My computer is alive.
I have a strong internet connection.
It seems, for the moment that my technological speed bump has been overcome.
With a week of time, multiple calls and long hours spent talking to technical support, two technician visits, an operating system downloaded twice, installed once and recovery of all my precious files I am back.
But it's new.
Although I have every document and movie, song and even playlist it feels like starting all over again.
Shiny.
Reorgainized.
Reenergized.
I didn't realize I needed a revamp, a removal of clutter and files in all the wrong places but the Universe had other plans and as inconvenient as it was through the week, there was a quietness about it and the refreshed feel of my computer is electric.
Tonight is the Full Moon, a Blue Moon. A time to as the Universe for all that we want, profess our deepest desires, dreaming as big as our childhood selves could have imagined, asking for it all. Believing it is coming, knowing it is.
So tonight as the darkness descends and the fair moon rises upon us all, ask yourself, what is it that you want to start, that could use a refresh in your life. What do you want. Dream Big.
Friday, July 31, 2015
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Lessons... Perfectly Imperfect...
I have always wanted to sew a quilt, the kind you see in old country houses that have worn through the years, aged in such tender ways from the carefulness of their crafting.
Delicate hands, patches of thread worn fabrics, contrasting and complimenting. Stories woven together. Simple and special.
Yards and meters of fabrics collected - similar and different all at once. Hundreds of small squares cut to the perfect dimensions, exacting.
Pieces sewn into larger squares, straight lines, constant sizes.
Larger squares become rows and rows become the front half. Perfectly formed perfection.
In theory.
As I sat at my machine turning first those pieces into squares and the squares into rows I realized that there is no perfection. I can see the flaws in every line I sew, slight slips of the cutter making slightly imperfect pieces, the pieces adding imperfections into the squares which continues into the rows and quilt itself.
You can teach me how to make the perfect of squares but then I'd still have to sew the straightest of lines - a task that even through years of practice I still at times struggle with - attention distracted for the slightest of seconds and oops.
But put all together the flaws flow together, vanish to the naked eye. The bigger picture overwhelming the details.
It was through the construction of these quilt pieces that I saw a reflection of me. Perfectly imperfect. Filled with flaws but still something tender and made with love.
I am not perfect, years of life have shaped and formed me. I am a result as much of as my successes as I am of my mistakes. I am worn and in some places a little thread bare but I am beautiful too.
Imperfect pieces have formed me into a being that belongs in this world exactly how I am.
Perfectly imperfect.
Delicate hands, patches of thread worn fabrics, contrasting and complimenting. Stories woven together. Simple and special.
Yards and meters of fabrics collected - similar and different all at once. Hundreds of small squares cut to the perfect dimensions, exacting.
Pieces sewn into larger squares, straight lines, constant sizes.
Larger squares become rows and rows become the front half. Perfectly formed perfection.
In theory.
As I sat at my machine turning first those pieces into squares and the squares into rows I realized that there is no perfection. I can see the flaws in every line I sew, slight slips of the cutter making slightly imperfect pieces, the pieces adding imperfections into the squares which continues into the rows and quilt itself.
You can teach me how to make the perfect of squares but then I'd still have to sew the straightest of lines - a task that even through years of practice I still at times struggle with - attention distracted for the slightest of seconds and oops.
But put all together the flaws flow together, vanish to the naked eye. The bigger picture overwhelming the details.
It was through the construction of these quilt pieces that I saw a reflection of me. Perfectly imperfect. Filled with flaws but still something tender and made with love.
I am not perfect, years of life have shaped and formed me. I am a result as much of as my successes as I am of my mistakes. I am worn and in some places a little thread bare but I am beautiful too.
Imperfect pieces have formed me into a being that belongs in this world exactly how I am.
Perfectly imperfect.
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Real Life... July 29, 2015
It's been a while and this is the story of why.
Technology fails. Yes fails. Plural.
As they say, when you shout out your truest desires to the Universe and proclaim them to be true the Universe hears this as a sign to test you, to see if what you say is true, deeply rooted or just a passing fancy.
I proclaimed to write consistently again, started finding my voice in the wee hours before sleep, ideas crashing forth and as I put them onto paper my computer decided it had had enough. Crash.
