Tag Archives: reflection

Travel

Where was I again, oh there I was, on that path …

6 Comments

“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”

Maya Angelou

Hello lovelies!

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what comes next. When is the next new path going to appear, the one that feels like the right one to plant the seeds. If I was the praying type I’d be praying for the next door to appear. I’m not, instead I’ve been wishing for it. Dear universe, please give me a hint. A clue to find you.

💫🚪💫

Last week while out walking I captured this blog’s accompanying photo. A field of wild flowers, buttercups. I’ve walked these woods for the past 5 springs and never have I ever seen this field in bloom like this. Along my well worn, regularly walked, at times a tad boring path – on this day, this difference caught my attention. My first clue. I knew I’d come back to this picture. There was something about it.

on this day

A field of wild flowers did seem like the perfect postcard to send you from my little corner of Europe. It sparked the idea of this blog transitioning into a postcard for you from europe. An little rhyme to accompany your postcard came to me one night while I was drifting off. A sweet way to share this image.

plenty came to play

and all it wanted to say

was have a beautiful day

Perhaps the beauty of this field planted a seed. Hmm how does this work? Do I plant the seeds for what comes next or are the seeds already planted for me? Is it for me to notice and water them?

I sat with my photo and it’s rhyme a little longer.

Each evening I’ve been hopping into live daily blogs written by pilgrims hiking along the camino. The photos of wildflowers in bloom have been spectacular as have the vibes from the trail in their daily debriefs (daily joy Mel). They are triggering some familiar stirrings in me. The desire to go away and walk, a long walk. Hmm a clue perhaps!?

I’ve a long list of blog posts to write for my new your camino site but something has been holding me back. Blank. Boring. They needed soul, some context. An actual camino. Wouldn’t writing a post about toiletries be more fun if they were actually getting packed! Yes, another clue.

Now I’m confused. ‘It’s the pilgrimage home to Oz I long for though isn’t it’ I thought. And yet that is not on the cards for me right now. My life is here. But where is that damn door that’s going to make these next two years of my life – a life that’s lived like I mean it!? I want more than getting by – I want a fierce, bold, adventurous and wildly lived life. No regrets. No quiet mouse. No timidly shaking under the weight of what if, what might. Uugghh why is reinventing myself so hard right now. Wait, there’s another clue.

The memes say you shouldn’t look back, only forward. I’ve been trying that, but memes I disagree. To move forward sometimes we have to go back. Look back at where we’ve been, who we were, what lit our soul on fire. There the clues to know who you are can be found. I read some of my writing from 2016, yes, now I remember why I’m here. I was also scrolling my instagram today looking for a photo for someone. That little online photo album showed me something. It showed me when I was fierce, bold, adventurous and wild and it wasn’t even that long ago. The time when I trusted in who I am and where I was. Wo-ah. BIG clue.

In a conversation with someone recently, they shared an ‘opinion’ of something we should do and right away the penny dropped. I won’t be able to step into abundance again if I carry these ever so frequently shared scarcity based opinions. I can’t do it the way other people do it. I.Never.Have. Clue.

My mind shifted. So many shifts lately it’s actually hard to stay on track. I hope I’m making sense. You see I’ve been heavily weighed down by the ‘family’ project. Where do we need to be? This big transition we’re in, what does it need? And then I’m frustrated because actually right now what we need is to be here. But I’m not here. Not really.

I googled ‘what’s a project for a 50 year old’. I know I need a passion, something that feverishly excites me. I’ve always had one. The long term family project, I can think about it but it’s in the seed stage. It’s not yet something I can act on. But in my reading of camino blogs, my writing archives and my photos I started to remember something, there is a path that is open and waiting…

‘Perhaps I’ll go walk the next stage of the norte camino next week’ I thought. Could I make that happen? No, it’s very costly to do at a whim, time and financially. A dear friend, one whose opinions are of the abundance camp (love you Gen) suggested last week that I pop on the train and pick up my ‘Home to Rome’ walk again. A seed not a clue.

Last weekend we were in Maastricht for a weekend of hiking and camping. I came home fully alive from being in those hills. My favourite part of The Netherlands I declared. And you know the last place where I left off from my Home to Rome pilgrimage? Yep, Maastricht. A clue or a seed? You choose.

My next google search was Maastricht to Belgium hiking and wouldn’t you know it … there’s a pilgrim path that leaves Maastricht to Namur. Via monsana it’s called and it hooks up with more pilgrim paths. Paths that lead to via francigena which is the path that will ultimately take me to Rome.

