What is that smell?
It is my feet.
Hard working people, fun people and people with awesomeness dancing in their soul like Michael Jackson on crack have smelly feet. It is a fact.
Truth is I do not own many pairs of socks. They don’t like us here. I like bare feet. Bare feet and a nice Jimmy Choo do not mix. Neither do Kmart boots. Just saying. Information is information.
Polished floorboards and a soaring roof glide above like a church cathedral, of glass angles and the smell of the ocean is drifting through the wide open doors. It reminds me of my old ballet haunt. My children are laughing at some random joke they made, most likely inappropriate and just out of ear shot. He walks in and kisses me on the cheek, asking how many goals I kicked today. A little warm and fluffy ewok like animal otherwise known as my Dog licks my ankle. My heart gets big. So big it feels like it will take off like hot air balloon right out of my chest and my eyes start to water. It is too bright in here. So much light.
Will it leave?
Will it last?
Maybe that is not an ewok licking your ankle darling maybe its the black dog? He is here to ask you Who Do You Think You Are. You Cant. People Will Say Things. People Will Poke At You. Be Smaller. Cmon Turn Down the Volume on that Light. That Little Light That You Let Shine. No, surely not.
Fear knocked and the door, faith answered, and no one was there. Ah ha, I remembered we aren’t mates anymore.
Gratitude pops in for a cuppa and a squeezey hug. Fear is losing his grip people, he is losing his grip. Fear is a big ogre with nostril hairs so vile Roald Dahl would dry reach. The man has sold millions of copies of books. He would be a great judge.
There is a place we call cuppa snuggles. It is the time when all the ODonnell women folk make a cuppa and jump on my king size bed for gossips and chats, laughter and silly reminiscing. Remember the time Nanna spat her teeth out? What about that time we ransomed the dog for chocolate biscuits?
Her and I stand and look at the ocean together and smile, it is happening. It is really happening. We spoke of this, we whispered about this place when we were smaller. When the world was big.
Mum, why can’t you?
I am so sorry, but I am really tired, it has been a big day, and I am a bit dizzy.
You have time for other people, but not me.
No sweet child, if you only you knew. All my love goes to you and your siblings. I do what I do for you. Your smile makes me breathe, and your heart is my treasure to protect. The universe gave you to me, and now I must give me to you. It is written in the stars and in our biology. We have been friends for eons you and me.
When they are so small and tiny they need you; when they are big and independent, they need you. Balancing…on a budget
I haven’t heard from you; you sound really busy. Things must be going well. You must be doing alright if you are in Point Lonsdale now, business is good huh? Its a bit far away from the go-to people in town though isn’t it? Oh well, each to their own.
That is correct.
Is this a hairdresser? We need a hairdresser. I do hope you are useful here.
No, its a wordsmith agency of awesomeness.
Least do no harm, that is my motto, this anti-seizure medication will do the trick.
Yes Ok Doc.
Why am I SO HUNGRY, its the anti-seizure medication. That cow is making my mouth water. What the actual hell is going on? Put down the bacon. I said put down that bacon.
To be fat and live or to be thin and sick? That is the question.
Mum! Dad is going to be pissed, your dog ate his new Yukka plant.
For the love of Jehovah. Eye Twitch.
That bloody dog! Three dogs. Why do we need three dogs?
Its a pack thing. One needs a tribe and a pack. Now we have a pack.
Mum! Dad is going to be cross, your dog just ate his new socks!
The actual pair of glorious cotton foot pockets that matched had now crossed into the abyss of dark matter otherwise known as Kelpie.
I have never felt so inspired, your story, omg your story! I was so scared to put myself out there; now I know I can do it. I know I have to do it. Because my story matters. My story needs to be told, and I understand it isn’t just because its mine, its because it will help someone else, and that’s more important than being stuck in fear. It is about communication and human interaction. Smile. Yes my dear bright and shiny human, it does. You matter. You all matter. So much.
Chairs are pushed in, the looks on faces make my heart swell again. They heard. They felt, and they understood. These beautiful seeking, learning humans.
Fear once knocked on this door but doesn’t any more; he’s gone up the road for a listening ear. He worked out his BS isn’t welcome here anymore.
Mum have I told you today that I love you? Would you like a foot rub?
Yes please favorite child, but first may I make you some pancakes?
Let’s turn up that French jazz music, how groovy is it?
You guys are seriously messed up, and lame. Who listens to Jazz Music and talks like that?
You once did before hormones took over you child. This one still has at least a years worth of reciprocal love left.
Hey, Dingus, do you need me to get milk on the way home? (Heavens open, choir sings.)
Why am I so tired? I wish that nerve would stop twitching every time I exercise. It makes me nervous. What if its the aneurysm?
