- Published on
You're standing outside St Paul's Cathedral
That giant dome
That signifier of your childhood
Mary Poppins on VHS
Watching it and rewining it and watching it and rewinding it until the tape falls apart
And you think:
What brings us to a place?
Depression when you were fourteen.
Sitting on the train on that bright blue sky day and realizing
You don't feel anything
And then all those intervening years.
The deaths of two friends. Young women like you. They decided they couldn't do
it anymore.
Sitting at Coogee Beach and looking out to the ocean and wondering what on earth was next.
Learning about mindfulness.
Two years and a world trip later.
Waiting for the hair dressers and chatting with the woman, a stranger, sitting next to you.
She told you how you could do a certificate in Meditation.
Who was that woman???
And then Kris.
And then London.
And then meeting another woman on the train.
A random conversation, a chance encounter, and you've met a kindred spirit.
And then you are standing outside St. Paul's Cathedral and the familiarity of it, the instant I'm-home of it is shocking every time.
That tall grand building with its dome lit the way it is
It makes you gasp.
It's so much a part of you,
A part of your childhood,
Despite the fact you grew up over 10,000 miles away.
And then you're inside The Anthologist.
A bar in Central London.
And there are birdcages and tea cups and mason jars full of tea lights.
And there is a group of women, with the occasional man, gathered
to talk about mindfulness
Strong, radiating women, with a mission to change the world one meditation at a time.
And you're here because of a chance (synchronistic) encounter on a train
Or because you watched Mary Poppins on repeat as a child
Or because you had depression and you learnt about mindfulness and because the world is small it all leads back to the same place eventually
And you stand outside St Paul's
And you let the cold air rush into your nostrils (breathing mindfully)
And then you laugh because you're on your way home on the tube!
Tell that to your fourteen year old self, or even your four-year-old self,
Dear You/Me/Us.
Guess what? You grow up and fall in love and move to London and walk past St.
Paul's Cathedral and mingle with people in fancy bars and one day you even climb
to the top of the dome and you kiss a boy with the rooftops of London as your
backdrop. For real.
What brings us here?
Fate? Synchronicity?
Chance?
The world.
The end.
That giant dome
That signifier of your childhood
Mary Poppins on VHS
Watching it and rewining it and watching it and rewinding it until the tape falls apart
And you think:
What brings us to a place?
Depression when you were fourteen.
Sitting on the train on that bright blue sky day and realizing
You don't feel anything
And then all those intervening years.
The deaths of two friends. Young women like you. They decided they couldn't do
it anymore.
Sitting at Coogee Beach and looking out to the ocean and wondering what on earth was next.
Learning about mindfulness.
Two years and a world trip later.
Waiting for the hair dressers and chatting with the woman, a stranger, sitting next to you.
She told you how you could do a certificate in Meditation.
Who was that woman???
And then Kris.
And then London.
And then meeting another woman on the train.
A random conversation, a chance encounter, and you've met a kindred spirit.
And then you are standing outside St. Paul's Cathedral and the familiarity of it, the instant I'm-home of it is shocking every time.
That tall grand building with its dome lit the way it is
It makes you gasp.
It's so much a part of you,
A part of your childhood,
Despite the fact you grew up over 10,000 miles away.
And then you're inside The Anthologist.
A bar in Central London.
And there are birdcages and tea cups and mason jars full of tea lights.
And there is a group of women, with the occasional man, gathered
to talk about mindfulness
Strong, radiating women, with a mission to change the world one meditation at a time.
And you're here because of a chance (synchronistic) encounter on a train
Or because you watched Mary Poppins on repeat as a child
Or because you had depression and you learnt about mindfulness and because the world is small it all leads back to the same place eventually
And you stand outside St Paul's
And you let the cold air rush into your nostrils (breathing mindfully)
And then you laugh because you're on your way home on the tube!
Tell that to your fourteen year old self, or even your four-year-old self,
Dear You/Me/Us.
