breathe, just breathe

Friends

2012-02-12T23:22:00.000Z

Once upon a time I lived in Sydney
And I knew many people there
And I studied in many places
And worked in many places
And played, and sang, and danced, and
Lived a life
That now seems far away and distant

And in this present day life
I am a person I always dreamed of being
Living in the lands of overseas
And traveling
And performing
And meditating
And eating delicious food
And being a grown up
Who makes her own decisions
About how her life is going to be

And today I met up with a friend
Who I hadn't seen in quite a while
And he was still the same lovely person
He was a few years ago
Softly spoken but with a glint in his eye
And he made me remember
All those friends
From that Other Life that once I led

And it's funny how people
Float in and out of our lives
And Amy K.R. once wrote about how
Maybe the word "end" is in the word
Friendships
Because sometimes friendships
Just end in the middle

And I just wanted to say,
To all those people
From a distant time, a distant life,
Whether we're actually still in contact or not
To all those people I've sat under bright blue skies with
And drunk beverages with
And shared meals with
And sat beside ponds and stared at geese with
And laughed in offices with
And trained with
And studied with
And sang with
And danced with
And gardened with
And traversed a bit of time
On this globe
Together with

I'm thinking of you
And wondering how you are
And hoping you're happy and well
Really and truly
Happy. And well.
And sending you love from across the universe.

The end.

Thank God, It's Friday

2012-02-10T21:21:00.000Z

You walk from Westminster to Embankment
Along the Thames River Path
And all the snow has melted
And there are tourists taking photos
And the Eye is spinning.

And you're an hour early for a meeting
So you decide to wander for a bit
And you come across one of those maps that dot central London
And tell you what sites of significance
Are within 5 minutes walking distance
And you see that St. Martin in the Field is nearby
That place you've heard of so often on classical music stations.

And you walk in through a side door
And it's not as big or ornate as you were expecting
But it is lovely.
And down the far end of the church is a striking window
With a curved cross
Designed by an Iranian-born woman
Shirazeh Houshiary.

You sit halfway down the church
And there are people dotted around
A few homeless people sleeping
Sitting upright
Their hoods pulled over their faces
Sitting where it is warm
Curious tourists looking for a quiet refuge
From the busy-ness of London
And you.

And there is a man at a grand piano
He has dark hair, and is balding slightly
He has dark rimmed glasses and a black sweater.
He is playing Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue.
The acoustic is amazing.
He is rather good
And he is enjoying the acoustic too.
Letting the sound
Really reverberate through the space.

The man sitting three rows in front of you leaves
And you suddenly have a clear view to the pianist
And you feel a bit exposed.
Because until that moment you had almost imagined you were no more than a
Passive spirit observing this place.

And then it is time to go
To your meeting
And you meet a lovely soul
Who inspires you
And lifts your spirits
And an hour flies by
In conversation.
And you walk back along the Thames
And the sun has come out for a moment
And you think
Thank you for bringing me here.

The end.

Into the Woods

2012-02-05T16:45:00.000Z

Into the woods
To find the snow fairies,
To see the kids having snow fights,
To see the snowmen who have popped up in the night.

There is a mum and and her little girl building a new snowman
Mum has the bucket and spade,
They're normally reserved for holidays at the seaside,
But the snow is calling.
The little girl sits next to the growing mound of snow,
Dressed in a pink jumpsuit,
She looks at all the white around her,
And shakes her little head,
Where did it all come from???

There are kids and grown-up kids
With plastic toboggans,
And people throwing snowballs at each other.
People are smiling
As they pass each other by,
Hello! Isn't this great? Isn't this lovely?

And then you walk into the Little Wood.
And it is oh so quiet,
The stillness of it all,
The picture postcard perfection of it all,
Makes your heart melt
And you hope the snow around you doesn't.

Saturday Night

2012-02-04T19:09:00.000Z

I have a to-do list a mile long
And a stack of emails to reply to,
And friends to connect with,
People I love and cherish and miss to say "dear friend, I love and cherish and miss you" to.
And homework, and research, and practise, and learning all to be done.

