Gaia Community: Fearless' Blog

David, My Wonderful

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 11:43:30 GMT

EVERY MAN YOU LET INTO YOUR HEART, brings something unique with him. Some new hope of acceptance or inspiration or desire. In the broad brush strokes of life, we now come to David - "My Wonderful". This is the love affair closest to my heart. Not only because it was my most recent, but because it was the step which brought me to where I am now.

Being loved by David brought a contentment into my life that was such a calming influence. Even now, months after I acknowledged that our 'romantic' relationship had come to an end, he still brings a calm to my soul that I miss when it's not there.

Each wound to the heart brings about some change in a person I believe. We either become more defensive or allow ourselves to remain vulnerable. With David, I think I am learning to be more realistic about what I can hope to experience via the love of another person. Certainly, having him in my life, is steering me in the direction of learning to love myself, which is THE most important love affair you can have.

My feelings toward David are still very poignant. I still miss him. We chat every now and then; each occasion a bright spot in my life.

David and I met in Second Life and were both swept away by a mutual feeling of openess, wonder and delight. We quite literally fell in love in our first conversation. And it's a conversation I will treasure for the rest of my life because it was so open and trusting.

Several weeks earlier, my first love affair in SL had come to an end, and I went to one of my favourite places, "Midnight Reflections", looking for some kind of solace. I'd decided that I would ask the first person I came across to give me a hug and that person was HarpoonDodger Freenote, who I found sitting on a mushroom. I approached and said, "Excuse me, but I'm in desperate need of a hug, would you mind?" He obliged and asked, "Why so sad?" and I was immediately warmed by his caring.

This is the conversation which followed:

"ME: Oh, just someone I care for is no longer as much a part of my life and I miss them. That's why I needed to be held ... to get a little bit of comfort ... even from a stranger.
HIM: That's why I'm here. You picked the right guy.
At this point he offered me 'Friendship', which is a way of establishing contact with others in Second Life so you know when they are online.
ME: Thank you for throwing me a life preserver.
HIM: Would you like to walk and chat?
We walked a bit and then found a poseball labelled "Fate". (A poseball animates your avatar so that you can sit, caress, dance, play tennis etc).
HIM: Want to find out our fate?
We sat and found that 'Fate' was a pose that had us lying side by side, gently stroking one another's faces and bodies - very sweet and caring. He asked me about the relationship (or the ending of it) that had caused me so much pain and we talked about that for awhile.
HIM: I'm trying to learn to just take what comes. To not be demanding ... to create an abundance of love, where everywhere there seems a scarcity.
ME: That's what I set out to do in SL - just to see what it offered and to enjoy that.
HIM: Mmm ... me too ... guess I'm lucky so far. But I find the women here more mature and loving than most of the men.
ME: I had several people I was seeing, but when this man came into my life and asked me to be his partner, I just couldn't be with the others.
HIM: I couldn't give up any of those I've come to love, for just one ... No matter how special.
ME: Well, I didn't throw them away ... I just stopped being intimate with them. I thought I could continue having the mutliple relationships, but it appears as though I'm faithful no matter where I'm having the relationship - First Life or Second!
HIM: There must have been a reason you wanted to be intimate with them though. All my relationships here are intimate - just in different ways.
ME: Well, I suppose we all need something in our relationships with others.
HIM: Possessiveness and jealousy are the enemies of love. It can be so much more.
ME: I just want to surrender to what the fates offer me here.
HIM: Good for you ... to have the courage to let go of fear and insecurity. The mores of RL (Real Life).
ME: So, what is a man who has several intimate relationships, doing sitting all alone in a forest?
HIM: The women I love are all busy tonight. I don't demand anything of them ... I want them to be free to be with me when they want, on their own terms. So your request of a hug from me was a sign ... my reward for generosity. I'm learning so much from the women I meet here.
ME: Oh good .... at least there will be ONE MAN in the world who understands a little. I must say, I liked the attitudes you expressed in your profile. I'm interested to hear about the women you love.
HIM: The qualities they have in common are:
1. Emotionally strong
2. Emotionally sensitive
3. Intelligent
4. Imaginative
5. Good at communicating in writing.
ME: I don't know that I can define the kind of person who appeals to me.
HIM: I couldn't either, until I started to see a pattern. My instincts tell me you have them all.
ME: But I've always thought that I would like someone who is manly, without being macho; sensitive, without being soppy; someone with honour and integrity and showing gallantry.
HIM: Mmmm ... high standard. lol
ME: Someone who enjoys expressing themselves. With a loving heart and I must have honesty.
HIM: Absolutely! I forgot that on my list.
ME: I can't imagine what it would be like to walk into your home and find your partner fucking somebody else in your bed. Apart from the betrayal, it's absolutely such bad manners!
HIM: Unless of course it's by consent and equal ... a foursome instead of a threesome.
In Second Life, you create your 'look' by choosing particular kinds of shapes and skins to reflect the look which best appeals to us. At this point in our exchange, I realised that I was in an 'alternative' avatar, which is different to my usual 'look'.
ME: This is the face I love, she is my beautiful jewel.
HIM: Very expressive ... haunting ... vulnerable looking.
ME: I love how we express ourselves here. What we create reflects our souls ... our essence.
HIM: The tenderness of this pose brings tears to my eyes.
ME: It's funny that you should be a writer, cos I am too. I write memoirs, but I used to be a journalist.
HIM: Telling rich stories is the key to changing the world.
ME: I thought I would try and make a living here in SL through my writing and for the first six months in SL I wrote for one of the newspapers here, but now I want to explore other avenues of expression and just continue to earn a living in First Life. (I regard Second Life as my Real Life, the life I would like to lead).
HIM: I'm glad you're exploring with me.
ME: So am I. I'm glad you were sitting on that mushroom as I came by.
HIM: Our meeting was intended before you arrived ... we just played it out. Our lives are stories that we each star in. And we can either direct ourselves, or let others do it for us.
ME: Tell me something wonderful!

(This, I now realise, is the point at which I was beginning to fall in love).
HIM: I am happier than I have ever been in my life.

(And this, is the point I thought he was talking about me! lol That this happiness stemmed from meeting me.)
ME: That's a wonderful experience to have.

HIM: I've learned that love can let us do anything. I can't think of anything more wonderful than that. lol
ME: Yes, love is the answer.
HIM: Have you ever heard of polyamorous communities?
ME: I've only heard the expression. I don't know what it entails, apart from sharing love.
HIM: They are stable groups of equal numbers of men and women who all love each other. And who share trust and love completely and honesty. So there is never a need for jealousy or possessiveness.

ME: Where do I sign up? lol

(Indeed, this was the relationship model that I did sign up for, but which never eventuated. When David did eventually establish another loving relationship, he didn't even tell me about it until it was a fait accompli. His other woman had no interest in getting to know me and we never met, spoke or communicated in any way in the almost 12 months that we both shared David's attention. So there was no "sharing of trust and love and honesty").

HIM: The women I love think it is idealistic and impossible.

(David himself later acknowledged that this was far too idealistic - that finding such a community was just not possible).
ME: I love idealism.
HIM: But I am not so sure ... I believe it is natural.
ME: It's a worthy ideal I think. I'm not so sure of human nature though. One thing I do know about myself is that if I am WITH someone, I want their full attention.
HIM: Absolutely, yes. But then later you can be with someone else.

(I think it was my need for attention which eventually led to my disillusionment with our relationship. He explained that he had come to realise in himself a tendency to fall madly in love with someone at first and then to slowly lose enthusiasm for that person and yearn for the experience of falling in love with someone else). He still retained a fondness for the first love, but that that love mellowed into something less passionate and desirous).
ME: Yes.
HIM: I'm coming to like you a lot.
ME: Cos I'm telling you what you want to hear? lol
HIM: lol Boy, you are smart!
ME: How many of the criteria have I met?
HIM: I've re-read the script of our conversation because I wondered about that ... It's not a test ... just a pattern I've noticed. I could love you in any case. You would be easy to fall in love with.
ME: It is a sweet surrender.
HIM: You ARE a writer.
ME: I'm watching our avatars.
HIM: Me too ... can't take my eyes off them/us. I long for gentleness, tenderness. So little of it in RL.
ME: Do you know, when we first met and you gave me that hug ... I just didn't want to move away from you. I wanted to stay close.
HIM: Me too. And I love the fact that you were strong enough to ask.
ME: I was thinking you would be thinking, "Oh here we go! Some guy in a dress hitting on me!"
HIM: I just found it charming. Can I tell you something I'm hesitant to say?
ME: I love to hear everything!
HIM: To me, this conversation is more erotic than SL sex. We are 'making love'. I just want to hold you close all night and learn more and more about you.
We then chatted about our lives - our dogs, where we lived, domestic stuff.
ME: I'd be interested to see one of these polyamorous communities.
HIM: I want to set up such a community here in Second Life to experiment and learn first and then hopefully co-create on in Real Life. We'd have to start it.
ME: We?
HIM: You and me ... you'd pick the men and I'd pick the women. We'd each meet each other's choices, and if we agreed, two by two, we'd invite them to join us.

(Presented like that, the idea of a polyamorous community certainly did appeal to me).
ME: Like Noah's Ark? I never thought, when I started out on my walk, that I'd end up organising a Polyamorous Community. lol
HIM: It's just a dream of mine .... it's new. Yes, like Noah's Ark ... exactly!
ME: I like the sound of that.
HIM: Wow! That's wonderful. Want to get to know you better first though. It's funny, but I can feel your heart beating.
ME: What else can you feel?
HIM: lol Your breath on mine. Your gentle touch. The strength of the muscles in your body. You must be in good shape.
ME: I wish!
HIM: I feel our souls touching.
ME: I have some delicious sensations moving through my body.
HIM: Me too. We're going to have a relationship that lasts ... so there's no hurry.
ME: Patience is not one of my virtues. I think you should know that.
We then went on to play "Twenty Questions" which was a great way of getting to know one another better. Here are just some of the questions and responses.
ME: What do you like about me best?
HIM: Toss-up so far between intelligence (so sexy!) and communication skill (so rare!)
ME: Favourite fantasy?
HIM: You'll think I'm kidding, but it's meeting a stranger in the forest (behind my house) and falling in love and making love for hours and hours.
ME: Do you really think we have something going on here?
HIM: I think so ... I keep reading the thread and I think it's real.
ME: Such a wonderful treasure to find.
HIM: Mmmmm ..... I'm just bursting with happiness. Okay, my question. Favourite novelist, short story writer and poet.
ME: Oooooh .... Dorothy Parker, Oscar Wilde, Jack London, Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, Kahlil Gibran ...
"Come close beloved of my soul, for I fear loneliness ..."
I'm not so hot on poets. Okay, my turn.
ME: Will you be my man?
HIM: Yes ...
ME: lol I expected there to be some provisos in there. (smiles)
HIM: I'm taking this all as it comes ... trusting my instincts ... and trusting you.
ME: As I trust you.
HIM: Here's a tough one for you ... How/where do you draw the line between SL and RL?
ME: First Life is where I live; and Second Life is where I'd like to be.
Or are you asking if I want something more from you than what we can have here?
HIM: Yes ... or at least if you think you will want something from me in RL too.
ME: I think it's safer to keep it in SL.
HIM: Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!
I knew my instincts about you were right.
ME: Don't get me wrong though ... I do have a tendency to be clingey ... especially if I'm feeling needy. I need a lot of attention.

(I've come to realise that I don't really see any distinction between the two in some ways - there is a crossover because you can't differentiate between second life emotions and first life emotions).
HIM: I can handle that in SL. You're worth it.
ME: I hope so.
HIM: No need to hope ... I know.
ME: Next question. What's the lousiest thing you've ever done to a woman?
HIM: When I was younger, I ran away from love because I was afraid. I would never do that again ... hard lesson.
ME: What gave you the courage to explore love again then?
HIM: Just learned ... and learned ... and learned ... so I would never make such a terrible mistake again.
ME: It's funny how all this is scarey and thrilling at the same time.
HIM: Not scary to me ... I trust you and I just KNOW this is right.
ME: It's important that I feel safe with you. God I hope you're not just some guy who has read a manual and knows all the right things to say! lol
HIM: lol No, I don't think there is one for that. It's taken me a long time to get here. You've just arrived in my life at the right time. Just think ... if you hadn't asked me for a hug ...
ME: I know. But as soon as I saw you, I was glad I'd found you.
HIM: I am so so so so so happy and bursting with love.
ME: I want so much to give myself to you.
HIM: We'll give ourselves to each other.
ME: I'm looking forward to loving you. Sharing love with you.
HIM: Just when I thought I couldn't be happier, I meet you! Life is too wonderful.
ME: It certainly has turned around for me! This morning I was in tears, and now here I am, lost in love with a man I just met. But I am a big believer in fate.
HIM: You had me at "I'm a writer too".
ME: You had me when I read your profile.
HIM: Oh ... I love you so much already and we've only just begun! James Taylor once said, "The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time" and I'm going to enjoy enjoying it with you.
ME: Okay, here's another question for you. Would you describe yourself as more dominant or submissive?
HIM: Neither. I like to take turns.
ME: Good answer! Exactly right! Okay, it's a done deal. It's love!
I've got to tell you though, that I have a tendency towards bossiness, so I need a strong man to keep me in check.
HIM: That will be an interesting test for us. I'm emotionally strong, but I won't tell anyone I love, what to do.
ME: No, I don't like being told what to do ...
HIM: I over-compensate for most men who keep women too much in check.
ME: I just need you to pull me into line, if I need pulling into line. I value my freedom too much. Not that I want to give you a job to do ... I'm just letting you know that if I start to get a bit over-bearing, I am open to you letting me know that I'm out of line.
Hopefully, we will both feel comfortable letting the other know what we need etc.
HIM: We'll work it out. This will be something for us to explore. It may be a challenge for me to learn though ...
ME: Last question. What would be a deal breaker for you?
HIM: Any dishonesty.
ME: Yes. Likewise for me. But it's time for me to go. I have to take my dog for a walk.
Thank you for turning my day around. For being kind enough to hug a stranger. You are going to be very good for me.
HIM: Just love me and life will be wonderful for both of us."

And it was. It was wonderful! For almost two wondrous years. And then a great sadness descended on me when I realised that his attention had wandered and I no longer felt as important to him as I had. My 'wonderful had moved on.

The pain and anguish of 'losing' the love that we'd had was terrible. Truly terrible. I lost more than just his attention, I lost almost my will to continue with life. The sense of loss was so immense.

The coup de grace was a bitter email I sent to him, detailing all the times he had wounded me.

When our relationship ended, I had asked him how he felt. "A little sad," he replied. "A LITTLE sad!!!!!!" I was absolutely shattered, heartbroken! I wanted him to understand my grief, to feel my pain. I didn't want to hurt him, I just wanted him to FEEL my pain. Hence the bitter email. He in turn felt hurt and angry and miserable, beaten up for mistakes that he'd made and had apologised for.

It was several months before each of us felt safe again with any contact I think. He wanted to give me the space to adjust to the new relationship we were forging and I needed time to re-assess my emotions.

When I originally wrote this, a month or so ago, I had said: "When I stop crying, maybe I'll finish this story. Maybe not. Maybe this was a life lesson that is learnt by experiencing the loss." But I have written the second instalment. It's just that now, I don't know that I have a need to share it. Maybe it's enough just to share the best of what we had - our beautiful beginning. The whys and wherefores of what we had are just for us ... the story of wonder and love and hopeful beginnings is what typifies our love.

We are still sharing the creation of our intentional community in second life, though nowhere near as close as I imagined it would be. The story of our love continues to be written today and it's a story that will be written for years to come I hope. As he said on our first day: "We're going to have a relationship that lasts ... so there's no hurry."

Tags: David, Wonderful Love, Happiness, Contentment, Calm, Polyamoury, Relationships

Gentleman Jim in The Land of the Lotus Eaters

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 06:14:27 GMT

JAMES was the perfect antidote to Dick's laissez affaire attitude toward love and aversion to 'relationships'. James was devoted, dedicated, a total gentleman and, it felt to me, completely besotted!

I first met Jim when he came to visit the town where I lived, as part of his work as a geologist. He was a business partner of one of Dick's friends, and I joined the group as they explored gold leases in the valley. As we walked through the bush, it was James who held tree branches back so that I could pass, or who helped me up embankment, offering me his hand and his protection, throughout the day.

A girlfriend and I were invited to join them at dinner and I found myself sitting in between a gallant Frenchman and the very well-mannered James. I was in heaven! For a woman, living in a small country town, it was such a delight to be treated 'like a lady'. I liked James immediately - his conversation, his attention and the way he made me feel. Some time later, he came back to town on a visit and looked me up. We chatted without any sort of reserve between us and when he said that he had to go down to Melbourne for a few days, and asked if I would like to join him, I immediately accepted.

On the day though, I thought, "Oh my god, what have I done? I hardly know this guy! What if he's boring? We've got a four hour trip down to Melbourne and three days down there! What if he wants to have sex? (I wasn't immediately physically attracted to him). But I needn't have worried. He was a thorough gentleman. He'd rented a two-bedroom apartment and I never felt uncomfortable or uneasy about being around him. It soon became obvious that he WAS physically attracted to me, but for the time being, intimacy wasn't something that I wanted to explore.

