hours of chatting over good food and coffee. Catching up with beautiful people who I haven’t seen for too long, and who are so familiar to me it doesn’t matter. Ive learnt so much from these times and my whole self is soaking up the goodness and becoming less brittle, and less afraid to break.

Music has been a theme. Remembering my childhood music, listening to the first recording I ever did when I was seven, music on my own, music with a friend, backing singing and playing cello at a friends gig the other night that turned into a massive reunion of mates ‘cause Lovers Electric played too.

So its been good. The bloody chronic fatigue has been as bad as ever, but the doctor has nailed what the physical problem is after a few years of trying to work it out – woo fricken-hoo!!, so now I know what I need to do and it will work, and I will get better.

Im doing well I think.

ahead of me is a year of managing slinkies, traveling, singing, playing and getting some of that shazza energy back. You think you know me? YOU AINT SEEN NOTHIN YET!! COME ON!!!

A short story I thought was lost...

2007-08-15T08:58:00.000+09:30

In Me

A short story by Sharon D. Turley
18/9/2001

We’re sat in a circle diving hungrily into our lunch boxes.
I’m starving but only nibble at my vegemite sandwich.
Since Mum died lunch and recesses have got worse everyday.
I still sit with those people that were once my friends.
But they don’t like me. I don’t like them.
They think I’m weird now, changed, like there’s something wrong with me.
I know they feel sorry for me.
They give me quick glances with their pitiful eyes.
I just want to run, escape, hide from those people that don’t understand me.

**
I do run.
I run to my rock
It used to be Mum’s rock that she shared with me.
Hidden amongst the thick scrub that runs for miles behind my house,
She found it when she ran away from home for a night thirty years before.
This was our place.
No one else knew our rock.
But ‘cause she’s dead the rocks mine now.
I don’t slide down now like we used to.
I just sit on the top.
The birds come and watch me from the masses of surrounding gum trees.
They think Mum and I are going to slide down the rock laughing and squealing, gasping fro breath as we scramble back to the top. Scraping our hands and wearing the bums of our jeans out as we glide down the ten feet of our rock.
But I tell the birds Mum’s dead now.
They don’t bother to sing when it’s just me.

**

The birds are bored.
I’ve got to go home
Dad’s at home.
But he’s different to the guy who used to kiss me on the nose and make spag bog for my birthday.
Someone’s taken my dad’s insides so there’s nothing left.
Just a body full of water and two leaking eyes.
I want to tell them to put my dad’s insides back
“He needs them…I need him”.

*

I won’t say this to him though.
I need to be strong fro him.
Mum said so.

**

I go home.
I say my day was fine.
Pizza again.
Dad says sorry and cried into his supreme.
I cram down my ham and pineapple and knack over my chair in my hurry to wash my plate and escape from the room.

*

He makes me feel guilty.
I can’t cry as much as he does anymore.
My tears have dried up,

**

My rock is warm today.
The sun has been bright outside my classroom window all day.
The birds are here already. I only just arrived.
There’s something white on my rock.
I look closely and see it’s a girl lying on a bed.
There’s a girl standing next to me now.
I nearly fall down my rock.
“Where did you come from?”
“I drew that”.
“How did you find my rock?”
“That’s me lying on the bed.”

*

The birds are starting to sing like they used to.
They think me and this girl are going to slide down my rock.

*

“Why are you lying on the bed?”
“I’m dying”.
I don’t say anything.
Then I hug her.
I wrap my fleshy arms around her hollow tummy and hug her.
She hugs me back with her bony arms digging into my sides,
Sitting on my warm rock hidden from all but the sun in this hot scrub I share my rock with her and she shares her strength with me.
I don’t want to feel sad anymore.
I know my dead Mum understands I need to be happy now.
My warm peaceful tears fall onto the girls shoulder,
I don’t feel guilty anymore.

**

The kitchen is thick with the smell of burnt cheese.
Dad is collapsed in a chair, huge tears plopping from his leaking eyes.
I want to give him the hug I got today on our warm rock.
I do.
His tears stop.
I feel my face stretch into a smile.
Then I laugh I don’t want to stop myself as my whole body explodes with peaceful love fro my Mum who I will see again sometime and freedom for my Dad who cuddles me and shakes with relief as our faces dance and our souls are releases from the blackness to find.
Peace.

***

ouch

2007-07-18T07:44:00.000+09:30

life is painfully beautiful.

if there is no point to any of this life, then maybe we are ok. perhaps just breathing is enough. perhaps you are perfect already. before you even got out of bed. perhaps we're doing exactly what we're ment to be doing. right now.

if i was to search for the point of life, i'd like to find that the answer is 'to know beauty'. beautiful pain, beautiful love, beautiful hope.

ali, our dear friend, died so beautifuly. thats what we all keep saying. we have lost her. she is gone now, but she's left a trail of star dust that shimmers and glitters, even when it hurts too much. even in her death, even in the knowledge of more deaths to come, beauty has not been stripped away. fear and suffering has not out-weighed it.

strangely the sun keeps rising and setting even tho ali has died. we still have days to live, songs to sing and bills to pay.
chris, the love of ali's life, is a remarkable man. he shares his life so fully with all of us, allowing us in, allowing us to go through this with him. to bath and feed their kids, to be in their house, to cook and be at home there.

the days keep putting distance between the last conversation, the last goodbye, the last smile. the days stack up and fog up my memory for the things she used to say and the way she used her hands when she talked.

its been over three months now since i wrote about ali's death, and more than that since i've written a newsy entry about what im doing...
...i've finished working on Climate Change stuff (that i never really did get around to telling you more about). the burden was pretty heavy and it required loads of energy and initiative that i just don't have at the moment. so, ive let it go and feel a lot happier and healthier for it - annoyingly in some ways as it was a fantastic job.

...i'm still slinkie slinkying. i love it. its the summer season so we've had some fun shows in fun places and hopefully there'll be some more. i am a sucker for the wandering life, and i love meeting others on the road. you never know who you'll be sharing a dressing room with....

...living in this community house is brilliant and time consuming. there are so many people to admire and love and be loved by!

...im playing some guitar and singing a bit..working on my first album...sort of...

...i booked a ticket to australia a few weeks back. i'm heading home for two or three months on November 14th to soak up some sun and get some family love. i miss you australian lot loads and can't wait to sit out in the garden with you, swatting mozies and saying 'bloody oath' lots....

