No one will see me.

you bloody ripper!

Mangoes are at their peak right now and between you and me, I’ve become a little obsessive.

Not only are they filled with Vitamin C, anti-oxidants, fibre, anti-stress vitamins and a whole heap of goodly minerals, they can even help your sex life. True fact. They’re abundant in Vitamin E, a great booster for the sex drive.

Ancient Indian sages prescribed planting the mango for the salvation of souls: I’m hoping eating a copious amount over a lifetime will have the same effect.

I’ve got two more months to suck it real good.

Tissue anyone…. I’m dribbling.

you bloody ripper!

Welcome into my life 2012. I’m planning for you to herald in a new season of battles few and pleasures many.

I’m the first to admit that 2011 didn’t go exactly as planned and I wouldn’t particularly rate it as momentous. I’d committed myself to stay focussed on centre this year, and for the second half of the year, I did. I’ve never really done that before and what a rollercoaster ride it set me on. Yes, you can. No, you can’t. I got things wrong. I dodged curve balls. I forgot about relevance and calibrated.The pictures at the end of the ride would have showcased one loud scream: get me off.

So before I rush off from last year, forget about it, and move on by writing a big long list of all the things I’d like to do this year, I felt a little need to recognise what did happen.

So in no particular order, here goes my 2011 bloody ripper wrap up from which to boldly take ten key lessons with me into the new year.

1. Learned how to say no

No and I have never had an easy relationship. It’s pretty easy to say and yet I’ve always had a problem getting it out. When I realised mid-year that I was in a job I didn’t apply for, saying yes too many times and no to everything I wanted to do, it was time to say a very fervent no, not just to the job, but to all that wasn’t taking me in the direction I wished to head. I realised I had yes exhaustion and really had to learn the meaning, and benefits, of no. I think I’m getting there. I’ve said no to lots of events, requests and people these past six months. I even told worry to fuck off. Saying no to others allows one to proclaim yes to self.

2. Went to university

I’ve never been to university. Work, life and opportunity always seemed to have got in the way. This year, I decided I wanted to learn a new skill I could take with me anywhere and allow me to make some money so I could commit to my writing.  In the second half of the year, I was so busy saying yes to myself that I realised I was doing two Diplomas and a Masters in Wellness. As well as working. And attempting to write. Woah. Apart from needing to get a little balance on the yes/no relationship, I realised that I loved to learn. It helped the studies had purpose, and not just because I needed a job out of school. Never be too old to stop asking why.

3. Love… actually…

It’s not happened very often in my life when I see someone from a distance and their energy makes me want to meet them. And meet them I do. I recall him saying “it will be fun”. I remember walking away from that offer and one hour later, grieving and writing condolences for my loss of spontaneity and randomness. Eight months later, that person is still in my life. He doesn’t need to be in my life every day. I don’t need to know his every movement. To close the open hand is hard. Love… actually… is a deep respect  for another human being that simply allows them to be themselves. To not expect them to be someone else. For then they would not be the one you love… actually… accept others for who they are, because of what they bring.

4. Completed a mission

My mission is detailed in Chapter 39.95, its success here. After riding around on the back of a motorbike for half a day, I managed to meet Nyoman, the moto driver, Ketut, his daughter and her baby son.  Whilst looking at the family photo album, Ketut brought me another book with a photograph of her prior to the operation, and my Dad. Nyoman started to cry, dug into his pocket and pulled out the driver’s license I had earlier returned, passing it back into my hands. “I miss your Daddy. He is a good man. You tell your Daddy to come and find me, like you found me.” Closure provides a door waiting to be opened.

5. Failures and demons

Like most years, I learned a lot in 2011. When I decided to go it alone, I learned how much better I am doing things for other people and not myself. I’ve learned I’m my own worst enemy. I’m far too independent. I admit I procrastinate when I sit in a room by myself. I confess I have let people down and am not afraid of sending out the apologies. I’ve dug out a few skeletons, brushed off a few chips and am still working on a few demons. I’ve said I’d do things. And didn’t. My hand is up high. No one is perfect. Everyone grows.  

6. Dancing and exercise

Thanks to my local council, I opted in for a ten week outdoor exercise program at my local park. Thanks to some wonderful friends, I stuck a second hand up for some Nia dance lessons. Over the last couple of months in the year, I’ve pedalled, swum, run, boxed, tapped, walked and squatted. Now the classes have finished, I miss it. My body and mind miss the adrenalin, stress relief, meditation and feeling of knowing I’d pushed just enough. Push some more.

