Tag Archives: intentional living

Hiking, Life, Travel, writing

Wo-ah, yes, I see you!

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“The simple everyday experiences become the doorway to new thoughts and inspirations.” – E. A. Bucchianeri

Hello sweet friends,

Have you had a wo-ah moment lately. That simple moment of noticing something that all of a sudden speaks to you. And you get it, the penny drops! Take for instance this week’s postcard. A shot from my daily walk. Do you see it, the great big doorway at the end of the avenue of trees? I walk this forest path regularly and on this day I was quite honestly captivated! How is it that on this day, it was the first time I had noticed this doorway.

How about the invitation from the gentle hues? Do they speak to you? A gentle reminder that sometimes that big doorway, though big and scary at first, may well actually be where the the sweetness is. On the otherside.

When we left off in my last postcard I was planning the next section of my ‘Home to Rome’ walk. I promised you I’d be sending you a postcard from there. Alas, life happened. Lurgy struck the household. While it is easy to say no when I can’t do something, there was a nagging voice ‘… uurgh you’ve written this whole spiel in your last postcard about following cues and now you’re not even going’. I needed this walk, but also I needed to be home. The choice was easy. But what about the cues, the calling, the thing I was doing for me?

Doorways have been on my mind. What is my next big one, the one that is going to smash open the banality of what has started to feel on some days like a small life. Small town monotony and a life of tasks for others. A day or two into the cancelled Belgian walk plans, my husband’s work trip scheduled for early July cancelled. Ooooh now this blew open some weeks on the family calendar, days where I wouldn’t be the ‘needed’ adult. I should take them, the weeks/months ahead are busy. Maybe, I could actually go a little further south. Maybe, I could walk my next section of the Camino del Norte.

So yes, that is now happening. I am not picking up my camino from ‘Home to Rome’ but in fact my ‘Camino del Norte’ project. So it has taken me sometime to find the words to write about this shift. With so many changes of plans in the past years and this nagging feeling of ‘what am I doing with my life’, I was struggling to yet again not be doing something I had committed to. Determined not to fall into the ‘woe is me’ spiral I often found myself last year, I kept walking and I kept taking notice. Open.

The doorway got me feeling, but also it got me thinking. It isn’t such a bad thing to be someone who isn’t rigid in their path. Aside from the reality that this is life for me right now. Living abroad with four big kids where stuff happens and plans change, we change – daily. This shape shifting, or my need to shape shift is simply my character. It’s a part of me and I need to remember how to embrace it, to be in touch with it, to work with it from where I am and to not resist it.

Maybe, the first door is simply the one that opens into the hallway?! And hallway is the entrance into the next chapter, into your life of opportunities. Maybe from here it is ok to open doors, close doors, sit in a room for a while, move to another room, go back, find a new room, see where that goes, bring something from one room to another. Friends, I think I am on an a new kind adventure. I’m not even sure what it is, or where it’s going, but it feels a bit exciting. And it feels like it should go slow, no promises or big challenges (not yet). Just … when the moments and opportunities present themselves and they feel right – I should GRAB them, invest in them. Invest in myself.

In my head I am living in a story, a secret world where only I can escape into. Protecting this story with boundaries and truth feels like a most important thing. There’s dreaming, dancing, fairytales, romance, suspense, curiosity, interesting characters and it feels oh so bloody delicious when I am there. I have lived and learnt a lot of over the past few years and now it’s time to trust in life again. To give in. Oh AND I can’t stop writing. Writing feels like it is a big part of what is happening. That doorway, that one end of the avenue that seemed to say ‘don’t be scared, look there are soft pink cushions for you to land on, to sink safely into’ maybe, it was in fact a doorway back into a creative life via bravery. And creativity teamed with bravery, well that friends is a powerful elixir – isn’t it!

Life, writing

That feeling of coming home, know it?

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“The best way to change the world is in concentric circles: start with yourself and work your way out from there.”

James Clear

Hi there!

Well it’s been a minute. How are things with you? It has been all sorts busy here. Still we await the arrival of the northern hemisphere’s spring season, as in really arrive and not disappear again tomorrow! The winter has been long, the busy has been good and oh my gosh this is my first post for the year! And.It.Is.May.Already. There’s been learning, trying new things and settling into life as I chill my nervous system.

