GRATITUDE + CONSCIOUS LIVING Page 22 of 22

Unpacking

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How come the things which make us happiest often stress us most along the way?  

I am exhausted from the move,

from all the unpacking,

from the decorating, 

from trying to make it all perfect

from day one.   

But today,

we just stopped,

dropped the boxes,

and shut the door. 

We left the paintings unhung,

the books unshelved,

the shoes un-put-away. 

And flopped.  

Given the small inconvenience of not having a sofa until September,

that actually meant we flopped onto the floor.  

Still, the icecream tasted just as good sat leaning against the wall.

And as we sat laughing,

surveying our new home,

the aches started to fade, the excitement returned

and we remembered what it was all about.

I think we’re going to like it here

***

This month I am going to aim for more photos, less words, so keep a look out for a peek into my August (including some shots of our new house, once we have unpacked a little more!)

Are you living your best life?

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Friends are so precious, and losing one is so painful. An old university friend of mine was killed in a hit and run accident on holiday last week.  I wanted to take a moment and use this space to honour his memory. Part of me feels this is too personal to share, part of me thinks it is too important not to. I hope you don’t mind.

Matt was one of life’s good people. I hate it that I have written that in the past tense. He should have had much much more time.

He was a big strong rugby player with a heart to match. I have been reminiscing about a big adventure we shared several years ago when I joined him and two other guys on a crazy road trip around New Zealand. We were three strapping lads and a wandering girl with a rucksack bigger than herself packed into a tiny car. We got stuck (in a ford), got drunk (on cheap beer), got lost (in the mountains), and I even got a shoulder ride into town. Those boys gave me the courage to do my first terrifying bungee jump, and wisely advised me not to look down as we sped around narrow mountain paths. We traversed a glacier, ate mooncake at a stranger’s party and hung out on a kiwi farm. But more than anything, we laughed. A lot.

Along with the gripping shock and hollow sadness of losing a friend to a freak accident comes a deep questioning and reflection on our own lives.

  • Do we tell those we love that we love them enough (and do we love them enough?)
  • Do we really spend our precious moments doing what we love, making ourselves happier and bringing more happiness to others as a result?
  • Do we pick up the phone, write that letter, get on that plane, live that adventure, follow that dream?
  • As Oprah would say, are we living our best lives?

I’ve been here before (in my very first post on this blog), but I am back again.

It shouldn’t take a tragedy for us to do just that, but often, sadly, it does. There is nothing anyone can do or say to make loss any easier to handle or understand. There is no fairness, and no reason. Three are many questions, but no answers.

To honour and celebrate the big life of my friend, I want to revisit that question and commit to making a few small changes (and maybe a couple of big ones) that will allow me to completely and absolutely say YES, I am living my best life, every day, every hour, every minute.

Won’t you join me?

Are you living your best life? feet

Goodbye MD, you will be missed so very much

Noise in silence

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graffiti

What better breath of fresh air during the working day than a quick gallery fix? One of the most wonderful things about London is that apart from special exhibitions, all the museums and art galleries are free, and no-one tries to sell you anything (except when you exit via the gift shop…).

Anyway, finding myself at a conference near the financial district, I snuck into the corner gallery of ‘Bloomberg SPACE’ to see Damien Deroubaix’s contribution to the new Comma series of special commissions. 

Enitled ‘ A place to lose oneself’, the blurb says ‘The visual noise that Damien Deroubaix energetically orchestrates in his paintings, sculptures and woodcuts is overwhelming: brutal, deafening, sharp and dissonant.’

His piece is a tree.

But somehow it is more than that. It is an angry tree, and in the silent white gallery space, it really does create visual noise. Not my ‘taste’ and perhaps not the most peaceful lunchbreak, but certainly a thought-provoking one. 

It made me think about what makes me like some art and not other, and in the end I think it comes down to whether it speaks to me, tells me a story, and whether the colours and textures draw me in. 

How do you know what you like?

Did that just happen?

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Something quite amazing happened today. I have been thinking of my ‘Mondo Beyondo’ list for some time – not that I need help with dreaming big, just juggling all the dreams! Anyway, this morning I sat on the train racing towards London, and put pen to paper. As the countryside flew by and the morning opened up to a bright blue sky, I spilt my long messy delicious list of dreams, big and small.

And then I arrived at Kings Cross Station, packed my notebook safely at the bottom of my handbag with a smile, and got on with my day.

And then, just five hours later, the weirdest thing happened.

One of the small but important things on the list I wrote this morning was ‘get published’. And by 1pm, someone had asked me if I would write a chapter for a book being published later this year.

Unbelievable.

Maybe the Universe is listening…

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