Guess what? You grow up and fall in love and move to London and walk past St.
Paul's Cathedral and mingle with people in fancy bars and one day you even climb
to the top of the dome and you kiss a boy with the rooftops of London as your
backdrop. For real.
What brings us here?
Fate? Synchronicity?
Chance?
The world.
The end.
- Published on
from the Australian Business Review
They announced Geoffrey Rush as
Australian of the Year
He is the person
Who this year, most
Epitomises what it means
To be Australian
And it makes me feel good
Makes me feel proud
As an artist
As an Australian
To know that someone like him, is
The Representation
Of my national identity
The other Australians of note this year
Are also worthy of recognition.
Laurie Baymarrwangga,
An Aboriginal elder who has worked to
Teach and share and maintain her culture
In spite of invasion
In spite of ignorance
And Marita Cheng
Who inspires other young women
To go out into a world
Dominated by men
And question, and investigate, and analyze
And to become excited and passionate
About learning
And Lynne Sawyers
Who cared for hundreds of children
Not even her own
Took them in and said
This is your home too
We are artists and scientists and carers of the land
We are inventors and innovators
We are from all over the world
We live, work, and travel internationally
We live, work, and play in our own backyard
This strange large island
At the bottom of the earth
We are more than kangaroos and wattle
We are more than yobbos on the beach drinking beer
We are more than the Anzac legend suggests
More than boyish mates coming together under fire
We are more than a flag coloured by British rule
We are a complicated lot
Represented this year, by an actor
Who gets on with his work
And supports others to do the same
Who shows it is possible to be
A brilliant artist of the world
And still be, Australian in name.
Australian of the Year
He is the person
Who this year, most
Epitomises what it means
To be Australian
And it makes me feel good
Makes me feel proud
As an artist
As an Australian
To know that someone like him, is
The Representation
Of my national identity
The other Australians of note this year
Are also worthy of recognition.
Laurie Baymarrwangga,
An Aboriginal elder who has worked to
Teach and share and maintain her culture
In spite of invasion
In spite of ignorance
And Marita Cheng
Who inspires other young women
To go out into a world
Dominated by men
And question, and investigate, and analyze
And to become excited and passionate
About learning
And Lynne Sawyers
Who cared for hundreds of children
Not even her own
Took them in and said
This is your home too
We are artists and scientists and carers of the land
We are inventors and innovators
We are from all over the world
We live, work, and travel internationally
We live, work, and play in our own backyard
This strange large island
At the bottom of the earth
We are more than kangaroos and wattle
We are more than yobbos on the beach drinking beer
We are more than the Anzac legend suggests
More than boyish mates coming together under fire
We are more than a flag coloured by British rule
We are a complicated lot
Represented this year, by an actor
Who gets on with his work
And supports others to do the same
Who shows it is possible to be
A brilliant artist of the world
And still be, Australian in name.
- Published on
In the morning you go out to meet another Aussie-expat and you go to a lovely Australian/New-Zealander cafe called Flat White and enjoy your renewed-found love of coffee. You make a note-to-self to find an alternative to espresso, as even four sugars per tiny cup seems excessive - though it is down from five. You enjoy delicious toast with homemade hummus and fresh avocado. It is the best hummus you have had in ages but you spend the rest of the day paranoid you reek of garlic. Afterwards you walk through beautiful
St James's Park to the War Rooms. There are ducks and geese and swans and a woman is hand-feeding them over the fence. You think she is a bit mad, but realize that these birds
are probably rather used to people hand-feeding them.