But right now,
I have a cup of tea
And beautiful music playing,
And outside the snow fairies are dancing,
And the road is turning from black to white,
And the grass is turning from green to white.
And my breath is fogging up the window.

And my little Aussie soul is laughing,
Because here she is,
In a land far away
Where it's properly cold
And it snows!
And it is lovely.

The end.

St Paul's

2012-01-31T22:19:00.000Z

You're standing outside St Paul's Cathedral
That giant dome
That signifier of your childhood
Mary Poppins on VHS
Watching it and rewinding it and watching it and rewinding it until the tape falls apart
And you think:
What brings us to a place?

Depression when you were fourteen.
Sitting on the train on that bright blue sky day and realizing
You don't feel anything
And then all those intervening years.

The deaths of two friends. Young women like you. They decided they couldn't do it anymore.
Sitting at Coogee Beach and looking out to the ocean and wondering what on earth was next.
Learning about mindfulness.
Two years and a world trip later.
Waiting for the hair dressers and chatting with the woman, a stranger, sitting next to you.
She told you how you could do a certificate in Meditation.
Who was that woman???

And then Kris.
And then London.
And then meeting another woman on the train.
A random conversation, a chance encounter, and you've met a kindred spirit.

And then you are standing outside St. Paul's Cathedral and the familiarity of it, the instant I'm-home of it is shocking every time.
That tall grand building with its dome lit the way it is
It makes you gasp.
It's so much a part of you,
A part of your childhood,
Despite the fact you grew up over 10,000 miles away.

And then you're inside The Anthologist.
A bar in Central London.
And there are birdcages and tea cups and mason jars full of tea lights.
And there is a group of women, with the occasional man, gathered to talk about mindfulness
Strong, radiating women, with a mission to change the world one meditation at a time.

And you're here because of a chance (synchronistic) encounter on a train
Or because you watched Mary Poppins on repeat as a child
Or because you had depression and you learnt about mindfulness and because the world is small it all leads back to the same place eventually

And you stand outside St Paul's
And you let the cold air rush into your nostrils (breathing mindfully)
And then you laugh because you're on your way home on the tube!
Tell that to your fourteen year old self, or even your four-year-old self,
Dear You/Me/Us. Guess what? You grow up and fall in love and move to London and walk past St. Paul's Cathedral and mingle with people in fancy bars and one day you even climb to the top of the dome and you kiss a boy with the rooftops of London as your backdrop. For real.

What brings us here?
Fate? Synchronicity? Chance?
The world.
The end.

Someone Like Him

2012-01-28T10:19:00.002Z

from Australian Business Review

They announced Geoffrey Rush as

Australian of the Year

He is the person

Who this year, most

Epitomises what it means

To be Australian

And it makes me feel good

Makes me feel proud

As an artist

As an Australian

To know that someone like him, is

The Representation

Of my national identity

The other Australians of note this year

Are also worthy of recognition.

Laurie Baymarrwangga,

An Aboriginal elder who has worked to

Teach and share and maintain her culture

In spite of invasion

In spite of ignorance

And Marita Cheng

Who inspires other young women

To go out into a world

Dominated by men

And question, and investigate, and analyze

And to become excited and passionate

About learning

And Lynne Sawyers

Who cared for hundreds of children

Not even her own

Took them in and said

This is your home too

We are artists and scientists and carers of the land

We are inventors and innovators

We are from all over the world

We live, work, and travel internationally

We live, work, and play in our own backyard

This strange large island

At the bottom of the earth

We are more than kangaroos and wattle

We are more than yobbos on the beach drinking beer

We are more than the Anzac legend suggests

More than boyish mates coming together under fire

We are more than a flag coloured by British rule

We are a complicated lot

Represented this year, by an actor

Who gets on with his work

And supports others to do the same

Who shows it is possible to be

A brilliant artist of the world

And still be, Australian in name.

