Jackie & Ian’s Sydney Adventure – Part 1

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I wrote the following as the adventure was almost to an end; little did I know that Part 2 was equally exciting. I have just transcribed my writings from a notebook I bought at the airport, so the chronology is a little challenging… but, it is what it is, as this is what it was.

So, let’s get to Part 1….

15th January 2021: Friday – As I sit in the Melbourne Airport, with another 2 and a half hours until my flight back to Adelaide, and if they let me in, another 3 hour drive home to Berri, in the dark? I thought to myself, self, I shall have a little reflection on the last couple of days as I escorted my youngest to a new life, new job and no doubt new adventures in Sydney.

I might add, it just feels great to be actually writing pen on paper again; I hope all the electronic journals I now use are, will be, with all the others; at least the girls can read the types ones and not my cursive!

So when did we leave? It was actually is a little hard to remember?

13th January 2021: Wednesday – and so it began. I drove down to Adelaide pretty early in the morning as I had scheduled with a mate Adam to attend and interview with him – you know the old caring support person – except I was ready to pounce!! So, when that was done there was only one way to celebrate and that was to have pies for lunch by the beach.

The morning went quickly and so I went down to the Adelaide airport to leve my car in the long term carpark and walked back to the terminal for Jackie to pick me up.

So, around 14:30 I was in the car with Jackie, only just as it was packed to the roof with all her things to take on the move – I didn’t realise until later that the two four draw cabinets in the back were full on make up…. in fairness jackie has been a makeup artist for Mac for the last few years. I did manage to find a little gap to put in my carry on bag after some re-arranging which Bryony, Jackies Mum, had told Jackie I would do?!

We had a pretty pleasant drive to Berri and a really nice evening and a few chats. We watched a movie (John Wick!!!) after cooking dinner together and had a Dad and Daughter evening; can’t remember the last time I did that with just one of my girls.

Jackie hit the sack at about 2230 and me not long after: well actually after a few more ciders and smokes – great idea with 1200 kilometres to drive tomorrow!

14th January 2021: Thursday – We got up to an early start and it didn’t feel like we were rushing too much. I cooked eggs and avocado toast for both of us, and a coffee; all went just like last night and it was just lovely.

Away early to Mildura….

I just remembered, the excitement started early yesterday. When Jackie picked me up from the airport she hadn’t thought to refuel her car so we ran the gauntlet all the way to Nuriootpa before refuelling; I was very bravado about the entire thing, but pretty sure halfway there we weren’t going to make it! With the fuel light on from Gepps Cross we eventually pulled in, I think literally on the smell of an oily rag. I thought this was a good omen for the rest of the trip.

So, back to where I was, Thursday morning off to Mildura.

16th January 2021: Saturday – The future is definitely not set?! I missed my flight home to Adelaide last night, so I am sitting in the Melbourne Airport waiting to go later this afternoon; it is now 1230 and I fly out at 1655; a few hours yet, so, I think I would like to continue my story from yesterday, or was it the day before, as to how I actually got here, and how it has not actually been a ‘trk’ other than having the hallmarks of one…..

14th January 2021: Thursday – Jackie and I set off from Berri heading to Mildura which is about 160 km away and on roads that I had travelled on several times before. Although when we got to Mildura we had to refer to our old friend Google Maps to actually get us into New South Wales.

…. which of course reminds me that very soon after leaving home we did cross the border into Victoria. We did see that there was a big presence of bio-security and Police at Yamba which, I suppose is more the ‘official’ entry into the Riverland and has been there since I was a kid. Basically the fruit fly inspection which now is also being used to keep out other bugs.

It was fun and interesting to shove my very limited knowledge of history and the rivrland and the Australia we were travelling through – I did know that the Mildura working Man’s club used to and for all I knew still had the longest continuous bar in the souther hemisphere; these are real gems of knowledge. I suppose the world has become so electronically small that teaching or learning about how irrigation was introduced to the Riverland or other extraneous facts just don’t hold the weight or interest as much as a cat riding a vacuum cleaner or the latest video clip..It just seems that I knew all this from when I went to school; I can’t really remember looking it up since – maybe now I will?

So, down the main street of Mildura, without getting lost and across the mighty Murray, again I might add, leaving Victoria and entering New South Wales.

We had to apply for ‘permits’ to enter Victoria which both Jackie and I did, even though it appeared to be an automated service; they were never checked? As, we left Victoria, over the bridge for NSW it was as if we were never there… except…

… on the bridge coming from NSW to Victoria there was a massive line up of cars, uniforms everywhere and temporary tents and inspection stops all along the bridge; it was a bit disconcerting and I realised the only time I had seen this before was overseas or in science fiction movies – I decided not to share this with Jackie.

After doing over the bridge we both agreed it was coffee time so we saw out first coffee shop at GolGol.

It was one of many places and towns we would travel through with repeated names, eg Wagga-Wagga, being just one (I think I will find them all later if I type this up and send the story to Jackie – of course I will have to type it us so Jackie can read it – looking back at the following pages and my deteriorating had writing and chronological scatter gun approach I may have trouble deciphering it myself)
(Author Note – I didn’t look up all the towns…)

In GolGol; me telling Jackie the historical fact that the original topographer was afflicted with a stutter and his junior scribe was too scared to correct him hence the naming of all the towns with double words….

Into the GolGol general store, which was called the ‘Golly Cafe’ without to higher expectations. Immediately upon entry we knew it was going to be good as it was full of locals and had a magnificent cake cabinet with a vanilla square that was calling out to both Jackie and I; we did however decide to share. The staff were all happy, helpful and engaging; both Jackie and I commented on this and agreed when we got back in the car.