At this time, Dick was away and before he had left, he had told me that our relationship was over .... again! I was very much in mourning, but still, very gratified to have the attention of such a lovely man as James.

Soon after the Melbourne trip, I got a telephone call from James. "How'd you like to fly up to Sydney to see 'Phantom of the Opera'?" he asked. "I've got to do some business there and I'd love to see you."

Now ... the thing was ... James was married. I had wrestled with my conscience when I first realised that I was growing attached to him. "Why would god bring such a lovely man into my life?" I asked myself. "Especially since I've had such a lousy experience with Dick." "It's like being presented with this beautiful gift after you've gone through some trauma, and being told to give it back." Anyway ... I was able to rationalise the relationship with James under the guise of, "Well, I don't want to take him away from his wife ... I just want to experience what it's like to be in a relationship where the other person actually WANTS to be with me."

James and I agreed that whatever it was that we had between us, no one was to get hurt. There would be no, "I want you to leave your wife" ultimatums. And I was fine with that. I needed what he had to give, and he, I think, wanted to experience desire and passion again. Simple.

Whenever he came to town, James always referred to my life there as "living in the land of the lotus eaters" ... He had such a high opinion of me and my lifestyle and my abilities. He gave me nothing but adoration and attention and made me feel like the most wonderful woman in all the world. If my phone rang, he just assumed if was one of hundreds of people clamouring to be in my company. He would open car doors for me; buy me little gifts as mementos of our time together; take me out to dinner and pull out my chair for me ... he was SUCH a contrast to what I'd had with Dick.

Dick was all wild man and adventure. Fun. Fear. Desire and Desperation.

After the trip to Sydney with James, my feelings for him deepened and I realised that I did want to be intimate with him. I wanted to be as close as I could be. Here was a man who made me feel safe and wanted and desired. And totally accepted.

So the next time he phoned to say he was coming to visit, I told him, "I'm ready ... I want us to be together intimately." I can remember the night he arrived - a bunch of flowers and a bottle of Glenfiddich whisky in hand. A girlfriend had called in and she lingered awhile to chat with James ... eventually though, she finally twigged to the emotional tap, tap, tap of our feet as we waited impatiently for her to leave.

As soon as the door closed behind her, we were at one another! Desperate. Longing. Desirous. Hot! Sexual union with James was as fulfilling and rewarding as I had hoped. In front of the fire (of course), as we made love, he kept repeating, "Oh my beautiful one, my beautiful one." It was everything a woman could want ... a man with a beautiful soul, loving you!

James had been born in Kenya (or Zimbabwe or somewhere like that). When his mother went into labour, they were rushing her to the local hospital by car, when a huge bull elephant blocked the road in front of them. She had to be carted into a nearby tent where she gave birth to James. He used to laugh when he told the story saying, "If I ever don't close a door and someone says to me, "Close the door! Were you born in a tent?", I can say, "Yes, I was actually!"

When he was only two or three years old, there was some kind of native uprising (was it the Mau Maus?) and he was sent away by his parents to where he would be safe. He was given to the charge of one of their servants, who was supposed to take him to a nearby town. On the way, the servant was kidnapped by one of the rival factions to go and fight, and poor James ended up in a tribal village somewhere with the natives scratching their heads as to where this white kid had suddenly appeared from. It was several days before his frantic parents managed to track him down and retrieve him.

My beautiful love affair with James lasted about ten years I think. These years were interspersed with time spent back in Dick's arms. It seemed that any time Dick heard that James was in town, his bointerest would suddenly inflame again. I've always been a faithful partner, but somehow I managed to rationalise this dual-relationship with both James and Dick. They were like two sides of the same coin. Both gentleman and both upper-class English types ... but one a wild man and the other, a bon vivant.

Where it was sleeping rough in the bush under the stars with Dick ... it was five star hotels and luxurious bath towels with James.

I loved it! And in between I was still open to the idea of finding a love who would be just for me. Someone who would want a life with me that we could share all the time, rather than occasional visits, which is pretty much what I had with both James and Dick.

I'd found an internet matchmaking site and was quite blown away by all the male attention that could be had. One of the likely lads was Jim, a chef in Brisbane. We were both convinced that we were 99.9% perfectly matched with one another. His voice was deep and rich, a real man's voice and he said that I sounded like sunshine. We'd arranged to meet in Sydney to see if this cyber electricity translated to real life. It was at this time that James contacted me with the news that his wife had fallen in love with someone else and had left him.

Talk about timing. I loved James, yet the thought of a life together hadn't really been an option for me to consider before. He loved his wife. What he and I shared was something that he didn't have with her. That was enough for me. I had thought the only way that James and I could ever have a life together, would be if his wife died. Divorce was something that I'd never thought would happen. But here he was, telling me that his wife had left him. He was devastated. Completely in shock. Traumatised, and I think he also felt that he was being punished for having been unfaithful himself.

I let James down at this point because I was far too interested in what I'd started to develop with Jim (the other guy). I was selfish. Preoccupied. And to be perfectly brutal about myself, rather unsympathetic I think. This new situation, where James needed something from me - some comfort, attention, time, caring ... I just wasn't there for him. I can't explain why. It's one of the situations I look back on and know that I could have handled it better.

This was a time when James was focused on his own survival, and I was focused on mine. Of course, Jim (the internet one), turned out to be a dud in the relationship arena ... 99.9% just wasn't enough. He was moody, distant, unco-operative, stubborn, withdrawn, not at all affectionate. We'd been speaking for months on the phone and via email and when we arranged to meet, I spend over a thousand dollars buying new lingerie and clothes, having my hair done, legs waxed etc., for the big meeting. When he arrived in Sydney, he was wearing just an old pair of jeans and teeshirt and a grubby ol' baseball cap. My immediate response was, "God, he hasn't gone to any trouble at all, and I've spent a fortune on wanting to look good for him!"

I'm an affectionate person and when we met, I held his hand and as we sat in the taxi going to our separate hotels, I rubbed his back and was sitting close, all very happy and smoochy. He later told me that he was put off by me "pawing at him". I can laugh now, but at the time I was crushed by his lack of response to me. I knew things weren't going to work out when he spent all his time photographing the scenery, never once asking me to step into shot. We ended up as friends for several years, but later lost touch when I bought a new computer and didn't swap his email address over and he moved to Japan to teach English.

Eventually James faded from my life as he struggled to make a new life for himself. He had to get his mind around his new marital status ... divorced. I know it was a very dark time for him. I have no answer for why I left him to go through this on his own. What cruelty do I have inside me, that I wasn't there to give him a loving place of warmth and security?

Still ... that was many years ago now. Our friendship survived. He has his new life and a new partner. Not so long ago we caught up for lunch and it was as though those intervening years had never been. He's still very much the gentleman. The kind of gentleman who, when making love, "takes his weight on his elbows" as he used to say. The kind of gentleman, who when he is dreaming about making love to you, takes his watch off so he doesn't scratch you.

I love James ... still. There is always a sense of warmth in my heart when I think about hi. I don't know how he feels, other than he is determined not to jeopardise the relationship he has now. After we'd lunched, he took me to see his yacht and the thought did cross my mind .... "Mmmmm, all alone ... I wonder what he's thinking?" But whatever he was thinking, he thought it and never acted on it. I still don't know how I would have responded.

Everyone should have a James in their life ... a true gentleman.

Tags: Love, Romance, Gentleman, Feeling Special, Land of the Lotus Eaters

Dick, The Mad Adventurer

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 08:26:48 GMT

DICK. My mad adventurer. The man who has probably had the most dramatic impact on my life, and not entirely for the right reasons.

I met Dick at a friend's birthday party. He was the rowdy one, holding court with a circle of people around him, hanging on his every word of derring do and wild adventures. He travelled to Western Australia or Far North Queensland for six months of the year, avoiding Victoria's high country heavy winter cold. My interest was piqued when someone said that he was a Lord, or he would have been if he had gone back to England to take his seat in the House of Lords. That made him immediately interesting to me. A lord, and a lord who preferred roughing it in the wilds of Australia than sitting in the stuffy English houses of parliament, wearing an ermine cloak ... now that appealed!

Before I knew it, I was sitting on his knee being regaled, with the others, about his adventures. What a man! After the ordinary men I'd been spending time in the interim (since Mark), here was the romantic hero I'd been waiting for.

At that time, I lived in the main street of a small country town and of course, it didn't go unnoticed that his Toyota had been parked in front of my house all night. He was due to leave on his annual trek to the wild mining country of Western Australia in a few days, so we spent as much time as possible together. I was completely captivated by his charisma - he was just so confident and manly. Everyone loved him and wanted to be in his company. He was forever fobbing off invitations from people for dinner or a visit. One night, when we were 'busy, getting busy' up at his camp by a river in the valley, someone defied his much vaunted, "Do Not Visit After Dark" rule and ventured up the track to deliver some important news. Dick stormed out to meet him and gave him a tongue lashing for intruding on his privacy. The poor guy (who only had the best of intentions, wanting to tell Dick something that was to his advantage), went away, tail between his legs.

After less than a week together, Dick left for Western Australia but was soon back in town, saying that he'd left his cement mixer behind. I was mightily gratified sometime later when one of his friends observed to me, "I reckon the cement mixer was an excuse, I reckon he came back specially to see you" (which of course had me beaming like a Cheshire cat).

BUT after he got back on the road, I just never heard from him. He was usually away for about six months at a time and as each month passed, my disillusionment and disappointment grew. Finally, I resorted to the comfort of the desperate - a clairvoyant. She told me, "What you have now with this man, is all you will ever have." And that proved to be very true.

FINALLY, who should arrive back on my doorstep? Yes, Dick. All full of bravado and bluster about what a fantastic time he'd had on the road. Nothing else mattered (to me) than he was back! And he was back at my door. What else did I want?

He looked like a wild man. Normally he wore an English military-type moustache, but he had a full, black beard and a full head of raven black hair. "How about a shave?" he asked me, so I lathered him up and he twirled his moustache, up, out of the way, just as Salvador Dali would have and suddenly, the clairvoyant's words came rushing back at me. "You will have an interesting affair with a man, who, while he isn't an artist, will twirl his moustache like Salvador Dali." Wow! How would she know that?

For the next ten years, Dick tormented me, thrilled me, indulged me, ripped my heart out, ignored me, alternatively clutching me to his heart and then throwing me away. I craved closeness and intimacy, but he was fond of saying, "Why buy a book, when you can join the library?" A comment that would enrage me! The truth was that he really did think that about women, and yet, when it came down to books, he wouldn't let anyone else fondle one of his!

I completely set everything aside to be available to Dick. Friends, work, my own time ... nothing else mattered but being there, IF he should ever want to spend time with me. Friends were very indulgent and understanding, although they would get pissed off at having to console me when he would break my heart; and then be ignored by me when he was in town.

Once a year I would get a telephone call from him in Western Australia. "Do you want to fly over here in September and drive back over east with me?" Did I? You bet I did! He was very generous, always paying for my flight. We did so many wonderful trips around Western Australia and one epic one through the centre of Australia from Wiluna to Alice Springs, along the Gunbarrel Highway. That was a special trip for both of us. Bone rattling and tedious in parts, but incredibly powerful in that we saw the absolute majesty of Australia's centre. Unending plains of gibber rock; budgerigars surviving on tiny little pockets of waterholes; following wild camels off the track so far we lost the road - a disaster in that hot expanse of nothingness. Breaking down and Dick suggesting that he would leave me in the bush with the vehicle, while he hitched a lift several hundred kilometres back to the nearest town to get a part. (He was going to show me how to shoot a rifle as a security precaution).

I had been looking forward to this adventure. Can you imagine? Being left in the absolute middle of nowhere ... completely alone except for a dog and a rifle. Fending for myself for several days. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. In the end though, Dick flagged down a passing vehicle and asked if he minded towing us and the Toyota back into town.

Everything was an adventure for Dick. A puncture. A failed expedition. A foray into the city. On one of our outback trips, an aborigine poked his head in the car window as he sat parked outside a supermarket, and offered Dick "two cartoons of beer if you let me have your missus!" Knowing Dick's ear for a good story, I'm sure he ticked it over in his mind a second or two for the story value of handing me over.

All of life was an adventure with him. That's what I loved about being with him. Which was pretty infrequently. I often said to him that I felt like some object up on a shelf that he came along every so often and took down to play with. And when he was finished, back up on to the shelf I would go until the next time. If we ever went anywhere or did something together, he always made sure it finished at 3pm so he could bring me home before dark. Come 5 o'clock and he bunkered down for the night.

Everything was a ritual to him. Starting his fire. Baking his bread. Fishing. Leatherwork. Shining his shoes. Doing his washing. He was the epitome of that old Imperial British Army tradition. Spit and polish. A favourite memory of mine is being at some camp in central Australia, a warm and balmy evening in front of the fire, with Dick bathing me as I stood in a bit ol' bathing pan. Firelight glistening on my skin, with beautiful ABC classic movie in the background. Sublime. We did delicious things together, making love on picnic tables; me riding on the bonnet of the Toyota flashing my pantie-less derriere at Dick through the windscreen; us shaving one another's pubic hair; so many lovely memories.

There were special times too when he took me to a couple of mountain cattlemens' huts that he'd discovered or had custodianship of. I felt very priviliged to have such a special place in his life. When I occasionally visited the small town he lived in for the six months of the year he spent in Victoria, I liked that sense of being acknowledged as "Dick's woman" when he was in town.

Dic had been sent away to boarding school when he was six years old, and even when he came home, a nanny took care of him. Even as an adult of 50+ years, nanny's annual visits were probably the closest he ever came to being 'smooshy'. And of course there was his stint in the army, serving (and being shot) in Vietnam.

I remember when he told me that his mother had died when he was younger. "Hit by a truck!" he burst out laughing. I don't think they ever had anything resembling an affectionate relationship, so it's understandable that emotions and "falling in love" were alien concepts to him. From all accounts, his mother was really rather 'upper class' and her misfit son would have always been a thorn in her side one would think. Just one childhood story was enough to convince me of that. His mother was in attendance at a school assembly one day when proceedings were brought to a halt by a grim request from the headmaster, "Would the boy in Row 3 with the snake in his pocket, please come to the podium." Red faces in Dick's family as he strolled casually up towards the headmaster.

What else can I tell you about Dick? I loved his wildness. He was untamed, even though he had a very strict moral code and way of doing things. Very army, but also very ethical and moral too. He was very popular with women. When he drove past one day, one of the local shopkeepers said to me, "There goes the sexiest man in town." She was really hot for him. Lots of women were I think and even now, in his early 60's he was very cocky to tell me that his girlfriend was in her 30's. Welllllll, not exactly cocky, but certainly very pleased with himself.

I always felt safe with Dick. I would have happily ridden into the jaws of hell with him as I knew he would always get us out of trouble. When we went camping, he would always find a really good camping spot and have it all set up within minutes. Then he would wander off to the nearest river to catch dinner. Or if there was no river, out he'd go with his ferrets or rifle. He would drive through flooded rivers, ford a raging stream, wading waist high to get to an old bloke on the opposite bank. He loved cooking and was enthusiastic about everything he did.

There was something of the pirate about Dick. He was like an Errol Flynn character - wild and passionate, freedom-loving and unpredictable. You could equally imagine him down in the mud, wrestling with a pig as well as all done up in a dinner jacket.

At various times, Dick ripped my heart apart but I always went back for more. I was always available, whenever he called. Even dropping arrangements with friends in a preference to be with him, over anybody else. I rode that relationship right into the ground. Every little morsel of attention and time I could get, I would take. He once said to me, "Geez Cheryl, give you an inch and you want a mile." It has only been recently that a newer acquaintance coined the phrase, "An Emotional Glutton" when telling me what I was behaving like. And that's an apt description - an emotional glutton. So who better to fall in love with than someone who was afraid of intimacy. I would do this again, many years later - still an emotional glutton, falling for a man who was also afraid of intimacy.

During the ten years of on-again / off-again love with Dick, I met the wonderful James, my true gentleman. When I die, the love letters from both these men will be buried with me. Or they would have been before I decided to donate my body to medical science. Now ... well, that is something to ponder isn't it? What will I do with this beautiful treasure? Words of love ...

Next week: Gentleman Jim

Tags: Mad Adventurer, Sex Symbol, passion, wild, free, gentleman, military

What Love Looks Like For Me - Mark, The Love Of My Life

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 11:30:28 GMT

THE NIGHT I MET MARK, I was on a 'one night only' pass from my relationship with Rod, the gentle gardener I'd been living with for several years. I don't know why I thought a one-night fling would remedy a relationship that had grown stale, but there it is, I'm good at rationalising! In any case, Rod had agreed to go away for the weekend so I could have my fling.

Not long before, I'd met this guy named Andrew on my way home from work at a local community house. I was heading home on my bicycle when I came across Andrew hitchhiking. I rode past, and then thought, "Hey, there's no reason I can't give this guy a lift on my handle bars." So I turned back around and offered him a 'lift'. Having someone bigger than me on the handlebars didn't really work, so Andrew decided that instead of giving up the lift, he would run alongside me! I still laugh now at the incongruity of it ... a hitchhiker being picked up by a cyclist and then ending up running alongside to keep up.