7. Asked for help

It didn’t matter the request came back negative. I asked. Ask again.

8. Sketching

I never thought I could draw. After picking up a pencil mid-way through the year, quite often I’ll be found curled up on a couch or under a tree with a sketch book. A few people have suggested they’re not too bad and I should take lessons to learn a few finer skills. I thought about it. I won’t. I like being one with an image and a blank canvas. It’s my meditation. I don’t need to seek perfection. Love what you do. Do what you love. Love what YOU love.

9. Climbed a volcano

It wasn’t a momentous year, but it nailed a momentous 40^th birthday. With my yes exhaustion, I decided to head to Bali for some rest and relaxation. A few weeks out, I was determined to find myself a challenge to complete: and a 3100m volcano had my name on it. Commencing the ascent at 1.00am on the morning of my birthday, I climbed with the only female guide on the mountain. One foot in front of the other, a small headlamp beam providing the only glimpses of tropical growth and volcanic rock. The moon was hidden, and the hope of a magic sunrise slowly retreated as rain began its unwelcome fall. I had done a month’s half-hearted training before leaving Australia and spent the two days prior to climbing wandering around the hills of Bali’s central region.

One foot in front of the other. I was exhausted. Fear had crossed my path countless times. “Tina, we have 800m to go. It is the most difficult part of the climb. When you are ready we will go”. It was then I sat down and cried. An accumulation of fear swept through me: the fear I had felt as I’d slipped down a wall of loose rocks, the fear of coming down in the morning when it was light and seeing the vastness below me, my legs that could hardly move, the fear of again having to push myself, myself. “I can’t do it.” And I cried some more. “It is up to you Tina. You came here for a reason and it is your choice if you achieve that reason.”

Damn it. As the tears continued to fall, I began to laugh. I realised what I’d put people through. I realised the belief I have had in others, but never myself. I’d never climbed a mountain by myself. I didn’t like it. “There’s a boiled birthday egg to be had on top of that mountain. Let’s go.” Those shear rock walls that weren’t walked but free climbed, in the pitch darkness, were totally insane. I got there. To an unbelievable sunrise. I believe I can fly.

10. My biggest regret

This year I retreated – online and offline. In a world of information overload, I felt the necessity to step back and find more wisdom from within. As a creative person who has spent a good working lifetime helping others with creative ideas for their projects, apart from this blog and my new found appreciation of pencils, I have neglected to explore my creativity in the pursuit of my own projects. Two weeks ago, when I asked for help (and remember I got a no), I sat down and thought if my last test results weren’t so good and I was looking at a terminal illness, what would I regret? I went back to my ten things of value. Without hesitation, I answered that question. I thank my withdrawal for allowing me the space to be influenced by self. As much as I love my study, I’ve deferred the majority of my studies for next year. It’s time.

Now that’s all out in the air, it’s time for my 2012 resolutions

1. Get on with it!

you bloody ripper!

Blank page. Strange considering the thousands of thoughts wandering my brain – space, freedom, and silence have a tendency of doing that. It is New Year’s Eve after all: a time for reflection, resolution and promises.

What makes 01 January such a special day? Why is it that this day provides us with an excuse to make change, be a better person, remove old habits, release old pain and plan new beginnings? Is tomorrow just another day, like the other 364? Isn’t every moment the beginning of the rest of our life?

Having spent the last five days appreciating the fresh air, tranquility and beauty of the Australian Alps, I have enjoyed not only the visual space the mountains provide, but the space to lose oneself in selfish retrospection, appreciation for all that is strong and belief that within us all, lays a powerful spirit that when unleashed, can move mountains.

Having walked 37km over a couple of days and with the final 22km walk to the peak of Victoria’s second highest mountain still on the agenda, there has been plenty of time to dispel redundant thoughts with each step. It’s why I came. To allow oneself the opportunity to feel insignificant amongst the momentous, certainly helps to put things into perspective.

Three days ago, I stood at the 1897m peak of Mt Loch and surveyed the dots below indicating ski huts, hotels, lodges and people. I fully appreciated the power of self and reflected on the insignificance of the dots that follow us through our lives: the patterns, the stories, the broken lines, the inability to recognise, the beauty reduced to a chaotic sketch where nothing is clear.