Those dreaded words - unrecoverable. Reinstall hard drive. Um. Ouch.
I'm far from a technology expert but those two hours I spent talking to the charming man on the Apple care line I knew that after failed startup after failed start up the only thing I could hope for was to recover my files.
And how did that story turn out... you'll have to read past part two to find out.
Technology fail two that is... yup, there is more. At the same time that I am watching the death of my computer our home internet is dropping to below dial up standards. It's painful.
I spent another hour on the phone to our internet provider next trying to figure out what was up. You see we live in the tiny part of our suburb that has yet to have NBN installed (national broadcasting network and the saviour to the poor infrastructure that Australia currently operates on) and while our speeds have never been fantastic they have at least been acceptable - no more.
As our modem is almost 4 years old the techs first response was to blame it for our troubles and immediately dispatches another - no luck. The modem was just fine. The tech finally came to our house yesterday and in a matter of 5 minutes clearly knew that our line was fucked (technical term).
Another day to wait for Telstra to resolve the problem as they hold the power of the infrastructure.
So here I sit in the coffee shop down the road poaching wifi and drinking a latte while the rain pours down outside.
The ideas are still bubbling and refining. I am resolved. This is just a bump along the way. A test. A test that Universe, I will pass.
Until next time...
Technology fails. Yes fails. Plural.
As they say, when you shout out your truest desires to the Universe and proclaim them to be true the Universe hears this as a sign to test you, to see if what you say is true, deeply rooted or just a passing fancy.
I proclaimed to write consistently again, started finding my voice in the wee hours before sleep, ideas crashing forth and as I put them onto paper my computer decided it had had enough. Crash.
Those dreaded words - unrecoverable. Reinstall hard drive. Um. Ouch.
I'm far from a technology expert but those two hours I spent talking to the charming man on the Apple care line I knew that after failed startup after failed start up the only thing I could hope for was to recover my files.
And how did that story turn out... you'll have to read past part two to find out.
Technology fail two that is... yup, there is more. At the same time that I am watching the death of my computer our home internet is dropping to below dial up standards. It's painful.
I spent another hour on the phone to our internet provider next trying to figure out what was up. You see we live in the tiny part of our suburb that has yet to have NBN installed (national broadcasting network and the saviour to the poor infrastructure that Australia currently operates on) and while our speeds have never been fantastic they have at least been acceptable - no more.
As our modem is almost 4 years old the techs first response was to blame it for our troubles and immediately dispatches another - no luck. The modem was just fine. The tech finally came to our house yesterday and in a matter of 5 minutes clearly knew that our line was fucked (technical term).
Another day to wait for Telstra to resolve the problem as they hold the power of the infrastructure.
So here I sit in the coffee shop down the road poaching wifi and drinking a latte while the rain pours down outside.
The ideas are still bubbling and refining. I am resolved. This is just a bump along the way. A test. A test that Universe, I will pass.
Until next time...
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Lessons... It is easy...
I was catching up with a dear friend today on messenger, the basis of communication for most of our relationship. We have never lived closely - never even in the same city it seems. We have for a while at least lived in the same timezone and in was those random hours where our secrets and stories were shared. A true and honest friendship.
I always joke that there is no way he can speak at my wedding - he just knows too much.
But that's it really - he knows. He has heard of all my ups and downs in the world of boys, the good and the bad, the fun, adventurous and scandalous too. No holds barred.
He's commented in those times where someone with significance got a real name rather than an initial or some resounding quality that defined who they were. He's shared my tears and laughter, audacity and outrage. And he's shared too, his ups and downs and heart break.
And so we caught up again today from a place of complete contrast, both of us in such different places that we have been in so very long. Stable and solid relationships, real relationships. The ones that are steady and committed and going someplace better even as they remain great in these moments.
I am as happy for him as he is for me.
And I sit here and smile now as after all these years, the endless words of encouragement and faith for the future as we both agree on one thing that is different now in this place we now exist. One simple thing that has eluded us both for so long. So basic and true.
It is easy.
A true and loving, honest and authentic relationship has no games, no longing or questioning, no uncertainty or space. It's not being who we think they will like or a polished version of ourselves. It is simple and real.