...thats it. tomorrow im going to do some digging in a friends permaculture peace garden thingo on the edge of london so im going to bed...plus i've run out of any kind of inspiration so i'll bugger off out of this place and hopefully catch you sooner rather than later...

drop me an e-mail some time: sharonturley[at]gmail.com, i'd love to hear from you.

lovelove
shazza

Our Ali

2007-05-02T08:07:00.000+09:30

Here's a tribute for Ali written by our friend Cole which was put on the front of our community newsletter 'Round Here' which gets delivered to the streets round us in Hackney - I thought you might like to read it.

Ali Adeney Lawrence 1967-2007

Ali was an artist who loved bright, dazzling, gorgeous things. She was all of those herself. Her CV says she came to London as a volunteer and went on to work with refugees, the troubled, the homeless, the needy, patients and GPs, in the health service, in the church, in the community. But there are other ways of telling a story, as this woman who loved stories knew. She was like someone surrounded by glittering jewels, and coins, who knew that her treasures would fade unless she gave them away. Her treasures were her love, her enthusiasm, her passion, her strength, her courage, her determination, her presence, her words, her art, her smile, her grit. She found a soulmate in Hackney and they made a home in a community they loved. They chose to love it, at great cost, spending the best of their talents and strength on things that other people said were too hard, not worth it, or impossible. Community was such a big word for Ali. Community Spice, we used to call her, when Posh and Ginger made that funny. It was an indication of the vivaciousness and sheer glam she brought to community work. Through art she helped numb tongues speak, soothed angry souls and allowed clarity to come to confused minds. Through listening, and talking, and telling stories – holding the ordinary adventures of life up to the light and watching them shine – (and through the tedious stuff of badgering, persuading campaigning, organising, photocopying, putting up and taking down) she worked with Chris, side by side, to make strangers into friends. To help make a village in the city. To bring people together. To look for sense, and what is real, and what is true, in the chaos. As somebody wrote on the blog, she showed us how to live, and she showed us how to die. She cared for us, and now it is up to us to care, as passionately, for her children Asha and Kirin and her soulmate Chris, those she left behind. To tell her story. To make this life better. And to remember that our beautiful sister has gone – as she told us she would – to a place where the light and the fun are dazzling.

Dancing through death

2007-04-05T08:50:00.000+09:30

My dear friend and sister Ali died from terminal cancer today.

I miss her so much.

I don’t know how to write about this experience. Perhaps there is no way anyone who’s not here; experiencing these moments will ever understand the depth, the wonder, the deep joy and sadness of these days simply by reading my words. But maybe there is more to this blog than just my words. And maybe you’ve experienced something similar.

This is a story of true love.

Ali taught everyone she met; Ali taught me that each moment in life is sacred and beautiful. That there is room for laughter in the tragic times, and deep sadness in the joyful times.

Our lives have been like a movie recently. So many poignant ‘last moments’. So much outpouring of love from Ali, to Ali. Honesty, depth, grace.

Hundreds of people are mourning out dear Ali at this moment.
And Chris is sleeping in a big white empty bed, in a room decorated and lovingly designed by Ali. Blue and white, to match with a beautiful tile she loved, propped up on the heater.
Her jewellery still sitting under the big gold mirror. Earrings hanging from beautiful wire trees. Big bold necklaces draped across the mirror.
Ali’s beautiful style.

Chris is sleeping alone in the home they loved and made together. Their children softly breathing in the room they created – the home they both created for the little ones they both bore.

A lone parent now. But not alone.

Peace abounds. Love bounces around that house. From the bold colours designed by Ali – the bright yellow cupboards with blue Mexican plates, to the sound of Asha clobbering up the stairs to show yet another person that mummies cold toes have the same colour nail polish as her warm ones.

The blanket we all lovingly contributed to is tucked up around our Ali’s body. Ann, her mum has done Ali’s hair – neater than I’ve ever seen it in her life here. Her star shaped nose ring that I love so much sits on her nose just like normal.
Her eyes slightly open. Asleep. At peace.
She died at 6.30am this morning after a sacred evening with friends, praying and singing. She slipped away with Chris, her mum ann, and her twin sister sue watching her and holding her, the sound of her favourite songs recorded just weeks before by herself and close friends, drifting through the room.

This woman was loved. This woman taught everyone she knew how to love more.

And now she’s dancing with the angels.

I’m not optimistic. I am deeply faithful. I choose to believe in the wonder of the other – of the spirit that cannot be captured and confined to a frail body. Ali’s body let her down…or just broke quicker than others. How mechanical it would feel to believe that this malfunction looses us such a precious soul. Life is not that easy. We don’t just live and then die. That is too simply. That is too little. Life is so much bigger than that. It is. I don’t choose to believe it; I feel it with every fibre of my being.

The pain is overwhelming some times. I sit, I close my eyes and I swear. I swear for the pain, for the bearing of it. Then it passes. Something distracts me and I'm ok for a little while.

Today has been long. Full of friends, hugs, tears and good deep gutsy laughter. I love my dear friends. My little friends and my grown-up friends and the tragic teenagers in between.

I love them all.

Today we have struggled together. Emotions heightened. Moments sitting in the sun. Sleeping. Eating, drinking.
Just as Ali would have wanted it.

She is still with us. Together with us. We live on, but still we hold this moment. Rest in this moment, and wait for what tomorrow brings.

Xx

Birthdays, enchanted evenings and sleeplessness

2007-03-23T12:26:00.000+10:30

Join me in the kitchen in my home, The Manse. Its March 4th, two days before my birthday and four days before my friend Nathan’s birthday.
It’s a Sunday and Nathan, being keen to do some kind of joint do, and me being keen for any excuse to eat food with lots of gorgeous people, means we’re roasting veggies and cooking up Moroccan soup for an unknown amount.
It turns out to be a big community family event full of folk from the church – mostly young families, but not just. At least 10 children are running all over the place and the accompanying adults are balancing plates on their knees, poised to hand out food to the little ones as they whip past, way too busy chasing each other around in circles to care about those hunger pangs.

The best bit? When everyone crammed into our kitchen and sang happy birthday at the tops of their voices in at least three-part harmony. Our lot know how to sing. It was so good, they sang it three times.

