In 2004, the Tsunami that hit Sri Lanka killed 8 members of this small fishing family. And yet today, they still fish (either on stilts or in a boat) because they have to do it to survive. The family lives in a small, makeshift hut with a back "window" that opens onto the ocean - the same sea that gives life also takes it away.
How a family continued to love that which also took away their loved ones "We live because of the sea and will continue to live because of it. So we love the sea" and the reality they are facing as it becomes harder and harder for them to catch "as there are not many fish these days".
These travels have taken me on such turns and bends, I've had multiple culture shocks like seeing the heart breaking devastation of the post-apocalyptic tsunami in Japan, I've learned the balancing act of sailing at sea, been humbled by Himalayas and reconnected with family in such a beautiful way along the road as I caught up with my latin roots in Venezuela, my brother working in Antigua, my Dad at his wedding in the UK and my mother who dipped in and out a couple of times joining me in India and Argentina. Its been intensely revealing and while traveling is amazingly fun and adventurous it certainly asks you to be present even when you don't like what you see.
I've seen the chaotic world in Buenos Aires and the impact a man has over a beautiful but insecure woman as he whistles and shouts sexually charged words at her in a city that has the highest case of Bulimia. Seen the commuters passing out in to their mobile phones on the speedy wifi'd trains of Tokyo, a city so emotionally repressed that buildings even have suicide proof windows. I saw the isolation that a nation subjects its own people to should they decide to leave the country for a few years to explore the world only to return to Japan unwelcome despite working to support a community left to die by its government. I've seen the ignorance a culture (who's government is hell bent on growth) can create in the most beautiful of places as garbage lines the paths and riverbanks in the "Holy" spots of India and how the affluent Everest tourism poisoned the minds of the once staunchly religious Buddhist community in Nepal as I approached temples to pray and instead got directed immediately to donation boxes.
I've seen how we have bullied ourselves in to disharmony and disconnection with one another, with our families, with our real home, nature and especially with our beautiful selves. This has been the most incredibly expansive experience of my life yet and still equally one that brought me back to myself; a chaos within I had to accept, the conditionings of society and culture to reflect upon, fears I had to face, materialism that never quite filled the sense of emptiness and impact a childhood truly had on my consciousness from when my brother was born sick with a hole in his heart to the bullying I endured during a dramatic money-fuelled divorce where my mother feared the prospect of being alone and insecure, as my father saw a dream home he designed and built fall apart to equity and a money grab that revolved around child-custody. Yup. Shit happens in this world on all sorts of scales. But that's how we learn. And thankfully it all lives in the past; that illusory place that's only really a subjective story that doesn't serve us in the present moment beyond what wisdom one may have learned.
So now I am in Antigua; the Caribbean. This is a stunning place, with wonderful heartled culture and again one of extremeties. The locals, mostly black, still carry the sufferings their ancestors fought through thanks to slavery in their blood and its projected on to the "Whites" who fear they are going to have their valuables robbed. The blacks have wristbands to represent "Black Power". With the huge affluent sailing community and living near "English Harbour", a place that brings in many elite sailors of Great Britain with lovely la-dee-da accents, I've been intrigued by the contrast of shame and pride which are both seemingly one and the same (its no wonder we say "sorry" a lot in England!); all rather meaningless and personally a lovely way to connect with a British heritage I was ashamed of after living in Australia.
The beautiful and hopeful story is that there are also people here who see beyond colour and are encouraging more balance and connection between these communities that can learn so much from one another. Many of them seen as the mad ones. The visionaries I have faith that eventually we'll be united perhaps not by choice but as means to survive as we are certainly causing enough damage to our home. But as I joked the other day; "we're all going to end up black anyway" and as I dished out some black bands last night to some brothers I've made here, I explained that to me it means "people power". God I can be cheesey!
The music scene here is world class. I LOVE reggae; its beat inspires that of the heart and my feet just can't help but bounce to it. I craved some reggae beats in India as I subjected myself to relentless trance at music festivals we were making recycled decorations for. I go out to some of the music nights here to get my socks blown off by live jazz or a local reggae band while flying round like the social butterfly I am, surprisingly sober to others, chatting to new friends and learning of their worlds, exchanging learnings as we go and feeling alive and grateful.
The rather amusing thing is the attention I have got as a single lady. Somewhat annoying. You see, I was in a relationship for 5 years and over the course of that time became quite unaware of myself as I directed all my love at someone incredible that I met at a music festival when I was 21. You could say that becoming single sparked off a realisation of arrested development and naivety as a part of me was still 21 years old and wanting nothing more than an adventure. My eventual ability to love myself and deal with the encounters I have with men who want to buy me drinks or 'whine' with me has taught me much about boundaries (Caribbean men are very much in touch with their carnal desires and the sailors that go out seem to be mostly single, smokers, boozers who want to get laid naturally) and I've learned to acquire the respect from people trying to play a game I'm not participating in by being direct. To turn the meat market vibe in to one of a more mutual respect and friendship even where people go to pick up. That journey itself has been intense and fuelled a shyness and ferocious vulnerability within me as all I've wanted in my heart is to enjoy some tunes, make new friends and embrace my freedom.
