MarshmallowDen

Ducks, red wine and developing a fearless you.

2012-03-10T18:54:00.000+11:00

Up until a year ago I didn't drink alcohol. Now I'm sitting on a friend's couch looking at my glass of organic red wine - Shiraz, to be exact. A year ago I didn't go for facials or treatments. But now my glas of red is standing on top of the recommendation slip I got from a local spa after my foot spa/back massage/facial I had a week ago. One year ago I had a bank account that was shrinking at a moderate pace, few Reiki students, no auditions and a sinking feeling. Now I have a growing bank account, a somewhat prosperous mood, several students that I adore, a show being built and quite often the sensation that it's going to take off soon - what ever 'it' is. I'm even considering lending my energetic healing and spiritual mediator skills to Psychic TV. Yes, it sounds likE a hoot and a half, but getting to the point where this and much more is all possible - and doesnt just 'seem' possible - has not been at all easy.

Letting go of the old self to create more space for the new self is a journey many people deliberately stay far away from as it can be an experience that hurts deep into the very soul of one's existence. Consider all those feelings that came from all those experiences that you have had since you were conceived - not all of them good or even remotely inspiring. Consider the extraordinary network of beliefs energetically and spiritually surrounding you that is connected to all said feelings and experiences. And now consider the immense amount if work we humans do to get past, around, under, over and sometimes even through each experience, each belief, each old feeling - all of which has had the potential to in one way or another stop you from being your soul self, your higher self, your absolute true you.

If there is one type of person that I see in everyone it is the type that just wants to be them selves. If they don't know who that is they feel a need to find out. If someone or something is standing in their way they feel an innate need to somehow get past that hindrance. It's built-in self development and many people try to ignore that inner voice that says "face the fear" so the can live a 'happy, wholesome life without hassles'. But, 'trying' is just that. There is no action in 'try'. There is no actual forward movement and there is even less self love in letting your self down by not allowing for new possibilities. One must here understand that if it quacks like a duck it isn't necessarily a duck. I can go quack but, I'm human. To be more specific - when a situation arises that seems much like a past experience it is a good idea to keep in mind that this is a perfect opportunity to hit one's own refresher button so to speak and face the fear linked to that situation. Doing this allows you to stop avoiding the initial problem, grow from your action, become more resilient and able, and have greater self empowerment.

99% of all the things we fear never happen. If they do we usually create them our selves through self sabotage. We expect bad things to happen as we have been taught through peers, parents and experiences in society that bad things will happen to you. One could argue why till one is blue in the face but this is certain - if you let fear control your life you are either victimizing your self (which is fairly unattractive) or you simply haven't known how to deal with it properly (which is a sad state of affairs for many).

Allowing those feared situations to pop up now and then is healthy. It allows you to see things clearly and to reassess in the clearer light of day who you now are and what you are capable of. You might even find that you're not really affraid anymore and the old you has drifter away without you knowing it.

Conscious development of your own ability to change is a great skill to have and more so is the new life you create for your self. You are stronger, healthier and happier with a posture many pay heaps of money to gyms for.

Let go of the old you. You can't find a new you if you don't.

Men. Sinceriously. Come on.

2011-10-28T12:14:00.000+11:00

I'm sure I'll get some heat for this. Or at least a few comments here and there - possibly behind my back as per usual. But I still feel compelled to say this out loud:

Men often stink when it comes to communication.

There. I've said it. I'll put my feet up now and wait for the shit to start flying my way. Or maybe not.

You see, men have this uncanny ability to just not communicate. Weather they feel crap, have an issue or a feeling - they just don't say it. But God forbid they should have an opinion - that never seems to get stuck in their throats.

I shall here of course explain my thoughts. Many years ago I was privileged to 'date' a male whom I now feel is possibly not the best option for any young (or old) lady. Not only was he continuously high on pot, but he felt a strong need to control and to climb the proverbial ladder. Any ladder as a matter of fact - he was highly ambitious. In short he was black listed many years ago.

We were in the same group of 'friends' at work for nearly two years. Once he finally got his talons into me he suddenly decided this was not a good idea after all and cut communication completely. This after he said "I'll see you this weekend" which we all know is just something one says to get rid of the person, be one male or female. After this I did not hear from him.

I moved interstate. As anger grew (for reasons I will refrain from disclosing here) I decided I would send him an e-mail in order to clear things up and to get him to admit that he really is a twit and a half. I got a reply, short and courteous, and then I sent one back. And that was that. No more e-mails from that one.

As time passed I think I half forgot about the e-mailing but the anger was still there. However a joint friend on Facebook reminded me recently that perhaps all was not lost and I could still get him to admit - if not to me then at least to him self - that he was and possibly is a twit. And a half.

I did not 'friend' said x. But I did send him a message saying I was surprised to see him on Facebook. He replied - wow - and the message said that he had indeed "been a user of this technological narcissism for ages now". I see. Interesting. So. For the past 5 years he was unable to see that we were both on Facebook? And he had lost all his ability to type and all his fingers and toes had fallen off so could not say hello? I dare say I think not.

Now this is not the only instance where men in my life have decided to simply play dumb, pardon the pun. In fact it seems to happen quite frequently in the world that they play schtum and I do believe I am not the only one with this frustration. However, in my experience there have been some examples e.g. 1) the father whom decided to work on the other side of the country when I was tiny (mind you, he might not have had a better choice - I didn't ask as I was a baby), 2) the partner who saw that something was wrong in our relationship but never said a word until I told him I had in fact nearly been unfaithful to him - then he complained, 3) the 'boyfriend' who decided texting until we no longer spoke to one another - ! - was a good way of making me break up with him (extremely brave as if I ever meet him again I will possibly tie him to a waxing chair and pull his chest hair out one waxed strip at a time - see previous blog entry), 4) the boyfriend whom decidedly 'fell asleep' when ever he didn't want to talk to me, 5) the 'friend' whose good opinion about my self was spread far and wide - as long as I wasn't in the room.

Yes. Interesting.

However, to every rule there seems to be an exception. There is one 'fella' that has surprised me with his ability to communicate in spite of him having behaved like an absolute *insert bad insulting word here*, *insert bad insulting word here* and *insert bad insulting word here*. This one person - possibly due to some feminine qualities, and good for him I must say - has somehow managed to disprove the above mentioned theory. Sporadically, but still - disproved it he has:

Many light years ago I dated (or something) a male whom shall rename nameless. His country or origin shall also remain nameless as shall his now wife and children. However, once upon a time he dated my self as well as ca. 4 other ladies - all at the same time. We of course did not know, but he finally informed us, one by one. Then all hell broke lose. I'll refrain from getting into detail unless anyone wants to know - comment below.

This person - to the contrary of all expectations - actually sent me a Christmas card that same year. Interesting... He also replied to my message on Facebook 15 years later. Twice. Apparently he feels we should all let bygones be bygones and consider the past "Water under the bridge." Very interesting.

End

Wax, Legs and Labia.

2011-10-25T12:31:00.000+11:00

I had a leg wax yesterday. And if you by any chance are one of those persons that has a weak stomach then please refrain from reading this blog entry as I will mention the word 'labia' a number of times. Labia, labia, labia. In fact I will mention it again and again and it will not always make sense or have anything to do with waxing or legs. So if this scares you or makes you (labia) feel slightly nauseous (labia) then refrain from (labia) reading on. (Labia) Stop right now. (Labia)

So, back to what I was saying. I went to a beautician and had my legs waxed yesterday. I also came dang close to having my labia waxed as well. I have never had my labia waxed before and I can honestly say that now I remember why.

Oh. My. God. Quotes like "The pain. The pain of it all." (Dr Smith, Lost In Space 1965 - 1968) and visions from films like 'Forty Year Old Virgin' spring to mind with vividness and spark. The phrase "close to the labia"was uttered, and not by me (name of beautician will remain undisclosed).

Let be begin at the beginning. It took me 5 days - or possibly 18 months and a build up of courage - to find a beautician that had space to do a full leg wax as many were closed for Geelong Cup Day, had an overflow of clients or were just plain on holiday at the wrong time. Needless to say once I had finally found one that had a spot vacant and looked somewhat professional I was quite pleased with my self and my 'smoothness-to-be'.

What I was not counting on was rough handling and a partiality to get as close to my labia as humanly possible. Personally I simply wanted hair free legs all the way up to the hip joint. However, my beautician of the day had other plans and decided I would be better off if just one more hair was plucked from my body. And one more. *Pluck* And one more. *Pluck* And a thousand more. *Rip*

Well, maybe not a thousand. I don't actually have that many but sometimes I like to pretend.

The interesting thing was that she started with the bikini line which I do not remember any other beautician doing before; by the time she had gotten to my ankles I was practically dazed by the enormous onslaught of pain-killer-hormones my body was releasing. And I actually felt like I had accomplished something by the time I left as during the first ten minutes of waxing and ripping I had a sincere interest in screaming for my life - apparently loud swearing is normal.

But I managed to stay moderately silent. I say 'moderately' as I can remember a couple of rather unflattering grunts and a few 'oh my God'-s slipping out through my lips, and by that I do not mean my labia. In other words having a 'leg wax' is not necessarily going to make you feel dainty and ladylike. It might, however, make you feel like a bull wearing class slippers - super elegant.

Once I had placed my self with utmost care on the table so as to look as ladylike as I could manage in my underwear, I felt the unmistakable heat of very warm wax on my upper thigh. And then on the hip joint. And then on the groin area. Fear spread within me. I couldn't breathe and everything became black as night and silent as death.

No, not really, but do read on - I shall mention labia again soon.

My beautician de jour smothered some very hot wax on some of my usually private areas and said "I'll go close to the labia". Ok, not what I wanted to hear. First of all I don't like gynecologists. Secondly, I don't like anyone fiddling around down there with a spatula full of hot blue goo.

