- Published on
There is a wonderful film called Little Miss Sunshine. And in this film Paul Dano
says a wonderful line:
says a wonderful line:
Do what you love and f*** the rest!
Right now, life is nice, because I'm doing what I love. I’m getting paid to watch theatre 5 days a week at the best job in the world (well, second best. The first best would be getting paid to be on stage... but that will come in time!), I’m singing and dancing, I’m writing, I
discovered the State Library has hard copies of Variety magazine film reviews dating back to 1910 (perfect for my Movie Musical Project), and I have time to hang out with my little little sister during her school holidays and spend an entire day at the zoo marveling at the weird and wonderful creatures that inhabit our planet.
Do what you love, and you will be happy, and all the things that you worry about will sort themselves out, and it will all be ok!!!
discovered the State Library has hard copies of Variety magazine film reviews dating back to 1910 (perfect for my Movie Musical Project), and I have time to hang out with my little little sister during her school holidays and spend an entire day at the zoo marveling at the weird and wonderful creatures that inhabit our planet.
Do what you love, and you will be happy, and all the things that you worry about will sort themselves out, and it will all be ok!!!
- Published on
When one thinks of moments of beauty, inspiration, and excitement, a cemetery is probably not on the list of things that spring to mind. Let us travel back to the Victorian era... First of all, death was considered in an entirely different way to the way we view it today. It was much more out in the open, publicly discussed, shared, and mourned. Concurrently in this period, we see the development of public green spaces - large beautifully designed parks and public spaces for people to enjoy fresh air, sunshine, and be close to nature. Central Park, Hyde Park (both in London and Sydney), and the Sydney Royal Botanic Gardens, are beautiful examples of such parks.
These two notions came together in the form of the necropolis, or “city of the dead” (from the Latin words “necro” for dead body and “polis” for city), a large open space that was at once a park and a cemetery, or as it was referred to by our Victorian counterparts, a garden cemetery. A space for people to come and bury their dead, mourn the loss of their loved ones, and be in a beautiful environment. In Sydney, we are home to one of the the largest necropolis’ in the world, and what is considered to be one of the best examples of a Victorian necropolis in the world, Rookwood Necropolis (a tiny portion of which is pictured above, picture is from the Rookwood website). Located between Lidcombe and Strathfield in Sydney’s west, Rookwood comprises 700 acres of burial grounds, featuring beautiful gardens, architecture, and the names of over 800,000 people who are interred within the grounds.
Arriving at Rookwood on the free shuttle from Lidcombe Station for the Open Day yesterday was entirely bizzare. There were bands playing music, sausage sizzles and Devonshire tea stalls, face painting for the kids, and people everywhere. People of all ages and backgrounds were wandering around the grounds, looking at headstones, listening to volunteer tour guides share the histories of the cemetery and some of its more infamous inhabitants, and looking for graves of relatives and ancestors. If there is one thing that unites humanity, it’s death. No matter where we are born, under what circumstances we live, what we do, at some point or other, we will all no longer be living.
Due to the sheer size of the place, I unfortunately missed the talks I was hoping to attend - behind the scenes at the crematorium, and the history of embalming, but it was rather incredible to just wander through the grounds for an hour and a half. I felt that the original designers of Rookwood would have been proudly watching over the creation yesterday. Their
ideal of the garden cemetery was not realised in the nineteenth century owing to poor burial practices, issues with sewerage, and poor management, but today Rookwood is an eerily beautiful place. It is steeped in history, and captures the ethos of a time gone by.
Is it morbid to enjoy learning about the history of death? Or is it just a natural part of living? I find it fascinating, and I think we could do well to take a note from our Victorian forebears and bring the discussion of death back into a more public domain. Tours are run by the Friends of Rookwood (a volunteer organisation that works to promote the “social, historical, and cultural values” and preservation of the site), on the first Sunday of the month. It would be great to go back and experience it again.
These two notions came together in the form of the necropolis, or “city of the dead” (from the Latin words “necro” for dead body and “polis” for city), a large open space that was at once a park and a cemetery, or as it was referred to by our Victorian counterparts, a garden cemetery. A space for people to come and bury their dead, mourn the loss of their loved ones, and be in a beautiful environment. In Sydney, we are home to one of the the largest necropolis’ in the world, and what is considered to be one of the best examples of a Victorian necropolis in the world, Rookwood Necropolis (a tiny portion of which is pictured above, picture is from the Rookwood website). Located between Lidcombe and Strathfield in Sydney’s west, Rookwood comprises 700 acres of burial grounds, featuring beautiful gardens, architecture, and the names of over 800,000 people who are interred within the grounds.