A Weekend in anoTHEr Country

2012-01-22T19:07:00.000Z

In the morning you go out to meet another Aussie-expat and you go to a lovely Australian/New-Zealander cafe called Flat White and enjoy your renewed-found love of coffee. You make a note-to-self to find an alternative to espresso, as even four sugars per tiny cup seems excessive - though it is down from five. You enjoy delicious toast with homemade hummus and fresh avocado. It is the best hummus you have had in ages but you spend the rest of the day paranoid you reek of garlic. Afterwards you walk through beautiful St James's Park to the War Rooms. There are ducks and geese and swans and a woman is hand-feeding them over the fence. You think she is a bit mad, but realize that these birds are probably rather used to people hand-feeding them.

The Churchill War Rooms are bizzare. They are secret bunkers for the British War Cabinet during The War. Small and slightly claustrophobic and when the war ended the people literally turned off the lights, walked out, closed the door, and didn't come back for decades. Now the rooms and corridors and bunkers are a museum and you can walk through and see exactly how it all was over seventy years ago. Imagine being in the rooms Back Then. The rooms would have been smokey because everybody smoked back then, and above you the world was falling apart and you didn't know if when you left work for the day (or night) if your house or even your street was still going to be there when you did. No one except the government was allowed to know that you worked there because it was Top Secret. If you were a secretary you had a special gas mask that allowed you keep talking on the telephone even during a gas attack. The War Stops For Nobody.

You walk back to Soho to the Soho Theatre Bar to mingle with other drama students. You are late, but it seems you haven't missed much except a free drink. A casting director is giving a talk. She says things you have mostly heard before, but you're feeling light and inspired and you scribble down some of her points and feel a sense of renewed enthusiasm. Then you wander around the room and meet some of the other actors. They are all graduating this year too, ready to go out into the Big Wide World and try their luck at this acting thing. Will all this time and money and effort be worth it?

You meet a girl with Scandinavian/American heritage. She wants to move to New York and live the life of a starving actor. She knows it's a bit weird to want that life, but you understand what she means. It's New York. And then you meet a boy who gives you the feeling that he is on the cusp of something brilliant, but you're not quite sure what it is, but you're sure he is destined for great things. And then you meet another girl who is interested in verbatim theatre and using theatre to make a positive difference to the world. And it is nice to meet someone as excited and passionate as you about the possibility of theatre.

You head home on the tube. And you get home and you make chickpea patties, which you haven't made in the longest time, and you make a big batch of quinoa and steam some spinach. And you spread a little beetroot dip from yesterday's cooking adventures on the chickpea patties, and you pour out a little sweet chilli sauce. And you sit at your desk to do some work and you breathe and smile and know that you have had a most wonderful day.

The end.

Just Around the Riverbend

2011-12-31T15:37:00.000Z

A year ago today I knew I was moving to London but I didn’t know how

A year ago today my best friend was despairing that he would never meet someone and in six months he’s getting married.

A year ago today I had no idea what 2011 would bring but I knew it would be exciting.

And it was. It was exciting. It was lovely. It was hard. It was emotional. It was inspiring. It was draining. It was everything I had hoped it could be and so much more.

I met my heroes. I fell in love. I moved to a whole other country.

And here we are on the brink of 2012.

The Occupy Movement is rustling.

I have six months left at school.

Another trip to America is on the cards.

After that? Who knows?

They say that 2012 was the end of the Mayan calendar

That the end of the world is nigh.

But I choose to believe it's all about to change.

There is a shift, a quickening, a change in the air,

And I’m not quite sure what it holds.

But I breathe, and trust, and light, and love,

And know that something’s just around the riverbend.

Because something’s coming. Something good.

Could be. Hold still.

This is the beginning.