Now it’s the night before my Birthday. We’re still in the kitchen. Two of my flat mate sisters Gabi and Johanna are busy in the kitchen cooking up a literal storm of roasted veggies and cheese – my favourite meal, and not one but three gorgeous cakes. Fray (Johanna’s boyfriend and Swedish wild adventurer) is building a fire in our less than adventurous and slightly reluctant fireplace in the living room.
My dear housemates are throwing me a birthday party- the manse style- with those long bendy balloons that you can turn into strange, slightly phallic animals and all.
Candles, fire, food and the BEST friends in the WHOLE WORLD to hang out with. I was so chuffed with the effort, the love, the pressies – the beautiful bunches of flowers! THANKS GUYS – I’m a very lucky lady and I love you all loads.

THE DAY. My birthday. First thing, the mailman pounds on the door and hands me a precious package from Bec and Andrea in Australia – totally unexpected beautiful jewellery wrapped up and sent across the world to me….wow.
I grab breakfast and skip across the road where I spend most of the day with my dear friend Ali who is very sick with terminal cancer, Chris her husband and another woman Jessie – she is the remarkable lady being nanny to Chris and Ali’s kiddies, Asha and Kirin. They treat me to a coffee at the beautiful Springfield Park café that overlooks lush green parks blooming with yellow, purple and red spring flowers. Afterwards, we hang out and I play piano while our beautiful Ali doses on the couch, wiped out by the constant attack on her body by this crazy disease.

Later I head to the new coffee shop and catch up with my wonderful loyal mate Rich. sparkling water and pleasant chat, then back to Ali’s. I lie in bed with her and we chat about death, parties in heaven, birthdays, healing, that thing we call God, and how much I’m going to miss her, how much we’re all going to miss Ali.

Tears flow inevitably when I head back home to catch up with Amazing Aaron. He listens. I cry. We drink coffee.

The day finishes off in the pub with a few friends I rarely get to see, and others I practically live with. We all took part in a vigil out the front of an MOD building in town during the evening. Nothing like a healthy bit of questioning from police to spice up the day. Of course, we weren’t doing anything wrong, they were just a bit bored…where are all those terrorists??

The special treats and magic moments continue. On my birthday I e-mail a friend from the slinkie/performing parallel world and for my trouble am treated to a gorgeous dinner and enchanted evening out in London. Something that doesn’t happen nearly enough!

The week was topped off with a show – the London Gypsy Orchestra. They were HOT. We (house mates and other mates) danced in a frenzy all night. White skirts swishing and sweat dripping.

Perfect.

So that was that. I wish I could have shared it with all of you, but instead I did a lot of thinking and remembering of other Birthdays I’ve spent in other parts of the world…thanks for the warm fuzzy memories.

It’s late here and I need to be asleep but
“Sharon is sick in her head, so she can’t go to sleep when she should”
- Thanks Gabi

Its true though, well, the bit about not being able to get to sleep. It leaves me exhausted during the day, but I’m going to crack it soon, I know it.

I’ve decided that this year is going to be my best one yet.

Thanks for keeping up,

Goodnight – burn bright – live light

Xxx
p.s i've got so much exciting stuff to tell you about the work im doing - stay tuned, but in the mean time check out www.blackoutbritain.org.uk

BLACKOUT BRITAIN

2007-03-14T10:33:00.000+10:30

Hiya!

My new job is to coordinate this new movement called BLACKOUT BRITAIN. Its based on the belief that energy reduction is the first and best response to Climate Change.
The job is very exciting and is going really well. I'd love it if you could help me spread the word for the next
BLACKOUT BRITAIN March 15 at 8pm by passing on the below info to everyone you know
so we can make this as big as possible and get more and more people acting to cut energy waste. CHEERS ME DEARS!!

BLACKOUT BRITAIN March 15 at 8pm

CUT THE CARBON, CUT OUT CLIMATE CHANGE

Join in a pioneering peoples movement to Cut the Carbon and
dramatically reduce the UK's contribution to Climate Change.
Flick switches, turn down heating, and enjoy a new world of candles and
stars...

How long for? You choose:
5 mins – flash blackout
1 hour – blackout vigil
3 hrs – blackout party
24 hours – blackout hippy (go on, I dare ya)

LOG ON - to http://www.blackoutbritain.org.uk and tell us your blacking out
SWITCH OFF - all non-essential electricity sucking devices
TURN DOWN - the heating by a degree or two
SWITCH ON - your imagination.

I'll be flicking the switch at the launch of climate writer Mark Lynas’s terrifying new book on global warming, ‘Six Degrees: Our future on a hotter planet’, which shows that a mass extinction of most of life on earth is a real possibility if we don’t act soon to cut back on greenhouse gas emissions.

Will you flick with me?

Spread the word - cut the carbon,

Shazza

BLACKOUT BRITAIN
and
Planet Positive
020 8525 3975
0777 606 2651
sharon@blackoutlondon.net
www.blackoutbritain.org.uk
www.planet-positive.org.uk

Note: BLACKOUT BRITAIN is a network, not an organisation. This campaign
will always be peaceful and respectful and have due concern for
personal and national security. This is terror-free radical climate
action and we will never incite violence, hatred, rioting or damage to
property. The name in connection with the idea and ethos is open for
all to use, all we ask is that you let us know so we can be encouraged and
can encourage others with your participation.

quick update

2007-01-15T01:16:00.000+10:30

HELLO. I've been hiding and its time I drew the curtains back on the last couple of months of my life. thats me waving through the blog window.

so, what do i wanna tell you about?
the fame,
the drugs,
the rock and roll.
(have you heard?)

LIFE IS REAL AND GOOD. its full, vibrant and up and down every day. thats the way i secretly like it.

i started a new job the other week. campaigning. climate change. energy reduction. BLACKOUT LONDON. thats what its called. thats my new job. to BLACKOUT LONDON. well, not just me, im working with others, its a network. we wanna encourage and inspire everyone to realise that they can make a big difference to climate change by personally looking at their energy use.
phew. im learning lots and its a little bit intense...but its hopeful. it has to be hopeful. climate change is very real and we have to work fast.
i get to work at home and the hours are flexible. so the days when my body packs it in, i can chill out and pick up the hours another day.

im living in 'the manse' these days. a house brimming with beautiful people, dear friends who either live here or pop into say hi and sort something out. the house is owned by the wider church i go to sometimes and it's where the minister would live if we had one. but we don't! so we get to do cool things with this place...i'll write more about that another day, 'cause its very exciting.

so, i feel safe, warm and loved.
this week i've hardly been outside the house. apart from trips to 'get out of the house'...you know, pop to the shops, pop to the gym...those sorts of things. feeling pretty knackered so i've just been here. working, playing, laughing, crying, its been a week of sorting things out. gathering some strength and dreaming about the next few months ahead.