The rather gorgeous realisation is I don't see myself as more beautiful than anyone else. Everyone's beautiful in their own way, the stories that carved them in to who they are. Just as every country is beautiful in its own story. The wonderful dramas woven through tragedies and romances. History. Beauty is so subjective and misconstrued in this world. For a long time, my concept of beauty was tied to physicality, in India and Nepal I didn't try to be feminine and even went as far as hiding it tapping in to my inner ladette but what I realised is that I am also a lady, as is every other beautiful woman; which is nothing to be ashamed of or hide. The part of me I feel is beautiful is the courage I had to leave an amazing job, apartment on Bondi Beach and perfectly beautiful man along with it to go on a personal journey and fulfil a dream and learn not only of the world but of myself. While I realise I am a bit special, I also realise that everyone else is too and we're all on our paths learning in different ways. And I can wake up to myself in the morning, look in the mirror at a dishevelled creased face with greasy hair and see that as more beautiful than what the eyes alone can tell. That is enough for me. Its a romantic realisation I guess, but I see my heart.
So for anyone out there who is trying to be someone they're not, to appease an idea that they were taught perhaps as a child, perhaps by society, by school, by the television, by their parents, their foes or friends; know that you are so beautiful in all your natural being in whatever way its expressed. When you don't try to be anyone you're not and just let yourself be. That's when you shine beautifully. And you need to find that for yourself!
I was called "Brownie" at school because of the colour of my skin and my teacher said to me "remember the rhyme, sticks and stones...". What irony it is now to have people complement me on something I once hated so much about myself and even more so as I type this with the darkest complexion I've had for a while and learning to accept it as a beautiful part of my Venezuelan heritage. Thanks Mum! Perhaps we should just accept ourselves for what we're given and give the same heartfelt acceptance to those that are different to us who may be on their own journey, which from the outside might not look that pretty.
Recently I was given a book to read "Rules for Radicals" by Saul D. Alinsky (free pdf) and a documentary I have been wanting to watch for a long time, The Cove. I laughed to myself about the book... an insightful read nevertheless.
I suppose it appeals to the little activist in me who feels a bit heart broken every time she sees the ignorant destruction we're causing to ourselves and the planet. I guess one of the side-affects of travel is the opportunity to witness the scale of mankind's ignorance and stupidity. This really is the 'Age of Stupid' on so many levels, but thankfully, there are people out there that through their awareness, passion and creativity provoke us to realise it and perhaps even, change our ways and perspectives a little.
One quote I loved from this movie is"Society doesn't change through Government, it changes through the passions of individuals".
I was also brought up on Flipper and wanted to swim with dolphins. Its still a dream of mine. However, realising how wonderfully conscious, beautiful, empathetic and intelligent these creatures are, I'd rather learn from them than support a cruel industry of Seaworlds and mass aquatic murders.
When I was in Japan at the tsunami volunteers camp the camp was donated tinned whale meat from the local fisheries. The fisheries close enough to the two nuclear power-plants which were damaged from the tsunami (the second very much kept under wraps by media).
Its saddening to think that the gorgeous volunteers who dedicate their life to rebuilding a place destroyed, practically left to die by the government, are eating toxic meat unbeknown to them. I understand the notion of 'cultural pursuits' but there's got to be a line drawn somewhere between mass destruction, pollution of the oceans and maintaining tradition. Not to mention the nuclear stuff which I'll hold my tongue on.
This documentary is a wonderful demonstration of how a person's passion can create change and, in all honesty, makes me want to be a mermaid, go to Japan and save the dolphins. Sadly I can't do that right now - so I'm sharing this documentary instead.
I love Eckhart Tolle. Such a master. He makes everything sound so profound and simple at the same time. I would listen to his audiobook in Sydney at night and pass out too quickly to catch the words thanks to his amazingly relaxing voice.
While sometimes the idea of being present can feel like a distant dream, I do feel traveling has a powerful way of forcing one to be present, in the moment, partly because of being totally out of the comfort zone. There's something about being in a moving vehicle, where the body can be still while the space around can continually change that I find quite mesmerising. Hence, enjoy a little montage of some shapes and sights witnessed over the last 18 months on tour, beginning with the devastation of post-tsunami Japan.