Into the Woods

2011-12-26T18:10:00.000Z

Imagine going out for a stroll
And a little while from your house
Are not one, but three woods!
And they are part of ancient woodland systems
Visited by people for thousands of years
And you walk along a well-worn path
And although it is December
And the middle of winter
Everything is so green!
And you smile at the holly and the ivy
And the families playing soccer in the park
And the mud beneath your boots
And at the end of a long walk
You find yourself in an Indian restaurant
In the middle of London
Eating delicious courses of spicy tomato soups
And vegetables and rice mixed with large helpings of coriander
And you walk home
And the sun sets around 3pm
And you enjoy another cup of tea
And you think
This is London
And it is lovely.
The end.

Dance of the Ice Fairies

2011-12-19T00:39:00.000Z

Remember the ice fairies in Fantasia

Who swooped across the world

And left frozen sparkling trails in their wake?

They visited my street tonight

Whilst I was out

Watching The Nutcracker

A new version of it

No sugarplum fairies or dancing Russians

Instead fluffy pink party girls and bikers

No grand balls

But an austere orphanage

Matthew Bourne’s uncanny ability to modernise and remake the classics

But the music remains

And Tchaikovsky’s score is still as beautiful now as it was when I was 7 and taking ballet and twirling around the living room with my arms up-

And walking home with my love’s hand in mine

The world had been visited by ice fairies

Fallen leaves on the ground covered in frost

Evergreens, the road, the post box, garbage bins

All sparkling silver, really as if the fairies had skipped over everything with their chilly toes and wintery wings

And the night was clear

And the stars were in the sky

And the air was chilly and crisp

And the fairies were invisible

But their glittery trails remained

The end.

On the Steps of the Palace

2011-12-16T22:29:00.000Z

Imagine one day you’re in London

and you’re Living The Dream!

You’ve wanted to be an actress your Whole Life

And suddenly here you are!

At one of the top drama schools in the world!

And every day you climb the steps to the school and

Literally engraved into the rise of the steps

Are the names of people who’ve been here before.

People who have “Made It”

In the profession

This crazy business like no other.

Because what would it be like if your dreams actually came true?

What if you grew up and actually got to be who you wanted to be?

What if you were Mary Donaldson, an account manager from Tasmania? And what if one day you were in a pub in Sydney and this really attractive guy starts flirting with you and you think, “Gee, I like this one.” And you hang out for a few days, and the air is warm and the sky is blue, and it’s all rather festive because it’s the Olympics, and a few days later he turns to you and he says, “By the way, I’m the Crown Prince of Denmark. If you like me, like, like like me, you’re going to have to renounce your citizenship, learn Danish, and promise to bear my children. In exchange you get to a princess. Like, for real.” What do you do in that situation?

When people talk of Living The Dream, they don’t mention the self-doubt, or the worry, or the anxiety.

Or that actually living the dream feels and looks different to what you expected. Or that it could even be better than what you've imagined your whole life, and that’s the overwhelming part?!

Did Mary sit in her room one night and pour her heart out to her best friend and say, “Ohmygod. I don’t know. I mean he’s wonderful. And I really love him. But he’s a prince?! An actual prince?! Isn’t that ridiculous?!”

Because what if you are,

What a prince would envision?

Although how can you know

Who you are till you know

What you want, which you don’t?

You know what you want. And you want to be an actress. And one day out of the blue, without any guide, a chance to audition fell into your lap, and you seized it, and it worked out well, and you moved to London. And after all this training, you want to write and dance and sing and act and tell stories and have someone with money pay you to do it. And you want to reach out to people to make this world a better place. And you want to talk about what’s going on around you in an interesting and theatrical way. Because nothing else excites you like that idea. Literally no other job in the world has as much appeal.

You’re here. And you’re Living The Dream. And as Sondheim’s Cinderella says, yes, “Sometimes it’s scary... And you have to wary.” But you keep going. And trust, trust, trust that the universe knows what it’s doing with you. Because one day, you just might end up not just on the steps, but inside the palace, and it just may be wonderful.

The end.

Do You Hear the People Sing?