Learning by living is my modus operandi, so when I am quiet in these times and sharing less, never fear. I’m simply off being human and growing with that experience. It’s nice though to feel ready to come home and to begin to grow something with words. To once again write to you from a sturdy place. There’s so much to talk about!

Hey, so, I know we aren’t really talking about the C time and I know we all experienced that time differently, but during my deep dive into being human I had to think about how the pandemic affected me. It’s not the first time I’ve had to face some really tough feelings but it was probably the hardest.

It wasn’t the actual pandemic time that was hard for me. It was more so the years after. Specifically, this notion of simply returning to life that’s a ‘new normal’, one that doesn’t accommodate for changes. It is not quite ridiculous to expect to simply go back to being the same with a new tag?! I mean let’s be honest … who is the same two years on, ever. Even without a pandemic – things, life changes. When I look back at the amount of change in my usually quiet life I feel a great deal of sympathy for my nervous system, no wonder it got itself stuck in survival mode.

My family of little kids, those kids who danced behind the pide piper when she (me) played the next tune went and grew up. Really grew, the buggers. Two became fully fledged teens and boy that was something I did not have a manual or a script for. It’s taken some trial and error. After being locked out of our home country during the pandemic, the connection with our ozzie’ness shifted and this happened differently for all of us. Our parents downsized, aged and our old life at ‘home’ felt like it lost its roots.

We renovated a house (ha never again, ever). Th challenge aside from the actual living in a building site was that as someone who keeps it small and prefers the company of kind, interesting, honest, pay it forward types and a lot of quiet space was that I had to live with builders in that space everyday. Builders who regularly took the piss, lied and instead of 6, took 18 months. Oh and then there is the peri menopause, yep that hit at the same time. JESUS that peri – it took my energy, brain, confidence and what resilience I had left. Lol and they’re just the big things!

The good news is that I have found peace with all the change. Time is a great healer, yes, this is true … but also it is what you do in the time that heals. There has been plenty of sitting in my shit. A bit, hmm maybe a lot of woe is me. But, maybe this is necessary sometimes. Some time to feel sad for yourself, or to feel your sadness so you can uncover what it is you are really sad about and what you need. I am glad for it. Obviously, it isn’t fun but to accept change, but to step out of the flight, fight, fawn or freeze response it felt necessary. To me, this is self love. To love yourself enough to give yourself the grace to not be ok when you’re not, to give yourself and those around you compassion, to accept being imperfect and the imperfections of others, humaness. To recognise where and who you are and to be ok with that.

Anyways, that’s just a little of where I’ve been. If you’re interested in where the peace came from well a number of ways. I talk to someone. She helped me rip off a few bandaids. Under those bandaids were some wounds that I needed to give air to. We all know wounds heal better when exposed (if ready). I realised some of my teenage wounds were causing me to react rather than to respond to my own teens. Flight/fight. My catholic upbringing, schooling and life experiences still have some real impacts on me – fawn/freeze (don’t be seen). In survival mode it felt boundless and just as a river can’t flow without banks I couldn’t find my flow without boundaries which explained the bewildered state.

Anyways, from the chats I began thinking about how to step out of the fear mode I was existing in and how I could settle my nervous system. Diet came next. I was eating for survival. My gut health needed some love and based on tests – gluten, sugar and dairy are gone for now. I feel better. I gave up alcohol in favour of special occasions but kept coffee, I drink a lot of hot water and herb tea too. it’s not easy and these changes are a work in progress.

On a whim I picked up and read a book (this book) and honestly it changed my life. Peri/menopause is a feminist issue and we need to talk about it. I started HRT and that is something I never thought I would ever do. I have learnt that as women we are completely gaslit when it comes to our hormones and what this change means. We cannot rely on all caregivers to provide accurate, evidence based, individual information. An oestrogen deficiency played havoc with my body just as a thyroxine or insulin issues can for some. Those oestrogen receptors that live from my head down to my toes are now dancing with happiness to be awake. My energy has returned and the brain fog has disappeared. So now I can move, hot yoga, cycling and walking (always walking) are my things right now.