As I turned 360, I saw the peak of Feathertop beckoning my footsteps to greet it. In its exposed face, reflected the challenges, obstacles, shadows, scars and pain of my own life. As I allowed myself to reconnect with the familiarity of the physical and emotional qualities of any demanding journey, I was also reminded of the courage, perseverance, commitment and ultimate reward of one step at a time.

As I began to write this story, I thought its message would be the need for us to dismiss the insignificant from our lives – the dots, the stories, the fuzzy lines, the small stuff. But as I sit in the comfort of my lodge and look across the valley to the same peak I felt so powerful on reaching, my view, once again, has turned 360. You see, I now need the binoculars to clearly identify the peak. Yes, the same peak that made me feel powerful, courageous and committed, is now merely an insignificant dot in the distance.

I have always been one to focus on my successes, to strive for success, to push myself to extreme limits, both to prove to myself and others that I can climb mountains. However, looking back at the mountain right now, I realize that all that has been small in my life has also been a big part of shaping the person that I have become. For the first time in years, I have an overwhelming sense of serenity.

From 2004 to 2006, I took a sabbatical from the normality of life, finding total fulfillment in a journey that not only allowed me to travel the world, but an inner journey that brought me total joy, inner peace, fun, freedom and a new found belief in self. On returning to Australia and moving to a new city, I felt lost in the vastness of an energy that pushes away rather than attracts. Not to say I didn’t have some wonderful friends, but I also found myself unable to deeply connect with anyone – I was trying to fit in to a world that I did not.

And so for the past three years while overcoming illness, removing demons, shaking monkeys and reconnecting with myself, I have also been forever hopeful of a magical answer, a potion of solution, perhaps even a person of strength to come into my life and provide a cure to fill all that was missing.

The last year has been particularly difficult: the emotion, the people, the decisions, the lack of action, the failure, the circumstance. Three months ago, I was on the verge of emotional, physical and financial exhaustion. Never had I felt so alone, uncertain of the direction in which to take my life, a deep sense of sadness for the lack of family in my life, the lack of balance and my profound desire for community and connection.

At a point of absolute desperation, I took myself away to a place of healing and painfully dissected all that had held me back, caused me pain and given me courage. I battled with myself like never before, but instead of heavy scars, found myself adorned with a sense of new direction and inner peace. My life has turned 360, and I finally feel I have reached my own peak.

I began this story with the aim of erasing the dots scattered throughout the past 38 years. However, sitting in the safety and comfort of what was a dot three days ago, appreciate that they can and do, in the future, provide us with comfort, safety and fond memories.

Looking back at the mountain, I recognise that we need to enjoy and place value on the small things and realise the significance they do and will play in our lives. We also need to have commitment and resilience to overcome challenges and not be afraid to push through the pain in order to achieve success and the rewards that are granted once we reach the peak. Even our angst, darkest moments, concerns and deepest fears are significant. They form part of who we are and without them, we would not learn to fully appreciate the greatest joys, loves and moments in our lives. Our life would be filled with the ordinary rather than an opportunity for the extraordinary to exist, even in a single moment.

I am committed to climb all mountains I may find myself at the base of, but I no longer feel the necessity to do it with everything in my life – there is no need to prove to anyone anymore, especially myself. I am no longer afraid to open up the dots that form my life to those who bring meaning to my life: the significance and impact they have had are just as important as any mountains I have climbed.

I finally understand that what may give us strength today, may not exist tomorrow. What may at one point in our life, allow us to feel the might and power of success and completion, may be insignificant tomorrow. I comprehend there is no longer need to attach myself to the meaning or irrelevance of mountains or dots.

Too often we stand, paintbrush in hand, with the ability to design our life with all the colour, acquisitions and accomplishments we desire. Is there not as much, if not more pleasure in, the sharing of the journey, the value of our thoughts, the sensations that arise, the blending of the hues? Perhaps small dots compared to the consequence of attainment, but definitely necessary to experience and appreciate if we are to ever create balance in our lives.

The strength gained from the depths of depression can be as powerful as an 1897m climb. The significance of a glance, a touch, a simple word, the sharing of thought can be just as meaningful as a wedding portrait.