As I sat on the flight to Jaipur in Rajasthan (Northern India) I felt a very uncomfortable feeling having a man further down the carriage relentlessly turn his head in order to stare at me. I wasn't wearing anything revealing, nor make up and yet this man followed me to the luggage collection before I had to say to him "go away". As is common for Western women in India, I soon realised I was getting a lot of ‘attention’ or glares from men. Farrel my ‘gay husband’, a friend from Sydney who I travelled with through Rajasthan for a few weeks would joke that he felt like he was ‘married to a celebrity’ and, bless his heart, found it pretty frustrating that he was constantly feeling in the background despite me saying I'd gladly exchange places. Personally nothing was more irritating than the constant request for a photo, the ‘are you married?’ and the feeling of being incredibly vulnerable.
At the beginning of my trip I was touched up on a tourist bus twice, the first time I was asleep and felt ‘something’ which woke me and after stealthily covering half my face with my eye patches managed to catch the guy as he went for a second attempt, got the confidence to speak up and thankfully he was later kicked off the bus. The second time I donkey kicked the guy and made it very clear that he was “not right!” shaking a boiling hot chai in his face as I walked on to the bus after our ‘pee in the street’ and 'grab a chai' stop.
It's a sad world we live in where women can’t express their femininity without feeling naked to the eyes of glaring men and I have wondered what the impact of pornography has had to the conditioning of minds, likewise, I appreciate that in India the imported Hollywood movies tell a 'story' of how women in the West behave and hence, leading to certain ideas very much off the mark.
My friend Adi, the local doctor.
Check out those pants!
So in an unconscious act of defence I travelled boyishly and wore a bindi. I made many friends who were guys, including local guys who didn’t see me as anything beyond a bahini (sister) which made traveling much more fun, offered a sense of security at times and empowerment actually. But it made me also pretty unsexy.
Don’t get me wrong, there have been practicalities in embracing my inner Tom Boy, I allowed myself to get hairy, much to the disgrace of my family, my toiletries whittled down to a bar of soap, a toothbrush and toothpaste. My dresses and skirts were abandoned and donated along with most my luggage as I left my big heavy rucksack to go to the post winter chill of the Himalayas where I stayed for 7 months. I adapted my style in line with the community, sporting the local woollen shawls, a bindi and whatever items of clothing were kindly donated to me (see above). I saw it as respectful to their culture as I saw many female tourists floating in with tight fit leggings and revealing tops. So I acquired quite an interesting wardrobe and wondered to myself on the fancy dress we call life. The fun we can have with 'costume' whether its a business suit or a pretty dress.
What seemed to come with my distinct lack of attentiveness to my femininity was the ability to travel and feel safe in India and Nepal. I became much more connected with Mother Nature. I had super short nails and would allow myself to get dirty trekking around the mountains. It was worth it in order to adventure and not attract attention to myself of a desirous nature.
Funnily enough, I didn't realise how unfeminine I had become until I visited the family of a dear friend in Kathmandu and found myself being dressed up by his mother and sister in a pink sari, having bangles placed on my wrists and getting my nails polished by them. It felt strangely familiar and I wondered why I hadn't allow myself to be a woman as I came to the end of my trip.
Which brings me to this feeling of frustration that as a woman I had to hide it. I was afraid to provoke. What kind of world do we live in where a woman has to do this in order to travel comfortably? Now I choose to be more direct and empowered. I protect myself. It takes a lot to step out of that fear but I won’t hug a man if he is just doing it to feel my boobs against his chest and I have to be straight with men who express interest - if its not there, its not there - but why sacrifice what could be an amazing long haul of a friendship?
The inner poet in me wonders this. The synchronicities. The ponderings. The 'fateful' encounters. The sense that I may be a dead person experiencing its memories. The vivid dreams. The 11.11's that my eye seems drawn to because mind made a story about its meaning(s). The feeling that my intentions are being totally misinterpreted. The multiple sides to personality. The intense empathy. The frustrations at people's ignorance. The reflections.
The wonderful thing about traveling to the melody of one's heart is that one does cross these beautiful interesting bizarre people who are examining the concept of 'reality' offering another angle to the drama we call life and eventually becomes one also. Giving you a different perspective of the world, perhaps eventually, a birds eye view of its beautiful insanity and the human condition. Our clinging to the histories of nations and ourselves. How we write a 'history for winners' as we also write our own story in life's Shakespearean drama.
Recently I've felt like my mind has been inundated with ideas of political conspiracy, quantum theory, yogic philosophy, shamanic earthy living, Greek philosophy, traditional psychology, musical inspirations, romantic poetic wonderings, religious tales, metaphysics, chakras and spirituality, linguistic theology, anthropology, folklore... and it continues with every person I connect with, every experience I have and book I read etc. We all have wisdom to share hidden in our communications with one another. It has blown my mind sometimes. That'll teach me for being such a smart ass as a child and overly ambitious as an adult.