The Golly Cafe served up our vanilla slice and being forever the practical one decided to cut it exactly in half rather than at 110 km/h later in the car; no knife…. but, Ian is the ultimate doomsday prepper and the master of innovation and decides his credit card is sharp enough… and proceeds to flatten the vanilla slice in the middle, not cutting happening but custard squeezing out both ends…. the staff laugh, Jackie films and we get a knife, make the cut, grab coffees and hit the road… I eat most of the squashed bit; but it was a fantastic vanilla slice anyway!

Jackie’s now behind the wheel.

We headed from our coffee stop and a little getting over what we had seen on the bridge coming from NSW to victoria. The cars were lined for at least a kilometre and all the tents and uniforms had definately made an impression on both of us. I know it is all for our safety and it looked like many were just going through on cross boarder passes, no doubt for work; but, as Jackie commented, it was ‘scary’. I agreed, yet thought it also ‘ominous’ which I also didn’t share.

But, we were on a ‘road trip’ and Jackie had her play list on which to me sounded like the same ‘boom-boom boom-boom’ song over and over again…. and we just burned the kilometres…

Some time crossing the Hay Plain, ot later?… we did change drivers again and thankfully play lists! Jackie and her sisters had been subjected to my taste in music from their younger years: Jackie got to experience the full 15 minutes of The Doors, The End and I became a Tik-Tok start singing the finale. I also thought their song “people are Strange” was pertinent, because it is a song really about being a ‘stranger’ as Jackie may feel for sometime in her new home.

And, our Australia drivers never disappoint and over a few hundred kilometres we got to see great examples both by truck and cars; and Jackie and I both realised that trying to understand what they were doing and more importantly why, was like trying to solve an illogical problem with logic….

Which brings me to fun we had on our travels on Friday, which seems to fit here in giving each other logic problems to solve. jackie got an early advantage which stumped me for a while and I had one which drove Jackie insane for 100’s of kilometres…. so I thought I’d share (I will never tell you the answer but when you get the right answer – not just a guess which you hope is right – you will know it is the right answer…)(… and they are all solveable with the information you are given…)

Two men are found dead, on top of a mountain, in a cabin. How did they die?

A boy is with his Father when the boy is seriously injured. The Father rushes him to hospital. The Doctor comes out and says I can’t operate on him, I’m related; he’s my son. How could this be?

A man is walking his daughter to church. They cross a railway line and a train runs over the man’s foot, he is not injured. How can this be?

At night a man is standing on top of a hill. He lights a cigarette and fires a Cannon. What is his occupation?

Good luck….

Just to show off: I’ll let you know I made up the last two!

Games in the car were killing the kilometres and I think we both learned stuff along the way. We continued to burn the kilometres all day and decided that we had a good breakfast, a great squashed vanilla slice and we had stopped for fuel and got ‘snacks’ which Jackie insisted were potato chips and Twisties!

We decide to just keep driving and have lunch and dinner combined. We couldn’t decide if that would be a ‘dinch’ or a ‘lunner’. I like the first one but would love the second one if you spelt it with 3 n’s?

It was fitting then that we had dinch in Wagga Wagga; Jackie had a healthy vegetarian subway and I decided to see how much KFC and coke I could force down my throat? The kilometres were burning away; play lists changed to local radio and chatting and conundrums filled the spaces.

We actually had a plan to stay a few hundred kilometres out of Sydney so that I wouldn’t have to travel into any ‘COVID19 RED ZONES’ (All the terms are sounding more and more like the dystopian futures I watch are read in my science fiction…)….not that we had actually booked anything?

So Goulburn approached and seemed good and ‘The Bakehouse Motel’ had good review and more importantly was within our price range and had vacancies. Arrival was easy and the guy at reception was friendly and helpful; although Jackie did point out that his directions to the nearest hotel were lost to her after the 5th turn and ‘going up the road a bit, about 5 minutes, and there is a great little pub’ – we never found it.

Jackie showered and I was sent on a shopping expedition for cider, smokes and a vegetarian rice thing that I would find in the freezer section at the super market? I should have had the first shower!

I drove into downtown Goulburn and it was lovely: so many lovely places in Australia.

Everything really is ‘close’ in Australia; especially for a population who historically (in the country areas anyway)who would drive 60 km for a Hamburger at midnight and home again…. and, the countryside, even over the Hay Plain, is never the same, changes all the time, especially over all the kilometres we had done that day.

I was back at the motel after only a slight geographical embarrassment and the grattitude that I had not been killed when I initially pulled out of the motel on this journey, straight in front of two cars, one from the left the other from the right in a classic pincher movement; both braked hard…. then smiled and waved….

This actions by the locals, and the motel manager at reception was the first of many polite and friendly encounters I had in my short shopping expedition in Gouldburn; the ladies in the smoke shop, the guy in the bottle shop, the checkout dude scanning my frozen veg rice and qwinwhaa abomination (ok – quinoa); plus I drove past nice parks, old well looked after building and people out and about; it made me happy.

Jackie heated her healthy dinner by blasting it with microwaves and I drank a few ciders outside, doing the fellow traveller nod, and a g’day as you accidentally make eye contact in the motel carpark.

We were both a bit knackered so we jumped into bed (of course I had a cider on the night stand!) and said we’d take pot luck with a movie and both laughed, both seeing the wrongness of ‘super Bad’ and loving it at the same time.

… a good end to a ‘Dad and Daughter Road Trip Day’.

15th January 2021: Friday – Well, here will be a day that will go down in the annuls (or anals!) of our family history; butt, remember, that in this next tale nobody dies, so it was a good day.

Jackie and I had set our alarm for an early start; you know around eightish. We moved with the pace that Jackie described to me that she moved at when she had a difficult customer in retail – glacial… but, Maccas breakfast awaited us and we sat in the ‘restaurant’ (the definition of which has certainly changed where it was required to wear a shirt and tie)… and I explored the wonder of the Macca’s ‘Hot Cakes.’