There is no magic bullet in my story here, just a few different paths I took to try to find my way through to post pandemic ‘new normal’. The gem for me was to learn that I can’t do what I’ve always done to cope and what that meant for me in terms of action. I couldn’t run/hike my way through it – injuries. I couldn’t write my way out of it – brain fog. I couldn’t eat my way out of it – health consequences, I couldn’t do something new (study) or adventurous (plan a move) – no energy. I simply had to sit still and move slowly and be open to and accept new things. I am not there yet but I am better for it. I need to give weight to all the puzzle pieces.

So, new things. Well, yes. As you all know I’m a little bit of a gypsy soul and I like need some excitement … some sweet synchronicity, some of those oh-wow-what-a-coincidence type moments and really I just need to find and hang out with my people. The ones get that about me, about life and that keep it interesting. Writing has always been such a beautiful doorway for me to stay connected with and to find the finest of kindreds. I started a new blog and gosh I’m excited (and nervous) to be in this space.

Your Camino

It is something different for me. This current blog you may remember started as the fundraiser for my first camino and it’s veered off is so many directions I don’t know what it is anymore! It is boundless. Of course that is ok. But like the river needs its banks, I want to do something that is in flow so I need boundaries, banks. I need to create something with direction. Already in the short time I’ve been playing over on your camino I’ve had some sweet interactions. I’ve felt a shift in what my mind thinks about and where it goes, my step and I’ve felt that feeling of ‘good’ fear. Like I am actually doing something that scares me a little. I like that I can connect people.

It feels time to challenge myself and see what I am capable of in this time. With commitment, the work of that feels doable. There are of course many sites dedicated to the camino, and yes there’s that shadow part of me that thinks and says ‘how do I fit with those, how can I compete, what if you fail’? But you know, I am tired of wondering about that, and it’s not a competition. So, I am creating my own unique space dedicated to camino walking, not trying to fit in. I am just going to write my stories and walk my walk, write to connect people and that alone feels like success.

I wanted to write this open the conversation about ‘new normal’ and change because it feels important, how are you with yours? And I am thinking a bit about this blog and I think perhaps this will become a letter about life here or maybe it will disappear. We shall see what flow says. We did have a beautiful weekend away last weekend in the fabulous south where the wildflowers are in bloom and there are hills. Hills in the flatlands, yes it’s true, they really exist. I am out of time and page space so I’ll share that with you next time.

With much love and grace,

Fran xx

Sneak peak from next week … the wildflowers

Hiking, Life, Photography, Travel

Tuscan Wandering.

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Every window and every door of this traditional Tuscan villa offers a glimpse of postcard Tuscan wonder. This vista the view from the bathroom. When the end of the work week arrived last night, rather than a knock off drink the husband and I took ourselves off on a knock off hike! A wander out the front door and up into the Tuscan wonder.

I’ve given up my running schedule while I’m here to hike this trail each day. It is spectacular. And it’s simply Tuscany. The colours, the rolling hills and valleys, olive groves, vineyards, bountiful fruit trees, earthy brick and concrete buildings as far as the eyes can see, wildflowers at ground level and expansive skies above. The buzzing of the flies during the day and the mozzies at night remind us there’s always some discomfort! However, dips in the pool, a fan to sleep near and Italian gastronomy more than compensate for this.

My legs hurt in new places. I tricked them with these hills and the hiking. They were so used to running across flat Holland. This is the hiking I love. Wild wonder. Adventurous trails with surprises along the way. It’s good to change it up, do something different with your legs and for your mind don’t you think? I feel a familiar sense of myself on these trails. Hiking through and across countries. The solitude of simply walking.

It’s a weird time in the word to be travelling. The familiarity of being here, the slowness of the days, the long nights and the unfurling of this unplanned time away doesn’t feel like travel. It feels like living. Living within a community, quietly up on the hill and in the local wildness. This is slow travel, this is home for now, this time here behind the Tuscan windows.

#underthetuscansun

#writingstreak

#somewherenewwithlife

 

 

 

 

Food, Life, writing

Another Tuscan Day. Another Tuscan Door.