Nevertheless I do think this is the essence of community very integral to survival. We share with one another. We connect to each other. We love people in our lives. We survive on these lessons that started off as the teachings of parents. It reminds me of how women foraged for mushrooms in caveman times and would communicate to one other which plants are edible and which are poisonous. In the same way rats, the second most successful species in the world, intuitively let one another know that there's rat poison out hidden in the kitchen to be avoided.
My mind has literally been bent, better than any acid trip (although I tried that once and decided I preferred talking, travel and meditation) along with the perception of the world around me which started to feel like a fable waiting to be told and a drama of how a girl jumped down a rabbit hole after taking one of the biggest risks of her adult life and abandoning comforts in exchange for exploration. A rekindling of childhood dreams and emotions, a reflection on life and discovery of my inner mother who needed to discipline that crazy child before something dangerous like falling off a cliff happened. Serious risks ensued this last year and a half and my naivety and curiosity had me venture in to the unknown and some 'dark' places. But its been bloody fun (she says now finding herself in the Caribbean with more routine and even a 'to do' list).
After splitting everything in to pieces for examination, including crudely my own personality, like the curious seeking soul I am, a journey I would always recommend with a warning label, I concluded that life is simply to be experienced in whatever way the heart calls and love is the most powerful force in the world. To see a person from the otherside of the planet as a brother or a sister you can trust totally transformed my faith in humanity and gave my 'relentless optimism' substance beyond idealism through experience. A very grounding force it is despite how subjective it can be.
For me its meant recognising and reviewing my own conditioning, surrendering to emotional and physical pains and being perceivably a really unsexy muppet (e.g. collecting garbage) but in my eyes that's the essence of being true. That's how we learn and grow. We feel a calling, a sign, a drive and perhaps realise we've been doing it unconsciously all along: Living and experiencing life however weirdly it chooses to be expressed and perhaps eventually, not thinking too much about it, nor caring about others judgement while relishing the peaceful space between thoughts - that in time might slowly fade away.
The best advice I would give anyone curious to listen, I might be wrong, but follow your heart and breathe. Judgement I have seen to be the most destructive and separating sentiment and I realise we too cast the same judgements on ourselves as we do on others.
This video is a wonderful example of some of the mind bending ideas out there and worth a ponder or two. Still whether life is a dream or not is for you to discover yourself if you choose to. It requires being present to your thoughts and the world around you.
I met a man with a tattoo on his arm which said "Love the world and it loves you back". Its so simple. You get out what you put in. You reap what you sow and I believe it. I think that's karma :)
Little Sun is an inspired product and work of
art that seeks to provide solar powered sustainable light in areas where
electricity is scarce and people’s circumstances don’t afford them the
opportunity of light. They are a global project to get clean
and affordable light to the 20% of the world’s population who have no access to
the electrical grid.
Tibetan nuns having a tea break
I was living with Tibetan nuns in an isolated monastery of remote Everest region, Nepal. There I was to experience chronic loneliness, isolation along with a desperate sickness that nearly saw me abandoning my travels and returning to Europe to be with my mum (know the feeling?).
My day would start at 5.30am where I would be awoken by the blowing of the conch to indicate the start of the mantras. The nuns performed a special 10 day long ceremony for long life and in devotion of the Buddhist deity; White Tara and I would sit in sometimes and meditate alongside them shifting from dead leg to dead leg while amazed at their stillness.
The Tibetan Buddhist Puja
Everyday they would sit and recite mantras until 8-9pm using the Tibetan Buddhist and shamanic inspired instruments, mandalas and offerings. It was incredible to be a part of and inspired admiration for these determined women who'd been forced out of their homeland in order to continue their faith.
I would help with collecting wood, vegetables, washing up and trek a little around the area, however in truth, I really struggled with the lack of integration and felt duly isolated having no more than my iPhone, some books and my friend and monk Pasang, who spoke English to keep me company.
But there is a reason for everything. And while in my somewhat adverse and alien circumstances, living in a mud hut sharing a room with a mouse, I learned an incredible amount through solitude. Especially the virtues of technology! One day I received a newsletter from Good.is and learned of the remarkable invention; Little Sun and having nothing better to do besides wash with cold water and a bucket in the chill outside, I got poking the screen and sent them an email.
A few months later, back in Parvati valley
(India), I was collecting a box of Little Suns, which had been delivered from
Berlin to the local doctor and my friend, Adi Sharma.
While in Parvati Valley
there is a huge hydropower plant station being developed in order to capitalise
on India’s most powerful river, Parvati; it appears that the small
villages nearby are not to benefit from it. While locals in villages nearby continue to struggle
for consistent electricity power and furthermore suffer winters of waist deep snow, isolation
and poverty, the Indian government will continue to grow in power and wealth as
a consequence of the Himalayan project. In fact the electricity bills for these
poor communities is ironically high given the natural resource that is being
capitalised on their doorstep.