I have never been more true to who I am deep inside that I am now. I feel safe and loved and can let go and be the utterly not so charming girl that I am at times and the love that S has for me never wanes or wavers. He laughs not at me but rather with me. He has my back and rolls his eyes when I'm over the top ridiculous. He is never far away. He sees exactly who I am, how I see myself - sometimes even better than I. As I do with him. Effortlessly.
Uncomplicated.
True love isn't that of yearning and burning and endless desire. There is a flame that feels safe. A place to expose your wildest dreams, your deepest of fears and to just be you.
It's true what they say - when you love yourself exactly for who you are then true love finds it's way to you - and it does. Be yourself and feel love.
It is easy.
I always joke that there is no way he can speak at my wedding - he just knows too much.
But that's it really - he knows. He has heard of all my ups and downs in the world of boys, the good and the bad, the fun, adventurous and scandalous too. No holds barred.
He's commented in those times where someone with significance got a real name rather than an initial or some resounding quality that defined who they were. He's shared my tears and laughter, audacity and outrage. And he's shared too, his ups and downs and heart break.
And so we caught up again today from a place of complete contrast, both of us in such different places that we have been in so very long. Stable and solid relationships, real relationships. The ones that are steady and committed and going someplace better even as they remain great in these moments.
I am as happy for him as he is for me.
And I sit here and smile now as after all these years, the endless words of encouragement and faith for the future as we both agree on one thing that is different now in this place we now exist. One simple thing that has eluded us both for so long. So basic and true.
It is easy.
A true and loving, honest and authentic relationship has no games, no longing or questioning, no uncertainty or space. It's not being who we think they will like or a polished version of ourselves. It is simple and real.
I have never been more true to who I am deep inside that I am now. I feel safe and loved and can let go and be the utterly not so charming girl that I am at times and the love that S has for me never wanes or wavers. He laughs not at me but rather with me. He has my back and rolls his eyes when I'm over the top ridiculous. He is never far away. He sees exactly who I am, how I see myself - sometimes even better than I. As I do with him. Effortlessly.
Uncomplicated.
True love isn't that of yearning and burning and endless desire. There is a flame that feels safe. A place to expose your wildest dreams, your deepest of fears and to just be you.
It's true what they say - when you love yourself exactly for who you are then true love finds it's way to you - and it does. Be yourself and feel love.
It is easy.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Lessons.... I am (you are) enough...
I stopped writing for a very long time, well over a year and
yet I felt the words bubbling inside me day in and day out. I yearned to write but there was
something holding me back, a fear of putting pen to paper.
In many ways the trepidation still exists but finally the
urge within me has burst forth, bubbled over.
I still feel the fear every time I open my book, stare at
the screen. The vulnerability of putting
me, in all my authenticity out there for the world to see.
The real me.
It becomes so easy to live our lives behind the scenes, in
the quiet of our own space, within the boundaries of our own choosing. Staying within the norms, the expected.
It’s much harder to live out loud, the sky the limit,
pushing past the barriers inflicted upon ourselves.
It takes a lot of self confidence and more importantly self
love to expose our truest forms, our daring dreams, terrifying truths and
daunting demons.
When we truly are ourselves it leaves us exposed, vulnerable
to others judgments and criticisms, standing on the front line of exposure and
our expectation every time is of worry, of not being good enough but we
are.
I am.
You are.
Good enough.
And that’s the difference between then and now. Distance and perspective. Self love. Time and space.
To a place where I am so in love with myself that I know I am
enough. Exactly as I am in this
moment I am and always will be enough and that is why I now write.
Monday, July 13, 2015
Lessons... gratitude
For 365 days of 2014 I was grateful.
Every single day I wrote the things I was thankful for on a tiny little post it note.
People. Places. Adventure. Routine.
Often times my thoughts were simple, others they were many. Sometimes though they were a bit of a stretch.
Yet each day however small or insignificant there was still something.
As the days passed I noticed more, moments of pure joy that I'd previously passed right by, soulful connections with people who would also come and go throughout the year.