But smeared on it was, a strip of white material was placed and then pressed on to the goop on my groin area and rip! Ripripriprip-ripettyrip!

Let me tell you - whom so ever said that RIP stands for 'rest in peace' was definitely wrong. And whom so ever said that waxing makes you more beautiful should see the read patches on my 'upper thigh'. Looks like I've been tortured, really. With needles.

I'm surprised I didn't faint. In fact if there is a next time I might self-induce a fainting spell so I don't have to be conscious for the torture act that is waxing. But I should here mention that my legs are smooth and by now free of the residue dried blue goo that I didn't dare pluck off my self; shower - thou art a good friend. Next time I will come to thee and bring my razor.

What I Have Done

2011-08-25T11:15:00.000+10:00

I was sitting at a random desk in a classroom playing baby sitter come high school teacher the other day and was surreptitiously pondering that I have done nothing with my life. Or so it seemed at the time. Then I had a meta cognitive moment and noticed I as again delving into negative thinking. Was it actually true that I have done nothing in my life so far? I'd have to say no, because that would be an impossibility. Hence I thought it a better idea to find out what I have actually done with my life, or rather in it. So here is a little randomized list of things I have done since I was born in the seventies. Hopefully it will inspire people to refrain from wasting time and at the same time notice all the (great) things we live through in life.

Thank you for all that have participated in my life. You are well worth it.

List Of What I Have Done:

- lived on a small and slim island named Kos in Greece for three years
- taught high school for five years in various schools in Victoria, Australia
- met Sissel Kyrkjebø
- auditioned for Sissel Kyrkjebø
- learnt how to paint fairly well with oils by my self
- had three little paintings hanging in my favorite cafe (granted I still have to purge price tag on them)
- gotten Bachelor degree with majors in English, performance studies and film
- gotten a graduate diploma of education in one year
- started writing a fantasy novel/story and gotten through the first two chapters (work in progress)
- had several songs published both on hard copy and on itunes etc.
- become a Reiki practitioner
- become a Reiki teacher
- taught several people Reiki and given many people a new life that way
- given many Reiki treatments and given clarity, greater health and groundedness to clients through the Reiki
- auditioned for Neighbors
- had thousands of hits on Google for various things
- learnt to type
- learnt to produce subtext in acting
- been to Gran Canaria
- been to Karlstad, Sweden
- been to see the viking ships in Oslo
- lost both my parents and all my grand parents
- watched my fortune dwindle and disappear
- started a vintage clothing stall at Mill Markets Geelong
- scraped by with $100.00 per week from my savings for nine months
- scraped by on $50.00 per week from my savings for four months
- lived in Sydney, Australia for nearly six years
- worked at Luna Park Sydney
- gotten permanent residency in Australia after eight long years of sincere worrying
- fainted at the gym only to find out three months later that I'm not that special but one of eight that fainted there instead
- found out that I was allergic to dust mites, cypress trees and cats after many ifs and buts
- had numerous injections to desensitize from these lovely allergies that made me feel strangled, tired, depressed and nauseous
- lost a cousin
- seen ghosts
- talked to ghosts
- had ghosts come after me
- won a Victorian Drama League gold award for Best Actress in a Minor Part
- discovered jasmine essential oil and it's beautiful benefits
- taken my clothes off in public. Well, on stage anyhoo. And on the beach. And in public taking photos for a poster. And... Yeah.
- lived in Norway until 1998
- lost a friend
- found out that my father crossed the Iron Curtain as a teenager
- been told by my proud grand mother that my grand father was a Freemason
- blamed my self a lot
- regretted lot
- do e a dirty deed in the bathroom of a pub
- bought an iPhone outright
- bought a Mac outright
- been to Hungary and been miserable
- been to Hungary and loved it
- been to the Parthenon, Athens and been in awe of its splendor and divinity. If you ever go, go at sun set
- yelled at twelve year olds
- been really upset at the world
- been in a short film for two seconds that won some form of short film festival in Queensland
- done acting training at Mooregrace Acting Studios
- read Rivergod by Wilbur Smith twice
- read Girl with the Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier twice.
- read Desire by Annemarie Selinko thrice. And I intend to do it again.
- danced in the dark
- listened to the rain
- watched the sun set over Greek oceans while crickets sang and mysterious bushes scented the air with their aroma
- gotten drunk on the beauty of life
- gotten drunk on alcopops in a Norwegian club and woken up the next day rather thirsty and somewhat dizzy
- taken piano lessons from a woman whom I could no longer find 5 years later; she vanished into thin air almost as if I had dreamt the whole thing
- connected with the God Light
- allowed my self to be honest
- realized that I see and feel those in spirit and that not everyone does
- discovered burlesque
- discovered eBay
- discovered that money in all sincerity is a means to an end, but at the same time deserves respect for the energy that it is
- discovered the extraordinary little beings that live in the nutmeg nut and their energy
- house sat
- been to Asklepion in Kos, which is apparently the first hospital to have been built
- touched a tree that is over two thousand years old
- thought I was going to die and been surprisingly calm about it
- made some great friends all over the world

- enjoyed some great TV shows
- communed with the spirits
- been grateful
- love

The list is in essence limitless and never ending. Hence I could go on, but do I need to? I don't know. I might add to it as life progresses or write another one. One thing is certain - it will only get longer.

'Armon the Wise - He Thought' (2)

2011-08-07T20:12:00.002+10:00

It was time. Armon had done all he could to dissuade his new boss from making him his son's teacher. Well, teacher was putting it rather short. The boy was to live with him, eat with him, sleep with him and possibly breathe with him. He'd be surprised if he didn't have to give him baths too - he was too old for this. But for once he had lost the debate. Or perhaps he was too old to win such competitions now? Maybe compromise was his new thing in life.

'Life' had definitely turned sour the past few years, not that he'd had much of a life in general. He had gone from being a respectable member of society, a scientist, a Magus, a public speaker and a spiritual leader to an elderly man people just didn't really care to listen to anymore. And why? Because they were all too caught up in all this money business to care about anything other than worry and concern.

He was sulking - he knew it, but he just couldn't help him self so he thought he'd better indulge him self for the moment; they should listen to him - he could help. He knew more about anything and everything than anyone he had ever met, if not because of his ability to look into people and tell them their own innermost secrets, then because he was a learned and intelligent man who knew what he was talking about. But did anyone care these days? Oh no! No they were too busy being scared of being poor - something that hardly ever happened - or they were caught up in these stories of people disappearing and monsters with big teeth.

Teeth indeed. Well, if people were determined to be miserable so be it. He couldn't care less. He had bigger fish to fry. He was going to be a nanny. A nanny. It was as if his beard having turned white over the years also meant he was now an old woman. At least to his new employer. But he had to admit the pay was good - his new employer was John Barry and incidentally the Prime Minister of Government Level, Home World and the Mine Plateaus. And his son would be in Armon's care indefinitely.

At that thought he had to wipe his brow with his hand. Unidentified flying objects circled in his abdomen.

Apparently the Prime Minister had 'heard much of him and liked his style'. Armon didn't know what he'd heard or what this supposed 'style' was, but the quietness during the meeting had been a bit disconcerting. All his life Armon had made an effort not to be like others, not to fall into the same traps but rather find his own way. He had never had alcohol - he thought it dangerous and the people whom abused it a nuisance. Nor had he tried so called recreational drugs, legal or illegal. He had never slept around and hadn't really been much of a ladies man in general. But he had studied hard. He had taken control of his destiny, he had found his calling - all of them in fact - and he had made something out of him self. He had spoken on pedestals to small and great crowds alike, and he had both helped and hindered numerous persons in their quests to truly become them selves depending on need. He was the wise man. He had always singled him self out. Perhaps that was his style? His thoughts were wondering.

How strange. He had a 'style', and it looked a lot like, well, being singular.

As he was thinking about this whole style business he started to feel better. He kind of liked having a type of category to fall into. It gave him a sense of control again. He supposed it made him feel less... Lonely. Strange thought really, he never really considered of him self as lonely, just solitaire. It was a choice he made long ago and so far it had served him quite well.

As a young boy he had been a bit of an idealist and had made the choice to go to cloister to get an education most would not consider an option. Not because it wouldn't be lucrative - people were always inclined to pay well for his services - but because it was hard on the soul to be one with a group that sought solitude and enlightenment and turned its proverbial back on normal social conventions. But he had felt close to the spirits then, and the Light too. Now mostly what he felt was lack of satisfaction in life as his services and abilities were no longer required as much as before. Many of the people of the Plataus had started to put their trust in machinery and science, albeit at various levels as each platau not only had a mottley amount of climates, environments and sizes. Each platau seemed to change its inhabitants' way of thinking and feeling and as such the population of each platau had very differing interests and beliefs. No one was sure why exactly this was as there was no handfast proof, but one could argue that it was all in the air.

There were several plataus, each of them haning in space like silent bits of planets, interconnected with massive bridges, elevators and tube like implements so they hung together. Some drifted above others, some were round, some flat, some green, some glowing. A network of plataus like little worlds spread out around a centre made of one planet that most people called Home World but that was said to have gone by the name of Earth some time long ago. Closest to Home World was a smaller toughened platau that only housed males. It was the first platau built by the Ancients according to scriptures and this would account for it's size, ruggedness and it's closeness to Home World. It was full of old ruins and libraries, and scholars that devoted them selves to teaching young men spiritual advancement in cloister Mountainhead.

