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. 

And one day you are walking down the street in Glebe and you see a flyer for a lady named Keyna who teaches piano and flute and you think, that is an excellent name for a musician, and I would like to take flute lessons again. And you call her and it takes you nearly six months to organise a lesson and finally you meet and you discover you have met a kindred  spirit. And every week you share music and meditation and it is fun and lovely and inspiring. And she makes you better than you are, and she inspires you to work hard and suddenly you found you have passed your eighth grade flute exam and it makes you happy and proud and gives a great sense of accomplishment. And then you sing her original music and it just makes you so happy. 
 
And then you discover that she is playing in a new duo called Synchrone and they are playing French music. And you go along to the Flute Tree at Leichardt and for an hour or so on a sunny Sunday afternoon you listen to delightful music that touches your soul and makes  you want to move to Paris and drink wine and eat pastries and be surrounded by beautiful people who play beautiful music in pretty little unsung venues. And they do a lovely cover of the theme from "Amelie" which is one of your favourite movies of all time and you smile because music makes you happy. And sharing music makes you happy. 
 
In the words of Felix Riebl, if only the whole world could be made of people like these, then the news would not be telling me of all that warfare endlessly. The end. 

Vegetable soup simmers away in the pot and smells delicious and fills the kitchen with warmth and heartyness on a chilly autumn afternoon where the sky is dark and threatens rain. And the soup is ready and it’s pulverised to make it soupy but the vegetables within include two purple carrots and they make the whole soup turn dark purple and look entirely  un-appetising. It looks like schlop. You think of Oliver and his bowlful of gruel. And you take a deep breath and try a little sip of that sickly looking soup, and you are pleasantly delighted to find it is delicious! And you mix in a spoonful of goat’s cheese and it melts into the purple and the whole thing becomes a lighter purple and it looks slightly more appetising. But who cares what it looks like. You are feeding yourself and are accountable to no one. It is fairytale soup. It may look a little ugly. But it’s contents are full of goodness. And by eating it you just may turn into a swan who loves to play in the rain that is surely about to come. The end. 

Once upon a time (two weeks ago) two good friends Lulu and Lenny decided to make pasta from scratch. They bought some biodynamic wholegrain flour, and then went to market to fetch organic eggs, tomatoes, basil, carrots, spring onions, and garlic. They arrived home at lunch time a little hungry, but determined to stick to their goal of pasta making.   

The first step was to get the pasta sauce going. As every good meal starts with garlic and onion sauteed in olive oil, they chopped the garlic and spring onions and threw them in the pot with some olive oil. The kitchen was quickly filled with a delicious aroma. While the onions and garlic were enjoying their olive bath, Lulu and Lenny carefully peeled and chopped a mountain of tomatoes. Soon they added red wine to the pot, which made Lulu salivate a little bit because the smell was so good. Then the tomatoes were added, followed by the basil and carrots, and the whole mixture was left to its own devices to simmer and permeate its aromas into the air.
 
Lulu and Lenny then set to the task of the pasta. Eggs and a pinch of salt were rolled into the flour, and much kneading then followed. Despite Stephanie Alexander’s advice to leave the dough in the fridge for an hour, the pair were so hungry they knew they simply could not wait! So carefully and methodically they rolled long rolls of dough through the pasta machine, making it thinner and thinner and thinner. When the dough was very thin, they wound it through the cutting bit. Long strips of pasta emerged making Lulu very excited. They laid  the strips out to dry on the clothes rack, and every now and then gave the sauce a stir. 
  
Finally the pasta was dry, and a pot of boiling water was prepared. Lenny expertly separated the pasta and hurled it into the pot. The strips danced in the water, swirling with the bubbles, cooking to perfection. Very soon the pasta was ready! Lulu grated some parmesan while Lenny served two dishes of steaming pasta with fresh tomato and basil sauce on top. When they finally sat down to eat, it had been over three hours since the baking had commenced, and Lulu and Lenny were hungry! After the first fresh and flavour-filled mouthful, the pair agreed it was definitely worth the wait! And they promptly scoffed down the lot (followed by a rather delicious apple and berry crumble... also freshly made) - of course making sure they had enough to take for lunch during the week. 
 
The end (until the next pasta making day!).