I saw many others follow this trend through the year - posting their 5 days of bliss online for the world to see. I carried out my journey in silence (until now), the only ones knowing my commitment were the ones who came to my house, saw the jar on the table filling over time. The ones who cared enough to ask about it.
My daily affirmations were not a secret but they were also not something I needed to shout out loud. My gratefulness resided purely for me. My perspective. To expand my view of the world. Mine.
My intention was to open all those yellow slips at the end of the year, a look back at the joy, a welcoming ritual for 2015. I even carried the small ziploc that they fill with me across half the world and back again to where they now sit on my bookshelf, still unopened.
I have yet to decide what I'll do with those little bits of paper. I have yet to feel the urge to look within. For within my journey of those 365 days I learned to be grateful without documentation, still everyday I find the little things to cherish. The simplicity of the moments that make up my life.
I am grateful everyday. My eyes more open than they were that first day of 2014. That was the lesson. To see the world in a more positive light than I had been. To savor the simplicities of daily life.
I always stop to smell the roses now. Every single day.
Every single day I wrote the things I was thankful for on a tiny little post it note.
People. Places. Adventure. Routine.
Often times my thoughts were simple, others they were many. Sometimes though they were a bit of a stretch.
Yet each day however small or insignificant there was still something.
As the days passed I noticed more, moments of pure joy that I'd previously passed right by, soulful connections with people who would also come and go throughout the year.
I saw many others follow this trend through the year - posting their 5 days of bliss online for the world to see. I carried out my journey in silence (until now), the only ones knowing my commitment were the ones who came to my house, saw the jar on the table filling over time. The ones who cared enough to ask about it.
My daily affirmations were not a secret but they were also not something I needed to shout out loud. My gratefulness resided purely for me. My perspective. To expand my view of the world. Mine.
My intention was to open all those yellow slips at the end of the year, a look back at the joy, a welcoming ritual for 2015. I even carried the small ziploc that they fill with me across half the world and back again to where they now sit on my bookshelf, still unopened.
I have yet to decide what I'll do with those little bits of paper. I have yet to feel the urge to look within. For within my journey of those 365 days I learned to be grateful without documentation, still everyday I find the little things to cherish. The simplicity of the moments that make up my life.
I am grateful everyday. My eyes more open than they were that first day of 2014. That was the lesson. To see the world in a more positive light than I had been. To savor the simplicities of daily life.
I always stop to smell the roses now. Every single day.
Friday, July 10, 2015
Real life... June 23, 2015...
It's my first Father's Day without him.
He died 4 months to the day of my 38th birthday. Three months and 2 days shy of his 72nd. Too soon.
I remember getting the phone call that morning from my mother, half a world away. 630am. Wednesday. 430pm. Tuesday. Time standing still. Numb.
It would be a few more hours of back and forth updates, questions. Longing for answers. One final call, my last words to my father hoping he could hear me through the phone, through the haze of the coma he had been in since falling asleep the night before.
I love you daddy.
As I hung up the phone I knew he'd be gone before I could get back home. 5 minutes after hearing my words, he was. Numb.
It's been 3 months and 19 days and I still forget sometimes. It hits me hard knowing he's never again going to be there on the other end of that phone when I call home.
Not going to ask me how my car is running or what the weather is like as he too quickly passes me back to my mother. He won't be there in those times I need his advice or expertise or to truly understand how my mother is feeling.
He won't be there to walk me down the aisle 6 months from now or to hold the grandchild that he will someday have.
I am so grateful though for the time we did share this year, much more than many of the past. An impromptu trip to New Orleans to celebrate the wedding of two great friends - where he got to meet them both and see how I'm surrounded by friends that are my extended family.
My first Christmas home in 4 years. A winter wonderland where he got to meet my future husband - words whispered that first night of how he could see the great qualities and character that Shaun possessed - and telling me to not screw things up, to keep him around. He knew I'd found the love of my life.
I miss him dearly every day but know in my heart that he is at peace, tired of the battle that he quietly fought for so long. But there is a part of me that still feels numb knowing he is gone, still reduces me to tears when I start laughing from pure unfiltered joy but life continues on. He is with us still.
He now lives solely in our memories and my dreams. My dream where he visited me again just the other night. Hanging out together. The night of Fathers Day 2015. My first without him.