Little Sun Love
I felt very blessed to be able to shine a
bit of light for a family that took care of me while I made the 2 day trek to
Kheer Ganga; the highest Holy River in India (and furthermore one complete with
lovely hot springs) as I delivered the Little Suns in to the hands of a humble
family who treated me as though I were one of their own.
They have no running water, live in a small
room, farm and forage for food while the five adorable children all roll together amongst handmade blankets on the floor to sleep. I stayed with them a number of times and while my body got
attacked by bed-lice, I was happy to sacrifice comfort to be in the warm
and loving environment of this kind family. Didi (sister) is like my own
sister, a few years older than I am and yet with a wisdom far beyond. She also
makes the best chapatti’s I have ever had and taught me a thing or two about
cooking parantha on a tandoor. The family are low caste and sadly, at the mercy
of the judgements and discriminations that this tradition afflicts but their
acceptance of it astounded me. They would never complain. The only complaint I
heard was of Didi’s husband explaining that the winters were so tough “it is
like prison” as they spent their time confined within the four walls sitting around
an iron box to keep warm.
Little Sun offered them something the Indian government has not; free and reliable light. I am all too humble to have had the
opportunity to give their community something that for much of my life was
taken for granted and I sincerely hope that anyone reading this can feel duly
inspired to make a difference where they can, connecting good ideas and innovations with those
that need it within our rapidly globalised and technological world. It doesn't take much.
In everyday life, it is important that we
critically engage in global initiatives and local contexts. Our actions have
consequences for the world. Little Sun is a wedge that opens up the urgent
discussion about bringing sustainable energy to all from the perspective of
art. – Olafur Eliasson (Little Sun)
I have the wonderful Zoe Scaman to thank for enlightening me on this little number above. Its no secret that I have a rather large softspot for Polar Bears. And through their mere existence I have done some remarkable things which have sent me spurring on adventures and now finding me in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
In Indiginous Australia, each tribe would have an animal of the land that they would protect and commit to not harming. A beautiful tradition to ensure that their relationship with the land remained sustainable and balanced. To maintain the fragile environment, and due to seasonal variations, people would also only stay in an area for a certain time. Hence, they wouldn't hunt, fish or harvest too much in one place and were known to wander. Oh how I can relate! At least to the wandering...
And so akin to their innate special connection with animals, I certainly have quite the calling to the infamous white bear which has been there since I were a child and knew very little of their pending demise. The connection has been so entrenched that I have been writing a children's book on the 'Last Lost Polar Bear'... when I say 'writing', it is written pending an intense labour of loving editing which I am about to embark on (thanks to many friendly reminders coming from all angles/angels this last fortnight). It's been a journey finding the inspiration to get here.
what's in your fridge?
Zoe and I talked Polar Bears and Coke (she was previously their pocket rocket Communications Strategist in Australia/NZ). Coca-Cola also have quite a connection with Polar Bears, especially around this time of year and have sponsored White Bears in Canada through their partnership with WWF. While I don't want to criticise a company for striving to do good in the world they are also contributing to its destruction; the irony is beautifully astounding and this video certainly brings it to life.
Sugar is incredibly addictive. More addictive than heroine. This last year on the road I have confronted many of my personal addictions and aversions. Whether they be coffee, sugar, alcohol, smoking, mushrooms, avocados, bananas, (I ate my first banana the other day taking a page out of my power animal's book), the smell of garbage, spiders, leaches, insect bites, my body weight etc. etc. This exercise is quite Vipassana-esque. A meditative practice involving the observation of sensations (mostly pains for me) without becoming the reaction and pulling out the source from its root. Basically being aware. Consciousness. Its not a fluffy, hippy, mystical idea. Its actually another word for Being awake. Or perhaps merely Being (like, forgive me pointing out the obvious, a 'human being').
So observing these sugar cravings has been quite fascinating with my own test tube experiment that is me. After eating a meal I tend to crave sugar. Its an automated response thanks to an imbalance of insulin levels according to science and I mostly succumb to it with a delicious ice cream... come on I am in Buenos Aires afterall!
But this video made me think. Which can be dangerous. The last time I detoxed I started painting. My first painting was of Shiva, a hindu God that I knew little of, however, I have since become increasingly familiar with given my travels through India and Nepal... Yes I am about to get in to Hindu philosophy.
Ardhnarishwar (the dualities unite)
Shiva represents the 'Supreme Being'. His consort Shakti (aka Parvati a valley in which I also lived for 4 months) gives him power, she represents empowerment.
Their child, elephant headed Ganesha represents "Consciousness".
Hindu's love to tell the story of how Ganesh was born and I have heard many iterations, many times from various Indian and Nepali encounters. He was my 'favourite' God at the beginning of my travels through India and every now and then I would fast on Wednesdays, Ganesha Day. A great way to keep the body in shape and allow for all the delicious Indian food sit happy on my waistline. If you are interested in reading the philosophical tale, read here.