So when the Alice In Wonderland party came up, I was hoping that because it was in the same town where Andrew lived, he might be there. As I said in my previous post, I was most put out that this guy Mark kept engaging me in conversation, especially since it was Andrew I was hoping to get to know better (if he came that is).

The party was held at this quirky little house in the hills with one of those rambling, overgrown gardens. One of its more unusual features were floors that undulated like an ocean.

Eventually I came to accept that Andrew was not going to come and that since this guy Mark, seemed rather keen, I would take him home instead. It probably seems a bit cold-blooded to take a strange man to the bed you share with someone else, but I wasn't being deceptive - Rod knew of my plans and had acquiesed, so again, I guess I rationalised. 'Our' bed (the one I shared with Rod), would be the scene of 'my' need that night.

The sheets were crisp and white; the candles pink and warm. The ambience of freshness and cleanliness - a new beginning. I had a hunger to really 'feel' - to feel alive. I truly thought it would be a one night thing and that would be it.

The next morning Mark and I decided that it would be fun to go down to the beach with his dog and mine. At one point, we were exploring along a narrow path on a steep slope and I slipped, but before I could slide too far down the embankment, Mark's hand reached out and grabbed me. "My hero", I thought and the beginnings of my romantic attachment sprang to life. Here was a man to be rescued by.

The beach expedition (and me feeling so safe with him), led to an afternoon in his bed, again with me still thinking this was a one-off thing. Rod would be home later on, and our life together would just resume I thought.

So ... a couple of days later on a wild and wintry day, when I unexpectedly bumped into Mark again up the street in the town where we both lived, it seemed a natural thing to invite him back home so he could meet Rod. How very avante-garde of me huh?

I never learnt what Rod thought of meeting my new 'friend' - he stuck his nose in the newspaper and didn't really participate much in the conversation at all. It only served to show me how much more I had in common with Mark, than I did with Rod. I enjoyed Mark's company and he enjoyed mine.

We started spending time together and when Rod made a request that I not see him anymore, I knew that that wasn't an option for me. So I moved out of the home I shared with Rod, and in with friends, and before long (after an expedition in the snow on acid), Mark asked me to move in with him.

So began the most important relationship of my life. I felt loved and secure. He understood me and accepted me, warts and all. It was a meeting of minds and a pairing of equals. We spent a very happy hot summer, wrapped in one another's arms in a cosy little bungalow.

He had won my heart when he said, "I know you will want to make a nest, so please do whatever you want to turn my place into somewhere you want to be." I felt important to him and that has always been something that I've always looked for in a relationship.

Mark could do anything he turned his mind to ... carpentry, art, music, jewellery-making, friendships. He had a very strong sense of self-worth and would indignantly dismiss someone from his life if they proved to be a less than honourable friend.

It's hard to describe the intracies and depth of a good relationship - you are just living a life that makes you both happy. We were on the same wavelength and regarded one another as each other's best friend. We complemented one another's personality. He was so into his music and I tried hard to at least have a rudimentary understanding of what it all meant. I really strained to listen when he would say, "Listen to this riff here ...", but I wasn't very good at it, and in the early days, I would worry so much that he'd ask questions and then he'd know I was a complete nincompoop when it came to music!

I'm not sure what kind of partner I was though. He once said that I kept wanting him to jump through hoops to PROVE I was worth loving, and he's probably right. If we are lucky in life, we find just the right person for what we need at that time.

There were so many lessons he taught me. Like my propensity for what he called, "looking over other people's back fences and telling them to clean up their mess, when I had the mother of all messes in my own!"

Mark pointed out that I was like some dirty old pervert, who liked to open his raincoat and show off his genitalia - in that when I met anyone, I had a propensity for revealing all my deepest, darkest secrets. (Which I saw as just part of the, "This is who I am, I'm telling you everything now so that there won't be any nasty surprises down the track.")

Mark KNEW me and he still loved me - that was the greatest thing anyone can have.

One thing I do know - our sexual appetites were not evenly matched. I've never been highly sexed and the continual desire for sexual intimacy, was a constant thorn in my side. Spurning Mark's advances was not a good experience for either of us - and in the end, he felt like a dirty old man himself, always having to 'ask' for favours. My withdrawal from him sexually, usually resulted in him wanting the attention of others and while I was happy for him to do that, I also had a fear that he might find a better relationship in one of these 'dalliances'. My words ring in my ears, "For god's sake, leave me alone, go and find someone else!" But then, when he did, I'd worry that he might prefer their company to mine. I just wanted to leave me alone for a particular time, not always!

There was Anne, a good friend who admitted to me one night that after she and Mark had been to a concert together, (while I was away at school camp), that she "almost didn't want to go home" and I remarked, "It sounds as though you didn't", to which she replied, "Well, we did lay down on the bed together, but you might as well have been lying there between us, your presence was so strong."

Next was Jan, another friend ... beautiful and outgoing and flamboyant ... I came home from work one day and she followed Mark, in her underwear, out of our bedroom, saying with so much gaeity, "Oh, I've just been trying on some of your clothes, I hope you don't mind!" Mmmmmmmm ......

And then there was Robyn, a friend of ours whose husband had drowned. Mark started visiting her to see if she was right for firewood, but we all knew a stronger desire was at play here. One of my darkest experiences was the night Mark invited Robyn for dinner with the sole purpose of reassuring her that I was okay about their developing relationship.

I resented him using me to pacify her. How dare he do that to me? But then, who hasn't temporarily lost an otherwise good sense of judgement to get what they want?

Ironically, I learned about trust from Mark. There was a time I expressed concern about the importance of our relationship to him and he said to me, "You just have to trust that I won't ever start a relationship that will be a threat to the one I have with you." I weighed up his words and thought, "Well, I can believe him and be taken for a ride, or I can believe him and be vindicated in my trust.

So I took that leap of faith and I'm glad I did because I firmly believe that it taught me how to love with an open heart.

There were other 'relationships' which fulfilled his need to be desired and wanted and which threatened my sense of security, but it wasn't another woman which ended our relationship it was just that it ran it course, and that was that.

We had set off on our grand "Around Australia" trip. Car packed up. Trailer on behind with his motorbike, the dogs, a homemade kitchen set up and a purse, not overflowing with money.

Consequently there were petty squabbles about how the money was being spent - trivial annoyances, not quite constant bickering but life on the road really tested us and our desire to be together. Eventually we reached Cairns and for a time we settled there. We both got jobs on a local newspaper - me as a reporter and Mark as a photographer.

I can't remember what the straw was that broke the camel's back, but we reached a point where we both acknowledged that we had come to the end of the road together and we decided to part. For me, I think it was just a case of me having taught Mark all that it was that I had to teach him, and he had done the same for me.

Mark found a job on a newly set up magazine and was commissioned to do the inaugural front cover portrait of Diane Cilento (who had at one time, been married to Sean Connery). (Just as an amusing little aside, apparently Diane accused Sean of beating her, a charge Connery vehemently denied; although in an interview with Barbara Walters, he stated that it would be acceptable for a man to hit a woman with an open hand, if she continues to provoke him after he concedes an argument to her).

Nothing having Mark in my life anymore was a traumatic time for me. I was bereft.

At this time I was still working for the newspaper and I'd gone to interview a prostitute and left behind my briefcase (containing my wallet with $5,000 in it that I'd just withdrawn from the bank to buy a car with). Mark had been with me as photographer, and when we went back to her house, she was gone and so was the money. I later learnt that she had quite a heroin habit, so no prizes for guessing where my $5,000 went!

In the course of trying to bring some pressure on her to return the briefcase at least, I'd been in touch with a couple of her family members. I was chilled to the bone, when the prostitute phoned and threatened me with, "You keep my family out of this! You bring them into it, and I can bring some pretty nasty people into it for you!" By this time, Mark had moved out and I was all alone. I was, quite frankly, terrified. The thought that I had brought the underworld into my life, really scared me.

Not long after this, I decided to head back to Melbourne. Back to the life I had put into storage when Mark and I left on our big adventure. Reviewing your life after it has been in storage is another unique experience. Seeing stuff that you now regard as 'crap' and wondering, "Why the hell did I want to keep this for?" or seeing little gems that years later are STILL gems to you.

It was very cathartic, separating my stuff from Mark's stuff and sharing 'our' stuff between us.

I have never experienced the deep sense of sadness and grief I felt at the ending of our relationship. I think I cried for a full year. I certainly didn't have any joy of life. It was almost eighteen months I think, before I had any enthusiasm for anything.

Every morning when I woke up, my first thought was, "He doesn't love me anymore" or, "He's really gone from my life".

Mark had gone on to fall madly in love with a woman I didn't like at all. I couldn't even take any joy in him being happy as I didn't feel the relationship was any good for him.

(Years later when he did fall in love again with someone else, I at least had a sense of it being right and that they did belong together).

One particularly bad night I thought, "I might as well be floating out in outer space, I feel so alone. No one can reach me in my depths of despair." Perhaps I had idealised what we had together, but it didn't last ten years because we pretended that everything was okay. It was a good relationship because we had always been honest with one another and expressed what we needed from the other.

I'm not sure what the point of this "What Love Has Looked Like To Me" retrospective is, other than I have been looking at the relationship I have with David and been doing some soul-searching.

Next time ... Dick, The Mad Adventurer.

(Photo: There was a very exotic European/Middle Eastern restaurant we loved going to in Cairns - this is one of the nights we decided to dress up for it).

Tags: Love, Love Of My Life, Romance, Faithfulness, Partners, Other Women

What Love Looks Like For Me

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 00:25:48 GMT

THIS MORNING, as I lay in bed, contemplating life and love, I thought it might be a worthwhile exercise to reflect on what love has looked like in my life.

My most shocking realisation is that I don't think I've ever had a loving relationship with my parents. When people say, "Oh, we're a really close family", I just can't identity with that. Close? My family? Mmmmm ... I don't think that's possible when the main focus of the family is just one person - my father.

I've been fond of my parents. Every financial advantage I've had in life has come from them, but I can't think of a loving legacy that I would have wanted to pass on to any children of mine. Maybe that's why my brother, sister and I have not had children.

My mother was a lovely woman - kind, patient, loving and caring. My sister and I came to the conclusion some time ago that she never really got to love her children the way she would have wanted to, because my father demanded that all attention in the family was on him. No one else mattered. Only him.

I know I'm being harsh, because of course there must have been, times when I did feel their love; it's just that nothing stands out as, "I remember the day my father loved me so much he ..." Maybe my mother sacrificed what might have been an otherwise happy life, to give her children a good provider. I don't know.

I hope I'm not the sort of person who doesn't feel they are loved unless the other person gives them a kidney. Maybe I am - maybe I'm the sort of person who doesn't know what love is. All I know is that the love I experienced with others, later, is much stronger and meaningful to me.

I know when I hear people say, "My father gave me a deep love of the outdoors", or "My mother shared her love of literature with me" that I feel a pang. A pang of what, I'm not sure. Just a pang of, "Oh, I never had that."

My legacy has been one of self-doubt and an inability to see my value. We were all decimated because of my father's over-arching ego. How to get past that kind of damage? I'm embarrassed to be 56 years old and still wondering how I get over it.

I just didn't have anything in common with my parents. I came home one night to find my mother and brother watching, "The Slim Dusty Story" and I still remember thinking, "Oh my god, can I be related to these people?!"

My interests were make believe, literature, writing, being an archeologist. I lived in a Hollywood fantasy world of glamorous movie stars and gorgeous satin gowns.

I'm sure love was there in our family home, in some form, but there is still no particular occasion which I can warmly look back on and think with satisfaction, "Oh, they loved me so much." There was just no joyous celebration of love or connection or 'family'.

I've always said, "I had a good technical upbringing - I was fed, housed, clothed and educated - but I can't remember a single circumstance where I felt LOVED and valued.

Having decided to give birth to myself at my last birthday in April, I want to put 'all that' (my childhood and their influence on me), behind me, never to be mentioned again. Not because it was so particularly devastating, but because I'm sick of weeping and wailing at the wall of, "I'm like this because my parents did that."

I like the idea of giving birth to myself and creating the kind of nurturing I would have liked to have had. My companions on this journey are my beloved David, Paul, and trusted members of our Second Life community.

It was easy to put my 'old' childhood behind me recently when I asked my father to think back and tell me what memories he had of me as a child. "I don't know!" he answered testily. "You were a kid! You went to school. You played with the other kids. There were three of you." I just burst out laughing. That's the sum total of your memories of me as a child? That I went to school and played with other kids and had a brother and a sister! What an absolute lack of involvement or interest from the man who gave me life.

So it's not surprising that when I think of love, I don't automatically think 'family'.

Several months ago, at a family function, when my father was boasting about how much money he had, my uncle (who has never had much, lived in a housing commission house and brought up five daughters on a chauffeur's wage), pointed to the wall of family photographs and said, "There's my treasure over there Jack. That's all that's ever been important to me."

Again, the pang of, "I've never had that."

First Love:

Oh my beautiful first love - Tim. We met at a local fete dance when I was about 15 or 16 and were both immediately smitten. I was such an innocent! As we snuggled up to one another dancing, I remember saying to him, "Ooooh, can you please take your cigarettes out of your pocket, they're poking into me." I had no idea boys got erections! I didn't even know what an erection was! A product of a Catholic school education, I was absolutely terrified of getting pregnant and there was just no way I was going to tempt the fires of hell by exploring sexuality.

We were both so lovelorn though. Those loooooooooooong telephone calls where you stay on the phone line, content just to hear the other person breathe on the other end of the line. And the reluctance of either one to hang up first. "You hang up", "No, you hang up", "No, you." The sweet desire of youth. The laying together in parks, in friend's cars, when no one else was home - but still, no sex! The lusty kisses, the lovebites, the hands down pants and up tops. "Everything but".

When he got a job away from where we lived, I thought I would die of heartache. He wrote of course and those love letters were my most cherished possessions. Under my pillow. Kissed each night. We wanted to run away together and get married, but we were so young. I don't remember why we broke up, but most likely it had something to do with him wanting sex and me being terrified of getting pregnant. In those days, 16 year old girls didn't go to the doctor and get the pill (even if it existed then).

I was broken-hearted and cried for months. Losing love is the most devastating experience of a young life. All is lost. I would stand at the window where I worked in the city and look yearningly outwards, searching for just a glimpse of him if he walked by. In my desperation, I thought that if I relented and did have sex with him, he would come back to me (vain hope of course), so we arranged to meet at my place when my parents were out and I was quite determined to 'give him' my virginity.

We went to bed and fumbled and tried - two totally inexperienced and clueless virgins - and then when his mates pulled up the front and beeped the horn for him, he gave up in frustration and drove off with them. I felt completely destroyed. I had failed to 'seduce' him and felt 'thrown away' because he would rather be with his friends than in my hot little loving embrace. As he left, I fell down, wailing, at the door. I honestly thought I would die of heartbreak.

Marriage:

When Graham came into my life, I'd had crushes and boyfriends and frustrated relationships of various shades. It was obvious that Graham was head over heels in love with me and I felt safe with him. Eventually I came to the conclusion that he was someone I felt safe enough to lose my virginity to. A friend of his shared a grand old mansion with several others in Kew, a leafy suburb of Melbourne and so it was, that on a mattress on the floor of a beautiful old mansion, I 'gave' my virginity to the man I would eventually marry.

It's funny because of all the relationships I've had, the one with Graham is perhaps the fuzziest - the least memorable. My first experience of sex, left me with the memory of me responding with, "What? Is that it?" No fireworks. No violins. Just a grunting and heaving and a very satisfied Graham at the end, and a less than impressed me.

It's terrible to say, but life with Graham hasn't left me with any memories of love. Domestic frustrations, yes. I was 21 and my interpretation of love was that when I served him dinner, I gave him the biggest sausage or best looking potato.

I had no idea of what love was all about. And I certainly didn't know about married life, so I just copied what my parents did. Graham was 'head of the household', even though I was the one who did all the work in it.

We were married for all of 11 months and frustratingly so for me. We both had office jobs, with his being closer to home than mine, so he would get home sooner. Yet, he would sit and read the newspaper or watch television and wait for me to get home to cook the dinner, clean, wash, iron, make the bed - every single domestic duty fell to me. His only responsibility was putting the rubbish out each week, and even that I had to remind him endlessly.

So I definitely don't equate the 'marriage' chapter of my life with love. Graham and I shouldn't have married. I now know that I used getting married as an excuse - a 'legitimate' way of leaving home. I didn't love Graham. In fact, I told him that I'd changed my mind and didn't want to get married, but he cried and 'begged' and so I thought, "Well, how can I hurt his feelings?" and so I went through with it.

In the end, he met a 16 year old at a party and ran off with her and I travelled overseas. We returned wedding gifts to those who'd given them and there was no harm done.

Miscellaneous:

When my marriage ended, I travelled overseas for a year or two and then settled in Noosa Heads as a hippy, living on the beach. It was the days of "make love, not war" and I was an enthusiastic peacenik. Men and boys came and went - plenty of sex, but not much love. It's so true, that adage - "Men give love to get sex and women give sex to get love." I gave a lot of sex! Didn't find much love though.