I started writing some of this on new years eve. i love the new year feeling! its so exciting to recognise the end of something and the birth of a whole new thing.
None of us have ever lived 2007 before - that’s exciting, and scary!

Our dear dear friend Ali who lives across the road with her two little'uns Asha and Kirin and Chris her husband still has terminal cancer and as this second Christmas passes, she becomes frailer and the reality of her leaving us seems to creep closer. I'm trying to pray, because I believe it works but also because there's not much else to do, except just be around and help when we can.

Who knows what this year holds.

this is a bit of me for now...

how are you?

goodnight,

love love love,
shazza

a story

2006-10-29T21:00:00.001+10:30

My beautiful new housemate just paid me a visit from her room next door. Its 12.15pm and she’s still in her PJ’s – a very unusual occurrence for her and she’s loving it. Sleeping in, resting, taking time to breath and hope and live for the sake of living. Perhaps she’s preparing a little bit for the rest of the day, but mostly, she’s simply being.

And she’s glowing. ‘We all just need to chill out’. She says, looking out the window of my new room.
I reckon.
I spend so much time trying to be busy. Feeling guilty when I'm not, or guilty when I am. Constantly trying to get somewhere, tick the boxes on the to-do list, achieve something. Shit, that’s me.
What about the life that’s going on around us? The small beautiful things? The moments when nothing is on our mind, when there’s nothing else we ‘should’ be doing apart from sitting drinking tea, or sitting and staring at a tree? Or noticing the surreal momentary silence of a city and the gentle hum of a car as it comes up the road, fading up into the silence. They are beautiful moments. They are life too.

I know, you’ve heard it all before. I have too. but I have such a bad memory…

My housemate goes on to tell me a story about a fisherman and his boat…

Once upon a time there was this fisherman. We don’t know his name. But we know he was a content man. He spent his mornings working on the river, fishing until he had as much fish as he needed,. Then, he spent the afternoons lying on the deck of his boat in the sun. Breathing, sleeping, being.

One day a man from the city who was on holiday in the area stopped on the jetty by the fisherman who was lying, once again, soaking up the sun on the deck of his boat. They started chatting. When the city man discovered that the fisherman spent most of his afternoons lying in the sun after fishing all morning, he was appalled, he thought the fisherman was incredibly lazy. So he said to him,

‘Why do you spend your time lazing in the sun when you could be out catching more fish?’

The fisherman replied,
‘Why would I want to catch more fish?’

‘So you can make more money’

‘Why? ‘

‘So you can buy a bigger boat!’

‘Why would I want to do that?’

‘So you can catch even more fish and build your business and make even more money!’

‘But…why?’

‘So you can enjoy it!’

‘Ah’ said the fisherman, and he smiled gently at the man, folded his hands behind his head and shifted himself back into the patch of sun streaming down onto the deck of his boat.

turning the clocks

2006-10-29T21:00:00.000+10:30

sunday morning. the clocks just went back and im eating raspberry jam on toast. the start of a new era? i don’t know. isn’t every moment the beginning of something? Sip some coffee, too weak, but let it be.

walking by outside my window, people, talking, mumbling, screaming. buses humming and cars zooming down the powers road.

its too early to be awake but my mind won't sleep. im so active inside, in my mind i dream big, but my body is lagging behind. every morning its the same. im so tired.

this new day, put on a brave face? i don’t know, see how i go. church at 11am. not been there for a year. i've changed and its changed, lets see how we fit. it will be good to see them, fill them in, tell them all about a party, the party of the year. the manse bonfire night party. its their manse, its their party. YEAH!

then lunch. then sleep, then the 38 bus deep into town, victoria station, st mathews church, new friends, new hope. godly play in a high anglican church. what’s that all about i wonder? intrigued, ill go along.

this week has been slow. too many lows. when will my body decide to pick up, get up, move on? who knows. eating well, sleeping when i can. hanging with friends. music, music....

music...Kazza, my close friend is putting her beauty on show, monday night here at the manse. music, her songs, wine and candles. i'll be singing along. some cello, perhaps and a little guitar.

inspirational woman she picks me up and makes me sing, then sits with me as tears spring from deep within. the pain releases its tangible grip. whatever it is, soothed for a moment. till next time. who knows when. the rollercoaster continues. its ok. but you know what i mean. its somewhere a lot of us have been. but its always a little different for you than me,

a whole week has gone by in our big peach house. this new house is beautiful. its safe, its warm and comfortable. im allowed to be here. i need to be here. comfort is ok with me today. five other people live here too. community makes so much sense. we cook for each other, we live our lives in and around and apart from each other. together. it makes so much sense.

awake now. the day has definitely begun. shower, dress and get on.

Xxx

does anyone know whats going on?

2006-10-09T22:24:00.000+09:30

Sometimes I know what’s going on, sometimes I pretend I do, sometimes I just don’t.

Today I don't.

Today I am lost.

Hello, my name is Sharon Turley and I AM LOST.

I didn’t' realise how lost I felt until I went away for the weekend with 25 people I didn't know, and one person I'd met a few weeks back. It was the weekend away for this thing called 'moot', an alternative church /community type thingo...
Moot folk are a beautiful bunch of warm, interesting, friendly folk and I had such a lovely time with them in the countryside.

But, clearly, if I was feeling lost, I had chucked myself into the deep end by signing up for this...
I didn't really think about the fact that all these lovely people might like to get to know me (and I them), that they might like to try and work out how I fit into the grand scheme of things by asking all those 'starter' questions. You know,'where do you live?' and 'what do you do?'.

aaaah...ummm...

At least this time the 'where do you live?' question was slightly easier to answer than earlier in the summer when I went to Iona (mentioned in my first blog).
"I’m moving into the manse of my church in Hackney in about a week and half".
Right, that was easy. Done. Next question.
"What do you do?"

Shit...

This, my dear blog readers is where my brain turns to mush and instantly freezes. Strange. I don’t know why, but I panic.
I simply don't know what I do. All I know is what I’ve BEEN doing. Performing, working on a film, and wandering around the country doing other odd bits and pieces. (All prompted by my need to work out this 'chronic fatigue' malarkey.)