We took a photo!

Jackie driving on the last leg of our journey together; straight to the Sydney airport what I thought was all through ‘GREEN ZONES’ ? flight out tonight and I was away.

Jackie got us the last few hundred km’s super dafe and alive although it seemed that every truck we came across was trying to kill us and we were the only ones who were’t speeding. It was nice to have some 500 km of freewway into sydney over the last couple of days.

Man1 We arrival at the Sydney Airport drop off zone brought home that I now had to let go of my little girl for her to live her new life and adventure, a long way away. I wrote the following in my little book of wisdom that I keep and was sure that I had included it one time or another in cards I had given to my girls. Now it was coming true:

Your World

Take any opportunity to live overseas or at least interstate. this is not going on a holiday but living there. Learn to be independent; enjoy your own company, miss home (and cherish it); experience another culture; eat their food, speak their language; make friends with the world and mainly yourself. Love the worlds diversity and vastness; don’t feel small, feel a part of it.

At the airport we managed to get my bag out the back of jackie’s car without the use of a crow bar; and there we were, about to part.

The little tear on Jackie’s cheek and the quiver of her chin will be with me always; in that moment, I thought how lucky I was to be here with my wonderful daughter; and now she had to make her own way.

On this trip, we had done many miles; for me and Jackie to I hope, we had done many years. I learned things and I got to know my daughter and more about the years, the people and the decisions that had got her to this farewell.

I learned of the life Bryony, Kym and William had created with our girls; there are some debts you can never repay; then again I am sure no repayment is necessary, asked for, or expected. i was privileged to be the parent that took our daughter to the launching pad of her new life….

…. and I said farewell to our youngest daughter and sister who would be the farthest away but forever just around the corner in our hearts and thought…. and that interweb video chat thingo.

Jackie drove away, leaving a very proud Dad with about 4 hours before his flight. I had a full pack of cigarettes, half a charge on my phone, a stop over in Melbourne for a few hours and home before midnight; all in one day….
… what could possibly go wrong?

Before I took off from sydney, Jackie had reached her friend Maddy’s place and to me the trek, this adventure was done, all safe, daughter done, Dad on the plane, Melbourne….

I thought the hard part was getting Jackie to Sydney… when in fact, the hardest part was getting her idiot Father home.

Thanks for your patience in reading my rambling story so far. Apologies for the typos and never ending sentences… I just wasn’t up to proof reading and wanted to post it tonight. Plus, I just wasted a whole lot of time watching The Castle again… so the above, is my story.

Part 2 soon.

The Day My Brain Exploded

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In the closing hours of this day, I have called friends, had a beer and now sit to do what I love (other than drinking beer!)…. write.

I have rambled more in recent days than I have for some time. For this rambling if unread, scorned or ridiculed, I am grateful and lucky.

It was two years ago today, a few hours before now that my ‘brain exploded.’ I had a brain aneurysm and think but for the grace of God I may have died. Statistically everything was against me. But….

I was in Adelaide – no ambulance to the local under resourced hospital and the overworked doctors and nurses; no waiting for the 45 minute flight to Adelaide – basically if this happened, here in Berri, I am sure, I was a dead man.

The ambos arrived at the small family gathering we were having in Norwood and I was in care shortly after and stuff being pumped into me to save my life.

To me, this was a blur; and for some time the days after; I still walk many times a day into a room and can’t remember why I went there, I lose things a lot.

But, I remember; not for some time, that at the time I was having the brain explosion, I was not scared. My family was with me and I was a peace.

So on Jesus’s Birthday two years ago they got the Makita out and drilled into my head.

A lady, who I saw was a healer spoke to me before and said she would save my life. I am a sceptic but I believed her. I have spoken to her since in her office with an entire wall covered with ‘thank you’ cards.

Her name is Associate Professor Amal Abou-Hamden.

I am still grateful to her and tell her receptionist that at my next appointment I will ask her to marry me: our appointments are often rescheduled as she is saving someone elses life – plus I am worried about the age gap?

My brain exploding changed my life – other than never being able to find my keys.

I saw that the ‘well’ decide what the sick really needed in rehab – and I checked myself out twice and was nasty to people, but no more than I saw the suffering of those who have lost everything.

I was angry, demanding and offensive (after all I had a brain injury)… maybe it was just that all my life long ‘governors’ were off.

People I loved came to see me; having three ex partners standing by your bedside all at the same time can seem like a nightmare, but: old mates came; young mates came…. and I wrote crazy stuff in my journal and pushed my wife away.

My sister travelled to be with me.

My daughters held my hand.

… and then I went home.

I have been here since and found that death is not something that is now a stranger to me… I wrote my epitaph several times in hospital and rehab (for the short time I stayed there – checking myself in and out …?) and it was not good?

My wife left me, my heart broke worse than my head had, and I broke with it.

My friends, my band of brothers, my guardian angel daughters saved me.

I went to the Rural and Remote ward in Glenside Hospital. I was humbled, lost and sad. (I love my Band of Brothers but the tricky bastards got me locked up because they knew I would con my way out!!!)

My Pastor friend Toh Sang Ng visited me…
My daughters and band of brothers visited me…
Old mates of heart and courage visited me…

I bought smokes, and popcorn, and watched movies, with friends I would never have met, had my brain not exploded.

I found something else; I found me. Not the one I hadn’t mostly liked, but the one I was looking for and knew was there from one of the last things my Mum said to me before she passed away… “You are a good man.”

My Mum was wise and loved God and I am certain was loved right back. It wasn’t until after my brain exploded that I realised that my Mum wasn’t telling me who I was, but who I could become.