Armon had spent five years at cloister with the monks and his cloister brothers on Origin Platau, and they were some of the most memorable of his life. He had been happy. He had the best possible training in things such as mathematics, astrology, history, psychology, theology, herbalogy divination and dance. Yes, dance. Young men dancing with young men. The dance lessons were a bit awkward but part of the practice at cloister was to put one's fears aside and develop with the flow, hence they were made to push their own personal boundaries in many varied ways. Of course some of this lead to 'misleading romantic conduct' as their scholars called it, but this was all part of the path to enlightenment and self development, misleading or not. And there was no one to tell you you were doing the wrong thing. Wrinkled brows happened often but there was no finger pointing. Trust was important and self trust was part of the curriculum; if you felt it was right for you to 'get involved' with one of the other boys - for they were boys still - then that was a path you had to tread no matter where it lead to.

He had never ventured into any proposed romances during his training. There were a fair share of advances. But Armon was the studious proud type even then, and kept his nose in his books and his hands busy with note taking. He never had any inclination towards either sex then but had a swelling interest in his own amibtions and had progressed through the ranks of students to become one of the most promising healers and teachers the cloiser Mountainhead had offered the world. He had left his own family when he was very young to fulfil his dreams of spiritual advancement and had ended up a prominent part of the scholars of Mountainhead a little younger than his peers expected. But expect it they did - he was never shy in telling his fellow class mates what he wanted, that he believed he would get it and that others were often wrong. He was not one for showing off nor was he inclined to hide his abilities. Needless to say had he not persistantly filled his head with knowledge he could not have counted on popularity or good looks to get him a job in the end.

He sighed openly. He had never seen his parents after he had left his childhood home nor had he ever become a parent him self. Both things had been a mistake. All the stories, all the history and the family heirlooms were gone now. There was nothing left of his close family. There were no siblings and his uncles, aunts and cousins had either moved to other plateaus or had long since passed on. If he had any family still alive he didn't know of them.

He heard a sound behind him and turned around. He was standing in a long corridor with no windows. The walls were polished mahogany panels and the floor was covered in a conservative carpet in dark red and green pattern. There were closed doors at five meter intervals all the way to the end of the corridor and until now it had been completely silent and void of life except for him self. But there a door opened at the end of the corridor. There was a slight creak as the hinges slowly gave way to each other and light flooded the corridor. There was a moment of silence, as if something sweet was in that light and everything slowed down even though nothing was happening. Then, very slowly, a little boy stepped out into the corridor. He was looking at his feet as he slowly moved them forward. He was dressed in a short sleeved white shirt, dark blue shorts, white socks and black lace up shoes. He was five years old. His name was Adan.

Reiki Share Night/AWESOME!

2011-08-06T18:23:00.000+10:00

Hello, nice person who decided to stop by my blog!

I'm very excited. I held my first Reiki Share Night last night and it was AWESOME! Yes, I am being emotive. Very emotive in fact. Wooooooo!

But back to what I was saying - I held my first Reiki Share Night and it felt really good. I have not only self-actualized, I have also treated and healed two lovely ladies and made them feel better.

What is Reiki, I hear you ponder. Here is the short version of the story, (for the longer and more detailed one go to my website!):

Reiki is a touch activated form of energy therapy. The energy is the highest universal life energy (and this is what the name means), and the energy comes from the Source, God, the Creator, what ever you like to call it. It is pure, has no negative side effects and is very gentle yet very potent. It flows through the crown, into and through the heart and out through the hands (either side, palm and back of hands) and into whom ever or what ever you touch or just come near - the flow starts from about 7 - 10 cm distance. It makes you feel really good and happy and released and relieved and joyful and caring and talkative and peaceful and and and... Anything you require and what is in divine perfection.

What happens at a Reiki Share Night? It's quite simple really. I invite people or advertise the event on my site, on Facebook and on Twitter. People say they want to know more and book in to join the fun. People arrive at the set time and everyone gets a 'temporary alignment' to the Reiki energy; this means you get an energy booster using the Reiki attunement formula so that you are temporarily able to practice Reiki. The energy will then flow through your hands for up to seven days and you can use it on your self, on a friend, on a pot plant, on the TV, on a pet, on the wall, on anything. All you have to do is touch - touch activates the flow of the energy. Thus, everyone who comes gets a taste of what self empowerment really is. Each person gets to be treated on the table for ca 15 minutes by everyone who is there. This means everyone gets the energy booster, a short but potent treatment from several lovely people at the same time, and each person gets to share a treatment with everyone else.

Doesn't it drain the practitioner, I sense you ponder? No, not at all. In fact it works the other way around. As the practitioner is not sharing their own life force but that unlimited energy that comes from the Source there is no depletion. And as you get what you give in this universe you also receive Reiki back when you share it - at least twice of what you give. So in general it's a win/win situation x 1000000 etc. And this is why I say it was and is AWESOME! Woooooo!

Did I take pictures, I hear you think. No, I didn't and yes I can read your mind in a way. (But that is topic for another time.)

But why didn't you, I hear you wonder. Well, there's a question. I don't know. I completely forgot, and that is a little out of character as I take photos of absolutely everything! I must have gotten completely emerged in the treatments and attunements. I can tell you I fell - yes, here it comes again - AWESOME afterwards, and I still do.

Oh well. Next time. For there shall be a next time.

In the mean time I'll post some other pictures related to Reiki and my clinic at home. Feel free to visit and have a treatment!

My new treatment room and clinic. Wonky photo but the vibe in here is so good!

In the old days I used to have a sign out. Alas, my new neighbors do not like it so I'm posting it in virtual space instead:) Book in for a treatment and mention this picture/offer and you get a half hour treatment for $20.-. Now that IS awesome!

My Reiki Degree 1 practitioners treating each other.

The Hunt (1)

2011-06-13T23:47:00.000+10:00

There was nowhere to hide - she knew that. They would find her as sure as they would eat her alive. She breathed heavily with panic and despair and her chest heaved with the pain of exertion. She heard her self making small whimpering noises as she stopped and looked quickly around. Her thin blond hair caught in her eye lashes as she continued climbing through the malevolent forest and it started to sting. Another drop of salty water flooded her eye and overflowed it only to trickle down her grimy cheek and disappear under her shivering jaw. What did that matter? Her face was a mask of dried salt from the silent crying and the filth that had gotten caught in it as she hid in mossy ravines, fell down dirt paths and stumbled over slimy rocks.

She stopped and stood completely still. There were no trees here. Her feet were planted on the ground like roots from a mighty tree. Determination was an ally she had long since forgotten but it was making an effort to befriend her again. She wanted to live.

How long had she been running now? She did not know. But it had been bright as day when they let her start. Now it was near completely dark if not for the moon smiling its unattached serene smile high above her. She had thought for a while that they really had just let her go, that they got bored with chasing her and had other more interesting or important things to do. She had believed that to the point where she had relaxed a little. She had found a stream racing forward just below a small canyon and had sat down on some rocks on the edge of the ravine to catch her breath and survey the situation.

She had not noticed the wind picking up and blowing past her, catching her scent and bringing it back to where she had come from. She had not sensed the silence surrounding her, nor had she taken in the threat of the drugs they had given her before she started running or just how slow her reaction speed was. All she could take in was how peaceful the world suddenly seemed as she stared down into the dark water a man's length or two below her.

Finally she noticed branches cracking behind her. She turned slowly - fear would not let her make any sudden movements. Her eyes fluttered and saw only a fraction of a pale and naked body running sideways past her into hiding in the trees some paces away from where she was sitting. She screamed loudly. She shouldn't have. She fell backwards and clawed her self into standing position. Suddenly there were more of them. Three, four, six, nine. She stopped counting and suddenly felt very clear minded. She was going to die now.

They were called the Morr. The ancient myths of the Forgotten Ones that had once built her world spoke of creatures that had been developed to do labor; some of them had been give intelligence, others had been given great muscle power. None of them were given beauty - there was just no point. Morr was the ancient word for 'worker', 'feeder' and also 'lifelessness'. In essence they looked a bit like walking corpses as their pale grey skin gleamed with moisture, stretching tight over bone and muscle. The Forgotten Ones and their language were long gone but the network of floating worlds, their bridges and their mistakes had withstood time, sometimes silently. The Morr however were not silent. Nor were they tied to their world. They would hunt and every so often they would harvest people for these events. Age was no limit, but parents often told their children that the Morr liked small humans best as they were yet so tender.

But what scared the parents were that these creatures were no fools. Every time someone went missing on one of the worlds the audience watching the ones left behind shivered from the fear of the thought that anyone could be next and no one knew how it would happen. Some said they had seen air ships arriving in the night, landing on grassy plains, making nearly no noise. Some said the Morr had developed their own bridge network between the worlds which allowed them to travel anywhere at any time. Most people chose to ignore these stories and go on with their lives. And then there were the crazies who had decided the Morr were gods that needed to be appeased with sacrifices for the highest good of all concerned. They meant human sacrifices. It was a fact that the Morr hunted for food - cadavers had been found. Sometimes they were not completely devoured but were missing body parts or organs only, as if someone had simply snacked on them and left the rest to rot. There was no regard for human life - it was like a game of cat and mouse.

She took a step back as she watched them come closer. It was as if she was there but not. Her mind was so clear, so sharp. Yet her body refused to succumb to her mental demands. She should run, but where?

the skin on its chest was starting to redden and its sex organ was inflamed. It was a he.

He was hungry.

Suddenly she had a burst of energy. She turned in an instant and just as if someone had shoved her forward she stumbled over the edge. She flew. Her skirt climbed around her upper body and her eyes were covered. She heard water splashing and felt her legs and pelvis go cold. She never felt the impact of the ever flowing water. She fought with her wet clothes as they swirled heavily around her, continuously dragging her self to the surface only to again be engulfed by dark fear of dying.

Was it a fear of dying? She could remember her self having this discussion with her self in some form of slow motion as she drifted in the consuming river, down, down, down. Was she afraid of dying? What was death - only a moment before she would no longer notice the pain that came with it? Or was that perhaps it, was she afraid of pain? She couldn't feel any pain now, only the cold from the water. As a friend it had numbed all the bumps and scratches, taking care to swirl her into a false comfort while it sought to drown her. And suddenly she didn't know what she was afraid of. So she decided to live.

