The Sometimes Mind of an Angry Pacifist with Skinny Legs

The Sometimes Mind of an Angry Pacifist with Skinny Legs

Disclaimer:  Intricate Blog about Getting Cross, there’s the S word and the BS word in it. I’m not normally a potty mouth but…

Anger. It’s an interesting bedmate. It’s an intricate bad tempered bastard that can be hard to handle. Feeling angry for me is like catching the flu. I know I have it, I don’t want it, it doesn’t feel very nice and I do my best to get rid of it as quickly as possible. Some of my closer friends call me Positive Polly, it started as loving sarcasm, but it generally rings true. I just don’t get angry very often. I’d like to think I’ve a logical brain that is able to compartmentalize appropriately. I try okay?

I do a great job of pushing anger away. At least I thought I did. Realistically this translates into brilliant suppression like a prison in lock down until it erupts 2 months later into either a spectacular verbal spray aimed at the person who has upset the apple cart (this has only happened a couple of times in my life) or a bedazzling flood of tears that make me look like a deranged clown that’s overdone the drag queen mascara, or then of course there is the Egg Smashing Technique, or what we call Doing the Egg.

  Top Tough Titties Tip and for Girls That Wear Their Big Knickers: if you are feeling very cross; smashing eggs at a brick wall whilst yelling in a somewhat primal way is incredibly liberating and an effective safe way to relieve anger. Swearing obscenely like a dirty old Pirate with a mangy parrot on his shoulder as you throw  feels good too. It’s a thing. I think I’ve mentioned it before.

 Then there’s the calm anger. This is the one that makes my family particularly nervous. Apparently my eyebrow develops a will of its own, shooting upwards in a northerly fashion. It’s a subconscious action that signals a smidge of discontent may be brewing. I inherited it, my daughter does it, my sister does it, as does my mother. So if you ever catch an  O’Donnell woman with a  raised eyebrow smashing a shitload of eggs I strongly advise you call the FEDS or Chuck Norris. Its Motley.

As a child I unfortunately witnessed how destructive anger could be when misdirected and inflicted upon others. So I was conditioned to think that anger was bad, a negative emotion that wrecked havoc on everyone it touched.

“Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.”

― Ambrose Bierce

I now know that anger is a natural human emotion, it needs to be directed in a healthy manner, channeled and harnessed with a mighty finesse, transmuting it into a force that would make Yoda blush with pleasure…you get the drift. I am learning. We all are. But it happens.

I actually wish I could swear in a cool language, like German or Dutch, it just sounds more intense and real. Seriously; here’s an exercise: close your eyes, screw up your nose and in your deepest spittiest voice yell this out:

Fahren Sie den schmutzigen Mund

That just means shut your dirty mouth in German but it sounds filth doesn’t it?

So other than wishing for European language lessons and practicing Zen all was well in my world this past month or so. I was in some sweet denial about the health status, I had a holiday break with my childhood girlfriends on a tropical island…it was all going surprisingly superfluous. Until I got a bit peeved.

Recently we were ripped off quite a bit of money. A real dodgy. My philanthropic inner being knew that this money which went into the many thousands could have bought enough food for the local homeless shelter to last them 6 months. It also affected another family member, a  family member that has been doing it tough and this money would have really helped them, so you can imagine losing so much was a hard path to walk. This money could have been utilised in positive ways.  I also wanted to send my child to an amazing super camp, did I mention there are villages that need schools? There are communities that need nurses…you catch my drift. But it did not. It went into someone’s pocket it shouldn’t have.

So then I did what all good placid people do. I swallowed the anger.

The anger went so deep I couldn’t even feel a tickle.

I practiced loving kindness, released the anger in a positive way, sent the person who had done me wrong love. But really, what I did was swallow it thick and chunky. Gone. Like Gappetto in the Whale’s belly. Deep.

Until I went to the Post Office a few days later.

We shall call this the Cardigan Incident.

A simple cardigan. A nice white cable number, knee length. Nice mother of pearl oversized buttons. That’s what I was wearing this day.

On this day, my house was in disarray. I had a migraine the day before that left me with a residue look of a hound and I was getting a bit of attitude from the shorter contingents of the household. The dog had also managed to pee on the rug under my writing desk. Forget the whole Possibly Dying THING; have you ever smelled day old Schnoodle pee? AND I had an ingrown toenail. Now I am the last person to get all FIRST WORLD MARGERY on you, but let us just say I was on edge.

