Talking about issues of food security and food distribution and the wealth of people and economics and people living in the world and the way we eat and distribute our resources. I was in the “middle income group” and so my dinner was rice and beans and it was surprisingly delicious and the kids on the floor, the “low income group”, ate bowls of rice
and the people at the “high income” table ate three different kinds of pasta! Imagine the luxury, three different kinds of pasta in one meal! 
 
I live in total luxury. I have everything I ever need in the world at my fingertips. I have the power of my mind at my disposal. I can choose to be happy with my lot. It is a surprise that the people who live in the most wealthy most product filled most resourceful countries have the highest rates of depression. They have everything and still the world holds no joy. I choose to hold joy. I choose to have gratitude for all that I have. All that I have access to. I want to make a difference. I want to make the world a beautiful place, a joyful place, leave it a little better than when I found it. This place I came into. This time, this place, this age of terrorism, of mass consumption, of food aplenty yet mass starvation, of highest technological
innovation, of new age hippie spiritual life. To love, to life, to joy. To be. To be here. Here I am. Hello.

It is hot. The sky is blue. I am standing with several hundred people. We are converged on the green in the center of New Milford. We are all decked out in various forms of exercise gear, mostly shorts and t-shirts and sneakers. We are at the starting line. A man’s voice announces “Ready... Set... Go!”. The New Milford Library clock begins to chime 9AM. We  shuffle off, and by the end of Main St, we are running. The pace is quick. We leave the main town behind. The sound of feet on the pavement. The crowd thins out. All I can think of is how different it is to the City to Surf. I miss the crowds. There are stretches where I’m almost running on my own. It could just be another Saturday morning run. A few families sit on their lawns to watch the runners passing by. They wave, or just watch quietly, observing the motley crew of humanity running by their front doors. Children, and grown-ups. Serious  runners and running clubs and people who just like to run, and, of course, the parents with prams. An older runner calls out to a group of spectators, “Am I winning?”. A woman calls back, “Top 500!”. Everybody laughs. I try to focus on my breathing.  At the first mile we reach our first water station. It is a hot morning. It is difficult to pace myself in miles. I have only ever known kilometers. The scenery is stunning. We run through the leafy green back streets of New Milford. I think about how at home I feel here. But I am a foreigner. I have a different accent to all the people around me. When we run though, we sound the same. I have a revelation about what I want from life. I'm doing exactly that. And that feels good. I round a corner and see a group of people I know cheering the runners on. I feel both elated and strangely confronted. What do I look like when I run?! They give me a boost. Later when their cheering has worn off and the pain returns, a kind stranger and fellow runner jogs up next to me and says "You can do it! Finish strong!". It gives me the final boost. The last mile is mercifully all down hill. I can see the finish line ahead of me and I get that delicious rush of adrenalin that comes from long distance running. I’ve nearly done it! A man on a microphone calls out the names of the runners as they come through the finish line. He incorrectly pronounces my name, twice. It takes a little of the shine off the achievement of having just run 8 miles. But it’s not the finish that counts. It’s the inspiration from having done it. From
the possibility of being fit, of being in control of my body, of my mind. Of living a life where I can run races in different parts of the planet. I grab an orange quarter and another drink and head over to the green to meet my friends and cool down. It wasn’t my best event. It was harder than I expected. But I got a new sense of resolve out of it. And that is exhilarating. See you at the next one. 

You are in the middle of the forest. And one night three women appear. One holds drum sticks. One holds a guitar. One holds a bass. They form a band called Hunter Valentine. Three women on stage rocking out. It lifts your heart. It pulses in your soul. They are fantastic. You watch your campers dance around you. A group of campers are allowed on stage to dance. One of the youngest campers runs up to you and tells you that being at camp makes her less afraid of being on stage because she feels safe here. I tell her that she should do it all the time. She tells me the people at school will laugh at her. They probably will. Because people at school are horrible. They are afraid of people who follow their bliss and so we are conditioned to be afraid of ourselves. Dear Camper. People will always tease you. People will
always be afraid and jealous and ready to knock you down. But someday you will find the strength within yourself to say I CARE NOT WHAT YOU THINK!!! And you will laugh when the girl who bullied you in high school and pushed you into the lake for no reason other than she thought you were tragic “friends” you on Facebook. And people might say "oh, you are just a guidance counselor", but you will know that you make a difference and you love what you do and one day you too will be on stage rocking it out. And you will dance beneath the moon and find kindred spirits and be inspired by powerful women who fill their music with passion and energy and sing love songs about revenge. The end. 