Somehow she had climbed out of the water. Somehow she had carved her way through the thickest bush and most unkind terrain. Once she had heard them coming through the trees and she had hid, made her self as small as she could, heart pounding in her bird like chest, under some boulders covered with sticky moss. She hadn't even dared to breathe. The boulders were friendlier than the river had been as they gently covered her with their cold bodies. She had stayed under them for a very long time and they had not complained, just shared their silence with her.

How the Morr managed to pass her she did not know. Maybe the wind was in her favor.

She stilled her breathing to listen. All was silent. All except for a small breeze that made leaves on the ground rustle in their sleep. She shivered and blinked her eyes. Water still seeped from one of them but it was clearing up. She squinted and saw she was in a clearing. How had she not noticed? How could she have walked into a clearing so stupidly? They would surely find her here if she stayed a moment longer. But where could she go? Where could she go?

The question had driven her all day. Where could she go where could she go where could she go. It was as if she was frantically searching for something in a big vast nothing of trees and bushes and stones. It was cold and her breath turned to cloud as she breathed out now. She felt very tired. Was there a point to this? Was there any escape? Perhaps it would be better to let it happen, to just let them take her and have their way with her body. Eaten alive until she was dead.

She more collapsed than sat down on the ground. She cried helplessly for someone or something to help her but nothing answered. The big nothing was all there was. She lay down on the ground, limp and freezing, and let her arms hold her shoulders for some small amount of comfort. Her breathing stilled as her body moulded to the rugged earth. The wind picked up. It danced back and forth and she could hear tall grass swaying. She sat up with trepidation. Something else was moving too.

Out of the dark blue stepped a creature in the shape of a pale man, very slowly. He had bared teeth and saliva running down his jaw. He was naked, completely silent and she was petrified. The eyes were gleaming dark blue and intelligent. Her question came back to her like a pounding in her head - where could she go where could she go where could she go. She was too exhausted to run. She had no weapon. She closed her eyes and the wind breathed on her face and blew her hair off her shoulders.

It happened very fast. Suddenly she was knocked down and her neck hurt incessantly. Her skirt was torn away and she felt a quick stab of pain between her legs as if she was widening very fast. There was a heaviness on top of her and warm liquid spilling down her shoulder from her neck. She felt a pounding movement inside her and cried out in pain. Her eyes flew open as something tore at her shoulder and in an instant she heard her self scream. But she felt nothing.

Then they were all there, standing in a circle watching for a moment. They attacked at lightning speed and each tore at the flesh of her body as she felt her self vanishing; her heart had been torn out of her torso.

The first one continued to pound into the dead body. He finished, growled loudly and started chewing on a foot. The shoes were lost hours ago.

If it ain't snowing it ain't -

2011-06-12T16:29:00.001+10:00

Mr Chai in 'person'.

Yes I'm out again. This time I'm at a cafe in Pakington street in Geelong's west and I'm slowly being blinded by the light. Don't worry, it's not a killer. I have a strange sensation though that this lighting is used in jewelry stores to make everything sparkle and shine beyond the norm. In any case it's bouncing off my phone, off the table and yes even off my frothed up drink and straight into my eyes. One gets the feeling one should blink more often than natural.

The staff are a normal type of nice; a little overly friendly with a touch of 'unobtainableness' if you were to ask if there is any work available. In other words it's normal and nice as a cafe with a 5 week old management should be. They're trying to make the place work and it shows. And yes, the management is new.

My date for today is as usual Mr Chai. This time he is small in stature and were he a real man I'm not sure I would bed him - he simply does not last long enough. What is interesting about Mr Chai this time is that he is dressed in pastels. One could in fact mistake him for a Mademoiselle Chai in stead, were one not wearing one's glasses.

Mr Chai - as the case may be - is also accompanied by a metal spoon with honey. But where is the teaspoon? No idea, so I stir the whole thing in and get smothered with warm, gooey, hyper sweet and frothy chai kisses. "Nice. Not thrilling but nice." ('History of the World, part 1.) Mr Chai tastes like chai, smells like chai and possibly even looks like chai. However, Mr Chai is today much to contemporary for my artistic pallet which desires the distinct scent (at least) of Boho Chic.

I'm wishing for fresh air as the warmth in here - in much opposition with the cafe's actual name - is starting to make the muscles in my body feel an inch or two too short for my skeleton. In other words there's a head ache coming on, and I am not sure I want to come back again for another mini adventure that leads to pain in my head.

Pardon me Mr Chai but I'm cutting this date short, no pun intended. If we tried to develop a relationship based on the above mentioned issues we could possibly enjoy our selves for a short time but inevitably the relationship would end as neither of us would get what we wanted in the first place.

Now, where are those car keys?

Here are a few tracks for you to listen to, love, dance to and buy buy buy;)

2011-06-08T12:30:00.000+10:00

Ok, so I'm out on iTunes. Some of the tracks are under the band name More. The track names are 'SLAP' and 'It's All Good'.

However, I'm thinking I'll put my new tracks under my MarshmallowDen label instead as that just sounds so much more me. Plus I like it more, heh.

For those of you who like my voice, my style and well me in general I am always on the look out for people who want to collaborate - getting your stuff out there is not cheap and always fun to do with others. So give me a holler if you like;)

Lots of love to you all,

Charlotte the MarshmallowDen

Agent, casting agents, Reiki Degree 1, living in someone else's apartment, being hungry etc.

2011-06-02T22:21:00.000+10:00

Ok, so I've now taken the huge humongous insane grotesque scary-scary step of sending out an e-mail to several acting agents in Melbourne about how extraordinarily great I am. Well, I didn't actually say that but one should really imply such things should one not? One should point out that one is something rather out of the ordinary, should one not? One should 'butter on a little extra' as they say, should one not? Yes I believe they do say that. So I slapped on an attachment not only of my fantastic bio or my awesome head shot but also of 'SLAP', my super funky single on iTunes (under the band name More, in case you feel like shopping. There is also 'It's All Good' by More and two more tracks to come as soon as me and my band can find a name for our selves. Yes, there is no doubt we're awesome.) (Wait... Is that an oxymoron?)

In any case I have sent it. No pride here what so ever. I don't think actors can have pride if they want to continue to get work and um well survive without someone throwing something hard and pointy at them.

I also sent out a mail to a small list of interstate casting agencies as well as Melbourne ones. And all that took me 3 months to do. No, I didn't actually work on the e-mail for 3 months. What I did was procrastinate a lot. Why?

You may well ask. I'm sure after this I'll suddenly find my self with a sooperdooper agent and manager that gets me loads of paid acting work as well as a balanced bank account with a great many zeros in it - before the dot. I'm also completely certain that I will never have to send another e-mail of this type as long as I live because I truly believe in instant manifestation and gratification - especially of the good stuff.

See, I've never had to work for anything in my life. Never. It all just falls in my lap - solid relationships and friends that never complain, plane tickets to my cousin's wedding in Chicago, tickets to the opera, gold coins and Tiffany jewelry, you name it. It just comes to me when I ask The Universe.

Ok, so that wasn't true. I have in fact turned unromantic realist and do not believe that anything good will come to me unless I work my a-s-s off for it first. And may I just say, there isn't that much a-s-s there so I have to be somewhat careful what I do with it.

In fact I could use some fattening up. In fact-fact I do believe I am hungry, and not just hungry for acting work, o-ho no. I do in fact believe I am going to go over to the fridge - which I was given for free because it is old and small and has no cover over the freezer - and rummage through it's contents and make my self an evening meal of some sort. This little meal I am going to eat in front of my small TV on which I will watch a - well, ehem - rather poor rendition of Anne Rice's 'All Saints' book that I borrowed at the library as I love the library and the films are free, whilst sitting on my friend's couch making sure I spill nothing on it, here in my friend's apartment that I am house sitting. During all this time I will ponder and look thoroughly forward to teaching Reiki Degree 1 in the end of June this year.

Yes I believe in good fortune and it is definitely coming my way. What else could be possible?

Why shouldn't we forget? Double standard anyone?

2011-04-25T22:11:00.000+10:00

I'm sitting here with post ANZAC day irritation blues. I have disliked ANZAC day since I arrived in Australia 10 years ago and will probably continue to do so for a long time. I think it's wrong and I will make an effort to write a short presentation on why:

Once a year Australians commemorate the dead and those who suffered in war both in the past and today. They celebrate their lives, their likes and dislikes, their uniforms, their medals and their desire and/or decision to go to war. On top of that there are those who have no idea what war is like. Some wear their family member's medals and parade around proudly - and no doubt some of them think this is cool.

Once a year kids are taught openly that war is bad, but we still go to war because this is 'the right thing to do'.

Once a year kids are subconsciously taught that it is ok to say one thing and do another because we are adults and politicians and we - of course - know what we are doing.

Once a year young people get to see hypocrisy at its best, with adults saying war is wrong and still sending men and women to 'fight for freedom', 'fight against terror', 'fight for peace' etc.

Did anyone ever really consider an alternative option? Did anyone ever consider holding a peace rally instead? Or a collection? Or possibly learn from the past and move on whilst creating something better and more worth while for everyone?

I am not a pacifist. Nor do I believe that anyone has to die or be hurt for the many to survive. I do however believe that Australians live a little too loudly and proudly on the past mistakes of others and their trials and tribulations.

My grandfather ended up in a concentration camp during WW2. His job there was something I will refrain from mentioning here as it was rather horrible. But he never spoke of it to his family after he came home. His life was forever changed and not in a good way. Many Norwegians/Scandinavians ended up in such situations and many died horribly. But Norway has never had a yearly parade to commemorate death and suffering. They in stead have a yearly parade to commemorate the day they got their constitution.