I just always remember that Colonel Sanders didn’t start KFC until he was 65 years old, that, I realised I still had a chance.

I wrote a lot of apology letters to the Doctors and Nurses, to my wife, family and friends; some things can’t be mended and must only be forgiven.

… and time passed…. not long, but enough for me to realise that all the bullshit of knowledge and wisdom in these writings (although I must admit, rather eloquently and inspirationally written..) lacked the spirit that I wrote about – the connection to something bigger than me – I knew it was there as Eckart Tolle had told me so, YouTube clips told me so, the Art of War told me how to kill those who told me so, The Art of Peace told me how to do it with a stick and not actually hurt anyone during a fight (?), my mate Made in Bali taking me to the temples and dressing up in the garb told me so, the Philosophers I read and read told me so, my old mate Toh Sang told me so.

So, I didnt need to reach out, I just had to understand what I had always know.

And… I did.
Now I have the life I always felt but didn’t quite know; like waking from a dream that you can’t quite remember but know it was a good one (Not the flying dream, because that one is always a bit scary!)

So, now two years after my brain exploded (and thanks to Associate Professor Amal Abou-Hamden’s skill, I have maintained my stunning good looks)… I am grateful and lucky.

I post only the picture of Associate Professor Amal Abou-Hamden in this post as most of the pictures I would otherwise share are inside my head and can never be printed as they would so underestimate the things I have seen, experienced and begun to understand.

The best part, is that I still falter about 1000 times a day (about the same amount of times I have looked for my car keys – this week!)… it teaches me that the past is gone, I try to learn from it: the future is unwritten (please see the Movie Donny Darko because at any minute like him, a jet engine could fall through your roof and kill you), I have a plan, but it will most probably not turn out that way…. but, mostly my life is consumed by trying to appreciate the moment I am now in.

I want to thank all you dudes who have travelled with me on this trek, before and after my brain exploded; and especially to those who have helped me with my baggage, or even carried me when needed; and mostly, for seeing the things in me my Mum did.

In life you rarely get BIG second chances – I got one (please don’t stuff it up Ian!!!)…

I believe what I believe, which before I just thought I understood….
I live now, like today, is my last day (and forget most days and live like a rock star…?)…
I forgive easily, I hope more…
I think I love more, better, and deeper…
I write bad poetry….
I try to be kind…

I know my story is just one of many that in the past I wouldn’t have really listened to because I was too eager to talk myself…

I have time now:

I have every moment until I shuffle from this mortal coin; where you all come to say goodbye and note that their is no trailer on my hearse, as I have left it all behind;

I just hope, I leave something more behind, than all the fantastic, magnificent unfinished projects in my shed and my bad poetry….

Thank you, for my second chance.

Our Trek – to Our Town…

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So here it is…

That is a weird start to any post….. considering it is pointing out the obvious: but so often the obvious is hidden, literally in plain sight?

A few nights ago I found the courage to sit and write again: publicly I mean: not in the beloved confines of my shed with pens, chalk, markers on pieces of recycled cardboard (often beer and cider boxes): but on my long lamented blog.

I had a thought a few days ago when a trek I had been on, took a turn that I did not expect.

I have been working on a project for a year, called the ‘Out Town’ initiative. I have no inclination to explain it all here and will place ‘strategic’ links to The Fay Fuller Foundation (click here for all the info), TACSI (I just wrote that as my reminder that I despise acronyms…. The Australian Centre for Social Innovation – click here for these super dudes) and a myriad of other organisations, individuals and communities that have a hope, vision, drive and purpose to make our world a better place.

“Our Town” in a Nut Shell

Is an initiative to provide rural towns in South Australia with the guidance (through TACSI) and the financial backing (through the Faye Fuller Foundation – okay I hate acronyms but from here on referred to as FFF) to set our own courses to the future, to have towns (and regions) which are well; I interpreted that both physically and mentally; even in regards to prosperity and thriving; to a mutually agreed future.

The above is but an understated ‘quote’ of what these two organisations have offered us; mostly, to me, they have offered me hope in our community.

Yes, wonderfull words, but backed up, as all good mates do, with deeds.

After our initial application, which was submitted by hard working visionaries in our community, we were short listed to the final 6 towns.

Now let’s get this into perspective.….
We were short listed to receive funding for ten years, consisting of $300,000 per year, to fulfil the plan that our town would come up with. …. not sadly, but graciously the Faye Fuller Foundation was going to fund two towns of the 6 ‘finalists’.

… and then the world changed: Kangaroo Island: our States southern jewel was devastated by bushfires……

The FFF in wisdom and generosity, gave one of the ten year funding grants to Kangaroo Island.

… and there are people in this world, organisations that you hope exist, and they step forward…. that do things you would never expect (but, secretly always wish they did and that person or organisation actually existed…)

The FFF decided to still provide the funding for two town of the 5 towns….!!!

It them became even more than we could have ever hope for in todays world:
The FFF, then provided us with the guidance and mentoring of TACSI, and unbelievable $45,000.00 in ‘seed funding’ to help us put our final ‘town plan’ together and …. then gave us a year to do it.

We worked hard, and people got tired and their community picked them up and gave them a rest; always finding someone to take their place. AND, and a big AND, we learned about ourselves, we learned about our towns, we learned about doing things differently, we learned to ask for help, we learned to fail, we learned to accept that there was no right answer, we learned to plan and design and implement, not from the board room, the committee, or the financiers ….but to do all this from a chat with a mate, the park bench, the neighbour we have never spoken to, the invisible, the lost, lonely and forgotten members of our towns. (See a lot more detail and our town ‘insights’ on our Facebook page – click here)

We chatted, we talked, we went and spoke to our neighbours, people we had never met (and even now we know there are people we have not yet met… but want to…)…

… and I speak just for me here; I found a new way of doing things: I met mentors who were half my age; I saw with wonder the fantastic young people in our community; I learned, and learned and learned; each day knowing the more I learned, mostly only taught me how much I didn’t know and still had to learn….