Imagine you are in a place nearly 10,000 miles from where you grew up. And you are surrounded by teenage girls a whole thirteen years younger than you. When you were their age they were babies, some not yet even born. When you wake up in the morning you don’t hear the raucous call of kookaburras, magpies or cockatoos. You hear woodpeckers and the pretty chirps of birds unrecognisable. The girls eat cheerios and eggs and bacon for breakfast. The tea is “er-bal”. They eat fries instead of chips, and drown them in ketchup not tomato sauce. Nearly everything they eat contains high fructose corn syrup. They wear tank tops not singlets. Thongs are considered inappropriate day wear. When it’s “cold out” they wear sweaters, not jumpers. They giggle at your accent and wonder why you call trash “rubbish” and cell phones “mobiles.” But across time and space, you find yourself sitting on a picnic bench on a porch. And together you are writing stories. And you all love to write, and create things, and play music, and dance, and sit under a bright blue sky with trees sparkling in sunlight. And one night you have a slumber party. And you listen to the rustle of chip packets, and smile at their giggling, and look at the world anew again because you remember what it was like to be them, even if you have grown up world's apart. And it fills your heart
with light to know these girls and to share a piece of summer with them. 

Imagine you are in a forest. You are on an elevated platform. And somehow you are protected from the mosquitos. And it is quiet and still. The occasional chirping of birds. It is like a meditation tape. The setting, the sounds, it is all what you envision when you are sitting in concrete and imagining yourself somewhere calm and lovely. The forest, like something you have dreamed about, wished about, seen represented so often, suddenly now your reality. It is even more gorgeous than you could have ever imagined. The way the sunlight filters through the trees, shimmers deliciously, all that green! It must be impossible! Yet there it is. The way sun is setting into the trees. It is like gold. It is like the trees are on fire. It is all you can do to run through the forest to catch it with your bare hands. The shimmering sparkling orb of light of it. But somewhere in the logical recesses of your mind, you are aware that running into the middle of an unknown forest at sunset is not safe. Is a crazy thing to do. So you sit and you stare at the shimmer and let your heart ache at the joy beauty splendor of it. 

And people are here from all over the planet speaking all their myriad of languages and think of all the hours worked to get here all the emotional upheaval all the planning the working  the wishing and praying and suddenly you are there in Times Square and your heart just sings at it all and your inner child is practically climbing up your inner organs and screaming dear Lulu! THIS IS WHERE WE BELONG! OH HOW I LOVE IT HERE! And your adult sensible self thinks, oh god. New York?! Times Square?! It is grimy and full of advertising and pandering to mass consumption and the massive energy use of the place and the people everywhere. And surely this is not paradise! But oh my! Another hundred people! NYC with all your shiny lights and endless billboards and theatres on every corner and crowded streets and vendors selling hot dogs and pretzels and the stands with the men selling prints of paintings of the shiny lights and endless billboards and theatres on every corner and crowded streets and vendors selling hot dogs and pretzels. And everywhere you look is a sign advertsing a show! And theatre is number one! And you’ve just come from a Broadway show and here you are walking down Broadway to the subway at 42nd Street and it is wonderful! It’s true what they say, the Bronx is up and the Battery’s down and the people ride in a hole in the ground, New York, New York, it’s truly wonderful brilliant amazing makes your heart and soul sing! 

And you find yourself on a mountain. And over to your left is the Hollywood sign, unfocused and blurry not from romantic screens over the camera but from the haze that covers the  sprawling city. But still the view is pretty and surprises you because there is more green than you ever expected or remembered from your last time in this place. And then you are sitting in a chair that gives you a massage while one lady buffs and files and paints your nails while another buffs and files and paints your toenails and suddenly you are in a restaurant which serves the best quality food and it makes you happy to know that there is a place that values  organic whole foods too. It even has a name here. Macrobiotics. And you spend time with friends and you play games with dice in red cups and you work together to save yourselves from the sinking island and capture the treasure and escape before it's too late and because there are more of you playing you can't quite figure out how to do it and the game sinks you twice.