Why is Australia still living in the past?

Audition

2011-03-04T18:45:00.003+11:00

They're disgusting, elating, fun, horrible, interesting, something you learn from, never boring, energetic, full of competitors, scary, awesome, inspiring, devaluing, eye openers, insulting, shocking, part of the process, a must, embarrassing, tedious, a lot of work - often for very little if anything at all, sometimes leaves you with a feeling of having done something horribly wrong, thought inducing, sickening, time consuming and never peaceful. Auditions. I had one yesterday.

About a week and a half ago I got a message through Facebook (yes I'm there also) saying that a well known professional theatre company was seeking one male and one female for their productions to be played in schools around Melbourne. I raced to my e-mail account - which thank God is in my computer with my Facebook so I didn't have far to go - and e-mailed the director about how to get an audition. I sent my bio/CV and my head shot and hoped for the best.

The day after I had received a reply from said lady that yes they would love to have me audition and really enjoyed reading my bio/CV. There was only one thing - as I lived in Geelong would I not find it hard traveling in and out from Melbourne 5 times a week? I sent a reply mail and explained that Geelong is only 50 minutes away and that no it wouldn't be an issue if I got to work professionally for the next 6 months or so. She did not reply.

4 days later I tried e-mailing again. I said the same thing, explaining that traveling to Melbourne every day would be a joy if I had paid work as an actor. Again, no reply.

Considering how sweet she had seemed in her first e-mail this seemed a little odd and I had a feeling time was definitely running out. I checked my mail regularly and there it was - the first mail I had sent in reply had bounced back. It took 5 days to get back to me. I therefor looked up the number of said company online and gave them a call.

Hey presto! The young lady answered the phone with a smile in her voice. I explained who I was and that my reply e-mail had bounced back only today and was I still able to audition? She replied, still with a smile in her voice, that sure I could audition. But she wanted to know about traveling. Did I not feel it would be too much to go back and forth to Melbourne so often? Was I thinking of moving to the city perhaps? I said no it would not be an issue as it is actually not that far away. She then replied that the tour they would go on would be all around Melbourne and some destination would be more than 2.5 hours away from Geelong. That might be a bit much, mightent it? I said yes, but in that case I'd move to Melbourne and that I really didn't mind. She said well in that case they would love to have me audition and she would send me the audition pieces right away. One was a speech by Lady Macbeth and then there was also a poem - a long poem. six stanzas long and had the well known title of Mulga Bill.

I had an audition. Finally after a dry spell of five or six months I had an audition. The relief and hope flowed over me and I felt successful. Don't ask me why but I did.

Having had long pieces to learn in short amounts of time before I thought very little of it and waited eagerly for the e-mail. I was at least half way to confident I could do this, even though the actual audition was only 3.5 days away. Sure enough the e-mail arrived within a few moments.

I opened the mail and had a look at the traveling details. It was confusing to say the least but though less of it and decided to use online maps to find it on the day - the audition wasn't until 3.30 pm.

I looked at the attachment and read through the Shakespeare speech. I liked it instantly. Then I had a look at the poem. Yup, it was longer than usual but I'd be ok I though. I started writing them both down by hand not only because my printer was out of ink but because it helps to memorize things to write them down by hand; you get a memory link not only to the words but to the action and experience of writing it all down. It took me 45 minutes. Then I started rehearsing the two pieces.

To learn something by heart your can't expect to feel confident only by reading it 5 times. It takes much more than that. Once you know the piece you might feel extremely relieved or possibly elated that you're finally there! I know I lose count after about 10 times, but then who would actually want to know how many times you have read through something? It would be nauseating, not to mention awe inspiring. Personally I read pieces over and over. Once I have some sort of understanding of it I stand up and read it out loud. I might include gestures, intonation, movement or such. Then I read bits over and over again and cover the paper. Then I ad another bit to what I'm working on and cover the paper, and thus it goes on and on. It takes days for a 1 minute monologue to sit properly in my head but once I'm there it is worth it.

By the third day of rehearsing I had Lady Macbeth down. By the fourth day I had run through the entire poem - all six stanzas - without flinching. I wasn't overly confident about it but again though it would have to do; no audition is worth killing your self over.

Then came the time to plan the trip. I clicked on to www.whereis.com.au and typed in the approximate address. It didn't find it. I tried another version of the same thing - again, nothing came up. I then decided to sit down and decipher the directions as they were written in the e-mail I had received from the company; it was written as if you came from Melbourne and not from Geelong which is South West of Melbourne. Badabing! There it was. However, it was still a rather complex place to get to. Thankfully I knew how to get half way so that was at least something - half way meaning getting on the M1 and following it for 30 - 40 minutes. I sent the map to my phone and marked it.

The time came to get on the road. I got into my car, took care to notice how little petrol I had - quarter tank, didn't take care to find where I was going in my little book of maps, turned on one of Laurel K. Hamilton's Anita Blake audio books and set off. Soon I was on the Princes Highway and nearing my turn off. Traffic was getting tough.

I found my self looking at the sign spelling out that this was the road I should turn in and passed straight by it. I started yelling at the traffic lights. Why aren't light green when you need them to be? Are there little men and women sitting in some room somewhere in Melbourne pressing a button that says 'green' when they think "oh yes, she's about to burst. We'll let her go now,"? Or is there some unwritten universal law that says if you're late you must by official standards become even later? Yes I know I hadn't prepared my trip that well. Yes I knew I would finally get there. But one thing you really want to do for an audition is to turn up at the correct time and not 15 minutes late because you took 3 wrong turns trying to take a right one.

I kept going thinking there must be a right turn off the road somewhere soon. Alas, no. In fact I had to go at least one kilometer into Melbourne and across a bridge and a river before I came to one. Finally I did a U-turn and started back towards my designated destination. I had at least 3 red lights and although I started my trip 1.5 hours before my audition time I arrived right on the dot. I met the director and a small group of ladies outside the complex where we were to meet, and we waited a little longer for late comers. There were none - I was the last one.

The ladies were lovely and we all walked in between buildings, in huge metal doors, up clanking metal stairs that created an interesting echo in the building, in another set of odd doors. down a white hallway and in yet another strange looking door - this one wood I think, and into a huge room that looked like a warehouse divided into an apartment in the foreground and a theatre rehearsal space in the back; there were black curtains dividing the two sections. And then there was a couch, and on it sat a person I knew, strangely enough. It was one of the directors/actors from my agency. I looked at him and he looked at me and then I decided it might be better to go over and say hello - we had know each other for several months by this time so nothing wrong with that.

As it turned out he lived there. He had organized the space so that he could run his theatre company from there as well as live there. This usually saved him some cash. He also rented the space out to other companies that needed rehearsal spaces.

After our little chat I walked in to the rehearsal space and saw - with awe - that it wasn't just five or six people that were auditioning. Oh no no no. It was at least 30 people sitting around the walls listening to a young man, or should I perhaps call him 'boy', that was talking about the company and introducing his team workers - the young lady that met us down stairs and an older gentleman with a cap and glasses.

I proceeded to sit where indicated and listened to what they were saying. As there were so many of us - many more than were expected - we would each come up in turn and perform in front of the group.

Shock.

Horror.

This was a little new to me. I had done auditions before in a group of five but over thirty competitors watching my every move and hearing my every intonation on the floor was more than I expected. I was somewhat nervous, indeed I was.

Then I thought, screw that, I'm here and I can act. In fact I'm very good at it, so I'm told. I sat there and surveyed the brick and cement room filled with 'young hopefuls'. Oh, and I mean young. I think I was in fact the oldest 'young hopeful' there. Most of them were under 24 years of age, some of them not able to shave yet albeit their obvious otherwise freedom from puberty issues.

The 'boy' - dressed in tight jeans, a t-shirt that clung to his huge biceps and swirling tattoos, clear framed nerd glasses and odd shaved-on-the-sides-and-long-at-the-top hair do - told us we'd have 10 minutes to prepare and not to be embarrassed about making a lot of noise doing voice exercises as we'd all been through that before and knew how much noise we made. He then walked out of the room and all sorts of commotion started. I had never seen anything like it.

It might just be me but a big room with great acoustics and many many people going "AAAAAAAA" and "OOOOOOOO" in various tones all at the same time whilst sometimes lying on the floor with their knees up and sometimes pointing them selves at the walls is really quite a spectacle. It reminded me of a film with Shelley Long and Bette Middler - I think it's called 'Outrageous Fortune' - where they are sitting waiting to audition for the great Korsanowski and are making all sorts of odd noises and movements.

Oh yes, the movements. Let me tell you, some people are very acrobatic. There were stretches, bending over here and there, springs, cracking, you name it. I was half expecting there to be smells to go with it all but thankfully there I was spared. For a moment I thought I should be doing something odd too. But then I decided that if this is what these people need to do to 'warm up', which in my mind just means feel more confident, then so be it - I had been warming up for several days. Besides, I had been hollering so much in the car that I felt practically elated from the intake of oxygen. So I sat there, gave my self some Reiki and watched the pre-show.

After about an hour of sitting there watching people do what they could and sometimes also do their best it was finally my turn. I asked the panel if I could borrow a male from the 'audience' and was allowed to pick a guy to be my Macbeth for my first speech. It went great. Or at least I felt it did.

This is the thing about auditions - you can do a really good job, feel great about it and not get the job; you can also do a really crap job of it, not understand what you are saying, faint from nervous exhaustion, chew chewing gum, speak in tongues or run away and actually get the job. One never knows.

So, I had delivered my first speech and it went really well. I had picked a good partner to work with too - he didn't just stand there but silently performed along side me. Kudos to you Mr Black Man, (should have been Othello we were doing). I finished to applause and the sound of people proverbially wiping their brows. Yes, one could also take that as a bad sign but in this case it was the opposite - I'm sure of it.