Now I’ve got a heap of parcels to get to the Post Office before 4.00pm. Its 3.55. I pull into a park, dodging all the people that CLEARLY don’t have their license and I am standing in line, puffing, trying to sort of stand on my left foot because of the toenail. Then I realize I am puffing and practice my mindfulness. Deep breathes in. I am holding 4 heavy box/satchel- thingys, eyes closed, doing some inner mantra mumbling.

Then I get this vibe.

You know the vibe when you know someone is looking at you?  I open an eye; the lady in front of me has side turned and is looking at me strangely. We are standing very close to each other.

This makes me feel uncomfortable, I have personal space issues unless its someone I love.  She has the look of a person who knows what her neighbor’s gas bill is and has a theory about dogs sleeping inside. Judgey. It’s a judgey busy body Esme Watson look. I’m not being unkind, I am just trying to be honest on my vibe at that moment.

She flicks her hand in an odd gesture in the direction of my Cardigan, smirks and says “Your jacket’s on inside out”.


Do I smile and say OH THANKS FOR THAT?  Nope.

No. I say in my most polite tight lipped nice voice, (like Poppins on the edge people)

“No, it’s an exposed seam cardigan, but thanks.”

She creases her eyebrows. I internally can’t believe it. She’s going to do it.

She’s calls Bullshit. She calls it big time. She couldn’t just leave me alone.

She looked at me with a bigger sardonic smirk and says

“Really? Then what’s that then?” She points aggressively in a downward pointing action, towards my person.

I look down.


Right there.

Hanging out like a sail in the wind.

A metre long Wash tag saying :  EXTRA LARGE, COLD  HANDWASH ONLY,  MADE IN INDIA.

When in the heck  did clothing companies stop making NORMAL SIZE TAGS? Stretching nearly a meter long was this stupid bloody wash advice tag. WTH? You know the ones. The big mega long humiliating ones that call your bullshit.

Do I go into automatic arrogant kamikatze shit-storm mode? Did Polly crack em?

I went bright red, my teeth grinded so hard I thought I would chip a tooth. You could hear the Spaghetti Western Gunfight theme song.

I said

“Yup, that’s my tag”

Lets make this clear: The referential integrity between two people is complex. Really complex. Like a mathematical algorithm complex. You think that the feelings you have will match the feelings of another person and the value to which you apply it will not be in error and will be mirrored fantastically back towards you. The logical implication between the dependencies is undecidable by reduction from the problem. YUP. This is how tricksy I find Humans and I find anger.

Abort Mission, Abandon ship. Get the firetruck outta here.

I went home. I threw some eggs.

All was well again.

The moral to the story?

  1. Sometimes its better to have first world problems than dying ones. Sometimes they just feel worse. This is a fact.
  2. Don’t call a frazzled person’s BS. Its dangerous. It can go either way.
  3. ALWAYS check your clothing before venturing
  4. If its cold outside, get the dog a jumper. Otherwise he will pee on the rug. Some people will judge this. It’s a fact
  5. Learn how to deal with your anger and release it in a healthy effective way, sending it down the river of love wrapped in silken butterfly wings and rainbow blessings ain’t gonna cut it.
  6. When something in your gut tells you a person should be avoided and don’t give them your money, unless you are paying for their food you’ve already eaten, don’t do it. Always trust your instincts, especially when it comes to real estate!
  7. Don’t start throwing eggs when the man has come to fix the neighbours fence. He will not know what you are doing, especially the loud swearing part. He might call the police. Just saying
  8. There’s no such thing as an exposed seam cardigan. Its not a thing. Its just not. 
  9. ELSA : Fahren Sie den schmutzigen Mund
  10. #TYTP-  Trim your tags People

Peace, love and always good vibes to you beautiful peeps. Xx Kirsten

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Washign Tag

Chronicles of an over- sharer

Chronicles of an over- sharer

Last week I took a deep breath and I remembered a story about a bear. It gave me the idea for a series of blogs I shall call:

10 steps to feeling chipper when possible impending doom is breathing down your neck– or Chronicles of an ‘Over-Sharer’? I will let you decide

Step One: Give Up Your Day Job…or Not.

When one decides to Give up Their Day Job; they must be absolutely certain that none of their ego and identity pleaser is attached to the afore-mentioned day job, they cannot have any personal identity attached to the said career and must relinquish it immediately in order to survive; regardless of bills or financial concern…said no one ever.