I don't know what I do now. I don’t know how I fit.

But simply answering, "I don't know" to me isn’t enough of an answer...and to be honest, makes for a pretty abrupt end to a conversation.
I'm a chatter. I like to chat and share stories and generally be quite open about who I am.
So, in the end I waffle on and try and explain where I’m at to this kind person eating lunch across the table from me. This kind person who is simply trying to get some idea of where I fit, but who ends up having to work quite hard to excivate their answer from a confused web of sentences randomly spouted at them (or so it feels). Sentences that are supposed to be explaining who this person Shazza is. But, what they don’t know, but pretty quickly find out, is that Shazza is a very confused bunny!

Perhaps I try and get across the fullness of me in one sentence. Ha! That’s funny. Instead of trusting that the rest will come as we get to know each other, I get wrapped up in the paranoia of someone making assumptions about me, so I end up waffling and mumbling and awkwardly stumbling through some half-assed explanation about what I do with my life.
Im sure I can’t be alone in that.

I just don't get how words are supposed to express what we mean to say.... they seem too limiting to me. If I tell someone what I do, that’s not all there is. I’m currently performing in a theatre company. But that doesn’t make me an actor. I like to sing a bit, but that doesn’t make me a musician.

SO WHAT DO YOU DO??

I DON’T KNOW!!!

I got thinking about words after chatting to a friend yesterday. A new friend. I was trying to explain how difficult it is to talk about myself when the sentences I articulate don't come close to expressing the things I feel and know in me. I was trying to explain how I feel like I end up using words and sentences that sound to me like im explaining someone else...a different person. Certainly not me.

Yuck.

anyway, in general the weekend was gorgeous. late night walks under a full moon along a misty river complete with castle backdrop and a shooting star..!
fresh air. breathing fresh air. thats a highlight in itself.
paddling in the crashing waves of the sea on the way home and drinking earl grey tea on the beach wall.
chat chat chatting, laughing, singing and screaming into the night mist with frustration at the weirdness of life.

nice

The irresistible revolution

2006-09-26T02:02:00.000+09:30

I’ve been reading a book recently by Shane Claiborne, a Christian. What does that word mean to you? This book is one of those books that remind me why I’m drawn to this faith labelled ‘Christianity’. Its one of those books that gets back to the roots of this crazy religion. It strips back all the extra padding we add and leaves you with the bare, confronting, and scary bones. Jesus was a radical (a derigative of the word 'root’apparently). Jesus was an outcast, a freak, a homeless man, and a man that made a point of hanging out with the weirdo’s in our communities. And in the stories of his life that we read in the bible, he challenges us to follow his example. He challenges us to radically love – in all its forms. Shit! thats hard.

Shane is a guy that got together with his friends one day and started dreaming about what it would be like to try in every way to live a life following Jesus’ example. They found themselves living in one of the poorest neighbourhoods in the US. They found themselves cared for by the poor, as they tried to care for them. They found themselves sleeping out with the homeless and being arrested with the homeless when inhumane laws came into play that made sleeping on the streets and giving out food illegal…and they found themselves winning their court cases.

People have been doing that sort of thing for thousands of years. a lot of them trying to follow the example Jesus offered us back then. i want to learn more. i want to learn past that word 'mission' that churches go on about. 'mission' sounds to me like nice people taking a few weeks or a few years out of their 'normal' lives to do nice things for the poor. i think what jesus was on about takes a little more from us than that...im scared. its scary, but wasn't Jesus talking about our whole lives..? im not sure he ever said it was going to be easy. but im pretty sure he said it would be beautiful, joyful, real and truth-full.

I've labeled myself a 'christian' my whole life, but the last few years i've shied away from it. how could i label myself with something i didn't understand? i've been going to church since i was born but felt like i was missing the depth of what everyone was going on about...sad huh? my time working with SPEAK and living in hackney has taught me so much. gradually my suspicions are being realised...Jesus was on about something life changing, world changing. something that thousands of people have been trying to live for thousands of years and i want to join them.

what do you think?

im pretty inspired...

this is next

2006-09-26T01:52:00.000+09:30

G'day there stranger...

In amongst a chorus of screaming, yelling and laughing I’m finding refuge, tucked up in bed, tapping away on my little silver laptop. The mayhem dances along outside my door. Kids screaming and giggling, parents laughing and yelling and the angels cheekily sprinkling magic moments at the most unexpected of times.

I’m in one of my homes, the one in Stockton; A 12 bedroom prespitrary that’s currently home to 10 kids (9 of them five and under and one born on Monday) and 12 adults.

Over the last few weeks I’ve been working on the final shoot of Dani and Dave’s film, and a two-day shoot of Harmony’s new film clip. Long days, and warm fuzzy feelings of completion at the end. The edit of the movie looks stunning, and Harmony’s film clip is gorgeous. Check it out in a week or so at www.harmonyb.com.

Now I’m resting. My head is thumping – a hangover from the shoots, a slinkie show and naughty bits of sugar nibbled in a desperate short-lived attempt to keep going. I’m sitting by the open window of the room I lived in for a year when I first came to England and feeling slightly guilty for not leaving the house all day…

I like that the rhythm of my life allows these whole days to sleep and recover and appreciate the other bits of life I have to do without when I’m busy. Like drinking tea and chatting for hours in the kitchen, or having a conversation with one of the multitudes of kids running around...or writing my blog.

I slept all day yesterday. Harmony, Rod, Vivi and I got back at 11am from a one-day gig in Ireland. We left the town we performed in at 3.30am to catch our flight…and Harmony and I didn’t quite get to bed before then.

Earlier in the day we ran into a guy who fronts a band called The Pale. Well, to be honest, we were all standing around passing unhelpful comments as we gazed at the open-air stage where the lead singer of a local punk band had just collapsed half way through a song…poor kid. We hear he’s ok though.

Anyway, our new friend was clearly a lovely guy and the festival organisers kept telling us how famous The Pale were in the mid nineties, so Harms and I decided to go check ‘em out.
In true Irish style, they went on an hour and a half late, so while the crowd waited Harmony offered to play a supporting set. Four songs played on a borrowed guitar. Everyone loved it and those brave 15 mins on Harmony’s part ensured a constant supply of free drinks for the both of us for the rest of the night. Thanks everyone. Nice work Harms.