I sat down and watched others perform their pieces. Some of them were asked to do both of them and others, like my self, only did one. Later the panel asked who had not performed both pieces and we put our hands up. We were told to have a break as it had already been an hour and a half, and afterwards we would all finish both our pieces and finally go home.

The break came and went and shared with us actors the joy of cereal boxes stapled to the wall in the kitchen and a toilet that broke. Fun times to remember. The light shining through the big windows in the rehearsal space had moved and was no longer as sharp as it had been. There was a slight golden glow entering the rooms and you could sense that the working day had ended. It was 5.30 PM.

We returned to out seats and watched more auditionees. I won't bore you with too much detail about them. However, somethings should be mentioned. Like for instance the girl who had not had lunch and forgot her lines to the point where if I had not known the lines my self I would not have understood what on earth she was talking about and started wondering if she was on drugs. I must also mention the young man who seemed to be an expert at leaping. He literally leaped around the room pretending to be everyone and everything in Mulga Bill. Very charming. Also totally weird.

I was finally asked to join a threesome performing Mulga Bill. One lady was narrator, one was Mulga Bill and I - oh joy of joys - was all else. I started out pretending to be the horse, moved quickly into being "the grinning shop assistant", only to rapidly change into a clucking duck. Yes, indeed - clucking.

From there I went on to becoming the wheels on Mulga Bill's bicycle and then uttered the scream as Bill was flung into the Dead Man's Creek. In amongst this I was also a wallaroo scrambling up the wall and a wombat hiding under a bench. Finally I took my seat again and continued watching more auditions. Sigh. It was almost getting boring and it would have been had it not been for the fact that I still had not narrated Mulga Bill; considering how much work I had actually put into remembering all those words I would be damned if I'd leave without actually saying them!

In the end I asked the girl on the panel if I could possibly also narrate Mulga Bill? She said that would be lovely and I continued waiting. Finally it was my turn again and now I got to narrate. I thought I wouldn't remember all those words and it was obvious I was a bit nervous. However, I actually got through it very well. I stumbled once and my co-actors paused and looked around for the next step to take in their own actions. But thankfully I caught my self and continued, as did they. They stopped us half way as we were running very late in the day so we didn't get through the entire poem. Blessing in disguise, I say. I don't know if I would have remembered all six stanzas.

The young lady on the panel gave me a great compliment and told me I had a beautiful voice. There was plenty of note taking and silence from the 'boy' - more than normal actually. I have no idea what that meant but I'll take it as a good sign. I took the girl's compliment with me and sat down again.

Finally it was over and everyone had had a turn to do both pieces. The panel thanked everyone that hadn't left yet for their time and effort and told us they had been thoroughly impressed with how many had shown up and how talented we were. Contrary to popular belief this is not something one hears that often at an audition so we must have done something right. They told us that they had not expected to have to have call backs but would do so that same week. We would all hear from them within very short time.

We went home. Some of us had a few words in farewell, a couple of compliments and possibly some that were planning to have a coffee sometime later in the week. I was happy with my performance and jumped readily into my car and headed home. The drive didn't seem half as long and I had my trusted Lauren K. Hamilton audio book on the stereo. Very good company on a long ride.

I must still have had my phone on silent when I was driving - I didn't hear it ring, nor did I hear the little bell that twinkles when I receive a voice mail. But when I got home, opened the annoying front door with the annoying front door key that never enters its respective key hole without a fight, I put my bag on the table and took out my mobile. And there was a missed call. There was also a voice mail. I pressed play and then turned on the loud speaker. The young lady's voice danced out of my phone. She gave many compliments to us all that auditioned and said she had been very impressed. But as she was talking I could hear a tone of sadness in her voice. Finally the message said she could not offer me a part. She didn't say why.

Sadness. Melancholy. Depression. Depression. Depression. Grrr. Aaargh. I had worked and worked and worked to learn lines, find streets, be on time, be impressive and professional and so on and so forth. And for what? A nervous trip to a toiletless warehouse in Melbourne. I felt like crying.

And after a week - such is the life of an actor. I had another audition.

Love Symphony 4

2011-01-24T20:40:00.000+11:00

Two old men sitting on a bench. (One man is played by a woman.)

Casanova: You did not love me.

Bellino: No, you are right. I did not love you. In fact I think I despised you.

Casanova: Despised me? How so?

Bellino: Well, you were always so loose with your words, so attractive and such a good listener that it was almost hard not to hate you. All women loved you and desired you. Even the men did. And you were a better man than I ever could be.

Casanova: Oh stop. You were a terrific man. You fooled everyone. I couldn’t do that. Not like you. I had to work for my supper.

Bellino: You had to work for your supper? What a silly notion. All you had to do was look at a woman and she would open her legs for you. I, on the other hand, literally had to work for my supper. Do you know how many years I had to train my voice to function properly as a castrato? Do you know how difficult it was to keep my social visage up at all times? Are you in fact able to imagine the extraordinary pain I have felt my entire life when I think of the injury done to me as a child? I mean, not just physically but mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I was never a whole man. Had I been an Egyptian I would never have reached the afterworld with missing loins. Or was that the Romans?

Casanova: Oh please.

Bellino: It’s true! I wouldn’t!

Casanova: Hush. Must you do that? You always get so loud!

Bellino: Well what do you expect, you old twat. You’ve upset me with your egocentricity. And I was an opera singer.

Casanova: Egocentricity? (Aside) No wonder you’re in pain if you use words of that size - your head might explode. And as for opera singer -

Bellino: What was that?

Casanova: I said nothing.

Bellino: I was a great opera singer! I had the world at my feet. What did you mean when you said ‘I fooled everyone’?

Casanova: You have selective hearing and I don’t remember.

Bellino: I think you do but as usual you don’t care to discuss things unless it will get you laid, which these days is more a fantasy than a reality, heh.

Casanova: That’s not true!

Bellino: I believe it is.

Casanova: No it is not and I can prove it. (Pause) What were we talking about?

Bellino: I don’t know. Either your flaccidness or my fooling everyone.

Casanova: Let’s discuss the latter.

Bellino: Yes, let’s. This sex talk is making me feel strange.

Casnova: You are old.

Bellino: And you are flaccid.

Casanova: I am not!

Bellino: Get on with it!

Casanova: Alright. How did you fool everyone: Well, you made your self out to be someone you were not. You were a great singer, a superb castrato with a voice from heaven which made one feel like warm summer rain was gently caressing one’s ears. You had a cherubic beauty in spirit as in mind and body which made one want to worship your gentleness and touch your splendid curves. You dressed your self to attract the right attention from all and you used your feminine wiles as well as your masculine ones - or what little there were of them - to improve your self, always, in other people’s view. But you were never your self. So in that sense you fooled everyone into thinking you were other than you are. You see?

Bellino: You sound like you are flirting with me.

Casanova: Well I am not. That was a long time ago, my friend. A very long time ago.

Bellino: You still consider your self a philosopher.

Casanova: Of course.

Bellino: You sound more like a lover to me. The two are very different. You should pick one option and stick to your choice.

Casanova: Well, to be honest I was a kind of ladies man, wasn’t I. My currency was an unbridled self-esteem, which inexperience forbade me to doubt, and that made me quite well know in ladies’ bed chambers at one time. That in a combination with my good looks, my listening skills and a solid amount of Venetian charm “put me on the road to amorous adventure”, as that writer - what was her name, Ms. Summers I believe - said in her book. But I was only a lover of the calibre you are thinking of because it gave me pleasure. I was not a lover for ‘professional’ reasons. So therefore I am a scholar, I am a man of letters, an author. But oh the women!

Bellino: You are flaccid, aren’t you. That is why you have turned into such a pompous ass. You can’t get it up.

Casanova: That is most insulting and totally untrue. You’re just jealous I didn’t fall for you... Completely.

Bellino: But you did fall for me!

Casanova: And you tricked me!

Bellino: Here we go. I’ll never hear the end of this, will I?

Casanova: You tricked everyone! There I was thinking, “my God in Heaven, I am in love with a man. A castrato, no less, but still a man.” Do you know what that can cause? You mingled your masculinity and your femininity so beautifully it was difficult not to fall in love with you at first sight. Up on that stage you shone, you were like an androgynous angel come down from our Lord to sing his praise with your gloriously high pitched voice. And we all thought “What a wondrously beautiful man”. But you weren’t such a man, were you.

Bellino: No.

Casanova: In fact, you weren’t a man at all, were you.

Bellino: No.

Casanova: You weren’t ‘snipped’ nor did you have - what did you call it? Oh yes - “extraordinary pain when you thought of the injury done you as a child”. No injury was ever done you.

Bellino: Oh I was injured alright. I was injured the day I was conceived and God decided I should be born without a penis. I was injured when the Pope decided women couldn’t perform on stage so I had to pretend to be a man in order to do what I was born to do. I was injured when you left me because I was a woman!

Casanova: I didn’t leave you because you were a woman...

Bellino: You could have fooled me. Off came my breaches and off you went!

Casanova: No, not at all.

Bellino: Well, why then? Please, answer me.

Casanova: Because you made a fool of my love for you. Because you made me see my self in a very different light, as a man that loves a man. Because as a man you were so close to what I was and as a woman you were so familiar that I couldn’t bare to look at you. Because you lied to me and you hurt me and you made me feel an old fool.

Bellino: I never lied to you about how I felt.

Casanova: No, but you made a lie out of how I felt. I thought I was finally starting to learn to love in all completeness of the word. Without boundaries. No gender, no sex.

Bellino: No sex? You?

Casanova: Stop being silly; you know what I mean. I was always a philosopher, you see.

Bellino: What does this mean?