What sort of deluded self respecting over achiever does this? We all dream and fantasize sometimes about not working…but me? I am a worker bee with a mission to succeed baby. I am a power source of success, eponymous with entrepreneurial flare and know how. This team of pizazz has taken sales of three zeros and turned em into 6’s. The old adage Hard work = Success. You can’t take the elevator to success you have to take the stairs… Ok I am talking smack. But I am a hard worker and this hard work has apparently paid off handsomely in every aspect of my life.

Doing what you love makes hard work even easier. So you fall in love with your work, your art and a relationship of attachment is formed. Its pretty simple. I made mine so accessible my studio is on our property, my children have had full access to me throughout this 11 year career, I’ve completely molded it around our family, so its not caused any hassles nor complaints. It has been the perfect love; giving and giving so much.

Now, I am just going to Give it up.

All of it.

The financial income, the personal fulfilment, the being in charge, leaving Return-on-relationship -investments hanging off a cliff with one finger, business conferences of mind blowing excitement left in a dusty corner, a design portfolio stack most would dream of hanging by its ankles on the clothesline fading in the sun…and I am going to Give it All Up.

More disposable income from excellent business practices

Give it up

Holiday to Noosa…give it up…

Cool business networking groups…

Give it up…

Means of $ philanthropy to others less fortunate…Give it Up (the worst one)

Then when you give it up, be prepared for others to say

You can’t give it up! You’ve taken so long to build this, this is you !”

Total and utter attachment to the endth degree.

So what deluded numbskull would give this up indefinitely? Me. And it hurt.

Why did it hurt? Because I was as ATTACHED to this love of my life as a Kardashian to a selfie stick.

Attachment is a funny word isn’t it? But what does it mean?

According to the Oxford Dic- it’s a Noun- always a good start and it means; an extra part or extension that is or may be attached to something to perform a particular function. A bond, closeness, devotionloyalty.

Yup. I know that word well.

I was loyal to my business, dedicated to it, devoted to it, bonded to it and it became an extension of me. Not necessarily a bad thing, but when one surmises that if they don’t do some serious healing they are going to be non existent on this earthly plane it calls for priority making and heavy decisions. My need for rest and concentration on wellness has to take the first priority due to the whole impending doom gig, so unless I wanted to dive headfirst into depression caused by this loving attachment I had to learn how to rest properly and effectively and dis-attach myself from work.

The only time in my adult life that I have rested fully was in rehabilitation after a Craniotomy in 2012. For those that don’t know that part of my story, I was left blind after an epic 9 hour surgery with 106 skull drill holes to heal, a brain chopped through the middle with hundreds of stitches, concrete pieces, titanium, acrylic and pins holding it together like a Mary Shelley- Frankenstein daydream and a need to learn to walk again.

This took quite a few months of hospitalization. You kind of have to rest with that going on, its not much of an option. But yours truly on imposed rest just squeezed all that energy through another door. Like Brain fluid; I still leak a bit of that at times. Women talk about bladder control, mine’s cerebral control. I tried crossing my eyes but it didn’t turn out so good… (my bad)

Within a few weeks of “rehab rest” I was brainstorming on steroids, literally. I came up with new business ideas, a new candle range, new designs, 4 patents, talked my husband into buying a new business, planned holidays. I was like a fart in a bottle.

Then the restless part crept in, and I started coming up with ideas of fun. This was tricky due the being blind part.

An example of this side tracked energy is one particular escapade; one morning in rehab I was craving a coffee and I really wanted to eat a Yoyo biscuit. I have a thing for these little morsels of delight. I was getting really annoyed with my lack of independence, needing to be showered, walked everywhere, I was reliant on others for every little thing. I had just got to the stage whereby walking had progressed to a graceful zombie shuffle with the assistance of my trusted steed- the walking frame.

So I got dressed in plain clothes (I still wonder to this day if they were in the right way) grabbed my trusty wonder of wheels and skiddadled – or zombie shuffled quickly- around the corner of my ward to the hospital coffee shop. I honed in my auditory skills following the sound of coffee machines and sweet scent of cake. I ordered my goodies, waited for them to be made, anxiously waiting for someone to notice the escape artistry, then carefully placed them on the seat of my walking frame and crept back to my room with a grin that would dazzle New York. I was like creepin Jesus. I couldn’t stop laughing to myself and thought I was the best thing since sliced bread. Bragging rights resulted in being told off by worried staff and family.