As I look out the window at a sun setting not only on this day, but on one difficult year, I have no desire to be a better person, ask for anything, release anything, remove any habits or plan any new beginnings. After many years trying to find it, I am merely thankful to have come to the realisation that balance in one’s life exists within us every day. It is simply a matter of perspective.

you bloody ripper

written New Years Eve 2009

After spending 9.5 hours climbing a volcano overnight, I needed a day at the beach.

Almost drowning myself with copious amounts of water to help with rehydration, enroute to my seaside rehabilitation deck chair I was desperately in need of a pee stop.

Dilemma! Warung (local cafe) squat loo or should I stretch the 500 metres extra to the five star luxury of seat sanitiser, fresh flowers… and a toilet seat?

Usually one to shy away from the excess of luxury, I considered the potential trauma to my already aching body, and opted to sit. Squats weren’t going to help me today.

Aaaahhhhh…. when you’re happy and you know it, shake your hands…. with your personal attendant as she hands you a fresh clean towell.

you bloody ripper!

Today I came across an old story I wrote on my last big travel trip to Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam and Bangladesh, 2.5 years ago. Here it goes:

My mum asked me yesterday, ¨are you enjoying your trip?¨

I certainly have a purpose for being here, but it certainly isn´t to enjoy. Having been to Cambodia in a previous life as a tour leader, I have seen the main tourist sites many times. I´ve enjoyed myself – hanging out in the hammocks at my favourite sunset bar, helping the locals plant rice, celebrating birthdays, house warmings and weddings, eating too much (do I count tarantulas and crickets as enjoyable), drawing with the children, laughing.

But this time I am seeing a side of Cambodia that as a tourist, you never have the opportunity to experience. Why would you seek out the slums, brothels, walk the streets at night and visit communes exuding extreme levels of poverty from every square inch.

The landscape on this trip is not so much the palaces, the temples, the wats or the countryside. Instead, it is an emotional landscape that has taken me on my own journey of reflection, appreciation, sadness, pride and joy. I have come to appreciate how, no matter how bad things can get in one´s life, that as human beings, we are strong. We can survive. And there will be opportunities presented to us that we can grab with both hands and create change in our lives.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I embrace life, and understands that I certainly don´t intend on living an idle life. There is too much to learn. Too much to experience. Life is a whole, it is a privilege and it provides us with a unique opportunity to find purpose.

I certainly haven´t always been like this. In fact, quite the opposite. However, I have travelled through a transition period and feel I am finally coming out the other side. I have been thinking about how I have changed, and I believe it is simply that I have taken responsibility for my life. The biggest opponent I have faced in the past has certainly been myself, but I now feel that I am no longer taking the corner option, but going into the ring with the fists ready to fight and to embrace whatever punches are thrown.

To others, I probably have an irrational level of optimism. I lack ordinary resentments and regrets – they waste too much time. There is no point in thinking that change cannot occur, for even in worst case scenarios – there is hope. Even here, in the depths of no hope, there is potential, there are gloves. I have seen it in the slums, the brothels, the communes.

Take Salin. At 19, she is the head of her family supporting her grandmother and four brothers – 19, 14, 12 and 5. Both of her parents died with Aids, leaving Salin with the responsibilities of income earner, cook, educator, gardener and head of her family. I first met Salin when visiting Chupvary, a remote village in north-west Cambodia. She has been embraced by the Hope Project and provided with an opportunity to learn sewing skills and be a part of a project providing uniforms to a number of schools in Phnom Penh. After a full day sewing, Salin heads home to prepare the dinner, work in the garden and care for her brothers and grandmother. Prior to being involved with the Hope Project, there was little hope and no opportunity for Salin. But now there are smiles. This is not about pity. This is about positive change and the provision of opportunity.

Salin´s story is not unique. Everyone here has a story – the Khmer Rouge ensured that the majority of families have a legacy of loss and hardship.

But as I walk around this new landscape, I can see the gloves coming out. I can see the hard work, the desire to win and the heads held high when victory is theirs.

For the organisations providing the gloves, theirs is a continual battle to educate, both foreigners and locals, about choices as much as it is about providing opportunity. A mother will earn more sending out her child to beg or sell books to the tourists than if she learned a new skill and sold the end product. Try and convince a mother to send her child to school and learn how to make handbags herself when double can be made with the child on the streets, all night. But what will happen when the child grows up? No more pity from the foreigners. No more income. And the cycle begins again.