At one stage I was quite promiscuous. Don't know why, because I've never really been satisifed by sex. It has always been my desire to experience love which has motivated me to be physical with a man. A 'need' to be close and intimate. Eventually though you realise, you could lie down on the footpath at a city's main train station and have sex with every man who walked past and never find love.

There is one man who stood out though in all these years - Bern. Bern is one of two men I've ever wanted to have a child with. He had long blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes and a lovely heart. I think we were all in love with Bern. All us hippy chicks, with our long, flowing hair and bouncing breasts (hippies didn't wear a bra). For a glorious few months, Bern and I were an item and I was in seventh heaven.

I don't know how much love was expressed in those days ... perhaps more a lovingness, than actual love. Nothing was too serious. It was easy to get stoned and just snuggle up to a convenient body. We experimented and explored and had open hearts. With someone one day, and someone else, the next. No hard feelings. Just a desire to spread 'love', when really I think it was more a case of wandering attention.

Friends became lovers and lovers became friends.

The Love Of My Life:

I met Mark at an "Alice In Wonderland" party. I'd never even read the story and went dressed as a wood nymph. I'd gone there specifically to meet someone else, but they hadn't arrived. Mark and I had chatted for awhile and I drifted off to get a drink. But I kept finding him in front of me, obviously keen on more conversation. "I wish this guy would get out of the way, so I could see if Andrew has arrived," I remember thinking. Ironically, it was Mark who was 'the one'.

I was in a relationship at the time, with Rod, a very steady and safe partner. He was reliable and faithful, but ultimately, I was bored. I'd convinced Rod that I just needed 'a fling' to blow away the cobwebs on our relationship. Instead, what I found was Mark, who turned out to be 'the love of my life'.

... Next post ... What is was all about and other expressions of that great desiring ... love.

Tags: Love, Family, First Love, Married Love, Love of My Life Love

Nothing To Say ... Or Maybe It's More That I Don't Have An Answer

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 06:59:30 GMT

I'M SORRY it has been so long since I've written anything here. I just don't have anything to say.

I'm living very much in my own head at the moment. Cogitating. Mulling things over. Being fearful. Loving. Experiencing joy. Being curious. Trying hard. Making excuses. Wondering. I seem to be waiting ... for I know not what.

For a long time now I've been feeling like I'm waiting ... waiting to be somewhere, or at some point in my life's development. But I don't know what it is.

There are so many thoughts swirling about up there (in my brain), as opposed to the feverish activity down here (the keyboard).

I've only ever found peace in solitude and even this life in Esperance, where I hardly know anybody - ten people at most - is still too busy (what with Second Life and all), that I never seem to have the time to be absolutely quiet and peaceful.

There seems to be a lot of turmoil somewhere inside me. I'm not sure if it's the ageing process kicking in; my own insecurities; something (not yet defined), percolating away.

This is not a good time for me to write. I am all discombobulated.

At my last birthday, back in April, the first since my mother died, I thought I would try something novel and give birth to myself. It was more a case of making a fresh start. (I'm fond of fresh starts!) Creating a life for myself that was mine alone, without the influence of those other people who'd been there the first time around.

Making I'm an artist of lives. Creating new ones, when I feel I've mucked up the other one, or had it impacted on by others. A fresh new canvas is always available.

What would YOUR life be if you were to create it, EXACTLY the way you wanted it, without the influence of other people?

If I had a fairy godmother to wave a wand over me, I would like to be a lounge singer. Tootling off to a piano bar once or twice a week, singing 'torch songs' - evoking great feeling in my audience. Taking them on a romantic journey of love and love lost; inspiring men to send roses to my dressing room and sports cars to my house. For witty humourists and famous artists to vie for my attention, and offering me world trips on their yachts. And I would be having an enduring love affair with a committed naturalist, whose life work was saving animals.

See? This is why I haven't written here for awhile. I don't have anything to say. lol Just silly musings. I'm reminded of when I was a kid, and people would ask, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I never knew. I just did not know what I wanted to BE. And now, while I ponder the saying, "Be Here Now" - I do wonder - what exactly is it, that I want to be?

I'll be in touch later, when I have something more profound to say.

PHOTOS: These are the lives (personas) I have created in Second Life. I contemplated (and even tried) to put up my real life photo, but the message came back from Gaia, "Sorry, there has been an unexpected error" ... LOL Indeed there has.

Tags: Cogitating, Fearful, Love, Solitude, Turmoil, Discombobulated, Second Life

About To Make A Move

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 03:20:09 GMT

IT JUST OCCURRED TO ME that I haven't shown you a photo of where I'm living at the moment in Esperance.

I really love it here. A lovely couple, Margaret and Bob, have given me the hospitality of their property for the past four months or so and now that I've decided to stay here in Esperance and put down some roots, I thought it was about time I moved on. I put an advertisement in the local paper the other day as a "Housesitter" and got a call straight away about a place about three kms from my favourite beach! Wonderful!

So I shall be taking up residence on a new property next Friday. The people will be away for a month, so for the next four weeks (while David is visiting), we will have a house and a pregnant cow; two horses (one who is over 30 years old!); two dogs (one deaf and nearly blind); three ducks; two chooks and a pond full of goldfish to look after.

They are going away again in Aug/Sept, and have asked me to look after their place again then too, which is good. Nothing like having your life fall into place.

This new couple are old hippies and were among the first hippies to settle at Denmark (the community other people have been recommending to me). I travelled there a couple of weekends ago (about a 500 km drive away) and while it IS a lovely looking community, the town doesn't embrace the ocean, the way Esperance does and I realised that I really had become emotionally attached to Esperance. So it was no contest - good community or not, Esperance is the place I want to be.

I've started looking into the Transition Towns movement, and shall write more about this before too long. As unrealistic (or conceited) as it may be, I've decided to work towards making Esperance the kind of town I would like to live in.

Coincidentally, there have been a number of people who have been coming in to the store where I work, saying they are involved in the environmental movement in one way or another.

Soooooooo .... a bit of a catch up on what's been happening with me lately.

Spoke to my father yesterday and he expressed a little concern about his failing memory, saying that he's considering having a tag made for himself with his name and address on it, because he's worried that he really will forget where he lives one day! We joked about this and when he mentioned something about me coming back to the eastern states to look after him in his dotage, I was VERY tempted to say, "Well, that would be okay ... as long as you don't hang around for too long!"

I'm working at two shops now - a dress shop and a giftware shop (both owned by the same people). Whenever they go away on holidays or a buying trip, they've asked me to mind their house too and that's been a marvellous change. It's a great little place, on a hill, overlooking the town and beach. They have two VERY peppy little poodles - Coco and Paris - and they are great fun to have around (although Marlo continues to be lowkey around them).

Being around so many mirrors and fashion-conscious people really made me focus on my body and my wardrobe! I've been madly trying on clothes and buying up big (with 20% staff discount) and am enjoying this new focus. There is a range of clothes I'm especially fond of - Kita Ku. Great lines! And very flattering.

After having lived here with Bob and Margaret for so many months, I've really started to feel that perhaps I might be wearing out my welcome. They haven't said anything and we have been very open about my plans and their needs, but I just felt that the time had come for me to move on. I will miss this lovely rainforest garden, but am looking forward so much to making one of my own eventually.

People keep telling me it's unrealistic to think I have enough money to buy a property with an ocean view, but that's never stopped me before. I once lived in a lovely old authentic miner's cottage in the main street of Bright and paid only $52 a week rent. When I had to leave there (it had been sold and demolished to make way for a new chemist shop), I was told, "Welcome to the real world, you'll never find a place like that again ... you're going to have to pay around $200-$300 a week rent now!" But blow me down, I found another gorgeous little shack in the bush for $25 a week! LOL

The beauty of the shack was that it backed on to a national park and I could walk out my back door, straight up the hill and into the park without seeing a soul. So I used to do it naked! Straight from my bed into the forest. Idyllic.

Speaking of naked. Did you hear me on ABC Radio National the other week? I'd written to "Life Matters" to see if they would be interested in interviewing David about his book, "Finding The Sweet Spot" when he comes to Australia in April and just by way of explanation of how I knew him, I wrote at the bottom of my email that we had met in Second Life.

Within hours I got an email back from one of the programme's producers saying, "Yes, we might do a programme on your friend, but what we're REALLY interested in, is in interviewing you about Second Life." Wow! That was a surprise.

In talking to the producer, I told her about various things I'd done and said that I regarded my life as 'chapters in a book" and that was the theme they presented it as. My time as a hippy, living on a nude beach in Noosa (Queensland); my editorship of a local newspaper in Bright; and my involvement with Second Life and meeting David.

If you have ten minutes without anything to do, here is the link so you can listen to the interview:

My ten minutes of fame (which still leaves me five minutes!)

It was lovely to get telephone calls and emails from friends who heard it. I was kicking myself though because I thought the show would focus on Second Life and I had intended to talk about the community David and I have established there, but it was only a ten minute interview and Richard Aedy, the presenter, left SL until the last bit. I think I was trying to appeal to the masses when I focused on Second Life's attractions of mansions and aeroplanes - things that don't interest me at all, when I really wanted to sing the praises of online communities.

Oh well.

The producer later told me that they often do follow up segments on interesting interviewees and she was kind enough to say I was one of those! lol

So what else has been happening in this little life of mine? Not much. I'm still endeavouring to not spend as much time on SL as I usually do and to make time for other things. Working has helped with that. And it's great to get a few dollars every fortnight.

Still haven't met anyone who is likely to be a romantic focus. Although, now that I'm working down at the dress shop, I'm getting to know one of the other ladies there a bit. She's an incredibly outgoing and confident Greek woman - Jenny. She came to visit me last week - my first visitor! And has invited me to dinner at her place in the next week or so.

Oh! And Louise, the woman I work for, has been asked to do a "Trinny and Susannah" at some local club and I'm going to be her 'model' - i.e. the one who will illustrate what not to wear and how to put together a fashionable 'look'. Since fashion has never really been my thing, I'm looking forward to some tips.

I think that's about it. Drumming still continues to be a joy (djembe drums). I bought a $2 didgeridoo at a garage sale the other week and that will go into our 'suite' of musical instruments. Another local music group closed down recently and gave us their bank account (with $1,000 in it), so we will use that to expand the group's drum stock. A few new members have joined and once we get organised, we will invite whatever members are still left from the other music group, to join us.

Here are some photos of my favourite places, or where I have been and where I'm going ...

Photo 1 - my dream place to live!

Photo 2 - this is where I've been living for the past four months - in my lovely caravan, on the edge of a wonderful little rainforest heaven.

Photo 3 - this is the beach that I'm living three kilometres from for the next month. It has gorgeous little lagoons along a safe stretch of aqua surf, AND it's only a relatively short walk to the nude beach.

Tags: House minding, looking after animals, working in a dress shop, Transition Towns, ABC Radio National interview

Making Me

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 14:26:47 GMT

One of the things that I'm learning, through loving David, is that I have to make myself. I can't rely on anyone else to complete me. That's something I have to do for myself.

This might seem self-evident, but for whatever reason, it seems to be something that I have assiduously avoided for a long time. A long time? Try all my life! I've always looked outside my self to feel complete. As though me, on my own, just isn't enough.

And that might be true - I am not enough because there are so many things I don't 'do'. I'm not a very good friend. I don't think of others very much. I don't have a joy of cooking - especially for others! In fact, the thought of cooking for a dinner party is sure to put me into a state of nervous anxiety! I live in my own little world, without much thought for what other people might need or want of me.

I know a lot of the people who read this blog will feel that polyamoury is just an excuse for David to continue looking for 'the one'. That he can't really love me because he's still looking for someone who suits him better than I do. More than one person has said to me, "I hear David has fallen in love with someone else" ... and so he has. But I'm fortunate that he still loves me. In what way, I'm not sure and it is this uncertainty about my 'value' as a person, that I think forms the basic insecurity I have about being loved. My fear of losing what I have has sometimes been stronger than the certainty I have that I am loved.

It's easier for me to believe that I am not lovable. Easier because that IS my reality. I have been on my own for many years now and it's very rare for me to find someone who interests me, much less find someone who finds me interesting!

I'm fortunate though that I've found friendship - both with Mark and Dick - two men who were in my life for ten years apiece. What I have found with David makes me content - IF I don't start fantasising about what I would like it to be. He's always been honest and up front with me and since I passed on that wonderful wisdom of, "Let the people IN your heart, know your heart", I feel more assured of not having any surprises jump out at me. That's not to say that I don't brace myself a little every time he mentions someone he finds interesting.

I'm feeling rather sentimental these days. I'm not sure if it's hormonal or I am indeed going through 'a change of life'. I used to be able to look in the mirror and think, "Not bad". Those occasions are now much rarer. It's a stand out moment these days to look at my face and see prettiness or loveliness. Just lately though, there's been a glow there that comes from 'looking after myself' - from eating well (or at least better) and for taking the time to care about how I am and what I am.

There's a kernel of hope there, that I'm not lost. At least, not lost forever.

From time to time I do acknowledge that I can't rely on David to nourish me. I have to fill my own life. To write my own story. To nurture my own self. Each time he reminds me that I am only a small part of his life (not in so many words, but that's what he's telling me), my stomach churns and tears spring to my eyes - a welling up of emotion at not feeling 'enough' love. Dick once said to me, "Give you an inch Cheryl and you want a mile" and that is true - I always want more. Life isn't happy enough, or rich enough, or stimulating enough, or easy enough ... I always want more. Even when I put dishwashing liquid into the sink, I always think, "That won't be enough, I'd better give it another little squirt." And of course, I always have plenty of suds. But that doesn't stop me next time thinking that it needs that extra little squirt.

And so ... fate has brought a wonderful man into my life. A man I love very much. A man who brings me joy and who DOES make me feel loved.

It's me who is jeopardising what we have, because in my eyes, no matter what he gives to me in the way of attention or time, I continue yearning for what he has told me he can't give me - his whole self. Like the heroine of "Eat, Pray, Love" - I want to eat his soul. I want to absorb him into me, to fill the gaps. To obliterate the lack within me.

Occasionally I have wondered how I would have turned out, if I had had a different upbringing. Different parents. That, of course, is a pointless exercise because that is anybody's guess!

My god I am a late bloomer! I keep reciting the mantra in my head, "I'm 55 years old and I still haven't ... (fill in the gaps) ... found a joy of loving / of cooking / of being a good friend / of doing fulfilling/satisfying work / achieved anything worthwhile / had an overwhelming orgasm ..."

Just lately, I have been feeling like I'm a failure. Because of all that I haven't managed to do. Sometimes it takes me forever to FINALLY have the revelation which starts me on the journey I need to take. I always seem to have to hit rock bottom, before I can find my way back up.

I titled this blog "Being Fearless" and all I've seemed to do since I set out is to be fearFULL. But then the fear is spurring me on. I don't want to be so scared, so afraid. I don't want this fear in my life.

I want to be joyous that I AM loved, to be grateful for what I do have, rather than focused on what I don't.

It's time for me to make myself. To create ME! To do the things I need to do - to cook, to clean, to make a life, to buy a house or a property, plant a veggie garden, make new friends, invite more love into my life, to WRITE! To express who I am, to be more creative. Just how long do I think I have? I can't be waiting around for someone else to do this for me. I have no allusions about wanting to achieve any great fame - to lead a revolution, or make a great impact - I just want to be satisfied and fulfilled and challenged (and to meet that challenge).

Many years ago, when Mark and I were going through a bad patch and were living apart temporarily, he sat me down and said, "Cheryl, you just have to be responsible for yourself" and I honest to god, cried out in pain, "I can't bear it, I really can't - I'd rather die!" And then of course, I laughed. I'd rather be dead, than responsible for myself? I'm sure you're laughing out loud now too. That was probably 20 years ago and I've still been trying to avoid it!

Mum made it easy for me. She would totter over to the cabin, for those couple of years that I lived at Montrose, and give me the odd $50 or so and like the weasel I was, I took it and bought chocolate bars and hummous and comforted myself because I was living such a miserable life. As long as she kept bringing fifties, I keep on giving myself comfort. I used to have the image in my mind of a giant baby bird, still in the nest when its parents were in their dotage - squawking, "Bring me food, bring me food!"

That all changed on 4th August last year when my mother died. I finally had to grow up. I'm so ashamed of that person - that me. Why have I avoided making myself a better person? It's humilating to be sitting here now, typing this, admitting that I've just wasted so much of my life. Sitting on my arse, fooling myself! I am a great disappointment to myself.

I can't remember whether it was Freud or Jung who said, "Change only comes after a short, sharp shock" (or words to that effect), and so it is that uncertainty and fear that I've experienced in the past several months have FINALLY focused my attention on what it is that I have not achieved in my life. Hallelujah for that! About time!

So ...

I am about to embark on a small journey of exploration. If you believe that your house is symbolic of your life ... I am going off for several days tomorrow to find my wreck of a house so I can bring it back to life and let it sing again. And through that nurturing of the house, I hope to find a better version of myself.

