With love from mum (six days before you)
Tonight as I lay awake awaiting your arrival, I put pen to paper to unravel some thoughts which took form in a messy, unarticulated list of personal learnings and hopes that I pass on to you for your interpretation. Take what speaks to you, leave the rest.
use your own eyes, heart and mind to experience the world
treat everyone with love, respect and kindness
listen to the stories of others, everyone deserves to be heard, your heart will be better for it
be thankful for what you have and you’ll always have enough
animals are gifts from God
time in nature can heal many wounds
be your weird self
it’s great to make plans but they often don’t unfold as you imagined, trust the new path
immerse yourself in the communities of the places you go, you’ll have more wholesome experiences this way
cherish your elders
love is ALWAYS worth it
wherever you go, there you are
you can always start over
make the most of everything you do because things will never be the same again
“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he is not the same man.”
- Heraclitus
May you grow to know me as someone who sees You, as a voice of guidance, a pillar of support, and your place of unconditional and eternal love.
Mum x
Due date
Your very first bedroom at Flinders Street
Your dad and I spend these final days imagining our lives once you arrive. He speaks to you in the womb and encourages me through to the other side of each contraction - they’ve been going on for 2 days now. He holds me gently as we pass each other in the house, pours me lavender baths and makes delicious meals for us to share. These days are soft, quiet, free-flowing, and raw. I look forward to more of the same as we settle into our new life once you are here with us.
Pictured are some bits and pieces that we have collected for your space over the years including maracas from Sapa (Vietnam), a blue glass hanging moon (an heirloom from your great grandparent’s home - The Blue Bathroom), a music box that plays somewhere over the rainbow in memory of your beloved nan, and a little set of drawers in which I hope we store tiny treasures that we find on our adventures together. Each trinket has been thoughtfully selected and has a story.
See you soon little man.
Mum. x
P.S. Can you spot:
a yellow flower
an orange elephant
a fairy door
yourself (hint: you are in here twice)
a camera
Balinese silks in suburban Sydney
Six crossed the Arafura and Timor seas to be unveiled and strung up on the hills hoist, outside in the breeze.
They sway in the silhouette of the late sun’s shimmer, hand crafted 4,628 kilometres away in the artisan hub of Bali, Indonesia. Each piece reminds me of this enchanted place and the time I first encountered its benevolent people
These words are for my Balinese friend, the precious pup prominent in this document of time and Maggie Magpie who swooped in to say Hi!
Carlton, NSW
A New York Time
Squirrels quarrelling, going nuts about nuts. Lovers arm in arm, mesmerized by their surroundings. A homeless man begs at the feet of passers by, I hope he finds shelter tonight.
It‘s 5 in the afternoon on a cool January 6. Locals scurry to their Sunday roasts and family affairs without pause for the squirrels or the man who is destined to sleep in the cold.
My loved ones have gone, they’re headed for sunny Sydney and unpredictable Melbourne. I am hanging on time, these are my final moments with this electric city and this is the closing chapter of my solo adventures.
It’s dark and eerie here. The paths intertwine only visible now by the glow of old fashioned street lamps standing tall and lean above the ground.
I sit on top of a park bench looking towards the Gapstow bridge. I try to capture this moment in led on a page in my blue notebook but I lack artistic talent. Instead of taking a blurry snap or making any further note, I sit, I open my eyes to feel all that is and promise myself to etch this moment into my memory forever.
This is my goodbye to New York for a while, a city I have grown to adore for its endless offerings of life and colour. The rythyms of the Harlem churches, the jazz scene of Brooklyn, the many talents of the subway, and a city called Manhattan.
New York New York
Flashback to an icy cold evening in Harlem. I left my most treasured glittery, knit headband in the backseat of our big yellow cab, the one that flew around the bends as we neared the jazz bar.
We arrived to a long queue in a quaint bar with cocktails named after Ella Fitzgerald and the likes. We bumped shoulders with the locals as we waited to enter the room at the back, the room that promised some soul.
We were sat at a small round booth under a tarted up orange lamp shade. We were not disappointed, the band served exactly what we ordered, and then some!
On a different winters evening in the lower east side, we encountered another lady of jazz whom I’ll never forget. She stood before us and asked ‘the most important question of all time’.
“What are you going to do with this one and only life?”
The question that becomes more relevant each day.