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Another Tuscan day, another Tuscan door. This one into the kitchen. Sometimes we don’t know what it is we need until we go on a treasure hunt. In one door or out another. And there are many, many ways to hunt for treasure.

Yesterday I hiked in the bush and up the hill. There was treasure there. I felt the deep joy a hike brings me. Not the flat Dutch walk kind hike, but the gritty, rocky path, up hills, down hills kind of hike. So many good thoughts, ideas and vibes out there on the trail. I miss it. I need to find ways to do more of it.

This month I wrote every day. There was treasure there. All the little daily sprinkles of gold and of course the solid nugget. I’ve graduated from writing here every day to writing 1,667 words (a chapter) a day of my camino story.

I ran every day for 140 days. There was treasure there. I ran through the beginning of and then the quarantine period of a global pandemic. It kept me moving forward. It guaranteed the circulation of the hormones I would need to get through this time and arrive sturdily at the other end.

On a whim I decided to cook a book. This one. Rome. Centuries In An Italian Kitchen. (This photo is my home kitchen not the Tuscan kitchen I’m currently in.) There is treasure in following whims. Would I have been as drawn to Tuscany if I hadn’t begun project The Italian Kitchen at my house? Would I realise the doorway into the kitchen would  be the door I needed to walk into to find a familiar friend. Simplicity. Food has felt heavy for me for a while. I’m not always kind to myself with food. I needed to find a simpler way, a lighter way.

Breakfast was melon with prosciutto. Oh my, this is a spectacular flavour balance. And so easy. Every mouthful heaven. We don’t need to cook like a masterchef contestant to create beautiful food. We can do that too by keeping things simple.

(Sorry for this one Sue).

A belief in something. There’s treasure there. We all have different ways in which we make sense of the world and create our meaning. I look for the coincidences. The synchronous happenings and I do like to wonder what the animals who arrive on my path mean.

I was stung by a wasp a few days ago. I sat on it. Oh la la that’s a painful experience, and then it’s a really bloody itchy one. And I was stung not once! But twice. The second as I shoo it from my stinging with pain butt cheek. I was a bit lacking in direction and motivation this afternoon I went in search of what the arrival of a wasp might mean.

“Wasp symbolism is reminding you that merely thinking about your dreams will not make them a reality as quickly as going out and doing it. In other words, this spirit animal insists that you make a plan. Then you must keep working towards it and let nothing get in your way. Similar to the Snail, the Wasp meaning says that goals require perseverance, desire, and action. Thus you must apply your passion to the reality you wish to achieve!

Wasp symbolism is letting you know that resistance to change by definition, is self-sabotage. Therefore it’s time to allow yourself the notion that all things are possible and that you deserve to have all your dreams come true. The Wasp meaning asks you to be the best you can be!” Spirit Animals.

Now friends I’m a bit tired after a few nights of reduced sleep. It’s rather hot here (36 degrees) for one from the Nth. I know! I’ve gone soft since leaving Australia. And I’m tempted to do nothing. Which is of course completely fine. I already skipped a training run this week. But I had to take note of the wasp symbolism!

Like someone who needs AA I need my streaks. Do nothing about my creative dreams when it’s challenging and it’s a slippery slope. I need to keep the fire burning. If I don’t I fear it will all simply fall away. I need to be accountable. The streak has proven in this phase of my life to be the key for me. It takes me beyond simply thinking about the dream.

So I fired up the keyboard. Snapped a photo of the kitchen door and popped in here to write. From here I know I will continue moving in the right direction because the writing is part of the plan, it’s the work I need to do to realise the dream.

Also I’ve been undecided about ending this streak because I still need it. I need the rhythm, the process, the courage it takes to try, the risk (to find my limits) and of course the treasure.

In writing here today the simple answer (the treasure) appears. I will simply do either or. Write here or write a chapter. I need both doors to remain open. One where I write a story from the past and one where I write a myself into the story of my future.

Thanks for being here. Silently and sometimes with comments. Both are fine. Both are appreciated. You are appreciated. There are never expectations. I hope my whimsy today reminds you to go digging for treasure if you’re in need of some magic.