Tags: love, fear, challenge, soul, disappointment, joy, responsibility

The Bragger

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Fri, 06 Feb 2009 20:56:26 GMT

My father has always been a braggart. I suppose in response to having had such a poverty stricken childhood that he and his mother had to share a pair of shoes between them.

So perhaps it shouldn't come as any surprise that the amount of money he has managed to accumulate, has become the most important thing in his life. His greatest achievement. One that I know he rates the highest of all. To have come from such humble beginnings where he left school (with minimal schooling) at the age of 13 and has achieved what he has.

"I'm worth more than the whole lot of you put together!" is one comment I can remember him making at a family function many years ago. "And I'm better than the rest of you too!" Poor man. To think that the acquisition of wealth makes you better than someone else.

Still, it must come as an incredible achievement to know that through hard work, a bit of entrepreunership, some canny investments and good luck, he is now a "multi-millionaire" (as he is fond of telling people).

Last night I had a telephone call which ended up quite rattling me. In the six months since my mother died last August, dad and my brother had several months where they struggled along alone, trying to look after themselves - something that dad is so resistant to. By that I mean, he sees it as a woman's work to look after the man. So the thought of him cooking for himself or washing his own clothes etc., was absolutely the worst thing imaginable!

Just before Christmas he found a suitable housekeeper and she moved into the house with the two of them, saying that the cabin on the property (where I used to stay when I was in town), was "too far away from the main house for her to feel safe". (It's probably about 50 feet away).

The family home is large enough to accommodate several people without feeling cramped and she initially took up residence in what used to be 'the billiard room' where she was able to have her own lounge room and bedroom.

At some stage though, she decided that the loungeroom, situated beside my father's bedroom, was a nicer room so she made that her bedroom. And my sister tells me that if the main bathroom in the house is being used by my brother, the housekeeper uses my father's ensuite bathroom (which means she has to walk through my father's bedroom to get to it).

This seems a rather strange arrangement to me. To move into a house with two men, and then with four bedrooms in the house to choose from, you change a lounge room into a bedroom right beside one of the men's bedrooms?

Okay ... perhaps you could give her the benefit of the doubt and think, "Okay, the view from that room IS nice." Still, I would think that I would prefer to have my privacy.

Then comes the news that the new housekeeper is SO pleased with her new employment situation, that she told my father, "I love it here! I will stay here until I die. You don't need to pay me. I will stay here rent free in exchange for cooking and cleaning for you."

Uh huh.

So now you have a 44 year old woman living in a house with two men - a recently bereaved 78 year old and his 50 year old son. You're not getting paid and you have taken up residence in the room next to the old man. Mmmmmmm ....

THEN my father tells me the story of woe from her previous employers, how badly they treated her and how he could have cried when she related how hard she had to work there. "And the poor woman didn't even have health insurance," he told me last night, "so I took her down to the HBA (a medical benefits insurance company) to sign her up and they said it would give her immediate cover if I put her on my plan."

This took me aback. "You've put your housekeeper on YOUR private health insurance plan, dad?" "Yes," he told me. "They told me that if I put her on as my partner, she would get immediate cover."

"Do you think that's wise, dad? Putting your housekeeper down on your medical insurance as your PARTNER?"

He exploded in anger. "I don't know why everybody says that! It doesn't mean anything! It's just a way of her being able to claim straight away!"

When I tried to explain that it seemed to me that there was a very good case building for her to claim herself as his common law wife, he said, "Well, I've told her that I'm putting her in my will anyway!" "She's not getting paid and so when I go, I want her to be paid $300 a week for the rest of her life."

You have got to be kidding me! (This is what I'm thinking). You are making the woman who cooks and cleans for you a beneficiary of your will after knowing her for two months?! Wouldn't it just be simpler to pay her for god's sake!

But then, if he paid her, she wouldn't be dependent on him. And if she isn't dependent on him, she might go.

I wish it wasn't the case that I've reacted to this news. After all, it's his money. He can do whatever he likes with it. While I'm still stunned by this revelation, I think I am slowly reconciling myself to the fact that my relationship with my father is becoming more and more distant ... more withdrawn. I can't think of any other way of protecting myself from his vindictive cruelty. Because I do think it's vindictiveness that he's operating on at the moment. Vindictiveness and self-preservation.

He is absolutely TERRIFIED of having to look after himself. That four months after my mother died that he and my brother had to fend for himself were the loneliest and most frightening of his life, I think. And he will do ANYTHING to make sure he isn't alone again.

He will tell this woman anything and promise her anything to ensure she doesn't leave and make him face that loneliness again.

Part of all this I'm sure, is punishing me because I did not give up my life to cook and clean and look after the two of them. There isn't enough money in the world that could have enticed me to do that!

In the end, I accept that fate didn't give me a loving father who puts "the fruit of his loins" above all else. It now seems that fate is also taking away a big pocketful of money which could have been a pay off for that lack.

A payback? Is that how I think? To exchange a loving father for a million dollars?

I'm sitting here thinking, "Hah! Is that what it comes down to?"

Actually, it's quite funny really because I don't have either! lol It really is quite funny.

I wonder if the poor man will ever have an epiphany?

Our relationship has always been a difficult one. One that I have struggled my whole life to come to terms with. To feel, in the core of your heart, that the man who gave you life doesn't love you and in fact, at times, seems to even be contemptuous of you is a hard fact of life to come to terms with.

Even sadder is the fact that I don't even care if he lives or dies. He has hurt and abused me so much ... affecting who I am. I wonder who I would have become if I hadn't had to deal with the emotional blows he has struck to my heart and to my mind. In fact, my preference is that he dies because at least then I can rule a line under his presence in my life ... at least, I hope I can. Perhaps he will always haunt me.

(Photo above: Just for a bit of fun, I thought I would include this photo of Zsa Zsa Gabor, who once famously said, "I'm a very good housekeeper. Whenever I divorce a husband, I always keep the house!")

Tags: Millionaire, Beneficiary of Will, Housekeeper, Bereaved, Fear, Vindictiveness

Death of The Bird

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Fri, 09 Jan 2009 01:29:44 GMT

WHEN I WAS BACK IN STREAKY BAY, I'm not sure whether I mentioned the red-necked stints that I saw on the rocks there one day.

They flew as one, a battalion - tiny, tiny little birds. I learnt this morning that they weigh only 30 grams (about as big as a hen's egg) and fly 12,000 kms to Australia on their annual migration.

My thoughts turned to these delicate little creatures when I heard this poem by Alec Hope on the radio this morning:

Death of the Bird by Alec Derwent Hope

For every bird there is this last migration;
Once more the cooling year kindles her heart;
With a warm passage to the summer station
Love pricks the course in lights across the chart.

Year after year a speck on the map, divided
By a whole hemisphere, summons her to come;
Season after season, sure and safely guided,
Going away she is also coming home.

And being home, memory becomes a passion
With which she feeds her brood and straws her nest,
Aware of ghosts that haunt the heart's possession
And exiled love mourning within the breast.

The sands are green with a mirage of valleys;
The palm tree casts a shadow not its own;
Down the long architrave of temple or palace
Blows a cool air from moorland scarps of stone.

And day by day the whisper of love grows stronger;
That delicate voice, more urgent with despair,
Custom and fear constraining her no longer,
Drives her at last on the waste leagues of air.

A vanishing speck in those inane dominions,
Single and frail, uncertain of her place,
Alone in the bright host of her companions,
Lost in the blue unfriendliness of space.

She feels it close now, the appointed season;
The invisible thread is broken as she flies;
Suddenly, without warning, without reason,
The guiding spark of instinct winks and dies.

Try as she will, the trackless world delivers
No way, the wilderness of light no sign;
Immense,complex contours of hills and rivers
Mock her small wisdom with their vast design.

The darkness rises from the eastern valleys,
And the winds buffet her with their hungry breath,
And the great earth, with neither grief nor malice,
Receives the tiny burden of her death.

Perhaps I've become too maudlin, but I feel that I have come through a kind of death - the loss of an illusion.

And my tiny little bird has fallen to the ground.

Tags: Death of The Bird, Alec Hope, Streaky Bay, evoking emotions

A Walk on the Beach

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 06:24:19 GMT

Just had to share these photos with you! I'd just had a massage and decided that I would take Marlo for a walk along the beach at Esperance. As we approached the local pier, I could see people milling around and pointing and because sea lions are frequent visitors here, I wasn't surprised, thinking it was the usual 'crowd' of three who had arrived.

I heard someone mention 'baby' and when I looked closer, there she or he was, nestled in the rocks, snoozing half in and out of the sun. Mum was stretched out along a pier support close by.

One little girl, eager to get to where I was, and not watching where she was going, almost stepped on the mother, thinking she was a rock!

Marlo took everything in in her usual calm and gentle way - rolling in the mum's dried up poo and sniffing the air around her baby.

My massage, by the way, was absolutely wonderful - as much a psychologist's session as a massage therapy. As she stretched my tight muscles, Neris made insightful observations about my conversation with her and I came away thinking, "All that matters is love - all the rest is ego."

Tags: Sea Lions, Baby, Marlo, Esperance, Love, Beach

Poly? Or Solitary?

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 03:32:33 GMT

THE LAST COUPLE OF WEEKS have been a strange mix of contentment and despair.

Contentment because even though I spent Christmas and New Year on my own, I was still happy in my own company. Despair, because the man I love had spent that time with another woman he has come to love and want to spend time with.

No matter how strong the bond you have with someone, there is still a little twinge of 'maybe' that wriggles its way into your brain. Maybe he will fall in love with her and decide that she is indeed 'the one' - the one that most of us seem to think is out there for us.

I had said to him, "When you are there, do try and focus on her - be in the moment - don't be answering emails, and writing your blog and keeping in touch with me and other friends. Spend the time you have with her." Even so, after two or three days, I really missed hearing from him. I hadn't realised how much those daily phones from him served to 'settle me', and made me feel important. When I did relent and send him this message:

Dear One,

Even though I did suggest that you focus on *** during your visit, I'm finding that I'm really missing you. I'm wondering if you've fallen in love and aren't sure how to tell me. It's so unusual not to see your name lit up on skype.

Just missing you. But still hoping you're having a good time and that the sun shines on you every now and then at least.

Lots of love,

***

this is what he replied:

I'm missing you too and I haven't gone away. My relationship with *** is hard and very rewarding work, but doesn't change what I feel for you.

I am learning an enormous amount about who I am and I think that will help all of my relationships.

I do love you. Back up for air soon. Be patient with me, it's all good.

Looking forward to my next visit to Australia, and to catching up soon.

XXXXXX
-/- ***

For some reason, I interpreted the "back up for air soon" as him having fallen hopelessly in love with her and they had been in bed all the time, wildly celebrating their passion with non-stop sex. I could not be consoled by various people counselling me not to jump to conclusions and to just wait it out and see what had happened when he returned. Then, when he posted this on his blog site, I was even more convinced that this relationship he had found with another woman far outweighed what we might have experienced together.

I've been out of town the last few days, on the West Coast. It's a time of great change for me, a time of coming unfrozen, of astonishing learning and self-discovery and joy and sadness and realization. For the first time in decades I'm really living in the moment, raw, open, vulnerable, present. It's almost more than I can bear, filled with more emotion than I thought I was still capable of.

It's going to take me a long time to process it, and I don't know if I will ever be able to express it in words. Ideas are so simple to say in our strange human languages, and feelings are so hard. I think much of what I write for the next while will be poetry and music, because their languages are at least better suited to communicating, conveying emotion.

I've been waiting for this, looking for this, for a long time. Sitting here with a cat named Jez curled up on my coat beside me, in this small strange room. Crying a lot, listening to music that has come to guide me, to stand for me, to say for me the really important things I can't say. Yet so happy, to have found this again.

Bear with me, I'll be back. It's all good. I love you, dear readers. You have been my lifeline for nearly six years now. We are connected in ways that can never be broken. You are all a part of me. I give you a virtual hug, for the long and wonderful journey that still awaits us. Hope to keep seeing you, traveling beside me, sweet "too far ahead" friends.

What upset me the most was feeling that he had shared 'with the world' (through his blog), more of his feelings about what he had experienced with this woman, than he had with me. Plus, the incredible revelations he had had were so powerful, that I couldn't help feeling that I had failed him in some way, because I hadn't been able to lead him to these conclusions.

But then, almost immediately, I felt selfish and greedy. He and I have shared so much in the past year, surely I didn't begrudge this other woman her 'moment in the sun', her success in bringing out in our mutual loved one, some deep-seated fears and anxieties and help lead him out into the light?

I don't know if what I want from the man I love, is within him to give.

But I do know that I enjoy what we have. Even though I do agree that the concept of polyamoury is a good one - having loving relationships with a number of people - I am content with just the love and attention of one person. He, on the other hand, aspires to be loved and love a number.

Because I have a tendency to reveal my soul, I have spoken to a number of friends about my relationship with my 'Wonderful One', and the general consensus seems to be, "Get out! Walk away! You are not getting what you want from this relationship. It's all his way." Comments in that ilk.

I wouldn't describe myself as polyamorous ... yet. All I know is that I do sincerely feel a degree of gratitude to this stranger in my life for helping the man I love on this part of his journey (even though I also feel a tinge of regret that it wasn't me who did it). On one of my morning walks, I came across a beautiful Norfolk Island Pine and I immediately thought of her, so I took a photo and asked him to pass it on to her for me. I just wanted to give her a gift.

In March, I will have to go through this experience again when 'my' sweet man meets up with the other woman he loves. He has admired her for a long time and the development of their relationship is another little pin prick to my heart. Another source of, "Is she the one?"

How many women must I 'process' before there is one who is more appealing, more desirable, more available than I? In some ways, it's kind of like being a food taster - one day there will be poison in the cup. At least, that's my fear. This man's fear (I think) is being tied down to a relationship that is no longer stimulating for him. After all, he was a faithful husband for 27 years and look where that got him!

He tells me that he is even more convinced than ever that polyamoury is the right choice for him. I'm still ambivalent. After all, when we met, he presented it as an experience where the TWO OF US would establish loving relationships with other couples and if either one of us, wasn't sure about any of the partners, then the relationship wouldn't proceed. What has evolved, is an entirely different scenario altogether. HE is exploring other relationships on his own - relationships that have nothing to do with me. Somehow or another, what I signed up for, hasn't come to pass. He tells me now that what he originally spoke of was the theory. What he is pursuing now is his reality.

We lead such different lives, he and I. Mine is far more solitary. I speak to few people and rather enjoy my solitude. He, on the other hand, has a number-one-Google ranked blog; a very busy work life; an email friends list a mile long; and constant engagement with people on many different levels.

I don't know why, but for some reason I think of Dolly Parton and Tom Jones - both really high profile performers with 'quiet as a mouse' partners back home not seeking the limelight at all. While I wouldn't describe myself as 'quiet as a mouse', for some reason the comparison seems apt.

If there is one thing I would like to have from this man that I don't have at the moment, is acknowledgement from him that ours is a 'primary' relationship. The one that all his others fan out from. He has told me many times though, that he does not want this - he wants all his relationships to be on the same level, with none being more important than any other. Intellectually, I understand this. Emotionally, I still yearn for it. I need some acknowledgement from him that our relationship was the catalyst for him breaking away from his failed marriage and beginning this journey of taking his idealistic notion of love into the realm of reality.

He told me today in a phone conversation (and this is something he hasn't shared with me before), that he realised after a year of us being together, and the desire for a monogamous relationship hadn't presented itself to him, that he had realised polyamoury was indeed, the answer for him.

This pulled me up a little. This was something new. In his mind, if he hadn't wanted a monogamous relationship with me in the first year of us being together, he was never going to want to.

For 12 months he had been constantly telling me that he suspected I was thinking, "Oh, he'll grow out of this silly desire for polyamoury"; when all the time it was him waiting to see if a desire for monogamy would prevail.

I recognise that he needs to be intellectually and emotionally stimulated to feel alive - and I want to ensure that he has the freedom in our relationship to have that. I don't know if he will ever feel safe to give me what I feel I need.

He is amused when I talk about needs, because he says he doesn't have any needs. (Apart from food, water and air). But I do feel all us have needs or desires or wants - something that is lacking that we want to be filled.

All of this of course, doesn't have anything to do with lovely Esperance - the setting for this little emotional drama of mine.

The town continues to be a happy place for me to be. Work is tolerable and the dosh is great! My kumun drumming classes are more or less my only 'social life' apart from the time (far too much time) that I spend in Second Life which I have been enjoying immensely these past couple of weeks. I am re-invigorated and released from the pressures of having another community member around whom I usually clash with, and I feel much more relaxed and happy.

All it takes is a phone call from him and my usual feeling of contentment and bliss returns.

An existing, wonderful relationship in Second Life has blossomed into intimacy (cyber intimacy) and that is such an unexpected delight.

This expansion into the realm of the possible is just so liberating. I've loved the man I spoke about earlier in my blog, in our very first conversation and even though there have been some substantial tears in the meantime, it is still very much worth it, this journey - deciding whether I am indeed fated to be poly or solitary.

The answer is not yet clear to me.

Tags: Polyamourism, Monogamy, Relationships, Loving, Sexuality, Happiness

Sipping Wine With A Murderer

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 12:07:10 GMT

WHAT AN INTERESTING JOURNEY THIS IS. I've just come back to the caravan after having had drinks with a murderer. Who would have thought it?