Arriving at Rookwood on the free shuttle from Lidcombe Station for the Open Day yesterday was entirely bizzare. There were bands playing music, sausage sizzles and Devonshire tea stalls, face painting for the kids, and people everywhere. People of all ages and backgrounds were wandering around the grounds, looking at headstones, listening to volunteer tour guides share the histories of the cemetery and some of its more infamous inhabitants, and looking for graves of relatives and ancestors. If there is one thing that unites humanity, it’s death. No matter where we are born, under what circumstances we live, what we do, at some point or other, we will all no longer be living.
Due to the sheer size of the place, I unfortunately missed the talks I was hoping to attend - behind the scenes at the crematorium, and the history of embalming, but it was rather incredible to just wander through the grounds for an hour and a half. I felt that the original designers of Rookwood would have been proudly watching over the creation yesterday. Their
ideal of the garden cemetery was not realised in the nineteenth century owing to poor burial practices, issues with sewerage, and poor management, but today Rookwood is an eerily beautiful place. It is steeped in history, and captures the ethos of a time gone by.
Is it morbid to enjoy learning about the history of death? Or is it just a natural part of living? I find it fascinating, and I think we could do well to take a note from our Victorian forebears and bring the discussion of death back into a more public domain. Tours are run by the Friends of Rookwood (a volunteer organisation that works to promote the “social, historical, and cultural values” and preservation of the site), on the first Sunday of the month. It would be great to go back and experience it again.
- Published on
Dear Diary.
Last Friday marks sixteen years since I first started keeping a diary. I had no idea when I first started writing that I would keep writing. I just wanted to be more like Elizabeth Wakefield, the nerdier goodly twin of Sweet Valley High. Back then, I wanted to be the first female prime minister of Australia. I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to be an Olympian. I wanted to live in a world where people spent their days learning about history, and playing musical instruments, and being nice to each other. I was terrified I would never have a boyfriend. I desperately wanted my own room.
Dear Me Sixteen Years Ago. You don’t become first female Prime Minister of Australia, but you do get to be the PM in the role play in Parliament House at year 6 camp. You do go to the Olympics, but not as an athlete, you perform in the Opening Ceremony and sing in the recording choir. The Olympics is everything you have ever dreamed it will be and more. You go to State Music Camp and are surrounded by people who play musical instruments. You go to university and meet wonderful, amazing, inspiring, talented people. You spend all day learning about history. You go to summer camp and become surrounded by people who live creatively and are nice to each other. You travel the world. You do get a boyfriend (several in
fact). The boy(s) will break your heart but you will be okay. You have amazing, beautiful friends. You learn to live healthily. You get your own room. I promise. And you are exactly where you need to be to do all the things you want to do.
Dear Me Sixteen Years From Now. I have no idea who you have become or what you are doing. Are you living in New York or London? Do you have an organic theatre farm? Are you a writer? An actress? A critic? Are you married? Are you single? Are you meditating? Are you running? Are you dancing? Are you eating beautiful food? Are you happy? I hope so. Because
Me-Today can look at Me-Sixteen-Years-Ago and say, lots of stuff has happened since the first journal entry - good, bad, wonderful, exciting, terrifying, depressing, heart-breaking, thrilling, soul-enriching things that happen over the course of life and years - and despite all of this, I am here. And I trust that this is exactly where I need to be.
Here’s to the next sixteen.
With love,
Me.
Last Friday marks sixteen years since I first started keeping a diary. I had no idea when I first started writing that I would keep writing. I just wanted to be more like Elizabeth Wakefield, the nerdier goodly twin of Sweet Valley High. Back then, I wanted to be the first female prime minister of Australia. I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to be an Olympian. I wanted to live in a world where people spent their days learning about history, and playing musical instruments, and being nice to each other. I was terrified I would never have a boyfriend. I desperately wanted my own room.
Dear Me Sixteen Years Ago. You don’t become first female Prime Minister of Australia, but you do get to be the PM in the role play in Parliament House at year 6 camp. You do go to the Olympics, but not as an athlete, you perform in the Opening Ceremony and sing in the recording choir. The Olympics is everything you have ever dreamed it will be and more. You go to State Music Camp and are surrounded by people who play musical instruments. You go to university and meet wonderful, amazing, inspiring, talented people. You spend all day learning about history. You go to summer camp and become surrounded by people who live creatively and are nice to each other. You travel the world. You do get a boyfriend (several in
fact). The boy(s) will break your heart but you will be okay. You have amazing, beautiful friends. You learn to live healthily. You get your own room. I promise. And you are exactly where you need to be to do all the things you want to do.
Dear Me Sixteen Years From Now. I have no idea who you have become or what you are doing. Are you living in New York or London? Do you have an organic theatre farm? Are you a writer? An actress? A critic? Are you married? Are you single? Are you meditating? Are you running? Are you dancing? Are you eating beautiful food? Are you happy? I hope so. Because
Me-Today can look at Me-Sixteen-Years-Ago and say, lots of stuff has happened since the first journal entry - good, bad, wonderful, exciting, terrifying, depressing, heart-breaking, thrilling, soul-enriching things that happen over the course of life and years - and despite all of this, I am here. And I trust that this is exactly where I need to be.