Shiva is known as the God of destruction; breaking down in order to create. And what could be more symbolic than our own personal 'break downs' that ask us to be strong, determined and face the unknown.
So that's what sugar represents to me, in a long a twisted Western-Eastern way andresembles the existence for the rapidly diminishing Polar Bears on this planet. Facing the unknown. Destruction. A little reflection of various synchronicities that's given me the boot up the backside to try detoxing again and liberate "Snowflake the last lost polar bear". Fulfilling a dream. Or just closing the door of that desire.
I hope you feel duly inspired to watch your own habits, consider what these tendencies represent, find your Godliness, your Shiva, your Shakti and give birth to an elephant headed God, or whatever creation that might be.
All you need to do is be aware and follow your heart.Thankfully it speaks many different languages just be present enough to use all your senses to realise it.
In a very magical way; the world seems to help make that happen... you might avoid a big punch in the face. Right, so, on with saving polar bears!
An inspiring poem by Kahil Gibran (The Prophet)
Love. When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked. He sifts you to free you from your husks. He grinds you to whiteness. He kneads you until you are pliant; And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart. But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor, Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, I am in the heart of God.” And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
An incredible message to remind us to remember to appreciate and be grateful for the world and wonderful nature that surrounds us.
Nature taught me so much in my lifetime. I remember being 7 years old and recording the sound of morning birdsong out the window with my Toyprice plastic tape recorder. It seemed so natural at the time.
And then my previous city girl aversions to insects were seriously challenged in the Himalayas where I would find myself in situations of tolerance and acceptance. Sharing a room with 3 huntsmen next to my bed was the ultimate accomplishment. That and waking up on a mountain top, sleeping on a watch tower to discover a leach stuck to my forehead.
In the West I noticed how we can be so removed from nature. Sitting on chairs. Eating with metal. Sleeping above the ground. Travelling on wheels. Sofas. Desks. In a sense we distance ourselves from the natural world we are very much a part of.
Here are some shots taken on my tour in to the wilderness. Not only did I come out unscathed. But I returned wiser, braver and stronger. We don't need to live in the jungle to see and appreciate nature, but sometimes, it helps just to look up.
Parvati valley, home of the
Gods and the highest of India’s Holy Gangas is being poisoned.
“What would Shiva say?” was a
question posed to students at Challal primary school as we sought to educate
this next generation on the challenges their land faces in the name of
progress. And a question you might wish to ask yourself also.
Without infrastructure to manage
waste, an influx of tourists, guesthouses and plastic, the natural beauty of
the Parvati Valley suffers. Poisonous waste has been thrown in to the precious
rivers contaminating the purity of drinking water, the stomachs of grazing
animals and the beauty of the valley. The future of these dramatic mountains is
in the hands of India and yet in a time of economic growth, one might ask what
does this say about the future of this nation?
If there is one thing I have
learned about India; its where the heart lives and that is in and of its people
to create change. A country that can’t have faith in its government. But can
love and support its fellow man in the desperatist of times. And yet I see a
familiar change on the horizon...
Coming from Britain, I have
experienced the virtues of growing up in middle-class surroundings, living in a
welfare state, getting a good education with high standards of living. Yet India
spoke to my heart, she made me realise that we are not alone, the value of
family, compassion and patience. And that we don’t need as much as society leads us to
believe in order to be happy.
In England, we tend to have a mentality of ‘each man for himself’, we are
separate from one another, don’t hold eye contact and our economy is maintained by the dark shadows that wonder through grey cold streets in London donning
black suits climbing the ladders of perceived wealth. I love the sobering irony of having a nose in someone's armpit on the rush hour tube while avoiding any form of communication with one another at all cost.
"Money is the world's second God" A Himalayan Babaji explained to me. I've seen that in the West. How we buy. We buy. We buy. Blindly
subscribing to the latest fashion, buying the latest gadget, believing the
ideas that create an addicted nation through fear. But, don’t trust me, I also worked in
advertising and in corporate finance :)
Kali Yuga, an old baba told me, is a
time of draculas. Apparently that time is now. And what could be more symbolic
than the life we suck out of mother nature around the world? Thankfully, in Britain, we can still turn a tap in the kitchen a drink clean
water. We can shower with our eyes open and set the temperature to our skin’s
comfort. We can walk the streets and not witness lines of degrading waste and smell the rotting garbage. And
we can climb our comparatively feeble mountains and not find garbage that will
live longer than we and our children stand to survive while polluting the rivers that flow through it.
But India, you are different.
Where else in the world can a man wander the streets bare feet in a yellow robe and be
offered alms? And you have such devotion to your Gods. How you demonstrate
worship by making such sacrifices! The cues to make puja (prayer) in the temples would
not last the patience of an Englishman. Your respect, devotion and faith inspired me. It inspired me, but, alas also let me down. Again I
see the hypocrisy of man. You’ll pray to Sakti and in the same life carelessly
throw poisons in to her land. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you" I was taught in school. How fear can make us lose our way.