All the ‘finalist’ worked towards their plans, for their community for their people for their future….

… again I stopped and wondered about all the tings that I ‘knew to be true‘ crumbling as I watched….

All these ‘competitors’… left no one behind; they shared their visions, their ideas, their insights, their failures…. the towns were not competing, but travelling on a trek that we were all going on; carrying our baggage; on the hard days carrying each others… it wasn’t a competition it was a community.

And on the last day the ‘winning’ towns were chosen: and the congratulations were as soul felt as the commiserations.

… and the FFF had decided at the last minute to give another town the ten year funding… is there no better gift than that which is given freely…. and so generous, and so unexpected

There were two towns that missed out…
And we were one….

But, the FFF and TACSI had still found us funding for one year of $100,000.00 and the promise, of which I have no doubt, to support us.

Just about me….

As I sat and listened to the announcement from the FFF that other towns had received the funding, I sat back and looked at the disappointment in our teams face…. it was strange…. I saw, also complete acceptance and gratitude, joy for the other towns… and determination, we would not let our town down and would go on… in that moment I wrote the following on my phone (I love pen and paper but I am learning to be ‘techno-savvy’):

Our Town
1300: just found out we missed out on the Our Town big grant….. wow, didn’t think I’d be this ‘hit’ by it…..


Now: it becomes a real challenge to make a difference when we are not able to splash cash around…  which rarely solves anything…. it just feeds egos and often attracts the wrong people…  now we have no choice, but, to have this driven, from the park bench, the shed, the blockies, the ones that need us the most….. the people we have not yet met and are wanting to meet….

Now, we work for us: for our Real town: real people and not key words, phrases and trendy idioms …. I know in this town we have wisdom and knowledge: champions and characters: history and stories …. all of which are ours, they are our community, our family, and we bear the scars.

I think we have actually won more by not getting the money: we get to not give up: we get to continue our trek with all our baggage, and the more we have collected along the way: but, we have a whole lot more people to help us carry it….  we have people, groups, an entire town who are hungry and have the appetite to make the changes we want and need….

… and I still mean this: I am tired; I have bad days where the troubles of my life seem more important than my neighbours; but, mostly, in this trek that continues, I know I can not go on without my neighbour…. even if I don’t like them; or I envy them; or they wronged me in the past; they, in some fashion, are still my neighbour, and do I want to actually go on without them…..

In the days that followed, particularly the day after, I nursed my hangover, because at the time I was drinking with my mate Wayne who had been hurt in the days before and will be recovering for the months to come…. and I walked home through my town and was glad to be there.

Fait, is a wonderful thing: so long as it is in your favour….

The next day I read this (I read a lot and a lot of what I read bewilders me and some times inspire me….)

The Best Seed

There once was a farmer who grew the most excellent wheat. Every season he won the award of the best in his area.

A wise woman came to him to ask him about his success.

He told her that the key was sharing his best seed with his neighbours so they could plant the seed as well.

The wise woman asked, “How can you share your best wheat seed with you neighbours when they compete with you every year?”

“That’s simple” the farmer replied “The wind spreads the pollen from everyone’s wheat and carries it from field to field. If my neighbours grow inferior wheat, cross-pollination, would degrade everyones wheat, including mine. If I’m to grow the best wheat, I must help my neighbours grow the best wheat, including mine”

The wise woman learned a lesson and left better for her visit from the farm: as she walked away she thought to be wise is always to learn from where you least expect it.

…. and I sat on this thought, and all my thoughts that spin around inside my head… I often say my head is a dangerous place and I never go there alone: I think any trek, whether in the wild unknowns, or inside your own head, requires the company of those you trust; perhaps the person just next door, your neighbour.

So I thought I’d ask a question of my neighbours….

“If we were on a trek and there was just the 6 companions, friends, neighbours heading for different destinations but all on the same pilgrimage; what would I do as a fellow traveller.

We had set out together, with the same goal, but provisioned differently. Four of us had 3 apples, but two had but a small portion of an apple, which to continue would have to be eaten on the first day of our 10 day journey.

Would my four companion travellers each give one of their apples so that we all had 2 apples to journey onwards together?

Each sharing their bounty, evenly; so that all could continue on the journey together; equally nourished, each supporting the other; each pollinating each others fields, so that all may grow the best crops”

I think we all have stories, we all have stories yet unwritten.

Our pervious stories, if we listen, teach us lessons; so that the next step we take is a better one, in the right direction, with the right companions, for the right reasons.

I know tomorrow when I wake up, I will move that one thing, I will take that one step, I will continue my trek; after all what else is there; there is the joy of sharing it with a neighbour who has become a friend.

Writing….

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I still actually write and dont just use the keyboard and screen.

Some of you may have in the past; and still receive my handwritten letters on real paper. I also keep a journal and have done so since I was about 15 years old; okay, I may miss a few days here and there (well sometimes weeks, months, years) but I always come back to it.

I cut up cardboard to about the size of a playing card (good recycling!) and have stacks of them around the house. I use them for making little notes, jotting down ideas or even the original reason for doing it, writing a shopping list. In the shed I also have these little cards (and in the car) but, in the shed I have bigger pieces of cardboard cut from beer and cider packaging, which I make my ‘shed’ notes on – plans, measurements etc.

And… in the late of the night, I use these larger ones to write poetry?

I learned the art of recycling little pieces of paper to make ideas bigger, plans clearer and a place to actually put a pen to a piece of squashed wood, found in a broken carton or beer box, from a friend: a lifelong friend: for which I will be forever grateful (although now I have more stacks of little pieces of cardboard and paper than meaningful thoughts!)