Here’s to the next sixteen.
With love,
Me.
- Published on
The only constant is change. Around this time a year ago I thought I was getting married and moving into my own apartment with my (now ex) beloved. Around this time two years ago I was hanging out at summer camp and getting ready to walk the Camino. Around this time three years ago I was despairing that I would ever meet a single straight guy who loves theatre (ok, some things may never change...). Despite many amazing things happening in my life right now, of late I have been feeling uninspired and tired. I have to trust that this feeling will change.
And so, in an attempt to remain positive and be kind to myself, I have compiled a list of things, in no particular order, that inspire me...
meditation. musicals. running. listening to Seth Rudetsky. watching Seth Rudetsky. reading a good novel or short story. listening to classic fm. watching a movie musical. dancing. writing. spending time with beautiful people. being kind to myself. eating dark chocolate. reading superforest. spending an afternoon in a library. going to a talk and getting fired up. candles. having a good sing. sitting in bed and listening to the neighbour practise their violin. listening to musicaltalk. journalling. colouring in. sitting in the sun on a bright blue sky and reading a good book. learning. buck’s rock. the idea of living on an organic theatre farm. travel. the camino. eating beautiful food. cooking beautiful food. Eveleigh Farmer’s Markets. sustainability. possibility. falling in crush. superforest. reading old diaries. watching musicals on youtube. going to good theatre. creating theatre. performing. playbill.com.
As they say in Avenue Q, “Everything in life is only for now! Life may be scary, but it’s only temporary...” This too shall pass, and soon I will have the energy to go out and conquer the
world!
And so, in an attempt to remain positive and be kind to myself, I have compiled a list of things, in no particular order, that inspire me...
meditation. musicals. running. listening to Seth Rudetsky. watching Seth Rudetsky. reading a good novel or short story. listening to classic fm. watching a movie musical. dancing. writing. spending time with beautiful people. being kind to myself. eating dark chocolate. reading superforest. spending an afternoon in a library. going to a talk and getting fired up. candles. having a good sing. sitting in bed and listening to the neighbour practise their violin. listening to musicaltalk. journalling. colouring in. sitting in the sun on a bright blue sky and reading a good book. learning. buck’s rock. the idea of living on an organic theatre farm. travel. the camino. eating beautiful food. cooking beautiful food. Eveleigh Farmer’s Markets. sustainability. possibility. falling in crush. superforest. reading old diaries. watching musicals on youtube. going to good theatre. creating theatre. performing. playbill.com.
As they say in Avenue Q, “Everything in life is only for now! Life may be scary, but it’s only temporary...” This too shall pass, and soon I will have the energy to go out and conquer the
world!
- Published on
I used to be incredibly frustrated by what I didn’t know. I remember being in kindergarten and being annoyed at the way grown-ups kept using words I did not know the meaning of. As a six year-old trying to fit into and navigate the world around me, I was convinced that somewhere in the city were old men in suits whose job it was to invent new words and disseminate them amongst the adult population on a daily basis in order that there would always be words I would never know.
As a grown-up, there are still many things I do not know. A big topic at the moment is global warming and climate change. As an average person with no scientific training and a slight aversion to numbers, I don’t “get” the science behind the debate. But as an average person, I can comprehend this. The stuff we use to fuel our society, namely fossil fuels, is finite. Humans live in a way that is detrimental to our health and the planet’s.
Last week I attended a talk at Town Hall on a new report called Beyond Zero Emissions: Zero Carbon Australia Stationary Energy Plan. Thirty scientists, engineers, and academics got together and asked how can Australia move toward a more sustainable renewable energy existence. And they came up with a 200-page document thats shows how Australia can move to 100% renewable energy by 2020. And you know what got me excited? The men in suits say its possible. It’s not just bearded patchouli hippies. It’s Malcolm Turnbull and Bob Carr and former Australian Chief Scientist Robin Batterham and British engineer Allan Jones.
We have to believe that change is entirely possible. It’s happening in Spain and Germany and the United States. Commercial scale renewable energy. It was something I didn’t really understand when I was walking the Camino across northern Spain a couple of years ago. I saw wind turbines and solar panels on a scale I had never encountered and I started asking myself questions about energy and how it all works.
I still do not entirely understand the world. But tell my six year-old self that she would one day go to university and spend four years learning words she never knew and even after majoring in English there would still be an untold world of words beyond her cognition, and that’s not frustrating but entirely exciting. And tell the girl who read Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and walked across Spain and saw wind turbines and solar panels that in just over 6 months she would be working for a sustainability shop and going to the Farmer’s Markets every week and eating beautiful organic food and learning that there is so much possibility.