He died 4 months to the day of my 38th birthday. Three months and 2 days shy of his 72nd. Too soon.
I remember getting the phone call that morning from my mother, half a world away. 630am. Wednesday. 430pm. Tuesday. Time standing still. Numb.
It would be a few more hours of back and forth updates, questions. Longing for answers. One final call, my last words to my father hoping he could hear me through the phone, through the haze of the coma he had been in since falling asleep the night before.
I love you daddy.
As I hung up the phone I knew he'd be gone before I could get back home. 5 minutes after hearing my words, he was. Numb.
It's been 3 months and 19 days and I still forget sometimes. It hits me hard knowing he's never again going to be there on the other end of that phone when I call home.
Not going to ask me how my car is running or what the weather is like as he too quickly passes me back to my mother. He won't be there in those times I need his advice or expertise or to truly understand how my mother is feeling.
He won't be there to walk me down the aisle 6 months from now or to hold the grandchild that he will someday have.
I am so grateful though for the time we did share this year, much more than many of the past. An impromptu trip to New Orleans to celebrate the wedding of two great friends - where he got to meet them both and see how I'm surrounded by friends that are my extended family.
My first Christmas home in 4 years. A winter wonderland where he got to meet my future husband - words whispered that first night of how he could see the great qualities and character that Shaun possessed - and telling me to not screw things up, to keep him around. He knew I'd found the love of my life.
I miss him dearly every day but know in my heart that he is at peace, tired of the battle that he quietly fought for so long. But there is a part of me that still feels numb knowing he is gone, still reduces me to tears when I start laughing from pure unfiltered joy but life continues on. He is with us still.
He now lives solely in our memories and my dreams. My dream where he visited me again just the other night. Hanging out together. The night of Fathers Day 2015. My first without him.
Letters to you... July 10, 2016...
I'm resurrecting this blog after a very long time...
I've been compelled to write often these past several months, nearly a year perhaps but I've shied away from it, scared by the words that might flow from my mind but I'm determined. Ready to be authentic, real. My space.
I thought about starting over but the words from the past still seem to real, such necessary reminders of where I have come from, of the woman I've grown into. I reread many of the posts and don't recall writing them, brief moments of time seemingly captured by anotherl
A lot has happened in the past few months with even more on the horizon.
I'm getting married in 6 months and 6 days. It's been 4 months and 7 days since my father left this earth. I'm unemployed and struggling to find my true path, the one I want to walk going forward, not the roots of my past defining me. Changes. A lot. Exciting and intimidating all at once and as I struggle to figure out what I truly want, I need an outlet to sort my crazy thoughts down, to remember where I've come from and the lessons I've learned as much as I have to trust in what is still to come. The best as they say.
So while selfishly this is my space feel free to follow along for the ride, relive my past words below or ignore altogether. I promise not to be offended in anyway, I just promise to be as real as I can in my words, me in black and white and definitely shades of grey in between.
A friend so kindly keeps reminding me that I have a way with words so hopefully you find something that resonates...
With love,
J.
I've been compelled to write often these past several months, nearly a year perhaps but I've shied away from it, scared by the words that might flow from my mind but I'm determined. Ready to be authentic, real. My space.
I thought about starting over but the words from the past still seem to real, such necessary reminders of where I have come from, of the woman I've grown into. I reread many of the posts and don't recall writing them, brief moments of time seemingly captured by anotherl
A lot has happened in the past few months with even more on the horizon.
I'm getting married in 6 months and 6 days. It's been 4 months and 7 days since my father left this earth. I'm unemployed and struggling to find my true path, the one I want to walk going forward, not the roots of my past defining me. Changes. A lot. Exciting and intimidating all at once and as I struggle to figure out what I truly want, I need an outlet to sort my crazy thoughts down, to remember where I've come from and the lessons I've learned as much as I have to trust in what is still to come. The best as they say.
So while selfishly this is my space feel free to follow along for the ride, relive my past words below or ignore altogether. I promise not to be offended in anyway, I just promise to be as real as I can in my words, me in black and white and definitely shades of grey in between.
A friend so kindly keeps reminding me that I have a way with words so hopefully you find something that resonates...
With love,
J.
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