… and now I sit and write (very close to a friend of mines birthday?) and think about why it is that I often write, knowing, but hoping, that others may read what I …. muse about.

… in addition there are many stacks of these little cards: and perhaps tooooo many of the larger cards with my poetry, that I don’t share: I think perhaps in the new year I will post them regularly so-as you may suffer, as I have, in writing them….

I have but a few days until the celebration of the birthday of a mate (and gratefully the day before the birthday of my always stalwart sister Cheryl)… I think in this time, other than packing my bags to travel to the big city; where I look forward to spending time with friends and family, I will perhaps not trouble myself with those thoughts that seem to engulf our lives, particularly mine; for no purpose other than pain, or anguish, or regret, or the imagined sinister nature of the future yet untold… I think, I will spend that time writing things that are honest, meaningful and do not preach but tell a story, of from now until then.

I have missed writing, although I have been doing it so long… and since the theft of my beloved diary (not my Journal as that would be just tooooo harsh!); I have, well no, I am, attempting to enter a digital age of writing that travels with me, is saved in the cloud (where ever that is) and I know will be a place I can come to, hide perhaps, but always access, the writings, that I love so much.

In doing that, today I posted a letter (I think I paid too much for the postage… it changes all the time and I have outdated rolls of stamps in the hundreds which I bought with a great of expectations, and now plaster on the envelopes, of letters with as much expectation…)… the first for a long time.

I am practicing tonight, with fingers on a keyboard; not as I love, the swirl of pen on paper; to write a request tomorrow to ask for a new view of what it is like to be a member of our race, our humanity, our planet, out country, our state, our region, our community… or just neighbours:

…. and if the world is as I see it, I do not expect to fail: for in this request, there is but triumph for everyone.

I hope, pray, believe: I can write tomorrow and make a difference.

(Wow, how is that for click bait… although, I have no intention but to post this on my long lamented blog: which I love: I am embarrassed by: I am proud of: and it provides me with the solace to be, who, I suspect I have always been.)

Brave New World

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I just wanted to write a quick post as I have been thinking why am I so confused about what is happening in the world. To me it is just weird. Old models of politics and economics don’t seem to fit. People have been at their best and their worst.

Grandpa Presidents

Today is the US Election. I think this is the catalyst for ‘something’? I don’t think it matters who wins the outcome will be the same.

I said sometime ago during the pandemic when our economies were collapsing that usually politicians get a country out of recession, well in the west anyway, by starting a war.

No matter the result of the US election I just feel that things might get a bit worse. In this weird time it is not unreasonable to think it will get weirder and worse. I find not joy or even evil glee in any of this. We, the people, are always the ones that ultimately pay the price: the foot soldiers sent to slaughter by politicians sitting in their offices.

Oh, I am really feeling the doom and gloom in this post … I suppose this is why… because I think…

  • America will fall into civil war
  • Europe will fall into total social and economic disorder
  • England will stand out and close its borders
  • Australia will stand out and close its borders
  • Russia will stand and watch with China and pick up the pieces
  • China will invade and take over Taiwan and escalate hostilities with Japan
  • There will be a war somewhere and it will be someone else fault.
  • The Middle east will be forgotten
  • North Korea is liable to do anything and invasion of the south is not out of the realm of possibility
  • The pandemic will always be in the background (pray for no mutation!)

Sorry, but this is just what I think. It is not based on years of study but just a feeling that the world is coming for ‘correction’.

I am lucky. I live in the country, in the Riverland, in South Australia, in Australia. Our safety will only be compromised by our politicians. I think they may get a surprise if they continue to ask the people to follow them blindly.

….and always right in the mix of mayhem will be “The Merchants of Misery” (The Media) who have set themselves up as the ‘unelected aristocracy’ ruling from the pages, screens and their images and back room voices, as they see fit.

I think we will all find in days to come, our best friend is our neighbour, our community and the friends we have not yet met who live down the street. Our history was firstly written by the people, then the politicians and the rich and powerful; I believe, and feel in my heart, it is the peoples turn again.

Thinking on ANZAC Day

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I can’t believe I haven’t written for almost a month…. but, I have been busy, putting on 6 kilograms and ensuring that I was well and truely in the 70% increase of alcohol consumption since the COVID19 invasion.

So, ANZAC Day…..

I have a few difficulties with its sudden ‘popularity’ and all the wonderful heartfelt sacrifices made on the day and the wearing of other peoples medals. It’s not the sentiment that troubles me, its the short lived nature of it.

I wrote a poem about this a few years ago and usually publish it on ANZAC Day; but, seeing I sent it to the ADF and they ignored me, I’ll just leave a link for you to ignore as well. (To read a really good ANZAC Poem, click here!)

So, ANZAC Day…..

Often referred to by our politicians and The Merchants of Misery (The Media) of late, in a sentence including the term Un-Australian….. also, a lot of the merchants quoting a ‘millyun’ when quoting financial figures around the million mark, which is much less than a ‘billyun’.

I attend the dawn service; usually. Being in the country is better. But, this year it will just be the Politicians who send our ADF to war and sit at home being very Australian. They will be representing us as they do not on the battle field. I will walk to the end of my driveway at 5.30 am on ANZAC Day and remember the fallen and the ultimate sacrifice they made in all the wars, ‘police actions’, peace keeping roles and all the other names we hide behind when describing war and death.

It would be really nice NOT to see a lot of people doing this – I don’t want to see them on Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat…. but, as I will do, I will just be doing it for myself, because it is important to me; unrecorded, just lived.

I will remember the two photographs of my Nana’s brothers, both of whom died in WW1; and who we never really spoke about. I remember when I was young, not really understanding; even if I did wear their medals one day while playing; children don’t understand war; young men mostly, and young women, dont really understand them either, they just die in them.