The world may be on the brink of collapse, but I choose not to be frustrated by what the men in suits beyond my understanding make up and implement across the globe. I choose to believe it is possible for men, and women, to put their brains together and come up with ways to make the world a better place to live in. As Annie Leonard says in the wonderfully
eloquent Story of Stuff, with all the clever people on the planet, surely we can come up with a way to live that is not detrimental to our health and very existence.
I live in a world where anything is possible. I can choose to understand. I can choose to make a difference. As Allan Jones said at the talk on Thursday night, “the barriers to 100% renewable energy are not technological or economic, but regulatory mindset and vested inteterest.” I may have felt powerless and small against the men in suits as six year-old. And I could continue to feel small and powerless against the people in suits today. But I chose to be inspired. I choose to be excited. I choose to believe the world I live in and the way in which I live on it can be beautiful, rich, creative, and sustainable.
As a grown-up, there are still many things I do not know. A big topic at the moment is global warming and climate change. As an average person with no scientific training and a slight aversion to numbers, I don’t “get” the science behind the debate. But as an average person, I can comprehend this. The stuff we use to fuel our society, namely fossil fuels, is finite. Humans live in a way that is detrimental to our health and the planet’s.
Last week I attended a talk at Town Hall on a new report called Beyond Zero Emissions: Zero Carbon Australia Stationary Energy Plan. Thirty scientists, engineers, and academics got together and asked how can Australia move toward a more sustainable renewable energy existence. And they came up with a 200-page document thats shows how Australia can move to 100% renewable energy by 2020. And you know what got me excited? The men in suits say its possible. It’s not just bearded patchouli hippies. It’s Malcolm Turnbull and Bob Carr and former Australian Chief Scientist Robin Batterham and British engineer Allan Jones.
We have to believe that change is entirely possible. It’s happening in Spain and Germany and the United States. Commercial scale renewable energy. It was something I didn’t really understand when I was walking the Camino across northern Spain a couple of years ago. I saw wind turbines and solar panels on a scale I had never encountered and I started asking myself questions about energy and how it all works.
I still do not entirely understand the world. But tell my six year-old self that she would one day go to university and spend four years learning words she never knew and even after majoring in English there would still be an untold world of words beyond her cognition, and that’s not frustrating but entirely exciting. And tell the girl who read Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and walked across Spain and saw wind turbines and solar panels that in just over 6 months she would be working for a sustainability shop and going to the Farmer’s Markets every week and eating beautiful organic food and learning that there is so much possibility.
The world may be on the brink of collapse, but I choose not to be frustrated by what the men in suits beyond my understanding make up and implement across the globe. I choose to believe it is possible for men, and women, to put their brains together and come up with ways to make the world a better place to live in. As Annie Leonard says in the wonderfully
eloquent Story of Stuff, with all the clever people on the planet, surely we can come up with a way to live that is not detrimental to our health and very existence.
I live in a world where anything is possible. I can choose to understand. I can choose to make a difference. As Allan Jones said at the talk on Thursday night, “the barriers to 100% renewable energy are not technological or economic, but regulatory mindset and vested inteterest.” I may have felt powerless and small against the men in suits as six year-old. And I could continue to feel small and powerless against the people in suits today. But I chose to be inspired. I choose to be excited. I choose to believe the world I live in and the way in which I live on it can be beautiful, rich, creative, and sustainable.
- Published on
Bright blue sky, crisp air, and 80,000 of my closest friends. A perfect day for running the iconic City to Surf. Now in it’s fortieth, and my first, year, the City to Surf today was an amazing event. The logistics behind these kinds of things always staggers me. Who has to make the decision about how many plastic cups to buy? Organises the online registrations?
Packs bibs and electronic tags and stuffs bags full of newspapers? Organises the marshalling of 80,000 runners?! It’s mind blowing. But it is incredible to be a part of. Dad and Phoebe dropped my s’Mum (step-mum for the uninitiated, and pictured with moi above at the end of the race) Meg and I off at Hyde Park and my adrenalin started pumping. The park was full of people in sports gear, stretching, jogging, and greeting fellow runners. This is what life should be all about. People coming together to celebrate health and fitness and the beauty
that is Sydney on a bright sunny, albeit chilly, Sunday morning in early August.
The race start is divided into 6 groups based on previous experience (ie. the super duper runners start first), and safety (ie. the walkers and mum’s/dad’s/carers with prams are up the back). Meg was in the blue group, so I bid her farewell and made my way through the park down to College St to join the yellow group. I giggled at the long row of porta loo’s through the middle of the park, and the patient queues of runners lined up to use them (something about peeing in the middle of the city with but a wall of thin plastic between you and thousands of people is immensely amusing... after all is said and done, we are all human...).