The Churchill War Rooms are bizzare. They are secret bunkers for the British War Cabinet during The War. Small and slightly claustrophobic and when the war ended the people literally turned off the lights, walked out, closed the door, and didn't come back for decades. Now the rooms and corridors and bunkers are a museum and you can walk through and see exactly how it all was over seventy years ago. Imagine being in the rooms Back Then. The rooms would have been smokey because everybody smoked back then, and above you the world was falling apart and you didn't know if when you left work for the day (or night) if your house or even your street was still going to be there when you did. No one except the government was allowed to know that you worked there because it was Top Secret. If you were a secretary you had a special gas mask that allowed you keep talking on the telephone even during a gas attack. The War Stops For Nobody.
You walk back to Soho to the Soho Theatre Bar to mingle with other drama students. You are late, but it seems you haven't missed much except a free drink. A casting director is giving a talk. She says things you have mostly heard before, but you're feeling light and inspired and you scribble down some of her points and feel a sense of renewed enthusiasm. Then you wander around the room and meet some of the other actors. They are all graduating this year too, ready to go out into the Big Wide World and try their luck at this acting thing. Will all this time and money and effort be worth it?
You meet a girl with Scandinavian/American heritage. She wants to move to New York and live the life of a starving actor. She knows it's a bit weird to want that life, but you understand what she means. It's New York. And then you meet a boy who gives you the feeling that he is on the cusp of something brilliant, but you're not quite sure what it is, but
you're sure he is destined for great things. And then you meet another girl who is interested in verbatim theatre and using theatre to make a positive difference to the world. And it is nice to meet someone as excited and passionate as you about the possibility of theatre.
You head home on the tube. And you get home and you make chickpea patties, which you haven't made in the longest time, and you make a big batch of quinoa and steam some spinach. And you spread a little beetroot dip from yesterday's cooking adventures on the chickpea patties, and you pour out a little sweet chilli sauce. And you sit at your desk to do some work and you breathe and smile and know that you have had a most wonderful
day.
The end.
St James's Park to the War Rooms. There are ducks and geese and swans and a woman is hand-feeding them over the fence. You think she is a bit mad, but realize that these birds
are probably rather used to people hand-feeding them.
The Churchill War Rooms are bizzare. They are secret bunkers for the British War Cabinet during The War. Small and slightly claustrophobic and when the war ended the people literally turned off the lights, walked out, closed the door, and didn't come back for decades. Now the rooms and corridors and bunkers are a museum and you can walk through and see exactly how it all was over seventy years ago. Imagine being in the rooms Back Then. The rooms would have been smokey because everybody smoked back then, and above you the world was falling apart and you didn't know if when you left work for the day (or night) if your house or even your street was still going to be there when you did. No one except the government was allowed to know that you worked there because it was Top Secret. If you were a secretary you had a special gas mask that allowed you keep talking on the telephone even during a gas attack. The War Stops For Nobody.
You walk back to Soho to the Soho Theatre Bar to mingle with other drama students. You are late, but it seems you haven't missed much except a free drink. A casting director is giving a talk. She says things you have mostly heard before, but you're feeling light and inspired and you scribble down some of her points and feel a sense of renewed enthusiasm. Then you wander around the room and meet some of the other actors. They are all graduating this year too, ready to go out into the Big Wide World and try their luck at this acting thing. Will all this time and money and effort be worth it?
You meet a girl with Scandinavian/American heritage. She wants to move to New York and live the life of a starving actor. She knows it's a bit weird to want that life, but you understand what she means. It's New York. And then you meet a boy who gives you the feeling that he is on the cusp of something brilliant, but you're not quite sure what it is, but
you're sure he is destined for great things. And then you meet another girl who is interested in verbatim theatre and using theatre to make a positive difference to the world. And it is nice to meet someone as excited and passionate as you about the possibility of theatre.
You head home on the tube. And you get home and you make chickpea patties, which you haven't made in the longest time, and you make a big batch of quinoa and steam some spinach. And you spread a little beetroot dip from yesterday's cooking adventures on the chickpea patties, and you pour out a little sweet chilli sauce. And you sit at your desk to do some work and you breathe and smile and know that you have had a most wonderful
day.
The end.