I'd just called in to see a woman who'd offered me a place to park my caravan and she had a friend visiting. She invited me to join them for a glass of wine and as we sat chatting about this, that and the other thing, her friend noticed something in the newspaper in front of her and this led her to say something about not being able to go into that particular hotel in the advertisement as they had an intervention order against her. When I asked why, she replied, "Because I've got a criminal record and when I lost my temper with the manager there and yelled at him, he knew about my conviction and said I'd threatened him, so he got the order out on me."

Of course I asked what she'd been convicted of. She answered with, "Manslaughter" and I had visions of a car accident or something similar, but no, she'd murdered a bikie she'd been involved with. "Self defence?" I speculated. She gave me a funny little look. "Yes, yes, it was self defence" and of course, by her look, I knew it wasn't. Hooley dooley, I thought. I just can't imagine taking someone's life.

"I just took out the rubbish," she said matter of factly. "Even the police said that's what I'd done."

And even as she spoke, I was thinking, "Here I was thinking of telling everyone about the people I met on the beach yesterday, and now I've been sitting down with a murderer."

The funny thing is though, that she is the second murderer I've met since I've been in Esperance! The other one is a guy here at the caravan park. He showed me a dreadful scar on his arm a couple of weeks ago and said, "It still makes me angry to think of the arsehole who did this to me. I only wished I could dig the bastard up and kill him again!" I couldn't help laughing. I've never heard such an eloquent oath. (Apart from the one which goes: "If ya do that agin, I'll rip ya fuckin' head off and spit down ya neck!")

Okay, no more swearing ... my poor aunts and uncles who read this will be reeling in their chairs. (I'm only quoting other people Aunty Sherry). xxx

You might gather from the above that I'm keeping pretty low company, but that's not the case at all. Any caravan park which has a high number of permanents is bound to have people who are hiding out, running away, dropping out, living it tough. I keep to myself here and don't feel at all nervous or frightened. Even the man who threatened me, and who has the reputation in the park for being a "nutcase", is still seen as "okay, if you don't rile him up".

I'm heading away from this caravan park on Sunday anyway. I've found a beautiful spot to stay, if not quite for the whole of summer, then at least for the next several weeks or so. A lovely old couple in their 70's have offered me a spot on their small property near town. I will have my own toilet and shower (which I will share with anyone who comes to stay in their little granny flat) and best of all, where I can park my van looks right into a gorgeous little tropical rainforest. They aren't charging me any rent, which will make it far easier for me to try and recoup my $2,000 overspend on my current budget to date.

I started work today at one of the shops in town and have some regular work coming up for the next couple of months. I've also volunteered at the local library and joined a great little drumming circle which I'm really enjoying. So, murderers nothwithstanding, I'm starting to make some friends here and feel quite at home.

Yesterday, as I strolled along my favourite beach here I met a woman who was also walking her dog and we stopped for a chat. I detected a bit of an accent and when I asked if it was a South African one, she said, "No, East Africa. I come from an idyllic little place called Mombasa in Kenya." She explained that it was a wonderful life there, with servants to do everything for you and it wasn't until she was 37 and came to Australia that she'd ever made a bed or did anything remotely domestic for herself.

It was an absolutely gorgeous day. The sun was shining brightly and there were about 20 or 30 surfers out in the water. Kids playing. Another group of men playing volleyball. A typical summer image. A little further along the beach, another couple stopped to admire Marlo and we ended up talking. He is a psychologist from England. It's just fascinating who you might meet in your day here. Esperance is the kind of place where people come to and invariably stay. I know myself that after the Nullabor Plain, Esperance looked like The Promised Land - trees and green grass and absolutely EXQUISITE beach with crystal clear turquoise water.

Which reminds me, I put an advertisement in the local paper under "Wanted - house sitting or place to park caravan etc., and included also that I was looking for work, citing admin, graphic design, retail, "anything really" as work I could do. Several days later, my phone rang and "Private Number" came up on my screen. Since David's phone comes up with Private Number and it was around the time he usually rings, I answered with a very enthusiastic, "Hello darling!" and this voice asked, "Aaah, I'm ringin' about your ad ... I just wanted to know, do you do 'Personal Services'?" I really wasn't sure if it was David having a joke with me, or not, so I asked (very warily), "Mmmmm..... what kind of personal services did you have in mind?" The man replied, "You know, PERSONAL services." lol It was all I could not to burst out laughing. Making up my budget isn't THAT important to me. "No, I'm sorry, I'm not offering the kind of services you are after," I told him.

He was quite polite and I even wondered if it was the local vice squad checking up on new 'personal service' ads. The 'girls' from Kalgoorlie are frequent visitors here it seems.

My drumming circle is a real delight. The ladies there have all made me feel so welcome and even though I started two lessons behind everyone else, they have remained kind and patient with me. I just cannot get the hang of putting two pieces of music together. I can get one right, but as soon as I have to incorporate the next rhythm, I'm lost! Never mind ... the theory is that anyone can just keep repeating one of the rhythms and it will all come out alright in the end. But it sounds absolutely fantastic when it all comes together. I'd be quite happy, standing in a corner dancing to it.

I was just blown away after the first lesson (drums supplied), when one of the other ladies presented me with one of her drums, telling me, "Here, take this one home and you can practise on it." I didn't know the woman, and she didn't know me, but I was so chuffed that she trusted me enough with her precious (and expensive) African tribal drum. One of the teachers is going up to Perth in the next week or so and has offered to buy drums for those who want them - and I'm going to lash out and buy one. Apart from a zither I once owned, it will be my first musical instrument.

So ... life continues along pleasantly and happily. I got myself into a bit of a lather about a situation in Second Life, but after talking to a couple of friends in there who gave me some sound advice, I've relaxed about it all. The problem was with someone who I felt was dominating me and I reacted badly. As I told them, I've had someone trying to dominate me my whole life and I will not allow anyone else to try it. The thing is, this woman and I are very similiar in a lot of ways, but totally opposite in others. It's a good illustration - to see your 'other self'.

I was listening to someone on the radio today and they said, "You never make any progress in life unless you take yourself out of your comfort zone" and I feel that life for me now, is out of my comfort zone in some ways .... so it feels like I am moving forward. I continue to feel secure and loved in regard to my relationship with David and I'm basically happy with my life. I'm intending to follow a Raw Food Diet - perhaps not totally, but principally - and I'm excited about the changes that will bring.

Life is good.

Photos: This seal came in so close to the shore, I thought he/she would come right out of the water. The other photos are examples of some of the architecture here in Esperance.

Tags: Murder, Second Life, beaches, Mombasa, psychologist, caravan, farmyard junk, drumming circle, architecture

Feeling Safe ... or not

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 00:04:07 GMT

THE PAST WEEK has been a very intensive time of looking at my sense of security, my value as a person and love in my life. I pondered on whether I should share it with you all here because it is so intensely personal and also because it's such a long way from being "graceful, gracious and serene". But so often these days, I find myself thinking, "For better or worse, these are my thoughts and feelings" and also, "You live and learn."

Maybe my journey will shine a light on yours.

When I think of love, it is David who fills my heart most. Maybe because for me, it's a romantic love, although there are many others I love and who love me. A few days ago, it was the one year anniversary of us meeting in Second Life (we met in real life back in April).

Love however, doesn't necessarily bring a sense of being safe or secure - especially romantic love which rises and falls with the degree of passion and interest that is evoked.

From our very first conversation, I've known that David is an advocate of polyamoury (having loving relationships with more than one person) and while I think it is a concept that sounds ideal - having an ever-expanding circle of loving relationships - I expect that the actual practice of it CAN be fraught with all kinds of dangers. The very real likelihood that there will always be someone, somewhere who fills the heart of your loved one more intensely than you do, leaving you feeling a sense of having 'lost' some of the love you once had. At least, that's my understanding of it now, from where I am in my journey of life.

I know though that if polyamoury can work (for me), it's with David that I have the best chance. Still ... it has rocked my sense of security to know that out of the hundreds of contacts/friends/gravitiational community members with whom he's constantly in touch with, there are two specific women he wants to pursue deeper emotional connections with.

That's okay. Life is a journey that's sometimes exciting, sometimes heartbreaking and sometimes fun. This just seems to be a challenging section of the road.

So, with my ears pinned back from that revelation, I was chatting yesterday with one of the other residents here at the caravan park where I've been camped for the past several weeks, when out of nowhere, another man came rushing up at me, brandishing a golf club, screaming, "Tie your fuckin' dog up! It's been up at my van havin' a go at my kid and if it comes near me again, I'll kill the fuckin' cunt!"

I was absolutely dumbfounded. Shocked. First at the vehemence and ugliness of his words and secondly, because I KNOW Marlo is not the kind of dog who would "have a go" - especially at a child! He said Marlo had come to his door and SNARLED at his son inside and that is just plain ludicrous.

When I turned, I saw that Marlo was inside my car and I said, "It couldn't have been my dog, she's in the car". He shouted, "That's because I hit her with this (waving the golf club) and she took off."

I just couldn't believe that something like this could be happening. I ran to the car to see if she'd been injured, but she seemed unfazed (as Marlo always does). So many thoughts ran through my head. "How could I protect Marlo and myself from this man?" "Should I phone the police?" "Where would I go to?" "Where would I be safe?"

Suddenly, the whole concept of safety and security came rushing in and overwhelmed me. I burst into tears. I felt so alone and vulnerable.

I coaxed Marlo out of the car to see if she could walk and led her into the caravan - our haven. Not having anywhere else to turn, I reached out to my computer. A member of our intentional community in Second Life was online, so I pinged her on Skype. She comforted me and soothed my tears and we soon moved on from the 'drama' and began chatting about our community.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about a couple of things," she began. And for the next hour she explained to me all the things I'd been doing wrong there - the posts I'd been making to our forum and the fears she had that I was interfering in things and not following proper procedures and perhaps inhibiting the progress of the group.

No matter how true or accurate her perceptions were, it hurt to hear that I'd been doing the wrong thing by the community that David and I had set up six months ago. I began to feel that I was actually a liability to the group's progress and in my current state of vulnerability, felt that perhaps it would be better if I didn't participate.

Another haven of safety gone.

This morning though, a ray of hope from an unexpected source - a man I don't even really know all that well - a member of our community, but one who isn't around all that much. He told me:

"If YOU don't feel safe - where can you feel safe? If YOU feel safe, the location doesn't matter."

So, out of panic and fear, a ray of hope. Words to guide and comfort.

It's important to me that the people who do love me and care for my happiness, don't judge David for what he needs for his happiness. I don't. I want him to be happy and in fact, part of my happiness comes from his happiness. I want him to be fulfilled and feel loved and experience everything in life that he wants to experience.

I want the same for myself.

In fact, the greatest strength of all comes from facing great challenges and meeting them. I suspect that our greatest fear comes from not believing we can.

David and I have processed a lot of our thoughts and feelings and I'm happy that our connection with one another still feels strong. I have an advertisement in the newspaper today looking for somewhere else to live where Marlo will be safe and we don't have to contend with unravelling men with golf clubs and no doubt things will settle down in our online community now that I am more conscious of my actions.

And so ... this onslaught on my sense of security and my fears of losing love ... might rattle me from time to time or appear to be consuming me ... but for now, I feel stronger for those words:

"If YOU don't feel safe - where can you feel safe? If YOU feel safe - the location doesn't matter." (Thank you Martin).

I feel stronger already.

(Photo above: My darling Oskar some years ago when he used to come to my house and set up a stall out the front to sell business cards. He and Marlo would sit out there for hours.)

Tags: Security, Value, Love, Wise Words, Second Life, intentional community, attack

Crossing The Nullabor Plain

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 08:58:37 GMT

MY 'OLD' LIFE has well and truly slipped behind me now. I have lost track of time and place. All I know is that the dreaded Nullabor Plain is behind me and I'm enjoying feeling grass under my feet again at Esperance in Western Australia.

How long has it been since I last wrote to you all? I would say Streaky Bay. After that I spent about ten days at a great little surfer's camp at Cactus, near Penong. As I drove the 21 kms off the highway, down the dirt road to Cactus, I wondered whether a surfer I'd known many, many years ago when I was a hippy living on the beach at Noosa Heads in Queensland would be there. I just love it when there is a serendipitious connection and this time there was. Yes, Bushy did use to live at Cactus and in fact, had managed it for a time for the owner, Ron. But some months ago, Bushy had bought a boat and shipped out to the Solomon Islands.

I felt safe at Cactus, even though I felt quite alone there. Every night there were at least 30 or 40 people in the camp - some permanents and some passing through. Tara from Toolangi and her lovely little four year son, Jasper. Chris, (who I found out was the nephew of a very good friend of mine, Lyn Cawcutt) travelling through to Perth. Emmanuele from Quebec. The lovely couple who I met one night down at Port Le Hunt. The very good-looking Martin, a veteran surfer who invited me back to his van for a cup of milo and a joint. And of course, the owner of Cactus, Ron, who toured the camping area morning and night - cleaning the toilets and collecting rent. Even though people were friendly enough, they were all just passing through or satisfactorily involved with their own group of friends and didn't feel a need to include anyone else.

Never mind. I made friends with a rather large group of stumpy-tailed (or shingle-backed) lizards that would appear from underneath the caravan each morning. Marlo was so relaxed around them, that she would momentarily lift her head and then sag back into sleeping postion. There were also a couple of appreciative seagulls who would visit from time to time, and I would always find a piece of fruit or bread to throw out to them.

While Ron has owned Cactus (or Point Sinclair as it is more properly known) for around 30 years, he says he receives phone calls, emails and letters all the time from people all over the world either wanting to buy the property or publicise it on television shows, newspaper stories, magazines etc. He refuses them all. "They'd only bugger it up," he said to me. And I know he's right. After all, who would pay around a million dollars for a property and then take on the job of going out each morning to clean up other people's toilet-leavings? He has built these series toilets himself, from stone, which are really just four foot high cubicles without a roof. When you're seated, you're out of sight, but when you stand out, everyone can see your head poking above the parapet. The whole arrangement consists of an old-fashioned thunderbox metal can which is lined with a black rubbish bin liner and he empties these each day. Each person who goes to the toilet just throws in a cupful of lime to keep the toilets sweet-smelling and fly free. And it works! Even though they're out in the bush and open to the elements, the toilets were always clean and not smelly.

When I left Cactus, I fuelled up at Penong, bought some groceries etc., and noticed a hitch hiker by the side of the road. An hour later he was still there, when I was ready to leave town and while it would never be my usual habit to do so, I decided to check him out as I drove past before I made a decision whether or not to pick him up. I decided he looked okay and pulled over. He ran to the car and crammed himself into the front seat, squeezing in beside the big container of water I had on the front floor. We'd only got ten kilometres down the road when I heard a strange sound. "What was that?!" I gasped. Then, when I looked into the rear vision mirror, the van had lurched over dangerously to the left. I braked as quickly as I could without fishtailing the van and when I got out, I was absolutely shocked to see I'd had a blow out on the tyre. The rubber was gashed and filleted like a tinsel Christmas decoration.

I really was shocked. "How could this have happened?" I asked Corey, the hitch hiker. Of course he couldn't tell me, but he set to - asking if I had a jack, tyre lever etc. I just kept thinking to myself, "I am SOOOOO glad I picked this guy up!" While I know I could have changed the tyre, it would have taken me hours and I know I would have been crying and distressed. Corey had no sooner got the new tyre on (I had two spare caravan tyres on the back of the van) and we'd realised that the spare was quite low on tyre pressure than a couple pulled up in 'a big rig' with a huge four wheel drive and huge van asking if we needed help. This guy was so organised he even had a compressor on board, so he was able to pump up the newly-fitted spare tyre. I was just so grateful I felt like kissing everyone!

When you start travelling, people tell you that those who travel the road DO look out for one another. Not everyone is in a position to set themselves up with the latest and greatest in equipment, machinery, technology etc. But those who do have it, are more than willing to share it with you. I'm so eternally grateful for that.

Since I started on this journey, I've regarded myself, Marlo, my car and the caravan as a team - a unit - we go through it all together. With the addition of Corey, I felt much safer crossing the Nullabor. But I'd had enough of a fright that I decided I wasn't going to linger - I wanted to across that relentless 'desert' as quickly as we could manage it. I was pleased to have Corey along and he, in turn, was happy to have a lift 'to the other side'. (He was on his way back to Geraldton). We spent two days and two nights together. Despite my offer to clear out the back of the station wagon so he could sleep there, he preferred sleeping in the bush, so each night after I'd given him dinner, he would wander off into the dark to find a safe sleeping spot. And each morning, when I let Marlo out, she would wake him up with a sloppy lick.

My heart leapt with joy, ten kilometres from Norseman when I heard that familiar little 'ting-ting' which signalled that my mobile phone had FINALLY come into reception. "Hallelujah! Civilisation at last!" I SMS'd to family and friends. As we pulled up in front of the tourist info office, both Corey and I were busy texting and listening to phone messages. We bade each other farewell then as he was going north to Kalgoorlie and I was headed down south to Esperance. I'd very much enjoyed his company - it was such a delight to have someone to talk to for those two days and nights and it certainly made the Nullabor a less arduous stretch.