Are you ready yellow group?! Cheers and waves. They called the start of the race, and we were off! Sort of. The sheer mass of people meant we really couldn’t get moving beyond a slight shuffle. Thankfully as we rounded the corner to William St, the pace picked up, the crowd thinned a little, and I was able to run right from the blue mat (the point from which the
electronic tag attached to your shoe starts recording your time... Ah technology! Back in my old running days it was a volunteer with a stop-watch...). And from then on, except for a couple of drink stops along the way, I pretty much didn't stop running until I hit the finish
line.
It was humbling, inspiring, and emotional to look up to the end of William St and see a mass of humanity running toward the tunnel. The sound of feet pounding the pavement around me, the smell of tiger balm, the spectators cheering us on. I was totally pumped! Running through the tunnel people were whooping and cheering, and a lythe young Mexican woman with a giant sombrero and an Ipod speaker dock, was playing awesome Latino tunes, all
the while cheering and running, (and totally outpacing me)! I had to keep reminding myself to not let the excitement (or emotions) get a hold of me, and focus on running!
I was shocked when we reached the 5km mark to realise we had already done 5km, because I was feeling good! The sheer momentum of the people around me, the bands playing along the roadside, the people who had come out onto their lawns and driveways to cheer and play music, the gorgeous day, it felt fantastic to be a part of it all. Heartbreak Hill was demanding, but with so much going on around me, people dressed in costumes - from Star Wars to Spiderman, several gorillas, a giant frog (how do people run 14km in head gear?!), wigs and capes, tutu’s and fairies, inspirational t-shirts, and people from all walks of life, young and old, walking and running, I didn’t have time to remember I was willingly running up a 5km hill, let alone a 14km race!
Rounding down the hill down Military Rd and Campbell Parade, I remembered why I love living in Sydney (especially my days of living in the east). Bright blue sky meets glorious blue ocean meets beautiful harbour foreshore. It's fairly spectacular. And coming into Bondi Beach was a mixed bag of emotions. I was excited, proud, tired, sad that it was coming to an end so quickly, and pumped that I had finally achieved something I had said I would do since I was about eleven years old. I’m a little sore tonight (ok, make that a lot sore... when Mum called out to say the race was on the news, I could barely make it from my room to the tv... go figure!), but I feel like I can achieve ANYTHING I put my mind to... look out world!
Packs bibs and electronic tags and stuffs bags full of newspapers? Organises the marshalling of 80,000 runners?! It’s mind blowing. But it is incredible to be a part of. Dad and Phoebe dropped my s’Mum (step-mum for the uninitiated, and pictured with moi above at the end of the race) Meg and I off at Hyde Park and my adrenalin started pumping. The park was full of people in sports gear, stretching, jogging, and greeting fellow runners. This is what life should be all about. People coming together to celebrate health and fitness and the beauty
that is Sydney on a bright sunny, albeit chilly, Sunday morning in early August.
The race start is divided into 6 groups based on previous experience (ie. the super duper runners start first), and safety (ie. the walkers and mum’s/dad’s/carers with prams are up the back). Meg was in the blue group, so I bid her farewell and made my way through the park down to College St to join the yellow group. I giggled at the long row of porta loo’s through the middle of the park, and the patient queues of runners lined up to use them (something about peeing in the middle of the city with but a wall of thin plastic between you and thousands of people is immensely amusing... after all is said and done, we are all human...).
Are you ready yellow group?! Cheers and waves. They called the start of the race, and we were off! Sort of. The sheer mass of people meant we really couldn’t get moving beyond a slight shuffle. Thankfully as we rounded the corner to William St, the pace picked up, the crowd thinned a little, and I was able to run right from the blue mat (the point from which the
electronic tag attached to your shoe starts recording your time... Ah technology! Back in my old running days it was a volunteer with a stop-watch...). And from then on, except for a couple of drink stops along the way, I pretty much didn't stop running until I hit the finish
line.
It was humbling, inspiring, and emotional to look up to the end of William St and see a mass of humanity running toward the tunnel. The sound of feet pounding the pavement around me, the smell of tiger balm, the spectators cheering us on. I was totally pumped! Running through the tunnel people were whooping and cheering, and a lythe young Mexican woman with a giant sombrero and an Ipod speaker dock, was playing awesome Latino tunes, all
the while cheering and running, (and totally outpacing me)! I had to keep reminding myself to not let the excitement (or emotions) get a hold of me, and focus on running!
I was shocked when we reached the 5km mark to realise we had already done 5km, because I was feeling good! The sheer momentum of the people around me, the bands playing along the roadside, the people who had come out onto their lawns and driveways to cheer and play music, the gorgeous day, it felt fantastic to be a part of it all. Heartbreak Hill was demanding, but with so much going on around me, people dressed in costumes - from Star Wars to Spiderman, several gorillas, a giant frog (how do people run 14km in head gear?!), wigs and capes, tutu’s and fairies, inspirational t-shirts, and people from all walks of life, young and old, walking and running, I didn’t have time to remember I was willingly running up a 5km hill, let alone a 14km race!