So, ANZAC Day…..

I will really be thinking of the approximately 6000 veterans who are homeless, today.

I will really be thinking of the almost 500 veterans who have suicided in the last 20 years; and their families who have been left behind.

I will think of these lost souls, destroyed and killed by war; of families still grieving the loss of the men and women who they knew, for the ones who returned home.

I will think what can I do?

A wise young man told me the other day, “compassion is empathy and action.”

To me it is not, just getting up early one day a year. Compassion, is perhaps, acknowledging if you have never served, that you can never know what it was like; compassion is asking our Politicians why our heroes are lost in the world they fought for, and live in today.

Lest we forget; those still with us; every day.

A Man Alone with Himself…

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I promised myself that I would write a positive post…..?

So this one is actually not about social distancing or being ‘trapped at home’ but about how I am thinking about all that.

Friedrich Nietzsche was a German Philosopher who was a bit controversial in his opinions and ideas, but one quote of his was:

He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.

You can find a lot of his quotes in a book called “Man Alone with Himself“.

I think that is where we are about now!

That doesn’t sound very ‘positive’ but in actuality it is. We all have so much to live for; in other words so much good in our lives that often we don’t notice it until it is gone.

At the moment I think we are all still ‘scrambling’ a bit thinking that all that matters in disappearing, we can’t do it, it is being taken away from us…. or we are just caught in thoughts of doom and gloom; actually without even thinking about what that doom and gloom is.

I understand that some people are in real stife financially having lost their employment or having their businesses put in jeopardy… but, as my old mate Des would often say at funerals, “But, we’re still here”.

So, I am taking a moment to not worry about the doom and gloom. I am taking a moment to think about all the good things in my life. I am taking a moment, a lot of moments actually, of being grateful.

Yep, just good old gratitude for the fact that so many things I do, people in my life I see, know, have known, or are yet to meet; the things I have in my possession, and the things that are mine that no-one can take away from me.

There are lots of ‘gratitude challenges’ on the internet which I have looked through, and even done a few. Feels a bit stupid at times, but, I am forever amazed at how noticing can make such a difference.

Well, I am keeping my post short as I understand the average reading time of any Facebook, blog, tweet or other post is about 10 seconds; sorry to have held you up.

So, I may as well start and hopefully will be able to continue over the coming days….

I am grateful that I can read whatever book I choose.

PS: I wrote this post on the story of a mate of mine called Adam. He said that he had a WhatsApp group at work and people were complaining and fear mongering on it about the COVID19 virus situation and he posted that people should try a ‘gratitude challenge’ – he copped a lot of flack!!!! I then went back and looked up some old posts and realised it was Adam that had encouraged me to do a 21 day gratitude challenge which you can have a look at here – 21 Day Gratitude Challenge

Un-Australian

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  1. The Prime Minister said that people hoarding and ‘panic’ buying were un-Australian…..
  2. He later said that people had ‘optimism bias’ and as such were not obeying the new rules…
  3. He later said he had to put in ‘social distancing measures’ to stop people doing things like going to Bondi Beach…..
  4. He calls on us to emulate the ‘ANZAC Spirit’ and all work together as ‘Aussies’ which we always do when the chips are down….

The hypocrisy….

Australians follow their leaders. The Prime Minister and all politicians are the people who set the tone of our society. They are driven, manipulated and seek the lime light with the Merchants of Misery (The Media). They say ‘panic’ buying and hoarding is Un-Australian, no, it is the Australians that our politicians are. Politicians look after number one; they stomp on whoever they can to get what they want; and during the process they hoard enough superannuation to feed a small town. No, Mr Prime Minister, you are seeing the legacy of the ‘Australian’ you are and the Australians you created. PS: The Prime Minister gets of telly about rolls of toilet paper but is relatively silent about 500 billion (about 38%) being lost on the stock marked due to ‘panic selling’….. sorry, stock brokers and investors are clever people while the toilet paper hoarders are….. the… same???

Optimism bias! Ha! How dare you accuse a few people going to the beach and or a cafe when you had weeks notice that this virus was coming to our shores like a tsunami. Mr Prime Minister did you forget you ‘optimism’ not that long ago telling everybody to go about ‘business’ as usual? While at the same time Italy, Iran, China etc, etc, had already told you it will never be business as usual again! He was going to the footy days before he started shutting down the country – now that’s not a mixed message!? …. Oh, I forgot that politicians blame us for what they have done; you traitors and Un-Australians for going to the beach…… my mistake?

Social distancing similar to the Prime Minister and the Chief Medial Officer shaking hands with everyone a day prior to the ‘Bondi Beach Madness’…. I’m sorry but the hypocracy is so blatant that you don’t notice it because no one with any sense of emotional intelligence would think that people would buy it….. but, we are?
PS: … and the difference at a wedding, funeral for one day… and school everyday is?

…. and when all else fails, call on the ANZAC spirit. Just remember these ANZAC heroes were mostly led by a bunch of dills calling the shots from safety. And, please remember that ANZAC cove was a failure and a defeat. In actual fact, it was probably the first ‘Bradbury’ – we lost, but because we retreat really good, it was a victory? Mr Prime Minister, please do not soil the memory of these heroes by pretending that you have as much to sacrifice; it is us, the ‘foot soldiers’ that keep the spirit alive by defending ourselves against you and helping each other out when you continue to fail.

Well….

Sitting down to write a positive post, didn’t quite work out for me?

I haven’t written for a while as I felt I was being harshly judged about what I was writing; so, I thought the first post back in the saddle should be as judgemental as possible!

But, lets face it, writing a blog is not exactly about being a shrinking violet and not have a degree of ‘show off’ in you?

