The human zoo

It's been sweltering in Melbourne lately. I can't remember the last time it rained proper, and temperatures have been above 30 for a record-breaking 8 days (with three more to come). The whole city feels like it's under attack from the sun, which is something I'm sure I'll be longing for in a few weeks time when grey autumn skies move in.

Over the weekend Tom and I helped some good friends prepare their country property to host a wedding in a few weeks' time. The hard yakka finished early, so we skipped off to a local lake for a dip. After a few nervous attempts at jumping in, I finally made the plunge, and was glad to cool off. There's nothing like swimming in a natural body of water in the middle of summer... although there's something about lake swimming and not being able to see the bottom that is a little unsettling.

Nearby us was a group of local teenage boys jumping into the water from a rope swing hanging from a gumtree. We sat there watching them for close to an hour, without much conversation between us. It was surprisingly fascinating watching these boys fling their weedy bodies into the water without a thought for their safety; every attempt, a punctuation mark between life and death. One of us remarked how similar it felt to being at the zoo, just sitting and staring at these living creatures rollicking in their natural habitat. If anyone was watching us I doubt they would've stayed for long, how boring we would've seemed sitting on the banks, doing nothing but stare. How strange we are, homo sapiens, who find watching each other so interesting.

A long haul flight

Awkwardly posed with some baby flamingos in Singapore

Well would you look at that.... seven months just went by.

Life has been a little hectic, to say the least. Getting married, changing job, moving house, going overseas and changing church within two months was interesting. I probably wouldn't recommend it to anyone out there considering it. But you know what? Here I am on the other side. Thanks God.

Back in January, Tom and I were flying home from a very last minute trip to the UK to visit his sick father. We had to make two connections, with a total time in transit of 30 hours and I was feeling jet-lagged, exhausted and a little overwhelmed. I was sick of being in between places. I just wanted to be home. I wanted to be settling in to our new place, starting a new routine, finding a new normal.

I realised that's how I'd been feeling for about 6 months. As life threw up some pretty big challenges, I'd felt off balance, like a deer in headlights, at sea for as long as I could remember. In the lead up to getting married, I just felt this great sense of being on my way towards something more stable, but I wasn't quite there yet. I was in transit.

And now here I am, writing from our little apartment in between doing some odd jobs and writing projects. Life feels a lot more normal, and I'm ready to write here a bit more.

As for what this year holds for me, it's still unclear as I'm currently jobless, but I'm studying part-time at bible college, doing some freelance work, continuing the Spoken Project and getting used to being a wife. Hopefully I'm going to learn more graphic design skills too, that's a big dream of mine over the next few years. Meanwhile, Tom and I are watching lots of Downtown Abbey, laughing at each other and getting used to living in a one bedroom apartment. Fun times.

Watch this space.

How about you? How are YOU?

Call me maybe

If you can overlook the name of the site, pretty much, this is the best thing ever. Pop songs turned into cat songs. Here's Carly Rae Jepsen's 'Call Me Maybe'.

I'm not even a cat person, and I think they're just plain awesome.

All alone and loving it

I recently took a week of forced solitude in the beautiful wine region of Heathcote, where a dear widow friend of mine lives.

After catching up with my boss and finding myself in tears, he suggested I go offline for a little while, spend some time alone with God, and with ample time to read, pray, think and reflect.

I've not been a retreat type of person in the past. My thinking has been, it's kind scary going away by yourself and what if you freak yourself out, and can't you just keep going and just hang on for a bit longer?

But I can't tell you how good a week of no email, and no phone was for my soul. I didn't realise what a burden communication was until I wasn't carrying that weight any more. Interestingly, the things I missed most were google and a few friends who I speak to regularly. But other than that, not having to respond to anyone or anything was AMAZING.

I also understood the value of solitude for the first time. I'm an introvert, but an introvert who forces herself to be up the front and engaging with people a lot, and one who even when she's 'alone' is still connected. I find it hard these days to curl up with a book for longer than 10 minutes.

But when I went away, I found myself devouring books in front of the fire. Suddenly, with no interruptions and no option to interrupt myself (hello facebook, twitter, email, sms...), I couldn't stop reading. It was the best!

And I had time, real, proper, extended, time to be in God's presence. To just be. And to take all the stuff going on to him in a way that didn't feel like it was a task on a list to be completed.

So, I'm a bit of a convert to the retreat. I'm going to try and have a no technology day at least once a month (hoping to make it more regular than that, but you know, baby steps), and have a retreat once a year.

I want to foster a more healthy spiritual life, beginning with solitude, rest and being in God's presence.

Have you done a retreat before? Did you find it amazing or totally frustrating?

I've spoken to a few friends who've loved it or hated it. I'm curious about you!

Photo: the room I spent much of my time in.

lifesize art

How awesome is this street art in Malaysia?

Artist, Ernest Zacharevic, is behind it. It's really cool to see on his facebook page the way people are interacting with the art.

We're lucky in Melbourne to have lots of street art, but I don't think I've seen any quite this interactive. Like.

via Colossal

The Wedding Poem

Marriage.

My brother was married to the beautiful Emma a few weeks ago. He asked me to pen them a poem for the occassion and read it on the day - a daunting task!

It took me a long time to come up with a suitable idea and even longer still to write the silly thing. But I got there in the end.

I was an absolute plate of jelly on the day, shaking with nerves and feeling very vulnerable. Writing poetry is one thing, reading it at your brother's wedding is another.

Anyway, I thought I'd share what I wrote with you. The only thing to know is that my brother is a science major, and obsessed with wine, especially pinot noir. In fact, he's currently in France on his honeymoon drinking gallons of the stuff.


To Know and Be Known

What does this thing, this eddying,

falling, swaying thing- love - look like?

Have you seen the right ventral

tegmental region of the brain

throwing dopamine around like confetti?

The pre-frontal cortex pulling data

into patterns, building pathways and

monitoring progress towards something

mystical and praiseworthy

until those chemicals shift

like holograms, slowing

to a kind of mercurial calm;

a love that lasts the decades.

Or perhaps it's less like brain science

and more like a climate – yours

that of a pinot grape, demanding

warm days and cool evenings,

chalky clay, and air crisp like freshly

laundered sheets to produce

a limited, but complex palette.

That place where your love began,

that fertile ground where two curling

vines were grafted into a matrix

altogether more robust-

that must've been something to behold.

And only you can tell of the

careful pruning which took place

in quieter moments, leading

to bud bursts, shoots, leaves and

fruit hanging ripe from the vine,

sugar just below the surface

with enough piquancy to satisfy

a thirsty tongue.

What a vintage, this promise - to know and be known.

Alexi Murdoch

Isn't sharing stuff the best? I love sharing music and books 'specially.

Recently, T (who you will probably become more familiar with on this here blog), introduced me to Alexi Murdoch. He's a UK artist who plays beautiful folk music that makes you feel nice and warm inside.

I feel I'm a little late to the party on this one, but maybe you are too. Let's be late to the party together! He has a new album out called Towards the Sun and it's pretty swell.

Here is one of his older songs that is rather lovely. Enjoy.