No mum. This trip hasn´t been enjoyable. But it has been a remarkable journey and I can´t wait to hear about the next bout as I experience a night on the streets speaking with the children and hearing about what they want and how we can help, like Salin, in providing them some gloves so that they can go into their future with their own fists, ready to fight.

How has this story from the past, inspired me? My attempt at making a difference in the past failed. And not because I didn’t have the passion. It failed as I don’t do passive giving very well. And it took me a while for that realisation to kick me in the guts.

Finding this story reminded me that tangible giving definitely needs to be included in my planning and goals in the future. I need to get my hands dirty. I like a little sweat on my brow. And we all know sweat doesn’t happen without a little bit of hard work.

If you dare look, the past can provide inspiration to propel you into the future. What inspires you? What lights you up – inside and out? What provides you with purpose? Find those answers and instil them into your goals and daily life.

I don’t need a new year to inspire me. Sometimes the past can be the greatest source of inspiration from which to create. For it reminds us what we need to do…

you bloody ripper!

Step right out of the shower – it’s time to unleash your potential as a naked artist.

You need to get in quick – there’s no time to spare before the thoughts, messages and pictures of your quick wit and fast action make way for reality.

Don’t be in such a rush to clear the way for the morning preparations. Make some time to dig out that inner Dali and let loose on an audience of one.

And for those who may come after, love notes, to do lists, words of wisdom and big fat kisses are always welcome to be found on the frosted glass canvas of the bathroom gallery.

Finger painting just came back in vogue.

you bloody ripper!

When you’ve travelled to 42 countries, there are a lot of travel stories bundled up in the memory banks that have never been able to escape for fear of beating the ear drums and glazing the eyes of anyone who will listen.

16 years ago, I lived on a very remote peninsula in Crete, Greece for a year. In 16 years, I have never met anyone who has been to Crete.

This means my stories of mountain tracks, lots of dancing and frivolities in remote villages, delicious clay pot yoghurt, motorbike rides around spectacular coastlines (with no helmet), deep dives with giant rays, swimming in crystal clear water, freshly caught seafood dinners, kayaking with large turtles to work, wandering through ancient ruins… have never been shared.

Last night I went out. I didn’t plan for it to be a late night, but it ended up that way. After 16 years, I finally met someone who had come from Crete. Then it got better. And then there were three… all talking about the magic of this beautiful island and recollecting some of our favourite times. How grateful I was for being able to pull out the memory card that had long been filed away, and reflect on a remarkable year of my life.

I’m often asked of all the countries I have travelled, where is my favourite? My response is that I don’t have one. People and experiences from each country are etched into my memory banks and it is not possible for me to pull a culprit from the line up.

Living in a place, as opposed to passing through, certainly brings with it a different experience. You get to know the locals: Stavros the local baker knew how to put on a wonderful night of food, dancing, drinking and laughter. I can smell the fresh bread being pulled out of his wood oven and sharing stories of his childhood over olives lovingly marinated by his wife, Katerina. I often went olive picking with the family, have crushed a few grapes in my time and sucked way too many delicious Cretan oranges after pulling them off the trees scattered around my house.

Managing a few holiday villas, running kids activities and organising chilled evenings for the parents, I learned how to cook the best octopus, revelled in the delight of children as they took their first ever snorkel over the local rock pools, went diving twice a week, and swam across a very large open water bay in the clearest, warmest water I have ever experienced. I tried my first fish head and goat testicles and learned how to make retsina. I drank too much ouzo, never had enough siestas, climbed to the peaks of mountains and went diving in the darkest, deepest crevices of underground caves.

As I reflect, it’s a wonder I even managed to make it out alive with all the adventure and daring that crept into my year.

Considering last night I was heading home to bed, I think there were other plans afoot with my opportunity to dig into the files and recollect on some Grade A memories.

I’d never told anyone some of the stories I recalled and as I now close my eyes and meditate on the experience of Crete, my eyes are glazing over with the recognition I have a lot to thank this magical island for.

I may have no favourites. But yiamas (cheers) to you Crete. For in your magic, I fell in love with life.

I’m glad I talked to strangers. My estranged relationship with simple joys have been rekindled. It’s time to renew my vows to daring. And flirtation is definitely allowed. The realisation of our dreams depends on it.

I do believe I’ve fallen in love all over again.

you bloody ripper!