About Irish lads. I keep meeting Irish lads. I was at the arts festival Greenbelt a few weeks back and the whole place was full of these amazing people. Ok, so seriously, it’s not about the accent, there’s a certain depth and integrity to these guys, a certain confidence…and they know how to talk and look you straight in the eyes…its intriguing and I’m impressed.

Greenbelt was Greenbelt. This year, for me, it was full of beautiful reunions with friends I haven’t seen since leaving for Australia (and I ran into a friend from my time in the states!) and plenty of dancing in the organic beer tent ‘till the wee hours with new and old friends. It was good. Every other year I’ve worked the whole festival. So this year my searching soul relished the chance to hang out and soak up the words of amazing speakers, listen to beautiful music and learn and dream about fascinating new concepts. I helped Lovers Electric promote their gig and it went off! Loads of people came and we sold enough buttons and albums to cover the cost of the bands travel. SWEET.

Greenbelt is definitely a place where the ‘strange’ folk meet and find a home.

Before Greenbelt I was in London for 10 days. They were ten days of learning all over again why I loved living in Hackney for the last three years. I belong there. It’s a part of my home and the connections with my friends and family there are stronger than any need to live in rolling fields of green!

A whole bunch of us are moving back to Hackney and into the Manse of our church in October. The minister has resigned and is moving out soon and while the church decides what to do with the house, we’re going to fill it up with people and food. We want to re-open the manse to the church and community. Something that sadly, our minister didn’t have the strength to do (she was ill for a lot of her time with us).
We’re dreaming of a home with each other, of an organic garden, creative space, warm beds for wanderers and plenty of shared meals. Our dear friend Ali is going through some pretty intense chemo and she lives just over the road. Our whole community is hurting for that little family and its good to know we can just be over the road when they need us.
I’m dreaming of exploring together with dear old friends and dear new friends what that crazy guy Jesus was on about when he said ‘drop everything and follow me’. I’ve been trying to do that. I totally believe in what Jesus was on about. But I still pretend quite a lot that I can control my life if I just try hard enough… I have a scary suspicion that there is something around the corner that’s going to blow me away if i just let it.

Catching up

2006-08-13T03:09:00.000+09:30

10th August 2006.

Hi. You still there? Good.

I’m in Brighton. South of London, on the coast. Angelle and Danny are on their honeymoon and I am the lucky winner of two whole weeks stay in their new flat. Nice.

After at least a month of people, people, people, it’s strange but good to be on my own. Last week Kirsty stayed with me, but she’s back in Australia now. Adelaide in fact. Just down the road from my Mum. It was nice to talk about Adelaide. Kirsty is a beautiful courageous woman.

Now I’m on my own. The theme of the week is writing stuff and playing music. Partly because I want to, partly because I hate being alone so I’m trying to keep busy. Garry my guitar is getting put to use and my skills are growing. I love Garry but sometimes he scares me. Sometimes out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of Garry, sitting seemingly so innocent in the corner of the room, leaning up against the wall shimmering beautiful blue. And I freak. I’m supposed to make music on this thing? Huh? Who says I can?? How do I do it??!

I don’t really know how. But I try. I sit and mess around. I sit and play.

Angelle and Danny’s wedding was a week and a half ago. On Brighton beach, next to the collapsed and burnt out shell of the West Pier. A beautiful spot. A beautiful day. Pulled off by yet another collaboration of helpful, talented people (we’ve done this before for other weddings and parties). My role was making sushi for 120 people. Fine I say. I can do that. I cried over the first batch of rice-gone-wrong for 20 mins, then Dave came and saved the day, making perfect rice. By 2am the sushi was rolled, and the next day was served on silver platters, to guests who were all beautifully dressed in their beach-wedding bests.

Before the wedding was a week and a half of filming. Dave and Danni Mills (Eden’s sister and brother-in-law) are shooting a feature film and I went along to help. My official job, ‘Production Design’, but really, I was just filling in for Eden who has done all the work on the previous five-week shoot but couldn’t make this one. What my job meant; dress the cast, bring the props, make sure there is nothing in the shots that shouldn’t be. That sort of thing. Plus plenty of coffee making for the cast and crew, and doing what every else they needed a hand with – like standing in while preparing a shot. I’ve been a stand in for a tractor, a wheel chair, a dead mother…fun stuff. Bloody hard work. Two of the days I didn’t go out on set and stayed home with Vivi (Eden’s mum and the caterer), Sunshine (Eden’s sister) and the kids. The older kids ( age 2-7) ran around and kept themselves busy. My job was the twins. The 3 month old twins…gorgeous little things…both nights I fell asleep to their crying still ringing in my ears and an image of their distressed ‘feed me, change me, burp me’ faces engraved on my mind.
How do you parents DO it?

I loved the shoot and I’m dead excited about the film which will hopefully be completed early next year.

Before the shoot was a few days in Cardiff with Maggie. My Dads cousin and my Welsh Mum. She is a beautiful woman and her home in Wales has always been a place for me to retreat and rest. The stay was perfect timing. The week before in London I fell into a bit of a hole, so a few days with Maggie, eating the right foods, sleeping in a very comfy bed and being surrounded by her inspiring positive energy helped prepare me for the shoot. I left Wales, still exhausted, but on the right road again.

That fatigue thing…I’m learning to deal with it. I’m learning to get over the frustration of not being able to eat certain foods, and my friends are incredibly supportive of that, which helps a lot. It’s expensive to eat well, so I'm just trying to trust that that will work out. It has so far.
It’s harder to get enough early nights. And frankly, when I do get early nights I don’t feel very rested the next day. But I know that if I can continue to consistently look after myself, things will get better…well, I’m hoping.

So, the future is unknown. Possibilities range from living in Brighton, to travelling to America. My health has to come first and although I feel peaceful, I’m totally stuck as to what to do. After Greenbelt (a festival) at the end of August where I’m hoping to catch up with more of my SPEAK family amongst others (nearly everyone i know in the UK goes to Greenbelt!), I currently have no idea where I’ll even be resting my head. I continue to look and wait for a clue…

Until next time my beautiful friends and family…

Be true

more moving

2006-08-13T02:46:00.000+09:30

Wednesday 5th July

I love trains. Right now I’m sitting in a busy carriage which is jostling me through quant English fields, on route from Stockton to London.

Across the table from me a quintessential quirky, Englishman is talking at the top of his voice and extremely cheerfully to his colleague next to him about some school project. Must be a teacher. James Brown is screaming ‘Georgia’ into my ears - an unlikely competition. Unfortunately the English teacher is winning.