Don’t think about it; it will go away.
It will just pop on you, exploding in your head bigger than the Sydney NYE Fireworks and Y2K back in the day, and Bobs your Uncle you will be standing there looking at yourself wondering what the hell happened and who’s that standing over there? Archangel Gabriel? Wow, you’re much taller than I imagined, Gabe those wings are working for you.
Did you come to meet me personally? What do you mean what am I wearing? I am stuck with this for the Afterlife? No, I did not know that there was a fresh hole in my pants near my… Bikini waxes are so yesterday…
You really need to buy some better activewear. You old fave puma trackies and holy t-shirt are so gross. You are not a hot mum. What will you do if you actually die on one of these walks? You know how people are, they won’t stop they will think you are a homeless person. Of THAT ILK, the low brow type. You know what people think of homeless people. Except you and a few good eggs. You know what its like to have no home.
F%$k it, and f$%#, Lorna Jane.
Bikini waxes are out of fashion; bikini waxes are out of fashion.
Monash University would like to congratulate you on finishing the first part of your certification.
Mindfulness. Breathe in. Breathe Out. I am that I am. This too shall pass. God give me the strength to move through this world and do not harm but to radiate all that is good and pure.
MUUUUUUUM! Do you shop? There is NO FOOD!
We would like you to get on board and donate your time to the cause; we only need you to drive over 6 hours to do it, it will be great for the organization. They need people like you.
My kids need people like me.
No, I do not want to lock the door and put on my sneakers. It’s Tuesday. What! Is it Saturday? Oh wow, that went quick. Where are those Nikes?
Marlborough Sav Blanc
Good morning Monday! ALARM SCREECH.
Read More From Ponderings….
Welcome to 2018.
Got a catch-cry thrown in your face yet?
Don’t die with your music in you.
Blah de blah. Pulease.
Ok, sure. Is that because I am filled with 2000 unplayed hits from 1976 to 2017 that have not been amped up? You’ve heard it before.
People telling other people how to live their lives is not always great. It’s kind of hierarchal and patronizing. It’s kind of like sucking eggs. It’s a little bit of I’m better than you, like Tina Turner in a Bald Man’s Support Group. “I’ve worked out how to have a perfect life, I shall assume yours is worse than mine, so I shall tell you how to live it and you too can be like me.” Heard that old song? Enter Fade to Black Riff and Sinatra’s My Way- LOUD. Unless you are of course a self-help junkie.
Enter the commercial guru. I have news: you need to pay for self-help like a fish needs a bicycle. Good luck with that. It can cost you even more. Unless it’s a super good psychologist, those humans are worth their weight in Peppermint Crisps.
There might be an exception to the telling though. The telling of truths might need an ear. What if, just for a moment, someone had actually seen behind the curtain for a peek, a preview of the matrix and heard the warning call. Perhaps it is like watching everyone around you and you know there is a tsunami about to hit but you don’t tell anyone. You know it like you know how to count your fingers and toes that the water is rising and all of these people may suffer, they are oblivious to the life rafts tucked behind that tree, and you don’t even whisper a “look out.”
Now what? You don’t want to get preachy, you don’t want to tell anyone to suck anything, let alone an egg and yet here the burden of the truth sits in your lap. Quite heavy.
What if that little peek turned everything you ever knew on its head and inside out, leaving you with so many answers to questions and so many questions to answer?
In the Western world, we are so hypnotized by the social rigmarole of expectation and reward that we sink into the achievement of it like quicksand. By doing this and not paying attention, you can slip.
If you are happy to live that quiet, calm and uneventful life, not noticing, then good for you. The world needs peace, tranquility and comfort. More of it probably. Comfort is the root of all yearnings. Since dwelling in caves, we have sought the soft bed and warm soup, cold water on a hot day, the soothing song of a mother’s love. Comfort is a psychological carrot dangling in front of our eyes. There is nothing wrong with it, so long as the chase for it doesn’t have us blindfolded.
Many of us have a calling. Have you felt it? It sits deep down within us, it’s a path we are called to walk. Who calls it? Maybe that is your journey to discover. That’s not up to anyone to define for you. But it’s there, an intrinsic calling to go your own way. It might be all leading to the day you are at University as a 37-year-old, and you save a young man from being hit by a bus because in 10 years time he comes up with an algorithm saving lives in a hospital. It might be to quietly inspire others to be brave enough to grab onto love or something new. Or you might be a movie director in the wings, burgeoning to changing the world with a documentary up your sleeve. You could be a carpenter, a sheep herder or a mother of 4 and a wife to none. Who knows? You do. Deep down.
Don’t pretend it isn’t there.