And suddenly you are on the other side of the country watching the Tony Awards in Brooklyn. And it is nice to be with people who have even been to see some of the shows, let alone know what the Tony Awards are. And then you are standing on the High Line, a disused railway line that is now a garden. And it really is delightful to walk above the New York hustle and bustle and be amongst the greenery. And then you are in Central Park, and the Frick Museum, and then you are walking across the Brooklyn Bridge and you find yourself in a little shop drinking hot chocolate spiced with chili and cinnamon and nutmeg because although it is the beginning of summer this afternoon is a little cold with a constant drizzle of rain and it is perfect weather for spicy hot chocolate and little hand-made chocolates.

And then you are in Boston. And you are with your cousin. And although she is several years younger than you, and you grew up continents apart, she gets you. She understands. She is  like you. And it is nice to be with a kindred spirit. And you eat pizza with goat's cheese and fig and caramelized onion. And you sit in an Irish-style pub and listen to an Italian musician sing convincing drinking songs, and everyone around you is banging the table with their hands and singing and laughing and even thought the room is dark the mood is light and you enjoy your red wine and your gorgonzola melt and singing and laughing with the rest of them. And then you are in Salem and you marvel at the history of it all and when did that  history become a tourist attraction? The cemetery with its old graves makes you shake your head in wonder. A grave from 1692! And you look out at the lake behind Kassie's house and marvel at all the events that have brought you to this place, this whole year-and-a-half of events, and you are glad that you are here with this beautiful friend overlooking a beautiful lake.

And then you find yourself on Nantucket. And you are with Los Titos de Nantucket. And they make you feel so at home, so welcome. And although there are many memories here, you feel OK. And it surprises you to feel OK. And it makes you feel better. And you wander around town and feel joy in all the flowers and the prettiness of the place. And you are walking along the beach looking out to the Atlantic. And all around you are shells - the flat mother-of-pearl ones are Indian currency. The round stripy ones are scallop shells and remind you of the Camino, but these are smaller. There are rocks and shells of every colour and the sand alternates between soft and rough and you watch a seagull picking its way through a fresh crab. And as you get closer, the gull picks up its lunch and moves further down the each, lest you try to steal his catch of the day. 

And you breathe in the salty air. And on the ferry you toss two pennies overboard, just past the lighthouse, to make sure you will return. And as you approach the lighthouse you inspect the pennies and discover that there is a penny for each of the years your sisters were born, the older and the younger, and you think that is a nice touch of coincidence. Your family are with you wherever you go. And you hope that by throwing those pennies up into the air and sparkling down into the water below, they will draw your sisters here, and bring you back too. To this pretty place where you have so many friends and so much delight. 

Imagine a girl who wakes up one day to find herself on a plane. And she is somewhere over the Pacific. And she thinks perhaps the events of the past year and a half have only been a dream. Because suddenly it all seems right to be flying in the air towards a new life, heading
towards a life of musicals and theatre and being away from the place where she was born and grew. 

And even though this is her third trip away, this trip feels different from the trips before, because now she has the Scarecrow and the Tinman and the Lion by her side. In the past year and a half she has acquired a little more wisdom. She did the meditation course and sometimes it was hard but mostly it was wonderful and she learnt to sit quietly with herself
and be still. 

And even though her heart had been shattered into a million thousand pieces, she realised that she had all these wonderful friends around her (And you were there! And you were there!) and she learnt to look after herself and take care of herself which were all very important. And it was heartening to make all these discoveries. 

And in discovering she had a little more wisdom and a little more heart than before, she discovered she had the courage to go out into the world as herself and not be afraid of what other people thought or said or how often they projected their own fears about the creative life onto her being. 

And she made a promise to herself that she would continue to practise as often as possible to have wisdom and heart and courage and remember her friends by her side and to go out into the world and trip the light fantastic.

The end. Sort of.