I don’t think politicians have realised that creating an economy, and doing anything to protect it, and having The Merchants of Misery as ally and foe, does not create a community in a time of crisis; this is what WE do, most days actually; and our community will get us through, irrespective of your promises. (which gets me thinking about all those millions in aid to the bushfire victims…..?).

So, I hope to be positive in future posts and talk more about saving our ‘community’. I believe our economy will never be the same again; but, our community, our communities, US, can be stronger than ever.

I don’t want to talk about the politicians anymore or ‘firm directions’ they are giving us about what we ‘should’ be doing – we are Australians, we have the ANZAC spirit and if someone tells us not to do something, well, most of us don’t do it….. but, suggest to us we ‘shouldn’t’ do something….. well, it’s almost like a dare!

Shows how Un-Australian you are Mr Prime Minister.

RUOK? – What if You Are Not?

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Well the day is almost over and I am sure many of us took the time to ask someone, RUOK – we may have well been asked ourselves.

Why are we asking today, RUOK? Is it as a platitude; a response to a very well run and important campaign…. or are we asking with full expectation of any possible answer.

Hey, are RUOK?
Well, actually I’m not….

WTF (Not the answer we were expecting….)

What now?

I often ask people RUOK and get asked a lot myself. I often call people having challenges in life; I ask RUOK on 365 days of the year…

I often tell people I call, that if ‘well meaning’ people ring up and ask if they are okay and then say “If there is anything I can do, let me know”. I tell them to reply “Well as a matter of fact there is….” (It is important that the ending of this sentence says something along the lines of….) ….. “Can you come around and wash my car?” “Can you do my washing?” “Can you come around and clean my house / wash my windows / weed the garden…. etc etc.”

And…. the silence on the line will be deafening.

Okay, this is a bit cruel (but you may get your car washed!) but, the point is by making that phone call you have already done more than most.

I have a wonderful “Band of Brothers”, my beautiful daughters and friends and family from the wider world.

I am lucky.

They ask me if I am okay all the time; and when I am okay they are proud of me; when I am not okay they are there. I don’t ask them to wash the car but they would.

I know, without a hint of doubt, embarrassment, guilt, or feelings of weakness and failure, that I can call them when I am not okay… this is their greatest gift.

For which I will be forever grateful.

So, today, on RUOK day, be that person who resolves to ring that friend, tomorrow or next week.

Then when you make that call, or drop around unexpectedly, or invite that workmate for a coffee; understand that you have already done a lot, and more than most.

When your friend, relative or workmate is not okay, know that unless you have lived it yourself, you can not understand what it is they are going through. This sounds harsh and ungrateful for all your kindness… but, unfortunately it is true…. and that is okay.

This knowledge saves you expending your efforts in trying to understand it or fix it. You can then put all of your efforts in doing the easiest and best thing… just be you.

Today, I am okay; actually nowadays, most days, I am okay.

Why?

Because when I wasn’t okay, when I was as far from okay more than I could have ever imagined; I reached out and there were the hands to hold me up, and some days they carried me, in heart, mind, spirit and body.

From their love; from their actions; and often from that phone call; laugh; a hand on the shoulder; a look and a nod; I am okay. I am thankful, grateful and humbled.

Tomorrow, or the day after, or next week, month, year, I may not by okay… and as much as I don’t want this to happen; I feel safe in it…. because, of the people in my life who ask me RUOK, or give me permission and confidence to reach out and say “I am not okay today…”

Be these people; be there, ask, or reach out. We are all doing our bit which can change the world. It can change or save a life – perhaps your own.

I believe we are all here for a purpose; it may not be too evident in those dark hours; but, I believe it is true… I think we all know it. I had to go through my darkest time to truely feel that my purpose, yet unknown, and perhaps never known, was always there.

Each day, I let go, let Go, let love, guide me. Some days those thoughts, and those thoughts alone, are enough; and some days I need others; and hopefully some days I can be there for others.

I am still here.

I am okay.

… and most days that is more than enough.

My Trek – The Instructions

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I posted the other day, in a long rambling monologue about my insanity; and my trek.

It was a little bit like an instruction manual for climbing Mount Everest where on ever page it says “It will be really cold”. Strangely helpful in reminding us of the bleeding obvious (much like ‘contents hot’ embossed on the plastic lids of take away coffee cups!) yet practically as helpful as political election speeches.

So, my trek is not up Mount Everest which considering the latest photographs of the number of ‘adventure tourists’ lining up on the north face, it would be more pedestrian than lining up at the self serve checkout at your local supermarket (an argument for another day about self serve checkouts!).

My trek is arguably harder?

Firstly, I am setting out without a guide, no sherpas (I must carry my own baggage) and no map. These things sound very ‘Burke and Wills’ but I think the difference is:

  • I will seek a guide
  • I am happy to have help carrying my load
  • I know which maps not to use (the ones I have been using all my life!)

I’ll tackle the last point first. A very smart man Bod Kearney once told me a story from his Army days which had this simple message:

If the map doesnt match the ground then the map is wrong.”

The maps I have been following most of my life did not match the ground; and I did everything to change the ground; I could not accept that my map was wrong.

I am now drawing my new map which matches my ground. My major landmarks are my values and marked on the map first. Then establishing my true north is based on my value, past experience and my destination. My major landmarks are my values and marked on the map first. These are my true values not the ones sold to me by others or established in power, greed or anger – they are from my heart – the true me.

In doing this north never changes, only the way I decide to navigate through my life, through hardships and joys. Never blaming the weather, the hills or bad travelling companions as I have said before.

It is a bit scary to be setting out on unchartered paths. It is the trek I need to take, the one I have been waiting all my life to start. The first step is the hardest and I have taken it.