The problem lies in the lack of attention we pay to that whisper within. Filling one’s life with have-to’s that are mere echoes of our social environment’s expectations is as hypnotic and fulfilling as a hearty Italian lasagne. The essence of self-virtuosity will become a drug. Except for that niggle. It says “there’s more.” You ignore it at your own peril. Sometimes you might even project it onto others as a displaced issue. Because in that virtuous hypnotic everyday ordinary there are rules. Step up, don’t step up too high. Too much, but don’t do too much. Find a girl, settle down, if you want you can marry… you get the drift.
For many, a negative health diagnosis brings the questions and answers on, flooding you with insights like that very tsunami. Sometimes it’s a death of a loved one. It can be a tiny peripheral spark of the divine that starts it. It might even be in the bottom of a cereal box. For some, it doesn’t come until the last moment of our stay here, because the music of the world was too loud for us to get our rhythm on. Sometimes it’s an 8-hour operation, and a peek behind the curtain…
The world will tell you not to listen. It will beg you to be a part of its groove. He needs to get a job; he needs to do this, she needs to do that. She did what? Who told you that? Who says so? Find your rhythm and be accountable to it. If you want to live on a pittance and never work a day in your life other than to volunteer feeding the homeless while you live in a caravan on an abandoned building site? Knock yourself out. If you want to go back to university and become a doctor and adopt 150 labradors? Go for it. Or perhaps you want to have a career writing what you love, traveling and playing chess with your kids, baking cakes and selling tyres. Whatever it is, don’t waste that precious time you have here pretending the inner calling isn’t there, hiding from the whispers.
Dance in the quiet as much as you can until you can hear the formation of something. Spending time in solitude can do it. Walking in nature a LOT, or on the beach will do it too. Meditation and chanting are known to assist. Yoga and Tai Chi are rippers. Prayer is the big one. Many different amplifiers will help you hear the whisper. It doesn’t cost you a fortune; you don’t necessarily have to go to India and live with a guru for 28 nights (mind you I have heard it can be quite effective too).
A program on a cruise ship that cost more than a month’s wages with someone yelling at you using NLP and ABC won’t really do all that much in the long term. You have been provided with everything you already need to hear your own whispered tune. It won’t necessarily be an epiphany, it might be the tiniest step, the microscopic pinch of an idea but it will lead to a mighty treasure hunt filled with rewards that lift you up out of the mire and into the truth of everything you are here to do. Pay attention, write it down, be accountable and tap your foot. Watch what happens when it turns into a deafening orchestra.
A whole heap of space matter, minerals, and infinite energy went into creating your existence, so please use it wisely. Take it from someone who’s clock is ticking as loud as the rhythm, it will be worth every bit.
PS-, there are some lifeboats behind that palm tree.
Humans of the earth I am going to cut right to the chase:
there appears to be need for people to criticize others or not treat people very nicely; where does this come from? What makes us an expert about other people’s business?
When the activity or action they are doing affects others dangerously or puts harm to another then this needs to be interrupted and the person guilty of negative and dangerous behaviour needs to be re-educated. Otherwise, seriously- what the heck? Why should you care if so and so earns this amount, or that person’s parenting wasn’t what you envisioned it should be. That is of course unless you are perfect yourself in which case is impossible unless you are Charlie Hunnam. This criticism includes the strength of eyebrow highlighting, how much TV the child is allowed to watch, if you wear high heels, laugh too loud or my favorite just TOO ENTHUSIASTIC. C’mon really? I’m going to own the last one. Too enthusiastic. Am I? Yup. Painfully. Like a yappy fox terrier on happy pills.
I once asked my doctor many years ago if I should be on antidepressants to counteract a period of melancholy; his response whilst retrospectively refreshingly honest was shocking.
He burst out laughing and said “Kirsten you on antidepressants would be like giving Pollyanna happy pills, you would be like a tornado in a caravan park.” Just dangerous. I am not THAT positive. I don’t fart rainbows and wax lyrical all the time. I do not. I am totally guilty of loving the hell out of the people close to me. They get told frequently how awesome I think they are, but this is truth. It is actually why we are friends, because my friend detector is honed into awesomeness. Yeah I know right? Comedians everywhere. But have you met my friends? I may not have been blessed with both eyelids, but God made up for it with friendship. Spectacular friendships. I am very blessed and spoiled in this department. If friendships were braziers I’d be a K cup. Let’s be real here, I need some wins. K cup friendships might not save lives or obliterate aneurysms but they certainly create heartsmiles and memories which are like treasures to me. For the record too, just because your health might be up poo creek without a paddle doesn’t mean you are not allowed to be happy. That’s not an absolute thing. Some people are wired differently, that’s all. I am wired like a weirdo, and that’s ok. (This is what the professionals say, so I am stickin with it)
So why am I pondering judgy people, criticism and defending my position on positivity you ask? Well, I have been sending a lot of time with Nellie Florence of late, aka My Nanna, asking her question about when she was a little girl, what it was like growing up in the 20s, 30s and 40s and her memory is as sharp as a tack, for 90 years old she’s a ripper. It was her influence that instilled the ideology to treat others the way you would like to be treated. The tricky bit is, my expectations then tend to be high of other people. I really struggle when people are unfriendly or unkind or they do things to me or those I love that I would never dream of doing to them. This is tricky.