#writingstreak

Adventure, Life, writing

A Little Story Of Synchronicity From My Tuscan Desk

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I was a little way into my writing streak when I happened on a heron. I was out running. I hadn’t seen a heron for a while so I had to stop. In the past I’ve written about heron’s.  What are you here for? I wondered. Why am I seeing you now? And yet, of course I knew. I didn’t get the message last time. I wasn’t ready. I had more hurdles to jump.

I see a lot of myself in the totem meaning of a heron.

It’s the resourcefulness and self reliance of the heron I’m drawn to. It’s the reason I think it continues to show up for me. Use what you’ve got. Adapt to your setting. Grow something new with this opportunity. It’s something I’ve done my entire life. But in this phase it’s been more of a struggle.

Writing here daily, my #writingstreak happened after I had a fall whilst out running. I wrote To Fall Or Not To Fall. Deep down I knew I hadn’t tried hard enough with writing this camino story of mine. And yet I didn’t feel ready or able to go back to the book.

It felt like too big a challenge to simply go back to writing the book. So I decided to write daily. Running daily had proven to be an excellent way to start something with running. Why not see where writing each day would take me? It could only be good!

The night I’d seen the heron I started to watch some YouTube videos about writing a memoir. Meh interesting but lots about plans, order and software. I like the idea of all of that, but it’s not me. I’d have to change too much. Then I happened on a video interview between Joanna Penn and Rachael Herron on how to draft you memoir.

This interview completely engaged me. Rachael basically says Just.Write.The.Book. Don’ edit, don’t stop, just get on with and write a draft. She talked about NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. The annual writing project where during the month of November people use the month to write a  50,000 novel. Yes, an entire novel. Each day 1,667 words.

Hmmm I thought. There’s something in this. I’d heard it before. Just write the darn thing.

Later that night I looked up Rachael’s website. It was then her surname dawned on me. Herron. Sure it had a double ‘r’ but still it’s not a stretch for me to find some synchronicity there. I signed up to her email subscriber lists and let her ideas sit with me.

That week I also received a comment on my blog from a writer whose blog I went on to read. I happened on this post of his. Write A Shitty First Draft. I Dare You. The penny was starting to drop.

“The only kind of writing is rewriting.”

― Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

I already had the structure, a plan. I blogged my camino. I already had the backstory behind it. I’d lived it. I’d even blogged that too! Those of you who have been around for a while remember Choosing Simplicity and The Gentle Intention? What I didn’t have was a first draft to start rewriting, or to call a book.

I continued to write daily. Through the easy days and the blocks. I kept my eyes open for little stories to tell. I tried different things. I learnt that I can write each day. I learnt there are stories everywhere and I realised how I write is how I write. I write non fiction and non ‘how to’s’. What I write is personal stories. This is my style. This is the style I find meaning in. It’s the style that flows from my dreamy world and into the keyboard through my fingers.

I am a memoirist.

I also learnt to not feel guilt or scared or ashamed of the time I give to writing, or of my writing. It became something normal I did. ‘Are you writing your blog’ the kids ask. They’d watch Bondi Rescue and I’d write. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes the afternoon. If time was short I’d shorten what I wrote but I still wrote. Everyday.  Every day for 31 days. I’d notice errors after I’d posted. I’d correct them and move on. I’m sure it will happen today too. No confidence has been lost to mistakes. It’s all practice. It’s being unafraid to fall.

‘Let us risk the wildest places, Lest we go down in comfort, and despair.’ – Mary Oliver

To write for me is to take the risk into the wildest place. The risk of failure is far more attractive to me that the risk of comfort and despair.  Except there is no failure. I am writing a book and let’s face it, the chances of it being published are next to slim. I am totally cool with that. I am writing the story because I want to write it. The story wants me to write it. I am prepared now. I have the skills to get the first draft written. Beyond that I’ll develop the skills required. I’m resourceful, I’m a heron. And dear heron I’m in the wildest place. Writing myself into adventures and creating a story from a story. To me there is no wilder place.

 

#writingstreak

#day31/31

#theplacesyouwillgo

#cookthebook

#writethebook

#steertheship

#fromwhereIstand