Casanova: That I am a philosopher?

Bellino: No. Did we love each other once?

Casanova: I honestly don’t know. A bit late to walk down that lane now I suppose, ha?

Bellino: Yes, probably.

Casanova: Yes, probably.

Bellino: Casanova?

Casanova: Yes, Teresa?

Bellino: Are you flaccid?

Casanova: I am not!

Bellino: Well if you’re not... Want to have sex?

Any Day Now/Love Symphony 1

2011-01-24T20:37:00.001+11:00

She: I do.

He: I don't.

She: What?

He: What?

She: Never mind.

He: Never mind what?

She: Just never mind.

He: What?

She: Oh for Heaven's sake.

He: I'm not getting you.

She: I know that.

He: Do you?

She: I definitely do.

He: What?

She: I am the most intelligent person you have ever met.

He: No you're not.

She: Yes, I am.

He: No, you're not.

She: Really? Well then tell me who is.

He: No.

She: Why not?

He: Why not... What?

She: You're pulling my leg.

He: I'm not pulling anything.

She: You did last night.

He: What?

She: You 'pulled' last night.

He: Ah. I see.

pause

She: I really am the most intelligent person you have ever met.

He: No you're not.

She: Yes I bloody well am.

He: No, obviously not.

She: How can you say that?

He: What?

She: That I'm not intelligent.

He: Didn't say that.

She: Did too.

He: Nah.

She: Yep.

He: No, i didn't!

pause

She: Well, if you didn't say that then what did you say?

He: I just said you weren't the most intelligent person I have ever met.

She: Ah.

He: Yes.

pause

She: Well, if I'm not the most intelligent person you have ever met then I’d like to know who is?

He: I am.

She: No, you're not.

He: I am indeed.

She: No chance.

He: Oh yes. Absolutely.

She: How so?

He: I don’t think you’d like to know.

She: Oh don't give me that.

He: What? I just answered your question.

She: No you didn't. You just asked another one using rhetoric. I detest rhetoric.

He: Because?

She: Because it makes it difficult to be right.

He: But you were wrong.

She: That's not the point. And stop trying to change the subject. Who is the most intelligent person you have ever met? Come on, tell me.

He: I am. I told you that a moment ago.

She: But that doesn't make any sense.

He: How so?

She: Because you're not very bright.

He: What are you saying?

She: What am I saying? I'm saying you're not that smart.

He: I'm smarter than you.

She: And how did you arrive at that conclusion?

He: Well for one thing I didn't start this conversation.

She: How does that prove anything?

He: It proves that I am at least one notch smarter than you so in actual fact I would be the smartest person I have ever met.

She: Ah.

He: Yes.

She: Hm.

He: Yup.

She: Ha!

He: What?

She: Got'cha.

He: What?

She: Nothing.

He: Oh come on. Don't start that.

She: I'm not starting anything. It's really nothing.

He: Fine.

pause

She: Nothing at all.

He: Oh for Heaven’s sake. What is it. Out with it.

She: Oh alright, if you must know.

He: Well I don't really have to -

She: Shoosh and let me speak.

He: Well then.

She: I am the most intelligent person you have ever met.

He: Is that it? No, you're not. I am. I just told you that.

She: But you were wrong.

He: How can I be wrong? It's not a question of anyone being wrong.

She: But you were. Want to know why?

He: No.

pause

He: Oh alright. Why?

She: You never met your self.

He: I beg your pardon?

She: You never met your self. You live in you, in fact you are you so how can you ever have met you? You can't meet your self. You're only one person. A person simply doesn't meet them selves. And since you just said that you are one notch smarter than me for not starting this conversation I must be the most intelligent person you have ever met since you have in fact met me. Get it? HA.

He: I see.

She: Do you now.

He: Ok. But that begs the question: Are you the only one?

She: What?

He: Are you the only one?

She: Am I the only one... What?

He: Never mind, you wouldn't understand.

She: I beg your pardon?

He: Oh alright, alright. You have metaphorically twisted my arm. Here it is; how many intelligent people do you think I have met so far, and are you the only one that I am one notch smarter than?

She: What on earth do you mean by that?

He: You heard me.

She: I heard you but all I heard was blah blah bla intelligent blah.

He: Well that proves it.

pause

She: Am I the only one?

He: No, not really.

She: I'm not?

He: Well, ok, yes, you are but that doesn't mean that you always have been or always will be.

She: And what does that mean?

He: Well, how many intelligent people are there in the universe? There must be plenty. One of them must be sure to knock you off your pedestal.

She: Aha.

He: Yeah.

She: Really?

He: Possibly.

pause

She: Would you want them too though?

He: Oh God. Would I want them to what?

She: Would you want them to ‘knock me off my pedestal’?

He: I don't.

She: I do.

Copyright Charlotte Hukvari

Naked people.

2011-01-07T22:46:00.000+11:00

As summer seems to have decided to join us - finally - this year, I decided it was time for my first visit to the beach yesterday.

Everyone was working and I was bored and a tad lonely, so I packed up my things and got into my car. On the way I pondered where I should go. Originally I was aiming for Eastern Beach, which is an area built for swimming and cavorting around by the ocean for young and old alike. It has swings, a kids pool with a great big fountain in the middle, an ocean 'pool' with bars so no sharks can get in, a fast food joint, toilets and a huge amount of stairs between the water and parking area. However I reconsidered as this is also the one place where all my old students and their parents would end up; I was not in the mood to meet half naked teenagers I can no longer remember the names of. Also I relished the idea of sunbathing topless, and that I would definitely not do amongst half naked teenagers or their parents. I would get arrested for flashing. Or worse - severely hit on. Hence I decided to travel all the way down to Torquay and go to the nude beach where one would be safe from arrests at least.

Usually the nude beach in Torquay is fairly quiet and there might a couple of older gentlemen hanging about. However this time I drove into the parking lot to find that there were only a few spaces left. Thank God the beach is so very much bigger than the parking lot.

When on a nude beach it seems to be customary to make certain you have a wide expanse of space between your self and others, especially if traveling alone. There were a fair few tents up as well as singles lying about; the visitors were covering a vast amount of beach area and had at least 20m between their designated spots. In some cases the lotion cork had been proverbially popped and you could almost smell the bacon frying walking down the path as they were turning first golden, then orange, then maroon. It was almost ordinary. A nude beach should never be ordinary.

Of course the one thing that makes it special is the amount of naked flesh dangling about, both male and female. True, females are rather few but they are there and if you look hard enough - no pun intended - you will see them. In my experience the ratio is one female to every seven males. Yesterday I actually saw three topless ladies within 50 meters of my self. It made me feel quite comfortable. It was almost like in the old days when we went to the beach in Norway where nearly everyone struts about with their boobs out on the beach and no body would seem to give a hoot because it was just so normal.

I have to admit here though that going topless - and especially bottomless - on a nude beach in Australia has in the past been a little uncomfortable. You get the notion that if you're a female and prancing around in the nude like all these other dudes on the nude beach you must be careful. I have a few times been told I should take someone with me or that I shouldn't go there. I have even had strange men come up to me - topless or nude as I was - and ask if they should sit next to me as some form of protection from the other men on the beach.

Two years ago I had a part in a Greek play titled Lysistrata as 'Reconciliation', where I would be nude for several minutes standing like a statue on a pillar. Challenging as it was I decided to do my best and took it on wholeheartedly. This meant that since it was summer I had to do what I could to have no tan lines, so I decided to go to the nude beach instead of the beach for the 'normal people'. As I calmly lay there with my book feeling the breeze on my buttocks, a stranger - male of course - waltzed over and said I should be careful as there was a man up in the bushes staring at me. I thanked him, he gave me a look as if he had done a very good deed and left me to my nudity. About 15 minutes later I realized that the man he thought was staring at me was in fact staring at his dog that was running around in the bushes above me. Appearances can be deceiving.

Yesterday something along the same line happened. I had placed my topless self between what looked like two benign companies - an extremely well hung man and his little daughter of about six years of age, and a tent with a middle aged man reading a book whom I minutes later realized to my joy was a topless woman with small breasts when lying down. As I lay on my stomach reading my own lengthy book, a man that had been sitting frying him self into a darker shade of purple twenty meters further down the beach walked slowly in my direction talking on his mobile phone. However when he reached me he sat down on his haunches, took off his cap and said in a Mediterranean accent, "I'm not trying to pick you up or anything but would you like me to come sit with you?" My reply was, "uuum...". He then proceeded with, "It's just that there are a lot of men here. You're on your own, you know. I feel sorry for you." There was also an apologetic little grin. I managed to control my self and refused to frown at anything but the sun, so I simply said "I'm actually waiting for my boyfriend. But thank you." I am after all brought up properly. He said he understood and that this was ok, and then he waddled off in the sand back to his toweled perch.

I was a little insulted. Who the heck did he think he was dealing with? I am a tall scary bare breasted female with a voice that can cut glass - not to mention what my 'headlights' could do, and he was a short and literally colorful man with a shaved scrotum. I could kick any one's ass. But I didn't kick anything. I breathed deeply and turned over. Really, naked shaved men really are not that scary. Creepy, but not scary. Unnatural, but not scary. I blinked and stared right into the eyes of the extremely well hung man with the little daughter. And their dog.

Why do men shave when going to the nude beach? Are they afraid of tan lines? Does having pubic hair on display make them feel more exposed than when they are clean shaven? Doesn't having some form of camouflage make men more comfortable? Or is it that body hair isn't acceptable? What ever the cause hairlessness is what make the men on a nude beach the embodiment of 'disturbing'. It's like it's all on display for a reason, and that reason ain't the sun shining.