For example, I would never in a million years demand that another human go buy Weetbix at 7.30 am when the aforementioned human is doing their daily business in the bathroom. That’s just not cricket. I would never judge someone for their dance moves or not knowing the lyrics of a song, even if it WAS really easy and they SHOULD know the words. Neither would I want someone to abuse me for 15 minutes because the silverbeet they bought from the fresh food section was moldy. (I witnessed this, this morning). I never wish bad upon anyone either, another farting rainbows Kirst thing. But I must admit I have moments where I wish Donald Trump gets reincarnated for the next 250 times as a balding woman with personal space issues and has to fawn off middle aged gropers with a low respect for women and a passion for objectification. Karma? Not sure. But you get the idea. I think Donald Trump needs a bit of Nellie time, maybe the wooden spoon and some humble pie too. I wonder if he demands wheaty cereals or non moldy silverbeet and sings words to American Pie with gusto especially the bit about the day the movie died? I cannot imagine him running the ‘free world’ oh my lord, can you imagine? It would be harder to watch than a hipster food review, or as my dear old dad might put it; “harder than a penis at a Viagra convention.” Yes I know… coarse but amusing nonetheless. Sorry, I sidestepped there onto Trumpdom. Again, my bad. Would you do that to me? I bet you would not.
I wonder if after every sentence we had to say to the person “Have I just treated you the way you would like to be treated today?” What the response would be? I pondered this yesterday. Imagine if this was a prerequisite? Centrelink would be transformed, customer service and customer politeness executed in a fashion enough to make Poppins blush with joy. Sex lives would be magically enhanced across the world, people with disabilities celebrated and differences rejoiced. Wars ended, world leaders high fiving each other…whale hunters weeping at the destruction on the ships decks, snobbery abandoned, hunger destroyed, child marriages and exploitation might no longer exist.
I wonder if our faith in each other would grow? Would the homeless be housed? The hungry fed? The unloved be loved? This is my pondering. It came from an expectation I had recently of a person
I care about whom has been a bit distant. I found myself in a situation similar to them and I would have liked the same amount of love I gave them when they last had their time of need. It got me thinking; why on earth did I have this expectation on them? When they were in a similar situation a few years back did I do what I did because I was being kind or because there were strings attached? The strings are the expectation that they might do the same if the situation was reversed. Then I pondered on where did this expectation of others having to be nice comes from? Yup, treat others the way you yourself would be treated came echoing back over and over again. It was a childhood mantra. Problem is these days’ people get all tangled up in their own stuff. ‘Concentrate on YOU’ is thrown at us every day, look after yourself first. Spend more time on you and less on others is blasted across the emotional airways. Look I am all for self nurture, but if we are THAT tied up in our own stuff that we can’t see when others are in need or are suffering, or we can’t even spare the time to ask ‘Hey this has been happening for you, are you ok?” Then maybe we are too tied up in our own stuff.
Like a few weeks ago, I had a friend who was in the middle of the supermarket having a melt down because of teenage trouble and a matching naughty husband, like a pair of awful shoes these two males had given her heart blisters. This friend is always incredibly stoic so it was a shock to hear her so upset. Now did I sit there and listen for 7 minutes? No, I said oh no, I am sorry that happened, but listen, can I call you back in an hour? I am running out the door to catch the post. Yup friend of the year. NOT. Epic MY BAD situation. It only occurred to me when I was standing in line between 2 smelly people and a never-ending queue, missing the post anyway, that it would have been a far better investment to have given her my heart and ear for as long as it took to soothe her. I did not follow my own mantra because I was so busy being busy. Gross huh? (Ps- I checked that my clothes were in the right way this time-) Then again I am constantly being told to stop worrying about other people so much and concentrate on me. Hmmm, I am not too sure about that. It feels like putting a size 8 shoe on a size 12 heart.
So humans, I will leave that ponder with you, hope you have a super day, week and month. Be kind to each other, be brave and enjoy the time you have with the people close to you as best you can. I know I will be. And children of Australia; please darlings, please let your parent’s have some private bathroom time, when something is evacuating your body, alone time is important.
Countless blessings to you x