The constant duality of devotion and destruction was hard for me to accept in Parvati Valley.
Parvati Valley was my home. I found myself roaming in the Himalayas, studying yoga and
learning about survival amongst the beautiful people and wildlife that live
there. And while I accept impermanence as a constant, in my heart I have faith that people might wake up and realise that if they really love God, then they might try, a little, to be inspired by the wonderful selfless idol they pray to daily and do something to protect Mother India’s land in his/her name.
Plastic takes over two centuries
to degrade and with big companies such as Coca-Cola, Parle and Good Day
increasingly residing in these mountains the land is being destroyed and the
river, the life source, contaminated. Glass takes an Ice Age to degrade, burning
plastic releases dangerous toxins in to the atmosphere which cause cancer
and so the question needs to be asked – what can we do to protect prakrti
(nature)? These substances are poisonous if they're not disposed of properly. And they say "Time is running out."
Unfortunately, in the holy mountains of India, too little is done.
Parvati
Valley. Attempts to be more green.
A group of foreign volunteers organised clean ups along the riverside, on one occassion with the President and village Mayor we watched the transformation
of the land as years of plastic and glass was dug out from the ground.
Caste pride had to be swallowed.
I wondered whether caste pride was swallowed in the name of politics as I
watched these honory members in the community. I respect the caste
system of India but personally, I don’t see truth when it instils pride,
judgement and discontentment to the extent where one cannot pick up a piece of mindlessly
discarded plastic without feeling shame. Creating an illusion of separateness.
One day I shook the hand of a
small child and gave her an apple; on-lookers were agasp. She was a ‘rag-picker’,
akin to the young boys of Slumdog Millionaire, collecting plastic in exchange for rupees, essentially removing recycleable
waste left to decompose and damage the land and yet in the eyes of the
villagers watching, she was filth and whatsmore untouchable. In my eyes; she was an angel. At least
someone was respecting mother nature even if it was unconsciously; in order to survive.
Drugs, deaths and dramas.
As the rave party season hit
Kasol, Parvatti Valley, many of India’s youth from Delhi and Mumbai headed to
the mountains to dance under the sky, enjoy the gushing sound of rivers and
move to musical trance beats.
This year a darkness swept over the valley
as chemical drugs, a rape case and deaths saw dramas unfold in the village of
Kasol – Parvati was not amused and neither were the locals.
This infamous music scene
of India that has the propensity to bring like minded hearts and souls in to ‘Oneness’
under the stunning backdrop of the Himalayas drew a different kind of attention.
Parvati valley came under the spotlight. Media quizzed police narcotic superintendents, police stop and searches all perpetuated an image that Parvati is a valley of darkness,
for drug barons and young people to dance with the devil.
It was dark believe me. I was
there. Having been there in the low season thawing my finger tips in the belated winter snows - I witnessed this 'darkside' approach the valley. People I knew became paranoid. Locals became uncomfortable. Tourists scarpered. And so one of the biggest experiences for me on my travels was living in Parvati Valley, Himachal Pradesh, India. I saw the law of cause and affect quite clearly. I saw the corruption and materialistic mindedness that slowly works its way through remote India and of course, I saw, smelled and listened to a LOT of absolute garbage while witnessing its destructive impact upon India's holy Himalayas.
Indian people ask me “Where’s
your country?”
“Everywhere and nowhere” I respond. I get a smile.
“Who are you working for?” watching as I colour in another "Nature is God" sign.
“Nature” I respond.
“Where’s your husband?” I am
asked. I am nearing 28 afterall.
“Shiva is my husband” I say
and I get a laugh, a nod and a knowing smile.
When I looked at the world from
afar, I realised how short life really is. And there’s a love I have for those big
giant hills that speak to the wind and brush the clouds. Nature was my teacher and I was put to work. Although if I am honest, all I really did was listen to my heart; something that I was forced to do when I left life in Australia.
As for Parvati Valley. Well that place is certainly not all about drugs. While apparently the best hash comes from there and the turbulent chemical romance takes place during the festive season, it has much much more to it than meets the eye. India's Hindu God Shiva lived there, with his wife Parvati, and I can understand why. They weren't just good dancers...
While we might live in times of vampires, of ego, war and destruction, we also
live in a time of constant change. We have our own way of learning. Mine evidently was cleaning garbage. On the inside I did much more. “Be the change you want to see in the world” said
Gandhi. Realising that we all share responsibility whether we want to live in a Western individualised money orientated existence and take the weight of the world on our own shoulders or whether we share it with our family, community and pray to a temple. We all are a part of the whole. Meanwhile mother nature, the hand that feeds us, is getting bitten... least we can do is show her some respect especially in the land of the Gods.