Rounding down the hill down Military Rd and Campbell Parade, I remembered why I love living in Sydney (especially my days of living in the east). Bright blue sky meets glorious blue ocean meets beautiful harbour foreshore. It's fairly spectacular. And coming into Bondi Beach was a mixed bag of emotions. I was excited, proud, tired, sad that it was coming to an end so quickly, and pumped that I had finally achieved something I had said I would do since I was about eleven years old. I’m a little sore tonight (ok, make that a lot sore... when Mum called out to say the race was on the news, I could barely make it from my room to the tv... go figure!), but I feel like I can achieve ANYTHING I put my mind to... look out world!
- Published on
Four years ago I was not in a good place. A counsellor at uni asked if I would like to be part of a study at the Black Dog Institute on the benefits of mindfulness meditation in the treatment of depression. I went along to the study and for twelve weeks struggled with mindfulness meditation. I fell asleep in just about every session. I cursed myself for not even being able to sit for five minutes and still my mind. Then in the final week, something clicked. Meditation was not something I had to achieve. I could not fail at it. But neither could I succeed. I just had to be - without judgement. Just be in the present moment.
This year I am completing a Meditation Facilitator’s Certificate. I have learnt all sorts of techniques, from mindfulness to guided meditation, inner and outer focus meditations, meditation to music, chanting, chakra meditations and breath meditations. My own practice has deepened as a result of the course, and it has most definitely strengthened me as a person. I have learnt that meditation is simply paying attention. To your breath. To your body. To the present moment. It is wonderfully easy, yet it requires skill. It requires dedication and practise.
The power of breath. The inward push down of the in-breath. The outward flow of the out-breath. The power of paying attention to the present moment. The power of being kind to yourself. The power of mindfulness.
Tonight I have been working on an assignment for my course on meditation in schools. I am inspired in my own practise. I am excited about sharing my practise and passing on these skills to other people. I am immensely grateful for all that I have learnt since that first class four years ago. Life is sometimes hard. Life is sometimes joyous. But, in the words of Jon Kabat-Zinn, wherever you go, there you are. And to be here with yourself in this moment, and be ok with that, is wonderful.
This year I am completing a Meditation Facilitator’s Certificate. I have learnt all sorts of techniques, from mindfulness to guided meditation, inner and outer focus meditations, meditation to music, chanting, chakra meditations and breath meditations. My own practice has deepened as a result of the course, and it has most definitely strengthened me as a person. I have learnt that meditation is simply paying attention. To your breath. To your body. To the present moment. It is wonderfully easy, yet it requires skill. It requires dedication and practise.
The power of breath. The inward push down of the in-breath. The outward flow of the out-breath. The power of paying attention to the present moment. The power of being kind to yourself. The power of mindfulness.
Tonight I have been working on an assignment for my course on meditation in schools. I am inspired in my own practise. I am excited about sharing my practise and passing on these skills to other people. I am immensely grateful for all that I have learnt since that first class four years ago. Life is sometimes hard. Life is sometimes joyous. But, in the words of Jon Kabat-Zinn, wherever you go, there you are. And to be here with yourself in this moment, and be ok with that, is wonderful.
- Published on
Growing up we learn certain truths. Grass is green. Elephants are big. Sweet things are bad for you. And lemons are sour. We learn from a young age that lemons are condiment foods. We squeeze them onto fish and chips. We put lemon slices into jugs of water to make it less
boring. And occasionally we mix lemon juice with oodles of sugar and carbonated water to make lemonade (and more often we buy lemonade ready made, with no actual trace of real lemon...). And we learn that lemonade, no matter how delicious, belongs to the category of fizzy drinks. Therefore it is a sometimes food. Therefore it belongs in the category of all other junk foods: it’s tasty, but you can’t have it every day because it is bad for you. Sadness. And so goes the vicious cycle of human beings being addicted to sweet because it is rare in nature.
So imagine my surprise two weeks ago reading the Alfalfa House newsletter that there exists a fruit called a “lemonade,” and it is a sweet lemon. And imagine my delight, when visiting the Farmer’s Markets at Eveleigh last week, that it was readily available! According to Daley’s Fruit Tree Nursery, a lemonade is a cross between a true lemon and a Meyer lemon (apparently the most popular kind of lemon because it is a cross between an orange and a lemon and is not highly acidic). So I bought 2 lemonades, and let them sit in the fruit bowl for a few days. And then one chilly afternoon at work I cut open a lemonade and tentatively tasted the flesh.