Being a girl, I find male genitalia fascinating mainly since I don't have any my self. They're like this weird rubber toy you can bend and pull and do all sorts of things with and they never get tired and tell you to go away. I also find the nude beach great entertainment. There is just so much to look at. Usually most men are quite small 'down there' when on the beach in Torquay as it is not very warm. But I believe the menfolk on the beach yesterday must have found the temperature quite enjoyable, both in the water and on land.

As the purple man disappeared to his designated area I turned away from him and landed my vision smack bam into the sunglassed sight of... Well... Mr Big. Mr Cucumber Big. His daughter was busily keeping an eye on their little dog whom persisted in coming over to sniff my toes or my hair or my towel - but nothing else. She was dressed in a bikini top and bottom. Mr Big however was not dressed in anything but his sunglasses and his wedding ring.

I can't help it, I have to have a look. It's like heterosexual men with boobs; if it's there it's meant to be examined.

Mr C. Big and his daughter turned out to be quite normal in spite of their 'strangeness'. In fact they were very polite and well spoken. Even the dog had ethics - in the end. They seemed to think the dog bothered me and made a great effort to control him by giving him strict orders. He obeyed and sprinted off to the tent with the topless book reading lady who now was accompanied by another dog. They proceeded to sniff each other's bits; we humans proceeded to stay civil and courteous and thus looked in the other direction.

A moment later I felt more than warm enough to go test out the water, literally. I only intended to dip my toes in the waves, but on my way to the water I changed my mind and though I was darn tootin' going to dip all of me in no matter what the temperature. To my surprise it was very nice. It wasn't exactly warm but it didn't make me think ice bergs were going to float past any minute either. I went for a little paddle and noticed the little girl was about 10 m away. For a moment I thought I might say a polite hello but she seemed to do her best to evade me so I gave up the idea.

Until her father said hello to me. Still ever so polite he enquired about the tattoo on my ankle while wading towards his daughter - it's a black panther with wings and about 7 cm in height. He was wondering how it was in the sun and did it hurt to get it? Like I said, he was quite diplomatic and I replied that yes it did get warm in the sun and yes it did hurt to get it. He said it must have taken a while to do. I said yes it did and I had in fact asked the artist for a break but he refused on the grounds that it would get worse if he stopped. All the while I was quite aware of the cucumber dangling in the sea breeze. He smiled and turned to his daughter and the cucumber was devoured by the waves. Waves that according to his anatomy must be delightfully warming and not at all cool. I blinked and dove.

I stayed in the water long enough for Mr Big and his offspring to plant them selves safely back on their towels. Then I waded out of the water my self, walked up to my own towel and lay down to dry. Once dry I got bored. The dog was under control, the sun was setting and I had had all the entertainment I needed. So I packed up my things and walked towards the path back up to the parking lot. On my way I walked past the purple man. He called out as I shoved my way through the loose sand and asked, "Your boyfriend didn't show up then?" I politely replied no, he had a client, and waddled on past him with my clothes on and my head held high. There were bigger dicks than him around.

The 'Illusive' Good Sex

2011-01-06T12:02:00.000+11:00

MarhsmallowDen NYE 2010

I've been reading.

Now I hear you proverbially say "and what has she been reading then?". (Oh go on, admit it; you're curious.)

I've been reading about sex. Yes, copulation between human beings. Hence the warning on this blog that there might be content under aged persons should - according to the law or something - not read. (My personal opinion is that if it's good information anyone who is interested should be allowed to read about sex, but I'll pass on the finer details of that topic for now.)

For years I thought the debate and discussion on men not understanding women sexually was just psycho babble started by people who needed something to talk about. But I seem to have woken up to a new dawn; I've noticed that over time I have slowly realized - like the avant-garde before me, with undulated amazement - that these babblers actually had a point. In fact they have had several points.

I'll run the risk of making my self sound like an octogenarian/wise woman and state my wide eyed yet mature opinion: Men for some reason often seem to think they understand women, but the 'thinking' doesn't often evolve to actual 'feeling'; and by feeling I mean the age old 'empathy'. (Like I said - octogenarian.) If one wants to truly and completely understand another person, (or animal or plant etc.) does one not then need a certain amount of empathy for how the other person (or animal or plant etc.) feels and not just how they function mentally? Is one not required to put ones self into the other person's (or animal or plant or cyborg's etc.) situation?

What do I mean?

Men often seem to have a built in (and possibly genetic) belief that every person has an 'on' button whether male or female, and that this 'on' button is triggered by such things as boobs, erections, moaning, kneading, pumping, grabbing, dirty talk and so on. For many persons this seems to be where the story ends though. However, for the female in the relationship - if that is what it is - that's not enough. It actually gets boring. Yes. Boring.

Sex, 'the eff word' and love making are definitely not the same. Love making is in a league of its own compared to the other two definitions. If you are to create lasting interest in what you do in the bed chamber with a partner you need to create communication. This does not mean talking incessantly the entire way through the act - definitely not. It means listen to the tone of voice, listen to the body language, listen to who your partner really is. Recognize their desires, not just sexually but in life in general. This makes it easier to find out what they are in truth interested in in the bedroom. And by all means don't fall into the trap of thinking that if your partner has an orgasm you've done a brilliant job. That might not be the case.

I once had a partner with whom I continued our, ehem, 'sexual relations' after we split. He proceeded to joyfully tell me "now that's what I call sex" once after we'd finished - both of us. I just stared at him feeling a frown of frustration developing between my eye brows: Really... Could you have told me this sooner?

It's not about sexy underwear or looking great naked. It's not about being in control either. It's more about a certain understanding of your partner, and the feeling that your well being and happiness are in fact important to someone else. If your partner tells you you're doing fine - don't believe them; make that extra effort. If your partner says they love what you're doing - ok, but don't believe them; aim to do better. If your partner tells you they're not up for sex - have a care; they might want something else that isn't 'sex' at all. They might be waiting for you to notice something significant, or maybe they might not communicate easily and need a helping hand, so to speak. Survey the situation and if necessary ask without being intrusive.

Aim for good communication and be aware of who you are dealing with on more levels than just the one. The best sex of my life (oh yes, laying it on the line here) has been when I felt there was another person there with me, not just in me. It's a joint venture - join in.

No, that's not Reiki...

2011-01-02T22:06:00.000+11:00

I don't know how many times I've had people tell me odd stories about what they call 'Reiki' - the stories are countless. However, most of the time they proved to be something completely other than Reiki. I thought I'd take a moment to explain a few misconceptions; I'm sure there are more to come:

True Reiki does not deplete

If you are properly trained by a Reiki teacher of levels 3B, 5B or 7B you should not feel depleted after a treatment or attunement. It is more likely that you feel elated, peaceful, loving, happy, energetic, calm and clear.

As the Reiki is a higher life energy (Rei=Highest, Ki=Universal Life Energy) it stands to reason that giving/sharing the Reiki would only serve to 'give to you what you give to others', much like the law of attraction states. What you give is what you receive, and so as you share the Reiki energy you not only receive the same back from the Universal Source but also receive two if not three times back what you give. This is part of the beauty of it. You can not run out of energy, there is no depletion or draining. You are not sharing your own life force but that energy which comes from the Source and is the birth right of all living creatures.

'Connecting' with Reiki

For those who are properly trained it is difficult to imagine having to 'connect' with the Reiki as it is a constantly flowing energy that flows through you when ever you touch or come near something with your hands - palm or back of the hand.

You do no need to 'connect' with the Reiki energy as it is a permanent part of your life; it is not your life force - you have your own one of those. But when it flows through you it does so independently of your own structures and systems. It becomes you and you become it as you take on the greater gifts that it brings to your life.

If you ever feel you do not constantly have the Reiki you might need to reassess your training. Reiki Degree 1 has four - yes 4 - attunements and they are not all the same. Reiki Degree 2 has only one attunement and this one is different to the ones you received in Reiki Degree 1. All the 7 levels - yes, seven levels - have differing attunements. Through these attunements the alignment is made permanent and the energy flows through the hands.

Sending distant Reiki

This is a fantastic way of assisting others, sending Reiki to one self, sending it to events coming up or sending it to clear trauma from the past.

However, contrary to what some people have been told one does not connect through the Crown but through the Third Eye. There are three symbols which one learns in Reiki Degree 2 that must be drawn, visualized or stroked out over e.g. the forehead of the client in order to connect to them, date and venue of an event or specific arrangement/structure taught in Reiki Degree 2.

It is very easy to do and a great assistance to clear your mind, body, spirit and anything else you might like.

Reiki and crystals

Reiki healing and crystal healing are no where near the same thing. At all.

As mentioned above there is no reason for true Reiki to deplete or make the practitioner feel anything but good. Crystals however may sometimes do as they please as they often have a will of their own. This is not to say anything specifically bad about crystal healing. These stones do give out energy as much as they take energy, though.

Apparently crystals are called 'the rock people' by the Aboriginals, or so I'm told. Taking a rock or crystal, cutting it out of its habitat and then breaking it into little bits can be likened to taking a human and breaking it into little bits and then asking it to help you heal.

I have often - and I mean often - come across persons with crystals in jewelry hanging around their necks where the crystal is actually so low on energy it has had to take energy from the heart and throat area of the bearer. This in turn can have some serious effects on e.g the endocrine system.

However, some people come across stones or crystals that they feel very at home with. In that case make sure you see a person that can check the crystal is unharmed and has all it's own life force intact.

Some healers choose to use both Reiki and crystals. I have to say that all those practitioners I have met that use crystals or feel the need to do so have not been trained by a teacher that know what they are doing. All practitioners and teachers I have met that do practice correct and true Reiki hardly ever feel the need to use another source of energy. When they have it was for a personal reason only and not to share with others.

None of this is to say anything bad about using or befriending crystals. It is merely clarification.

Reiki has no negative side effects. It is 100% safe, is very gentle and makes you feel truly good at any given time.

Thank you for reading!