One of the most awe inspiring countries I have ever visited. The neon, the rush, the mountains dripping in washes of luscious greens and autumnal leaves, the ancient temples, the speedy trains and the people. Japanese people are as unique as their country and with hearts just as big.
I spent one month traveling around Japan, everyday brought a new adventure, a new word (I was determined to learn a word a day) and a new source of inspiration.
Infamous masses at one of the busiest pedestrian crossings in the world
As someone who intends to spend a year traveling in destinations that challenge and transcend the normalities of the daily routine that life in the Western world presents, I am mindful that I want to avoid being a typical 'backpacker'. I've always wanted to get to know the places I am in rather than hover along in hostels dipping in and out of cultural destinations without tucking in to the real lives that are lead in these places, hence, I decided Japan would be a great place to Couchsurf.
Couchsurfing.
Couch surfing in Kyoto with my friend Natsumi
Couch-surfing is an online community where essentially people offer a spare room, piece of sleeping bag real estate or, as the name suggests, a couch for travelers to crash. My first couch-surf was with Vincent a lovely French dude who translates computer games in Shinjuku for a living. An apt career for someone who enjoys the intense rush of a projected combat game between puffs of a cigarette and a coffee breakfast. So French!
I didn't know the protocol of couch-surfing and I didn't realise I would befriend such kind characters through it. Vince took me to some great bars with his friends in 'Tok Tok', introduced me to Oolong sake and thanks to him, I met Natsumi who coincidentally was also couch-surfing at his place as she made tracks to volunteer in Yokoma.
Natsumi was my inspiration to also volunteer , a life changing experience with now a very close friend.
Vincent & Natsumi in Tokyo
The beauty of couch-surfing is it allows you to let go of any preconceptions you may have of a place and indeed your plan to some extent as you'll find the people you meet along the way also invite you to sample their life, their favourite places and learn from them. New cultures. New ways. New paradigms or shades to perceive the world through.
I am so grateful to couch surfing for allowing me to meet a number of Japanese hosts and inspiring me to also host along the way. Hence in Koyasan I invited a couple of friends I met along the way to pull up a couple of futons in my room in an ancient temple. Subsequently leading me on to further twists and tales on my galavants.
Sharing the love and green tea at the temple home
The community is a wonderful way to encourage people to learn from one another and to share and dismantle our conditioned ideas around separatism. You witness the kindness and compassion of hosts and are also inspired to spread the same to those who cross your path. A wonderful initiative. And one that sent my life spurring in so many directions I would never have expected.
I never made it out on my Nitro Snowboard. I didn't make it to the snow. The itinerary was torn up by day 2, however, the wonderful friend who hosted me along the way kindly offered to give snowboarding a go, while taking the board off my hands. I now realise it was for her all along.
Volunteering in November 2011 as part of the tsunami relief with "Make the Heaven" was heavy, humbling stuff. Following the tsunami in Japan many people were displaced. Many are still living in temporary housing which are essentially iron boxes with office lighting. Some are living in houses slowly being rebuilt with watermarks still tainting the walls and family photographs reminding them of who they lost.
I saw acres of wasteland. Destroyed cars piled up for miles. This was the post apocalypse and truly devastating to witness. And yet very real.
once upon a time this was a big town
School children revisiting their old school and town where everything was destroyed by the tsunami
As volunteers we worked on clearing the debris, supporting the community, visiting the elderly and rebuilding areas while lifting morale of those who remain in the area so stricken by the shocking affects of mother nature and her destructive power.
Dinner time at the volunteers home
Living with about 20 Japanese people I
learned that language is more than spoken word and made great friendships with
people who could hardly speak English (and me obviously not Japanese). Actions
definitely speak louder than words. The power of community and altruism created a wonderfully hopeful space and vibe that helped everyone deal with the dramas seen day by day.
Arriving after a very long journey in the north of Japanese mainland for volunteering.
The masks were mandatory to minimise contaminated dust.
Too
often we can feel helpless but little do we appreciate the difference we can
make no matter how small we might think it is; making a child laugh, clearing a
lady's garden, visiting the elderly or offering support. These are what help a
community rebuild themselves - not just on the outside but on the inside too.
Witnessing first hand gives one the chance to really appreciate humanity and get perspective on one's own life. Now I was only there for one week, but many had been there for months dedicating their lives to others and working hard every day to make the lives of others better while risking their own while rumours of radiation contamination continue.
Working on rebuilding the washed out playground
I didn't need to be in Japan to do this, everywhere in the world there is pain, suffering, devastation and I am certainly no saint, but I will recommend that if the opportunity to do something like this comes around don't let it pass by. Its not easy. It yanks heart strings and takes a lot of energy but it gives one the opportunity to help those who are in desperate need.