Oh sweet heavenly goodness. It was all true. A sweet lemon! It’s so sweet you can eat it like an orange, and I’m sure when I’m sick of eating it straight, I’ll take up my friend Carmel’s advice to try it in a sorbet... Mmm... lemonade sorbet...
As grown ups, we learn that the truths we learnt as children are not always so true. Grass is more likely to be brown. Elephants are big (some things in nature we cannot change). Lemons can be deliciously sweet, and lemonade can be an everyday food... bring on the vitamin C boosting over the next few months whilst this new found joy is in season! (On a side note, whilst researching this post, I discovered there is a fruit called chocolate pudding... I think a visit to Tropical Fruit World around August/September is in order!)
boring. And occasionally we mix lemon juice with oodles of sugar and carbonated water to make lemonade (and more often we buy lemonade ready made, with no actual trace of real lemon...). And we learn that lemonade, no matter how delicious, belongs to the category of fizzy drinks. Therefore it is a sometimes food. Therefore it belongs in the category of all other junk foods: it’s tasty, but you can’t have it every day because it is bad for you. Sadness. And so goes the vicious cycle of human beings being addicted to sweet because it is rare in nature.
So imagine my surprise two weeks ago reading the Alfalfa House newsletter that there exists a fruit called a “lemonade,” and it is a sweet lemon. And imagine my delight, when visiting the Farmer’s Markets at Eveleigh last week, that it was readily available! According to Daley’s Fruit Tree Nursery, a lemonade is a cross between a true lemon and a Meyer lemon (apparently the most popular kind of lemon because it is a cross between an orange and a lemon and is not highly acidic). So I bought 2 lemonades, and let them sit in the fruit bowl for a few days. And then one chilly afternoon at work I cut open a lemonade and tentatively tasted the flesh.
Oh sweet heavenly goodness. It was all true. A sweet lemon! It’s so sweet you can eat it like an orange, and I’m sure when I’m sick of eating it straight, I’ll take up my friend Carmel’s advice to try it in a sorbet... Mmm... lemonade sorbet...
As grown ups, we learn that the truths we learnt as children are not always so true. Grass is more likely to be brown. Elephants are big (some things in nature we cannot change). Lemons can be deliciously sweet, and lemonade can be an everyday food... bring on the vitamin C boosting over the next few months whilst this new found joy is in season! (On a side note, whilst researching this post, I discovered there is a fruit called chocolate pudding... I think a visit to Tropical Fruit World around August/September is in order!)
- Published on
I had the absolute pleasure of seeing a new production of West Side Story at the Lyric Theatre on Friday night. I admit I wasn't going to see this production. The advertising has been billing the show as "new, hot, and vibrant", and I wondered how anyone could make a fifty year old classic musical "new". But when some discounted tickets came up, I had to go.
Whilst paying tribute to the original Jerome Robbins staging, Joey McKneely's slick and gutsy production injects modern flair and sensibility into a Broadway classic. Aside from the dancing, which was absolutely phenomenal, what stood out for me in this production was the story of immigration: everyone, at some point in the American story, is an immigrant, everyone struggles, and living in the city is tough. And when the fiery passions of the people defending "their" turf, and dream of a new life collide, you have a tragedy of Shakespearean scale on your hands. Paul Gallis' stylised and stark fire-escape set, along with the use of projected 1950s black and white images of New York City, created a sense of alienation and evoked the harsh reality of living in the city. The athletic and punchy choreography gave a sense of the raw strength and primal energy of the dueling gangs, making the stylised fight scenes entirely believable and gripping.
The ensemble as a whole were fantastic, and their commitment to playing street-toughened teens was convincing. I loved the unusual interpretation of the "Officer Krupke" number. It is usually played for comic relief, but in this production, it highlights the raw energy of disillusioned young men, and you can well understand why these boys would turn to gang life for solace. Alinta Chitdz as Anita was the standout lead. She is a total knock-out, and her saucy renditions of "America" and "A Boy Like That" were thrilling.
McKneely's production was refreshingly all about story-telling. No celebrity castings, or flashy stage effects, just a strong and highly talented ensemble using song and dance to tell a story about the tragedy of alienation, violence, and forbidden love in the harsh and unforgiving city. It was interesting to note however the audience's reactions to the seemingly over-sentimental and heightened love between Tony and Maria. Even in a classic well-known musical, modern audiences can't buy this all passionate all consuming climbing fire escapes in the middle of the night, proclaiming I love you's and I'm going to marry you's, and "I'm going to have a thousand babies and name them all after Doc - even the girls" in the first five minutes of meeting a forbidden love.
The biggest barrier to this show is not sentimentality, but price. At $120 a ticket (for A reserve), I imagine many people are going to miss this show, which is a great shame, because we don't get musicals of this standard in Australia very often. The billing of the show as new, hot, and vibrant is spot on, and if you like dance this is a must-see production.