So there you are! Lots of little clues leading me back to my ‘Home to Rome’ project. A project to take me forward. And it doesn’t feel like the past because it’s a new trail, just one I’m picking up from where I left off. Maybe I don’t need to reinvent myself. I just need to find myself again, to pick up where I left off and to work out how to future proof myself because life is changing! As it does.

So sometime next week, hopefully your postcard will come from via monsana!

Till then BIG love,

Fran xx

Here’s another postcard snap from one of my walks! In the past these sorts of shots were a daily occurrence for me. How sweet it is to take a beautiful photo.

Adventure, Food, Life, poetry, Travel

A visit to the Tuscan Heart, Florence

2 Comments

Another day and another trip away from the Tuscan villa a.k.a. the bolthole. Today it was into the beating heart of Tuscany and the birthplace of the renaissance, Florence. Also the home of Michelangelo’s ‘David’, Botticelli’s ‘The Birth of Venus’ and da Vinci’s ‘Annunciation’. I may need to get this out early in case I disappoint you. We went to Florence on this day and we didn’t visit any of these! No. Nessuna. Nienta.  But don’t worry I’ve seen them before … twice. On this day we simply wandered, ate and breathed in Florence.

You may see a theme evolving in our Italian trip. Food. And gelato. And contented smiles. Italians have worked it out you see. They know that pleasure and happiness is tied to enjoying the simple pleasures of life. Convivial times and food that comes from close to home and is cooked traditionally, simply and with heart. And of course they are fortunate in that everywhere they wander there is art in all its forms. From the architecture to the vineyards, Italy is purely romantic poetry for the soul. It is hard not to be in love with every second in Italy.

The Pizza Della Signoria, the Florence Cathedral and Ponte Vecchio all relatively empty. I have never experienced Florence in this way. Florence is so mind blowing of course it doesn’t matter who you share it with, but on this quiet day I took some very long, very deep breaths. I also ran into an Aussie friend on the Ponte Vecchio. Right now the world doesn’t feel small but in this magical brief moment of coincidence the world again felt small.

I danced with love today in Florence. For those of you who know us and me you will know Italy lives in our hearts and home. (Complete with the pizza oven.) Even writing here now I feel my heart flutter with a yearning. Perhaps it is curiosity. If I was 20 I’d take a year in Italy. I didn’t know of the possibilities then. I don’t want to lose this feeling. I’m nervous about when I return. Home to Holland where the food can’t be compared, where the cities, language, culture and landscape don’t captivate my spirit in this way! Where I’ll again be confronted with the realities of the current state of the world.

‘As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life – and travel – leaves marks on you.’ – Anthony Bourdain.

I feel the familiar stirrings of change. Of considering what needs to stay and what needs to be let go. Of missing what’s familiar and still craving what’s exciting. Of knowing I still have many chapters to write in this story of my life. That there is some stagnation inside that needs to be broken down so the flow of creativity and curiosity (the life blood) can be free. The marks of travel – the reminders, the peeling back.

Florence lives in us now. And also on one of our dining room walls. In the form of a little piece of Tuscan inspired art, bought on the street from an artist. After this day in Florence my eight year old declared ‘this is my favourite city in the world’. His siblings agreed. My job is done ;) Perhaps I won’t take them to Florence again. It seems a nice way to leave it for them to remember. I will of course come back. Maybe I’ll hike in one day. I’d particularly like to see the Botticelli again and breath in the Florence air. Dreaming is of course my air, my lungs are full. Full of Florence magic.

Hiking, Travel

Walking Through The Tuscan Hills.

4 Comments

 

Many years ago, perhaps 16 or so we traveled through Italy with our then six month old baby boy. He’s our nearly 16 yo delightful lad now! We stopped a few days in Tuscany during this Italy trip with the baby and stayed at an old villa with big Tuscan style rooms and a shared kitchen. In this shared kitchen we met walkers! Walkers of all ages who’d spent their days wandering the hills of Tuscany. Their nights were spent stopping along the way in these shared style accommodation guest houses eating and chattering.

Our villa is along the way of a walk called Via di Francesco. Also we’re right by the town of Poppi. This is funny to my family as pop is my childhood nickname. Pop is the Dutch for doll. My dad called me poppi! Dolly. You do know I like a coincidence. :)

Most days I walk to the right of my front door and head up the hill. I’m drawn to a good climb. On this day, however, I went left. Left in the fierce heat (with water and a visor) to see what I could see. In search of, and open to the treasure. There is always trasure.