I had a bit of a laugh because it occurred to me that I'd gone from places where I was constantly saying, "Wow!" at the landscape, to an area where I gave a huge "Whew!" that I was through it!

One thing that I couldn't get over was the number of dead kangaroos along the Nullabor - hundreds and hundreds of them! The memory card on my digital camera got full and I missed the shot that really tickled my fancy - a warning to look out for Camels, Emus and Kangaroos.

So ... to civilisation ... Norseman. As I walked through the town with Marlo, I kept pondering what it was about the town that made it look like a slum. Walls had been kicked in, fences knocked down, rocks through windows (in buildings that had windows! - most had metal shutters) and it hit me - no love! Norseman is a town being kicked to death.

It's always been a paradox to me that aborigines are said to have such a strong connection to the earth and yet everywhere I've been where aborigines have lived in any great numbers, the town looks like a shit hole. Wrecked cars in the front yard; engine parts in the drive; toys littered throughout the yard; windows, doors and walls smashed in; chairs thrown into the street etc. I know they don't put the same importance on possessions that we 'white men' do but it surprises me that they have no sense of the aesthetic - i.e. you think they would prefer their environment to look natural (not littered with crap).

Many years ago I stayed several days at Seisia (right up the top of Cape York, just past Bamaga) and there was rubbish everywhere - cigarette packs, broken bottles, empty potato chip packs, plastic shopping bags - and I said to one of the local aboriginal girls, "I've always thought that aborigines respected the land, so I can't understand why they just throw their rubbish out of the car" and she said, "Oh, you've just caught us out of season and we're a bit lazy about picking up our rubbish." My reply was, "But why throw it out in the first place?"

Maybe one day I'll discover why they have such different attitudes.

Despite all the moaning and groaning I feel I do, I AM enjoying this journey. It's hard work and sometimes brings me to tears, but I hope I'm becoming a better person.

I'm used to being on my own, but sometimes the loneliness does get very hard to bear. I've never been too shy to go up to strangers and start a conversation and I do this all the time I'm on the road. You can't imagine the excitement I feel when I hear another van pull into wherever I'm camped. "Oh goodie, someone else is here!" It doesn't matter how far away they camp, or who they are, it's always reassuring that someone else is around.

It's a harsh country Australia. It tests you in so many different ways. One lady I met from Penong said, "You have to enjoy your own company if you live in a place like Penong. If there's trouble, people do band together, but for the most part, you're on your own." On top of the psychological challenges that Australia's huge landscape throws at you, I'm constantly on the alert for snakes, scorpions, ticks etc. I have to buy Marlo a muzzle because a lot of areas have poisonous baits laid for rabbits and foxes and of course, in warmer areas, I have to protect her against heartworm etc. But still, Australia has incredible beauty. A fair exchange I suppose.

And for anyone thinking about doing the trip, DO spend a bit of time at Eucla and exploring. I'd marked the map with all kinds of interesting snippets I'd picked up - like desalinated water was in use at Eucla; the largest meteorite at Mundrabilla (which no one seemed to know about); the Roe Plains at Madura Pass where horses were bred for the British Army in India; the cave systems at Cocklebiddy; the blowhole at Caiguna; the piece of skylab which fell at Belladonia in 1979; but I was in such a mad rush to get it done, that I didn't stay there. Next time! And I think there might be a next time - some journeys warrant it. Your first time around is just reconnaissance.

1. Every time I see this sign I laugh - watch out for camels, wombats and emus! lol How many places in the world would you see that? My favourite though was the camels, emus and kangaroos.

2. My lifesaver Corey changing the blown out tyre just out of Penong.

3. The incredible cliffs along the Nullabor Plain (where a lot of viewing spots have been closed off because the cliffs keep crumbling into the Southern Ocean. Absolutely incredible sight.

4. Ron who established the Cactus surfer's camp which is 21kms from Penong around 30 years ago.

5. Marlo, as laid back as usual, watching a shingle-backed (or stumpy-tailed) lizard, cruise on by at Cactus.

Tags: Nullabor, hitch hiker, Cactus, blowout, camels, Norseman, lonely, Eucla, Marlo, lizards

Camp Life

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 05:47:15 GMT

ONE OF THE MOST AMUSING ASPECTS OF LIFE ON THE ROAD is witnessing everyone's little domestic rituals as they set up camp for the night.

Campers have arrived early today and I've just been listening as a husband and wife back their caravan into position and discuss which way to face, which electrical outlet to use, where to put the waste hose, who picked the spot, what they want to see etc. At another camp, husband and wife Dion and Treena are going through a well-oiled routine of getting the washing hung up and the television satellite dish operating. (Guess who was doing what).

Back at Lipson Cove there was one guy I felt particularly sorry for. He was on a pension (for being insane he said), but when he talked about it later, it seems he suffers from depression. He and his dog live what seems to me to be a particularly squalid life. And even as I describe it as 'squalid', that seems rather uncharitable - perhaps a better description would be 'desperate' or 'grim'.

He travels in a ute with a canvas canopy so that each time he makes camp, he has to unload all his possessions from out of the back of the car and stow them away under the car or beside it - which makes for very uncomfortable living conditions if it's windy or raining and he has to go out to get something from under the vehicle. And when he settles in for the night, there is nowhere to put his table or other things if it does rain.

His dog was suffering the ill effects of a lung virus and each time they passed by my camp, I worried that his dog would come into my camp and perhaps Marlo might just pick up the same virus. The dog had blood oozing from one nostril and always had mucus drizzling from the other as well as a gunky eye. The poor animal also suffered fits from time to time. A totally miserable existence. Once, he drank from Marlo's water bowl, and I surrepticiously knocked it over with my foot so that Marlo wouldn't be able to drink from it, until I'd washed it and put fresh water back in.

This guy is probably one of the most pitiable people I've come across. Every time I saw him I just thought, "Oooh, I feel so sorry for him." He could fish and hunt and provide for himself that way, but more often than not he'd just cut off a chunk of cheese for a meal. Television psychologist, Dr. Phil says to some of his guests, "You have to require more of yourself" - and that's what I think whenever I think of this guy. He lived life on the edge of sustainability - he was just making it and that's all. His life was just so meagre.

But then I'd meet a couple like Lainey and Bill and they were polar opposites - living a life of near perfection. They certainly achieved a lot! To the extent that they'd gutted and rebuilt an old bus they travelled around in even though that entailed removing hundreds of metal screws from the roof. It was a delight to be in their company and lounging in the decor they'd created. Good food. Wine. Stimulating conversation. Enquiring minds. Harmony. Great company, both of them. As can happen on the road, we made an immediate connection when we introduced ourselves and they included me in their little jaunts around Langhorn Creek, Strathalbyn, Goolwa etc. Lainey and Bill, like my friends Lisa and Bill, are inspirational because they illustrate so well what you can achieve when you set your mind to something. My friend Chris is the same - she just loves designing and building (or renovating) houses. And she does it to perfection.

One of the little excitements I have on the road is when I set up camp for the night. If I'm the first one there, I wonder if anyone else will pull in and the anticipation of company or no is one of my afternoon highlights. When Bill and Lainey pulled into the campsite at Langhorn, I thought, "Wow, what an outfit!" Their bus was a lovely donkey-brown and they were towing a lovely little Subaru four-wheel drive. Off came the car and up went the clothesline! I'm not shy in approaching people if I feel like company and I'd already decided that as soon as they'd had time to settle in, I would go over and introduce myself, but I got caught up with some little domestic duties of my own and before I knew it, Lainey was there beside me, introducing herself. As soon as she found out I was on my own, she invited me over for a drink with them.

It isn't things that make you feel secure, (although a secure lock does kinda make one feel secure), it's warmth and companionship, a knowing and an understanding of one another. That's also what I experienced with Annette and Gavin at Tumby Bay. It was the weekend and most of the camping spots at Lipson Cove had gone, so when I saw Gavin driving around trying to decide on which part of the road to set up on, I invited him to share my little alcove. He and his son Braydon were setting up in anticipation of Annette joining them and when I heard Braydon say, "Here comes mum!" and his follow up, "Mum, mum, we're over here! Wait there and I'll show you the way in", I was thoroughly charmed by what a lovely little, thoughtful boy he was.

The next day we'd decided to wade over to the little island off our cove when we were called away to a car accident up the road and after that had all settled down, Annette and Gavin very generously invited me to come and stay at their place when I moved on from Lipson. Over a shared meal, they told me all about their own travels, bringing out a couple of photo albums and maps to illustrate where the good camps were.

One thing you notice in South Australia is how goddamned friendly people are! Especially on the road. They WAVE at everybody! I'm not kidding! Maybe it's because there aren't many people here in South Australia, but they are all still in the habit of waving whenever they pass another car. When was the last time that happened to you? It's taken me about three weeks to get into the habit myself because up until then, I'd be driving along, deep in thought, "Where will I go tomorrow?" "What will I have for dinner tonight?" and a car would whizz by and before I'd even registered, there would be THAT wave! And I would feel so extremely unfriendly for not waving back. Well .... I would wave back, but by that time they were 50 metres down the road. Each time it happened, I resolved that next time I would be ready, but sure as eggs is eggs, I'd get lost in thought again and another car would go by with that friendly little wave from the driver. That wave just says so much: "G'day mate! Here we are. Both on the road. Have a nice day."

I still think it's hilarious. It's as though they've only had the motor car in South Australia for a little while and it's still a novelty to pass another car.

Talking about friendly - a couple I met at the Waterloo Bay Caravan Park at Elliston, Treena and Dion, presented me with a pocket full of quandongs - rich red edible fruits which belong to the sandalwood family. Treena said all I need do is boil them up (after removing the pip) with some sugar and canned apple to make a deliciously unusual pie. She also told me how to get periwinkles out of their shell and to cook them in sea water.

Last night I had a complete stranger knock on the side of my van to say, "Nice and cold isn't it?" And when I went to the door, he continued, "I think it's a bit too cold to drink outside don't you?" Then he turned to see who he was talking to when I said, "I don't know who you are" and he realised he was at the wrong caravan! lol I was all ready to tuck up into bed and watch a DVD of "Hotel Rwanda", but it would have been nice to have gone and met some new people. And that's the kind of thing that does happen on the road. Someone lights a campfire and waves a welcoming arm to come on over and join them.

Another little camp ritual I like is when everyone is preparing their evening meal. All those delicious smells wafting on the sea breeze. When I bought the caravan, I was told, "Don't cook inside all the time or the van will smell and you won't be able to get rid of it." But I reckon it kind of defeats the purpose of having a roof over your head if you HAVE to cook outside all the time. So I cook inside and resale price be damned. But I have made a concession (only cos the night I used two burners, I set off the fire alarm) because I figure in summer it will be just too hot to cook inside anyway, so I bought one of those little propane gas cookers which will fit on a card table.

Not wanting to muss up your caravan reminds me of another couple I met at Melrose. I can't remember their names, but they loved caravanning so much they did it six months of the year and even when they made it back home to Adelaide, they booked into their local caravan park for two weeks just to get back into the swing of suburban life again. This couple were so caravan-proud that they washed it practically every second day (that and their four wheel drive)!

They'd told me that their caravan was fitted out with a toilet and shower, so I was a little mystified why I kept seeing them going over to the toilet block all the time - both for toilet stops and showers. When he said something one day about going over to the amenities, I asked, "Didn't you say you had a toilet in your caravan?" "Oh yes," he replied, "but we don't poo in it." lol I have a father like that. They have a really large, comfortable lounge room and it's never been used - dad says he doesn't want to wear it out! Even when I got married at home (over 35 years ago), it wasn't used - everyone just crammed into the family room instead. In my memory it's only been used twice - when my sister came back from overseas and we had a get together so she could tell the family of the couple she travelled with how the trip had gone and when the funeral director came to discuss mum's funeral arrangements.

Washing cars and caravans is another 'little' ritual I've observed on the road. People lovingly washing their caravan every couple of days AND their four wheel drive! I really can't see the point myself. I mean, we're travelling around Australia - what's the big deal about having gleaming vehicles? I keep my van neat and tidy, floor swept and benches wiped down and my station wagon, while dust-covered, is organised and orderly inside. I make sure my headlights and tailights are visible and no doubt, when I get to a big town and have $10 to spare I will take the car in for a wash ... one day ... but I'm far more interested in saving water.

Showering is my one indulgence (it is! chocolate and the internet don't count), but everywhere I go, there are signs saying, FIVE MINUTE SHOWER, so I have rationalised that if I shower every second day, I'm entitled to a ten minute shower. Still, I'm wracked with guilt. I always imagine anyone who comes in, giving me a dirty look and scowling at how long I'm in there, trah-lah-lah'ing my way through my long shower. My lovely friend Lisa is a three minute showerer. She steps under the shower and turns on the water, just to wet herself down. Then she turns off the water and lathers herself up. Once she's all soapy, she turns the water back on for a rinse off and she's done. What's the fun in that? No luxuriating! I'd rather go without than not have the luxuriating.

Actually, I'm a hopeless environmentalist! I also love campfires! What is to become of me?

This life is a constant toss up between what I want to do, and what I think it is responsible to do. Certainly my use of water is vastly reduced from when I was in a house. In fact, my use of all resources is very much diminished.

I was thinking the other day, that you could easily make a difference in the use of resources if you just shut all the big supermarkets and made people grow their own fruit and vegetables and had neighbourhoods maintain their own 'house cows'; and for everyone to have to tote their own water from a community well. Nothing reduces your use of something like having to tote it yourself! If we all had to generate the electricity we used - through solar power or pedal power or whatever, can you imagine how much less we'd all use?

I'm presently at a really isolated camp near Streaky Bay, Speed's Point. It's another of those absolutely beautiful, wild roaring surf places which make up the Nullabor Plain coastline. I arrived Monday and had a rare night on my own, and no one came on Tuesday or Wednesday either. It's close to a full moon, so it's been lovely here in the moonlight. The road into here is pretty rough and at one stage I thought I was going to get bogged on the sandy track into the camp, so it may be that I'll be here all week on my own. There are about 20 or so little camping spots and when I went for an explore, and it looks like it's been awhile since any of the fires have been used. I can see one house a couple of kilometres in the distance, so it's good to know there is somebody in the vicinity anyway.

Getting back to toting - yesterday I found a huge wooden post waaaaaaay up the other end of the beach, but it was water-logged so I dragged it higher up the beach and left it leaning on a rock to dry out. I went back early this morning, before it got too hot, determined that I would get it back to my camp for my fire. It probably took me an hour or so to lug, roll, carry, drag it the kilometre or so I had to get back UP the hill to my camp. The only way I could manage it was to set myself a goal - that rock there; that bit of kelp; where Marlo is; where the sun is throwing the shadow etc. FINALLY, I got it back to camp and as soon as I got to the top of the hill, the Rocky theme started to play in my head! lol

On the way back, I was amusing myself with all these inspirational sayings, and it occurred to me that while I was thinking of that poor guy back at Lipson Cove and how HE should require more of himself, it occurred to me that perhaps that that's not bad advice for ME. To require more of myself. I've been incredibly lazy for most of my life I think. Which is not to say that I'm not determined, when I want to do something! Yesterday (and the day before), I procrastinated all day about sewing up a couple of seams which had come adrift on my skirt. It's amazing how many other things you can find to do when you're faced with something you don't want to do.

I had hoped to do a lot of writing on this journey and no doubt I will. I've also brought along my paints and brushes, but have yet to open a lid. It seems to me that my time is spent in contemplation - Who am I? What am I doing? What's wrong with me? What am I achieving? etc. I am constantly faced with my own inadequacies. Even though most people, when they learn that I'm doing this trip on my own, say, "Oh, you're brave!" I don't feel brave. I'm just doing what I've always wanted to do - go around the coast of Australia. This journey has the added advantage of it being an opportunity of finding where I'm going to live next, and there is a great sense of anticipation about that. I wonder where it will be. I have absolutely no preconceived ideas - apart from the fact that it will be someone on the coast and it won't be a big city.

The intentional community that David and I 'fostered' in Second Life is really developing quite rapidly now, at least in the sense of them finding a sense of community together. I do wonder whether our 'cyber' community will become a 'real' community. Considering that members come from Australia, Canada, the U.S., England, Sweden, India etc., it may not be possible. Still, the other day, as I drove along, wondering where my camp would be that night, the thought did cross my mind that I may end up being the 'advance scout' for a REAL community here in Australia.

Here are some photos of Speed's Point - one of a moody, storm-threatening morning and the other, brighter one, the view I had out my caravan door.

Tags: Camping rituals, reflections, cooking

Wow!! What A Way To Start The Day!

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 03:24:53 GMT

WOW!! What a way to start the day!

I've just come back from what would have to be one of the most magnificent coastline views in the world - thunderous, great white waves crashing into tremendously high, crumbling cliffs along the Nullabor Plain of Australia (on the Great Australian Bight, down the bottom). This is where I've been taking Marlo for our morning walks this week. When I was chatting to David the other day online, we were looking at some photos together and he pointed out that I kept on saying, "Wow!" "Wow!" "Wow!" lol

This is just such a place of incredible contrasts - arid landscapes, with the softest of little wildflowers growing out of the rock. Even when I first arrived here, intending only to stay for one night, I was greeted by doves at the caravan park check in office and of course, with such a welcome, I had to stay a week. I reversed the caravan (yes!) into a spot right next to the pathway to the beach, so Marlo and I have been getting plenty of exercise on our morning and evening walks.