I left my writings last, on the beautiful island of Iona. Sit back and picture this…

“It’s a sleepy, sunny day on the Hebridian island of Iona. I’m sitting leaning up against the grand 700-year-old abbey, its walls looming above me, watching the ferry go to and from the island of Mull, and the seagulls glide above the sparkling sea on the nippy breeze. There are black-faced sheep grazing in the field just next to me, and tiny fishing boats pottering along the still waters just a little way down the hill. The colours of this view are full and real. This place has been a destination point for pilgrims for well over a thousand years, and this week, it is my home.

Iona is one of those places that doesn’t have an ugly side, you know, a bit you want to avoid so as only to soak up ‘beautiful vibes’. It is stunning wherever you look, and if you’re looking anywhere, you’re probably looking at water. There is a lot of water, for this is a very very small island. About 1 and a half miles wide and 3 miles long. The water changes colour a thousand times a day it seems, from striking, glittering blue, to deep, moody grey.”

…ok, did you get it? Iona is STUNNING.
Most of my days there were unusually bright and sunny, though chilly. Time spent outside, playing guitar and writing a song or two, hanging out with Dad when he wasn’t working, and wandering around the island with new-found friends from Germany and all sorts of other places. There’s a lot happening on that far-off island, especially within the Iona community that Dad and Jana are working at. People come and go all the time. All of them, like me are looking for something…something more…something else…(with varying degrees of courage and hope!).

In the Abbey, everyday, 80 people eat their meals together on big long tables. So, every mealtime, new faces ask old questions. ‘What do you do?’, where do you live’? My story isn’t conducive to the simple answers perhaps expected…I'm not smug or proud about it (oh, look how alternative I am?!), it just isn’t. In some cases, it’s a relief to be able to have something more than an easy one-word reply to work with, but I’m sorry to the people who were just trying to make conversation….
I wonder if I’ve put some folk off from asking that question so easily in the future, for my response can sometimes be...elaborate…well, more than one sentence. Some people are interested to hear a bit of my story. Others seem a bit put out…
I like it either way.

Although I didn’t find Iona the on the edge, fired-up meeting ground for the new emerging church that I was perhaps expecting and hoping for (although, don't get me wrong, it certainly demonstrates some inspiring ideals and is far deeper into that sort of thinking than most churches and Christian-type things I've experienced lately), I did have some fantastic conversations with people that share my hunger to question the Christianity we’re taught, strip it back and re-discover the on-the-edge, subversive roots of this religion.

[Insert here three paragraphs on some of my thoughts about Christianity and God at the moment…didn’t’ want to inflict them on you! E-mail me if your interested in that sort of thing.]

…the English guy is still talking. Surely he’ll run out soon and have to stop long enough to rewind or something.

London…London…our long slick train will pull into Kings Cross soon…
Don’t make me go!!!
This crammed carriage is a reminder of how many people there are in London who try to jam themselves in and make some kind of life. Right now, I don’t want to know, or deal with it. But, I’ve only spent a week there since I got back, and that was swamped in jet-lag haze, so, I’m popping in for a few days to catch up with friends and do some music.

Constant moving

2006-08-13T02:45:00.000+09:30

I place the knife and fork on my well scraped plate and push my chair out from the table, I fold my hands and sit back, full and satisfied, warm and at home. I sit back and ponder the meal and the day just gone.

That’s what this moment feels like. I’m on a three-hour train ride from Glasgow Queen Street, to Oban, where I’ll catch a ferry, a bus and another ferry – 6 hours in total. Six hours travelling with a cherry on the top – Dad will be waiting to give me a big hug on a tiny little island called Iona off the coast of Scotland – two islands out. I’m looking forward to the hug.

The scenery on this train ride is stunning and inspiring. There’s something about the natural world that helps me understand myself better. Perhaps because it helps me look at God through a wider lens. Any new experience does. God seems limitless. If God is limitless, then how much more is there to discover in myself, other people, and the world around me?

I need this moment; this three-hour train ride to gather myself, to wonder on the last three and a half weeks. To take stock and slot each experience away in my treasure box for a rainy day.

On May 20th, just over a month ago, I woke up in my mum’s house on that beautiful street in Edwardstown, Adelaide, showered and dressed in the clothes I left our the night before.
I sat down to a beautiful healthy meal mum cooked me and we silently ate. Mum is trying to be brave, though her heart steadily becomes heavier as the white clock on the yellow wall ticks closer to 12pm. The season has changed and once again its time for her baby girl to fly on, and far away, to another place.

At the airport friends and family kiss, hug and wave goodbye as I walk through the dull international departure doors. I can feel the page turn as I show my boarding pass and step onto the plane.

Onwards.
An easy flight, stop off in Singapore, massage paid with money too small to exchange (!), random meeting of friend from Adelaide, then onto the next flight, 13 hours of movies, restless dozing and friendly chats with a Norfolk man.

Home.
Ahhh, into the arms of a friend. Jo, thank you for waking up bright and early to come and meet me at the tube! Back to her’s, the very familiar ‘white house’ for a big breakfast and more hugs from friends. I go for a wander with Ali and when she buys me a welcome home present of leather high-healed boots discovered in the local charity store. 2 quid, bargain.

And so my week in London began, and continued. Friends, sleeping, cooking, playing.
A trip into town, to Tottenham court road and David and mine’s preferred guitar/music store. Same guys, who sold me my cello, now sell me a good, cheap navy blue guitar.
I take it home on the infamous 38 bus, and a little bit more of my mind lets go and gives my heart permission to dream of music…and heaven forbid, to dream that one day I might be a ‘real musician’.

By the end of my week in London I’m overwhelmed, disorientated and ready to get out of the big city. This place that’s been my home for over three years is too much for me right now.
So out of London I went. To Stockton.

An old, familiar home in the northeast of England. Much has changed since my first year living in Stockton in 2001, that was a long, sad year peppered with happy moments; indoor picnic parties, slinky shows in beautiful places.

The Slinkies have once again brought me up here and I rehearse with Rod, Vivi and Harmony, the old show, ready for a 15 min gig in Holland and a day’s work in Moscow. Slinkies are a good excuse to hang out with my old friends, the Boucher’s and Mill’s. A good excuse to play with the newborn twins and take Ebony (the eldest Mill’s girl) out for a special treat. Together we make a visit to the café I used to work at and find the same wonderful ladies working there. Warm hugs and bemused looks of semi interest as they ask me how I am and what I’ve been up to. I’m quite weird to them. They are quite weird to me.