Whilst paying tribute to the original Jerome Robbins staging, Joey McKneely's slick and gutsy production injects modern flair and sensibility into a Broadway classic. Aside from the dancing, which was absolutely phenomenal, what stood out for me in this production was the story of immigration: everyone, at some point in the American story, is an immigrant, everyone struggles, and living in the city is tough. And when the fiery passions of the people defending "their" turf, and dream of a new life collide, you have a tragedy of Shakespearean scale on your hands. Paul Gallis' stylised and stark fire-escape set, along with the use of projected 1950s black and white images of New York City, created a sense of alienation and evoked the harsh reality of living in the city. The athletic and punchy choreography gave a sense of the raw strength and primal energy of the dueling gangs, making the stylised fight scenes entirely believable and gripping.
The ensemble as a whole were fantastic, and their commitment to playing street-toughened teens was convincing. I loved the unusual interpretation of the "Officer Krupke" number. It is usually played for comic relief, but in this production, it highlights the raw energy of disillusioned young men, and you can well understand why these boys would turn to gang life for solace. Alinta Chitdz as Anita was the standout lead. She is a total knock-out, and her saucy renditions of "America" and "A Boy Like That" were thrilling.
McKneely's production was refreshingly all about story-telling. No celebrity castings, or flashy stage effects, just a strong and highly talented ensemble using song and dance to tell a story about the tragedy of alienation, violence, and forbidden love in the harsh and unforgiving city. It was interesting to note however the audience's reactions to the seemingly over-sentimental and heightened love between Tony and Maria. Even in a classic well-known musical, modern audiences can't buy this all passionate all consuming climbing fire escapes in the middle of the night, proclaiming I love you's and I'm going to marry you's, and "I'm going to have a thousand babies and name them all after Doc - even the girls" in the first five minutes of meeting a forbidden love.
The biggest barrier to this show is not sentimentality, but price. At $120 a ticket (for A reserve), I imagine many people are going to miss this show, which is a great shame, because we don't get musicals of this standard in Australia very often. The billing of the show as new, hot, and vibrant is spot on, and if you like dance this is a must-see production.
- Published on
I have lived/dealt with depression since I was in early high school. I remember sitting on the train on a bright blue-sky sunny day and thinking "everything in life is good right now, but I just feel miserable." The following ten years saw me yo-yo between high and low moods, culminating in a feeling of total numbness by the time I was finishing uni.
Thankfully I discovered mindfulness meditation, and through reading, counseling, better eating habits, and much journaling, I have come to better understand my depression and how to look after it, and more importantly, my self. I can now recognise the symptoms of when I'm starting to feel down, and I'm on an ever continuing journey of how best to look after me. I'm eating beautifully, I'm expressing myself creatively, and I'm meditating daily.
I feel the one area letting me down is fitness. I'm distinctly lacking it! So I have finally signed myself up for something I have been promising myself I would do since I was twelve. I'm going to run the City the Surf! I have filled out the application form, paid my fees, and now I need to get running! For the goodness of my own health, for fitness, for the challenge, for proving to myself that I can do what I say I'm going to do, I'm going to run 14km from Sydney's CBD to the iconic Bondi Beach on Sunday 8 August.
Part of the race is fundraising for a nominated charity. I have chosen Beyond Blue: The National Depression Initiative. It feels positive to be raising money for an organisation that promotes better understanding, prevention, and coping strategies for depression through an event that will also increase my own well-being. If you can, please help me reach my target of raising $1000 for Beyond Blue by visiting Everyday Hero.
The paper work is done... now I need to get training!
Thankfully I discovered mindfulness meditation, and through reading, counseling, better eating habits, and much journaling, I have come to better understand my depression and how to look after it, and more importantly, my self. I can now recognise the symptoms of when I'm starting to feel down, and I'm on an ever continuing journey of how best to look after me. I'm eating beautifully, I'm expressing myself creatively, and I'm meditating daily.
I feel the one area letting me down is fitness. I'm distinctly lacking it! So I have finally signed myself up for something I have been promising myself I would do since I was twelve. I'm going to run the City the Surf! I have filled out the application form, paid my fees, and now I need to get running! For the goodness of my own health, for fitness, for the challenge, for proving to myself that I can do what I say I'm going to do, I'm going to run 14km from Sydney's CBD to the iconic Bondi Beach on Sunday 8 August.
Part of the race is fundraising for a nominated charity. I have chosen Beyond Blue: The National Depression Initiative. It feels positive to be raising money for an organisation that promotes better understanding, prevention, and coping strategies for depression through an event that will also increase my own well-being. If you can, please help me reach my target of raising $1000 for Beyond Blue by visiting Everyday Hero.
The paper work is done... now I need to get training!