Each step in the heat blissfully rewarded with wildflowers, farmland, nature and peace. The kind of peace walking allows you in its gentle rhythmic, meditative way. Yes I could feel those mozzie bites (all 500 of them), and yeah it was hot and sweaty, and yes a bit of hmm I wandering alone in a far away land, but also just the beauty of the trail and me.

‘Solvitur Ambulando – It Is Solved By Walking.’

Remember this one friends. It’s one of my favourites. And one I think can help us in these crazy times. Walking creates the space to wonder. Space to flip the circuit if we’re stuck in thoughts. It’s an invitation to notice the happenings of the season, the time. It’s a way for our minds to gently process on its own in the background, while we can be lost in the world of ‘doing the noticing’.

On this day I did realise how much I do love to walk these long walks across countries. I would like to make time for these when the time allows us again. A long camino is not in my life space/timing right now. But days, possibly a week here and there, yes. I would definitely love to do some walking across Tuscany.

I’d like to do it with a friend I’ve decided. I’ll be seeking the ‘hers’ who love to hike when I return. I’d like to be one of those walkers who arrives at a guest house after a day’s wandering and debriefing the fun, laughing at the challenges and eating the local food. When I find her, I’ll be asking ‘her’ if she’d like to go for some days of walking through hills. I think in these times we need to know our ‘hers’ ladies. And we do need to walk with ‘her’, so do ask her if you need a walk or talk.

#stillwriting

#beenadventuring

#beenexploring

#catchingup

Food, Life, writing

Another Tuscan Day. Another Tuscan Door.

2 Comments

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

Gardening, Home, Life

The Good Busy.

4 Comments

 

‘Gardeners, I think, dream bigger dreams than emperors.’ – Mary Cantwell

What’s in a day of pottering? Hmm where can this tale go I wonder? The truth is I spend the day in the garden with busy hands and a busy body. Lost in a hard day’s work without really thinking. My mind in the garden, the jobs and the possibilities of this tiny space. Intoxicated by the smell of these tomato plants and the the sun on my back. They smell like the the ones you buy on a vine. My poor tomato plants who were sitting in a holding zone, in pots too small for them, growing without a stake. They’re a little wonky, hopefully they’ve still a little resilience in store and I’ve re-potted them in time!

Perhaps a cup of tea and my tale will come I thought. Into the kitchen, tea pot on and a Barry’s Irish tea bag in my favourite cup. It’s proper black tea, big mug kinda night. In the window sill I see my orchards have also outgrown their pots. Can you see the new roots sprouting out into thin air?! And wouldn’t you know it, here is where a gardening tale arrived.  It’s a simple reminder that we grow out of things. Taking care of plants is not so different to taking care of ourselves.

I’ve mentioned before that it’s time to end my #runstreak because I want to train with more intention. I want to train for a half marathon. I can’t do that if I run everyday and ride a couple of times a week, it’s too much! I’ve grown into the fitness to run a half marathon and into my new cycling hobby and now I’m too big for the pot I’m in. I need to change it. Otherwise I’ll respond like the tomatoes and grow all wonky, or the orchards where there is no space for new roots to flourish.

We need to adjust our space just as we need fuel to grow. Oh did you notice the pizza oven was lit in the first photos. Tonight’s was a pretty heavenly one. Some leftover olive, feta and mint salsa from last night, artichokes, porcini mushroom, rocket and burrata cheese. I spent the whole day pruning, planting, sweeping, shifting pots, enjoying and dreaming dreams about our tiny garden space. We are growing together, my garden and I. And it’s hungry work giving yourself to the garden all day. Or does the garden give itself to you? Perhaps we meet in the middle. I think we do.

I used to find fairy houses and fairy doors in the garden from the daughter who now regularly calls me a hippie and gives me the eye rolls! Lol. Today I found her stash of moon water. There is also one that belongs to her best friend. The garden is truly full of magic, truth and enchantment. It’s a place for daydreams and the good busy. Tomorrow, I’ll replant the orchids and refresh the herb planter after I take my morning’s ride amongst the canals and the windmills. And tomorrow I won’t run. After 140 days, I’ve outgrown my runstreak. I’m repotting myself!

#writingstreak

#day19/31

#tiredofmeyet

#gardeningtales