Quick side story- With one exception I have this gorgeous cousin who has been my partner in crime since birth. We once played hide and seek with my Nanna without telling her. Police got involved. It was fun at the time. She was the ultimate disruptor at age 11 and I was her Robin. She is my eternal ratbag- in- arms, my sœur effrontée, so imagine my delight when the coffee shop manager popped his head into my hospital room and asked if I was Kirsten; because he had a Gift from “Cuz”; a $50 coffee voucher with a message to Keep up the Escape Work and Don’t let the Team down; the joy this gave was MISCHIEF FUN x 10. I never get sick of telling this story. Note; Don’t ever underestimate the healing power of humor when recovering from brain trauma.


My whole adult life -just about every micro energy unit goes into my family and my business with a little bit of time spent on study and getting better so no one worries about me, and then subconsciously filling in the gaps with endevours.

So given that since energy is inversely proportional to wavelength from the equation:

E= hv=( hc / l ) X  TimeforSelf =Jack + Shit.

More than a decade learning mindfulness, meditation, yoga, theology, philosophy and yet here I was consumed by everything other than healing my Self. These practices were foundational and without even realizing it they had been a trickling investment for stability and resilience. A tool chest for overcoming obstacles if you like but on a bigger scale again. With an impending possible doomsday brain explosion though; there’s no time like the present to change things up a bit.

The action of un-attaching gently from the running of the day to day of my business, handing the reigns over to my manager (otherwise known as brother) including unravelling layers I didn’t actually realize were hiding. It has been harder than I ever imagined it to be. There was a word mentioned- Control. What else was I attached to? It appears the attachment to Earning One’s Happiness layer popped up, otherwise known as Entitlement Issue #482.

See the thing is, I thought I had earned my stripes already. The whole learning to walk again, re-firing the neurons again thing, using your feet again thing, walking laps for months, painful exercises, a year of retraining and 3 years of hard work to finally reach a place of contented happiness was a stripes earning feat. I ran a marathon to raise money for Vision Australia as a milestone event for my kids to witness my return to the living and to give thanks for all that joy. I earned my right to be joyful, to be excited by life, to be happy. You see what I did? I worked hard. I worked really hard and I gained good things from working that hard. I learned so much along that road, don’t we all? How could I not have? But this hard work deep seated belief sat close to my heart in a non-obvious way. I was the biggest advocate in the world for working smarter not harder and yet at my core was this Hard Work ethic.

Hard work pays off. In life and business. And this not-this-AGAIN situation, well its just…well this isn’t karma. This is cruel. Are you ready for it readers, here is comes… WHY ME? This is NOT FAIR. Why did it happen? I don’t deserve this

Well just cos. It just did. Now watchya gonna do about it?

 This punched in the sternum feeling, breath strangling moment was either going to break me into a million little pieces or create another opportunity for wisdom and expression or.. in the words of CS Lewis-

“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched, cracked or go bad.” 

It was time to get hatched and do so promptly. Humpty Dumpty style. The Kings horses and Neuro-team cannot put me back together again, so its DIY time.

I was going to have to work hard again. Or was I?

The moment I escaped, became completely still within a natural environment, breathed in deeply and mindfully it became crystal clear that I had forgotten my Self.


  1. 1.a person’s essential being that distinguishes them from others, especially considered as the object of introspection or reflexive action.”our alienation from our true selves”

What if I were to tell you that it isn’t hard work that gets us to Self.  How did I forget? A busy mind forgets. This is the truth. Every single thing you ever need to know that you need resides within you and your Upstairs-deep inside Self, your instinctive Barometer, your Reminder-of-what-you-need Manual. I am not talking about what you Want. But as a human being, what you need is answered clearly from within your own Answer Box deep within that is connected.

Because being instinctive isn’t hard work, you just have to create the space to activate it. It isn’t brain science is it?

We are a species with mass social amnesia. I think we forget the species bit at times, the human race has a habit of placing itself above and beyond natural order; with an idealogy of success stomping on an all too tolerant earth. Many are the all powerful beings at the top of the food chain, holding dominion over the planet. But we are a species with instincts, love, skillful intelligence and wisdom at our core. The faculty of natural connection is getting lost in translation.