Here is the link for where I'll be placing the bulk of my photos for the trip (but I won't have this done for a little while yet): http://picasaweb.google.com/CherylTheScribe/AroundAustraliaOn200AWeek?pli=1#

Okay, go and get your atlas (or GoogleEarth) - you're going to want to check out some of these places:

The Nullabor Plain is the world's biggest, flattest piece of limestone - covering an area of around 200,000 square kilometres and measuring up to 300 metres thick. It runs from Cape Pasely in the west, to Cape Carnot (near Port Lincoln) in the east - a distance of 1,160 kilometres. While most people think Nullabor is an aboriginal world, it really comes from the latin 'nullus arbor' (treeless plain). The aborigines called the area 'Ooondiri' which means 'the waterless' with temperatures that can get up as high as 40 degrees Celsius in the summer. Man, that's hot! And no wonder - no trees and no water! The Nullabor is one of the most unique tracts of unspoilt wilderness on the planet. It is touted as one of the world's great road journeys.

Elliston, where I am now, is a quaint little town, with a garage, general store, post office, bakery, hotel, auto electrician and rural supplies place. Oh, and it has a hospital and tourist information office as well. Actually, it's one of those places that you keep discovering little things in - a crayfish shop (from November to May), an opportunity / thrift shop (in the tourist info office), an abalone company (which, by the way, has a poster in its window advertising a $60,000 reward for the person who finds a missing piece of scientific equipment, lost at sea).

The town also has a number of wonderful murals on various buildings - the public toilets, the tourist info office, an old store. There is also an ongoing exhibition of sculptures which have been placed at various sites along the popular tourist drive which runs along the coastline here. Another thing you notice about the town are various monuments to lost souls - a fisherman, a surfer and a nun - all very touching. The one for the fisherman has the obligatory bottle of beer stuck in it with a sign saying, "Just gone fishin'." The surfer's friends and family have erected a lovely mosaic picnic table with some beautiful lines about being a seeker (coincidentally I was there the day after the young man's birthday and someone had obviously lit a candle there for him). The monument to the nun (apparently washed off the rocks to her death) was erected back in the 1920's from memory, from public subscription.

Not far from Elliston is a place called Talia Caves and they are just heart-stoppingly awesome. I'd be warned before I went there, "Keep an eye on the ocean behind you, and be careful in the caves." Anyone who has felt the power of a storm or an incoming tidal rush will know how important this advice is. One big wave and it's all over for you! These photos just don't justice to the magnificence of these places. You need a wide angle lens to capture the majestic power of the landscape. At any moment you feel that you will be consumed - either by the cliff collapsing on top of you, or you falling into the ocean and being consumed. No wonder I feel so vulnerable! lol

Up the road is a little Honesty Bakery on the side of the road at Colton which had run out of bread when I visited there, but when I leave, I'll be picking up some freshly-baked bread on my way.

Yesterday I took a bit of a drive inland to Lock, Kyancutta, Wudinna and back to Port Kenny on the coast. This only served to convince me that yes, I wanted to live on the coast! It's all pretty dry and unappealing in there. When I arrived at Lock, I had to get a photo of their welcome sign. Three wheat silos. I thought, "If that's the highlight of the town, god help it!" Whenever I go through a place that has, to my eyes anyway, not many redeeming qualities or attractions, I wonder about the people who live and die there. What attracts them? What holds them there? I just could not live in a place that did not have green trees, shade and water. And I'm not talking about the odd tree here and there, I'm talking substantial oases of ease on the eye.

Amazingly though, I'd come through a place called Warramboo which is where Don and Judy, a lovely couple I'd met at Lipson Cove last week lived. I hadn't given it much thought as I was focused on getting to Wudinna (and hadn't remembered the name of their town anyway unfortunately), but whaddya know! I stopped off at Kyancutta to get some petrol and who should be there, but Don and Judy!!! They were on their way to Adelaide and were waiting for the bus. We chatted for awhile and I filled them in on what they'd missed after they left Lipson Cove - the influx of young party revellers, the car accident, and two brown snakes!

Marlo and I continued our journey to Port Kenny where I met a delightful woman and her three grandchildren on the little jetty there. The little girl told me about a vivid dream she'd had about going over a cliff in the car with her mummy and having to rescue her little sister etc. As she told her story, I put my hand up to feel the beautiful little red heart pendant David had given me for my birthday in New Zealand, back in April and horror of horrors, it was gone! I rushed back to the car, but it wasn't there and then with a dash of hope, I remembered taking my top off way back in Kyancutta - around a hundred kilometres back. Life presented a couple more difficulties in that my mobile phone hasn't worked down here on the Eyre Peninsula for around three weeks now (which pisses me off no end since I'm paying $50 a month for the 'convenience' of having it!)***, so I went to the only public telephone box and got myself all settled with plenty of change etc., and then realised it was a card only phone!!! And of course the post office it was out the front of, was closed and empty. Over to the local pub, where the lovely publican lent me his phone and I rang the general store at Kyancutta. The lady very kindly went out to look where I'd changed and was I ever so pleased to hear her ask, "Does it have a red cord?" "Yes!!!! Yes!!!!! Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!"

To cut a long story short, instead of me having to drive back a hundred kilometres to get the pendant and then another hundred back to Port Kenny and another sixty something to Elliston - 260 kms - I posted her a self-addressed envelope so the pendant can catch up with me later.

*** Does anyone know of a good telephone company I can get a good deal with for internet coverage while I'm on the road? I have wireless on my beautiful Mac laptop and it's costing me a fortune going with internet at tourist info offices etc. David and I chat via Skpe so I'm going to look into what they have, but I'd be very grateful to hear of other options.

Everywhere I look, there are couples travelling together, helping one another pack and unpack vans, going for walks, making plans, sharing their adventure. I just want to feel close - especially to David - and even though he phones me every day (when we can have contact), I feel that I am just RELATING THINGS THAT HAPPEN, rather than really sharing them with him.

I don't know how all this is going to pan out. I know that I will get to wherever my destination is - emotionally and physically - this is just a lonely spot on the journey, that's all.

AN INCREDIBLE THING JUST HAPPENED!

I'm at the local tourist information office / library doing this blog and a couple of ladies just came in looking for some information for their family history on John Hamp. Apparently their great-great-great grandfather was involved in "The Elliston Massacre" where a whole tribe of aborigines was driven off one of the cliffs near here and was wiped out.

Apparently even today aborigines do not stay here in Elliston - all who visit tell of an uncanny feeling they get here and all quickly move on.

The lady who is researching the story, says that apparently the family took turns at looking after the animals while one stayed behind at camp to cook the evening meal. One night, when the family returned, the grandfather's head had been cut off and stuck in the stew pot! In retribution, the local whites drove the tribe they believed responsible off the cliffs into the thunderous waves below.

The lady's aunt, who told her the story, said her grandfather was not a very nice man, so who knows what drove the aborigines to such a murderous act.

One of the volunteers here at the tourist info office said her husband's family are fifth generation here and no such massacre occurred. It's all very interesting and the truth has never been verified. Apparently back then the area was covered with sheoaks and vegetation and while 'the natives' as they were then called, were driven off, it is also said there was no loss of life.

Interesting mystery.

Tags: Nullabor Plain, majestic cliffs, thunderous waves, Elliston, being alone

Catching Up

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 02:04:13 GMT

YOU CAN'T BELIEVE A WORD I SAY! lol (laugh out loud) It was only a few days ago that I said I was going to lay low and recharge my (emotional) batteries and here I am, away from camp, touring around, finding an internet access point and am online! I'm incorrigible. You just can't shut me up! lol

Apart from hoping to catch up with David (who has been away at a conference and an Open Space event on an internet free island), there are some things that I've missed in earlier postings which I thought you might be interested in.

While I was at back Langhorne Creek, the other week, I caught up with a second-cousin Vincent, who I haven't seen in over 40 years. Vincent was adopted by my mother's aunt and uncle when he was only a couple of years old, way back in the 1950's.

My memories of going to stay on their farm, 'Rosebrook', near Port Fairy, were of massive, grim-looking holy pictures over the brass beds (Jesus hanging, bleeding, on the cross etc). Each bedroom had its holy picture, marble wash stand and porcelain chamber pot and wash bowl and jug. Very gothic! Vincent and I used to ramble over the windswept paddocks down to the ocean (near where the current golf club is now), exploring and enjoying the adventure of being let loose on our own. Vin reminded me of a time he was very matter-of-factly explaining how you held on to a cow's teats to milk it and my Catholic-raised sister, Jenny and I went beetroot red at a boy saying something that sounded like tits.

Vincent and his partner Ray (they've been together over 35 years I think) took me to Monarto Open Plains conservation zoo near Murray Bridge where we went on an African safari tour with the lions, cheetahs, giraffe, rhinos, zebras, meerkats, hyenas, wild dogs and other assorted endangered animals - several resembling deer. If you look hard enough at the photo of the giraffes, you will see a little two-day old one. The meerkats were, as they always are, cute as ... well, a meerkat. Rhinos sit the way they do (in the photo) because their eyesight ain't too good, so they each have to take a position where they can 'see' anything which might head their way and their ears radiate like mad, picking up all the sounds around them.

A couple of the zoo's cheetahs have been hand-raised and we were told that people are sometimes invited into their enclosure to maintain this contact with humans, although only people over the age of 16 are eligible for this. Apparently, if the cheetahs spy a child in the crowd, their natural instinct of 'food' is roused and they start thinking, "dinner time!"

Our guide also explained the 'pack' mentality of hyenas and wild dogs. Apparently hyenas hierarchy is adults first and then if anything is left, the pups get to eat. Whereas with wild dogs, they are taught from birth "we do it together, or we don't do it at all". When adult wild dogs make a kill, they eat their prey and then go back to the den where the pups are. If one pup comes out to be fed and licks the adult's face, no food is regurgitated. It is only when that pup encourages the other pups to come out to eat, and they ALL lick the adult's face, that the food will be spewed out for the pups to eat. From this, they learn that it is only when they are all together, that they eat. Likewise if one pup wants to go for a swim - it won't venture from the pack, until it enthuses the rest of the gang to come for a swim too.

Another interesting thing I learnt was that zebras and giraffe can co-habitat quite amicably in the wild but when a baby giraffe is born, the zebras will move on because their natural instinct is that a newborn will only attract predators. In the confined space of the zoo, because they can't get away from the baby, they will kick and bite the baby to kill it to eradicate the risk of it attracting predators. Therefore, in an open plains zoo environment, they are put away in a separate enclosure until the baby giraffe is no longer seen as a predator-attractor.

After spending several days in the company of Lainey and Bill (from the Hunter Valley in New South Wales), and sharing several meals together, we bade each other a very fond farewell with lots of "we'll keep in touch" vows, which I hope we do. They were such good fun. We did a couple of things like numerology, a Buddhist personality test and an Ayuvedic type test that we'd gotten to know one another pretty well (down to how regular we were!) It was amazing how much alike Bill and Lainey are - apart from us all being Aries - Lainey at the Pisces end and me at the Taurus end and Bill in the middle - both are Number 5 in numerology and both have similar Pitta, Vata, Kapha tendencies in Ayuveda. They reminded me very much of my very good friends Lisa and Bill in Bright whose company I miss very much. That is, a devoted couple, so in tune with one another and so evenly matched in their 'power' within their relationship.

One of the most beautiful little towns I've stayed at so far, has been Melrose, the oldest town in the Flinders Ranges. It's a gorgeous little place, situated on the boundary of the Mambray Creek and Mount Remarkable National Parks. When I reversed my caravan into my designated spot, I had to make sure I pulled up before the van went tumbling into the dry creek bed. They have a tame kangaroo which visits from time to time, so Marlo was relegated to the chain for the time I stayed there.

There is a quaint little shop, Bluey Blundstone's blacksmith shop in the main street, offering food and accommodation. I really love it when people take something which exists and then improve it with a change of purpose. From blacksmith's shop to boutique accommodation. (By the way, Bluey's is on the market so if you have around $485,000 and feel like a seachange ...)

Another really interesting building in the town was an old brewery - several stories high - which I think is really unusual in a small country town. I love architecture and it's been a real delight to see all those beautiful old buildings in out of the way places (well, out of the way to me).

For now though, I'm still hiding out on the way to Port Lincoln. There is a guy here who's been travelling all along this coastline, camping rough for the past three months. He has a petrol generator and I saw him the other day, sitting out in the sun, giving himself an electric shave! And yesterday, a wild-looking Englishman drove into camp, checking us out. Apparently he's camped out a few bays away, but decided it's too lonely there so as soon as he's bottled his home brew he says he's coming over to where we are. You just never know what life throws up at you!

Here are some photos I hope you like. The one of the canola I took on my way to Melrose; the meerkats were at the zoo I told you about; Lainey and Bill are the couple I met at Langhorne Creek and the sunrise shot I took this morning at my secret hideaway.

Postscript:

I took a drive this morning to Coffin Bay to check out the lovely little fishing shacks I remember from the beach when I was there many, many years ago with a man I was madly in love with at the time - Mad Dick from Harrietville. On the way Lainey and Bill phoned so it was good to know that we WILL keep in touch. Last night I invited both the wild Englishman and the guy who said he "had a bit of black fella in him" to dinner. Both drank home brew and had to get up several times to do what you do when you drink beer - I couldn't help smiling at these two blocks 'marking their territory'! lol

OH, and best news of all! The other night I was standing out the front of my van when a splash in the ocean caught my eye. "Was that a dolphin?" I asked myself, scanning the waves for more movement. To be sure, two dolphins were frolicking in the little bay in front of my van. "It is!!! It is a dolphin!" I cried out, jumping up and down on the spot, so overjoyed with the thrill of it all.

AND ... (you can see how much I have to say!) it's ONE MONTH TODAY since I first set out on this wonderful journey. (Can someone remind me that I've referred to it as a "wonderful journey" the next time I'm bellyaching about how hard it all is?

Love to you all,

Grace

Tags: meerkat, Coffin Bay, Melrose, Langhorne Creek, Monarto, zoo animals, catching up

Feeling Better

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Sat, 27 Sep 2008 02:06:44 GMT

JUST THOUGHT I'D LET YOU ALL KNOW that after only one day at my 'hide out spot', I'm feeling much better. After I'd set up the van, I took a walk along the beach and immediately started to feel happier and calmer.

This morning I worked out my finances and calculate that I will have to stay here in the one spot until 15th October (or thereabouts) to make up for my overspends on recent unexpected things - headlight re-wiring; gas leak; extra fuel to find gas fixer etc.

The irony is that this idyllic spot is a free camp, where Marlo can run free, but there is a big notice as you drive in warning that poisonous baits have been laid to kill wild rabbits and any dogs eating said dead rabbits will subsequently die of poisoning as well. So I've come into town to see if I can buy a muzzle for her (which I know she will hate, but at least I can rest easy that she's not munching dead wabbits). Unfortunately, the local rural supplies place didn't have one to fit, so I will have to see what else I can do to protect her from herself (Marlo does love to chase rabbits!)

The other irony is that after so long without canine company, there is a fellow here with a dog - a big ol' Rottweiler, but he's convalescing from some kind of lung virus so I'm not sure I want them playing together anyway. Life sure is cruel sometimes huh?

In any case, she seems content to lie in the sun and go for walks along the beach.

This morning I opened up a book on fruits and vegetables - one that used to belong to my mother - and I had such a pang as I saw that she'd written her name on the inside cover. Oooooh mum.

But good fortune hasn't abandoned me entirely. When I came online this morning, David called me on Skype so we had the opportunity of catching up. We usually speak every day, so it's been hard the last several days not having any contact at all.

He's busy promoting his new book on radio and television interviews and he's at a conference now, so we've both had a lot going on.

Maybe I'm a little bit lost. Apart from the fact that I literally don't know where I'm going these days (apart from the basic concept of 'going around Australia'), I feel that I have a lot to think about and work on.

But for the moment, I'm kind of looking forward to two weeks of solitude - doing what I set out to do - thinking, read, write, take photos and maybe do some painting. I have all the time in the world.

UPDATE: I've checked with one of the local farmers who visits the beach with his own dog and he said the baits were put out back in February / March, so the threat of the poison still being active is non-existent. Marlo is happily free at last!

Tags: calm and happy, hideout, beach, solitude

Hiding Out

http://beingfearless.gaia.com — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 00:37:26 GMT

Hi Everyone,

Yesterday was probably the most difficult day I've had so far since I set out on 1st September. So I've decided that for the next two weeks I'm going to 'hide out' and 're-calibrate' myself.

I'm in an area where there is no mobile phone coverage so it's going to be a good opportunity to spend some time in solitude, taking stock of a few things.

So don't worry if you don't hear from me for awhile.

Lots of love,

Grace (I wish!)

Tags: solitude, hiding out, taking stock