Show remembered, costume dug out, and on we go to Holland. Harmony and I in the back seat, minus Angelle this time. We’ve both grown up a lot and each been around the world at least twice since we last did this show together.

Corporate bookings are always the least satisfying to perform. It’s a basic exchange of money and show. We turn up to this one and they ask us to halve the already halved show - two days travelling for seven minutes work. The setting is a building site and we’re the ‘light entertainment’ for the slick suited Dutch investors milling around munching on lightly steamed asparagus and dip. Slinkies are impressive to the eye, but any performer will tell you its almost impossible to draw people in to your world with only seven minutes to work with. So we do our best, bow, and walk off to the change rooms.

Drive, fly and drive some more. We’re back in Stockton. I have an hour to re-pack before catching a train down to London. I sleep at Chris and Ali’s place, catch some precious time with these dear friends Kazz, and Dave and Eden, then fly out to Stockholm the next day. My friends Lucy and Martin are getting married and the weekend ahead is Lucy’s hen do. 80’s theme. I’m dressed in my new pointy boots, red stockings and ripped up leather mini skirt. Phew. High heels are hard work, but oh so worth it.

The weekend is a laugh. Conversations with amazing women, friendships built, mini-golf under majestic Stockholm trees, and a futile last minute trip to the Russian embassy to try and get a Visa for my entry the next day. Sadly the agency that is supposed to sort all this out, stuffed my Visa up, so in the end I didn’t get to Moscow. Never mind.

Instead I spent a much-needed week in Stockton, resting, getting to know my guitar better, and feeding babies. The house is massive. About 12 rooms and each person in it is working on a creative project. Projects on the go include a feature film, an album, B-sides for a single release in July and accompanying film clip, bridesmaid outfits for Angelle and Danny’s wedding, a raggy doll for Tahlia’s 5th birthday and website construction. In this house, your art, your dreams, your creativity is taken very seriously. This is the stuff of life.

My big green room of solace, on the top floor of this gorgeous house is home for a week, and then I’m off again, up to the bonny land of Scotland.

Once again Jo meets me, but this time at Haymarket station in Edinburgh. Her parents have just moved back to Edinburgh and they’ve offered their house to us Hackney crew for the weekend of Lucy and Martin’s wedding. 16 if us in total. Very generous, friendly people.
I’ve come up early to see more of Edinburgh, a place I’ve been to a few times but never had much of a chance to look around. The weather is gorgeous for much of my stay so I see Edinburgh at its best. This is a stunning city and one that I might just have to live in one day,

Friday comes and the rest of the Hackney mob start dribbling in off the London trains. Its wonderful to all be in the same place together again. I catch up with people I haven’t seen since I’ve gotten back from Australia. Dear friends that I’ve shared some very special moments of my life with.
Friday is also the day to meet a friend of Lucy’s and head to her kitchen to make the wedding cake – a stack of 200 brownies decorated with a cascade of beautiful summer berries. This done, I fall into bed and will myself to sleep deeply. I’m exhausted, but don’t feel much better the next day.

Saturday. A beautiful drive up to Kinross, the town where my friends Martin, a Swede and Lucy, a Scot, will marry. We arrive just in time for me to get my best voice out and sing Ave Maria as the wedding rehearsal gets underway and Lucy practices her walk down the isle. More hello’s and how are you’s with Swede’s I’ve met from my various trips to Sweden. Then pride and prejudice style drinks in the gardens of a local stately house. Dave and Eden arrive from Stockton with the wedding dress, it swaps cars secretly with smug grins exchanged by the bride and seamstress. She’ll be a knockout tomorrow and they both know it.

Back to Edinburgh, for a BBQ with the Hackney crew and a few precious hours on my bed sharing music with Kazz, then sleep. Too few hours later, we’re up and dressing for the big day. 7am and Jo and I are out of the house, off to pick up David and Eden on our way to decorate the cake and get it to the hotel.

Cake created at a posh house – friends of Lucy’s parents - and precariously carried on mine and David’s laps to the hotel. That done, we head off, a bit too late to the church where I rehearse Ave Maria for the first and only time with Mattias, the pianist and one of the Swedes that got in the night before. Thumbs up all round and I head to the toilets to spruce myself up.

Out come my birthday skirt, black top, bright blue wedges and the faithful deep red lipstick. Hair shoved up in clips and that’s me done.

The wedding day is incredibly special. Lucy and Martin combine their two countries, cultures and traditions beautifully. I’m reminded of how sacred the bond of marriage is. How brave a move it is, to offer yourself and all your vulnerability to another person and to trust that they will honour that move, to trust that you will be safe with them.

Thanks to my Dad and whichever ancestor he got his energy from, I come alive as if I’ve never been exhausted in my life, and last the whole day, chatting, dancing furiously in the kahlie, and even managing to sing one of my new songs with Garry, my guitar in the ‘bring and share’ bit. Thanks to Davo who encouraged me.

The night ended with mini homemade hot-air balloons floating up into the drizzling Scottish sky. Makeshift stars so brightly shining – symbols of hope for Lucy and Martin’s life together.

The day after begins with football (Brazil v Australia match recorded the night before) and big fry up with all the hackney lot. They’re all leaving today, so we head into to grab a coffee at a fantastic fair-trade coffee shop on the Royal Mile before they catch their trains. I’m staying one more day before heading off to Iona. I’m grateful for the extra time and spend the afternoon talking in depth with an Edinburgh friend about life, love, marriage and carrying home with you.

Tuesday. Time to move again. Off to Iona today and I can’t wait. I wave goodbye to my most recent hosts and home and close the door behind me.

Eight hours later and I’m being tossed around on rough sea’s as the Iona ferry brings my dad into view. I could tell it was him before making out any discerning features. I think it’s the way he stands. I wave and he waves as I get closer. His beautiful big grin spreading across his face. Ah, my Dad.
Once again, wandering father and wandering daughter meet, in a new place. In a beautiful place.

Iona is home for the coming week. It is stunning and the people are warm and friendly. Dad and Jana are buzzing and seem to bring alive every room they enter. Dad is constantly singing and Jana is constantly smiling. It is good to see them so happy on this beautiful, cold, tiny island.

Till next time. Travel well.