Being still enough, quiet enough within and mindful helps to restore this connection. The healthy non toxic environment you have grown your mind and soul in just amplifies the connection to everything living and energised. Do the opposite and watch the chaos unfold. We really can overcome just about anything with peace if we are tapped in.

The disconnection happens in an often hypnotic and powerful modern world and remembering our species is difficult. Chaos, madness, noise, have-to’s, numbers, language, technology, bills, bank accounts, rent, mortgages, pay-rises, healthcare, employment… being manipulated and consumed with the pretend glories of the world and the powerlessness of being an everyday ordinary person? What does that even mean?

It goes on and on and on and then on some more. The great and amazing procrastination to connection is the logistics of the modern world. This world we live in now has so many wonderful advantages but we can become enslaved to it, with its weight pushing down heavily on our shoulders. This can be so affective that we don’t even always notice it; the connection fades so quietly that we forget we had it in the first place.

It is so effective that it often silently hermetically seals us into a systems of economy and “SHOULDWORLD” an hypnotic trance, the stuff that makes you wake up one day and ask is this all there is? Why do I still feel empty?  Existential angst at its finest.

There is a story of a Bear I want to share with you. He was no ordinary Bear, you see he was a dancing Bear. His tribe of Bears were the most marvelous dancers and would bask in the joy of their forest dancing, bringing happiness to the world around them and each other. The Bear realized his own cleverness born from the necessity of tool making and ingenuity of skills. As his skills and tool making grew he thought more about cleverness and newness than he did about dancing. His intelligence knew no bounds and with it his children and grandchildren built a Church of Cleverness to worship in. Eventually hundreds of years later; his great-grandchildren lived in a world of haste, of excellence and tools, problem making and solving and cleverness in plenitude. But it was a very sad story, because they had forgotten how to be Bears. They had forgotten their Dance; one thing that made them so special, unique and joyful.

I have come to believe and know to be true that it is crucial, it is NECESSARY to make space in your life to just be or to dance. You must remember your connection.

One step at a time, one day at a time, it isn’t new and it will never get old.

Just Be.

You have instincts within, so get to them.

Start to trust your Self. Your inner. The best bit? It costs nothing at all and its completely contagious. We have full access at all times to a live connection that knows how to lick our own wounds, to know what to do and how to go about doing it. We have built-in resources. How often do you get advice from people or hear experts telling you things and you think “Oh, I somehow already knew that, that makes sense?” Because chances are you do already know it. You just didn’t know to trust your own instincts, thoughts and information. How often do you get a hunch to go to a doctor or action something but you ignore it, or even follow it to realize how important that call was? Again, good old instincts and intuition. The more we be still and listen to it, the louder and clearer it gets. It is not something you need to pay for, or take. It is there for you to access 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, your birthright. Your humanness. It’s the good stuff.

As we re-create the connection to ourselves and begin to live in a more natural state, the pent-up difficult emotions and attachments we hang onto start to organically release and vanish. Even ones we didn’t even know existed; buried deep down escape their prison. The chords pull free and we begin to feel lighter, happier. The things we need to do for ourselves become obvious.

It might start at 10 minutes a day. It might involve taking a tent and going camping surrounded with nothing but nature. It might be turning off all electrical devices in the house of an evening and practice sitting still. My favorite is to go to the beach, close my eyes and listen to the ocean, letting thoughts roll in and roll out with the waves, not focusing on any more than the sounds. Being still or meditating can be as simple as being in a natural environment and un-focusing your thoughts like you un-focus your eyes.

Start with a little bit each day and watch what happens. Its your own unique journey and very powerful. You might even want to journal it and watch your story unfold. You don’t have to give up your day job, just…

Know thyself.

In between stories of dancing bears and writing, mothering, distant business mentoring, relationship building and other stuff I do; I now have a sense of mindful contemplation like nothing I have experienced before. It has created a mental and physical space that allows me to be more observant, proactive than before. My sleep has improved, my calm and sense of clarity, focus and peace is more than I have ever felt in my whole life. Given the current situation; that’s a pretty extraordinary result from a little bit of nature with a little bit of me.

Call me an idealist; but our interpreting minds are better seasoned in a natural environment. It’s time to shift the gears into neutral for moments of reflection and stillness so that the muted story within can spring forth.

“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair”

― Kahlil GibranThe Prophet

Next Blog: – The Sometimes Mind of an Angry Pacifist with Skinny Legs

Note- thanks to you John M, my friend for the new  title xx

Dancing Bear

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