2011-11-22T19:52:00.001Z

This is the beginning

Of the beginning

Or so they say

But there’s definitely a rumble and a stir

A change in the air that says

Something’s coming, something good

As people of all ages and backgrounds

Gather to demand something different

A change in the way things are run

They converge in city squares

And in front of financial institutions

They bring tents

And attempt to give voice to everyone present

They even occupy empty bank buildings

Reclaiming the space for the public

To say alright! We’ve had enough!

We’re sick and tired of a world

Governed in a way that is

Unsustainable, unhealthy, unjust

As Matt Taibbi’s friend says,

f*#! this shit!

And it’s not just America.

It’s Egypt and Tunisia and Libya and Bahrain and Syria and Yemen and Algeria and Iraq and Jordan and Morocco and Oman and Kuwait and Lebanon and Mauritania and Saudi Arabia and Sudan and Western Sahara and South Africa and Spain and Greece and France and Germany and Portugal and England and Ireland and Scotland and Canada and Argentina and Mexico and Brazil and Hong Kong and Malaysia and Australia and New Zealand and the list goes on and on...

And as the protests grow and refuse to be catergorized

Refuse to be silenced

The police show up in ever increasing numbers

With riot gear and pepper spray

And the right-wing politicians tell those damned hippies to go home and take a shower

At the end of the day

What are we fighting for?

Police v. protestors v. politicians v. presidents v. prime ministers v. people

Whatever costume you’re wearing

It’s all people fighting people fighting people

As twenty-something Kate Monster asks,

Why can’t people love each other and get along Christmas Eve?

I hope this is a chance for change

For the system to be made accountable

To create a world that is

Sustainable, healthy, just

We have to believe something better is possible

Or we will never even be able to attempt to create it

Die Vampire, DIE!!

2011-10-29T23:32:00.000+01:00

People have been asking "How London is going?" It’s wonderful. It’s exhilirating. It’s exhausting. It’s one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. The past few weeks have been a slog and I confess I’ve been rather down. Every day has been filled with self-doubt, worry that I’m not good enough, and much self-despising talk inside my head. What am I doing here in the middle of a recession training for a career where there are minimal job prospects and ridiculously tough competition? I’m here for love. Because nothing else makes me happier. And knowing that there is nothing else on earth I’d rather be doing, I meditated. I listened to musicals. I journalled. I read inspiring blogs. I watched inspiring videos. I obsessively followed Seth and Sharon. I talked with friends and loved ones. I channeled some [Title of Show] goodness and I told that little bitch of a voice inside my head “DIE VAMPIRE, DIE!!!!” Being a musical theatre actress may be scary to some people. At times it is even be scary to me. And facing my demons in possibly the scariest thing I will ever do. But facing them with spirit fingers, and shiny dances, and all-singing, all-technicolour glory is exactly how I want to do it. This Halloween, I'm dressing as the thing that frightens me the most. Myself. And I'm going to make like Buffy and kick some vampire-inner-demon butt. The end.

Days Like These

2011-10-23T15:34:00.001+01:00

The sky is blue. And the air is crisp. And the night before you’ve been to see your favourite band, The Cat Empire. And the gig is not one of their most mind-blowing or exhilarating, but they play some of your favourites, like The Car Song and The Darkness and The Chariot. And seeing those Aussie boys all the way over here in London playing their tight tunes and doing what they do best just makes you feel good. And you remember all the gigs you’ve seen them play over the past 8 years and all the friendships and lovers they’ve seen you through and you know at the end of the day, no matter what, despite the glorious cliche of it, you’ll always have the music. And in the morning you head out to East London to meet up with old friends and you walk down Brick Lane. And you smell all the delicious curries. And you spot one of the lead singers from the Cat Empire and it makes you feel a bit hip that he’s here too. And you walk through the record shop and find a shelf full of books and you find one which looks interesting and you discover a lovely chapter on food foraging in London and you get so lost in its words and pages that you’re surprised when your friends are suddenly standing in front of you calling out your name reminding you that you are standing in a record shop in east London. And then you sit on a bench in the sun with a chilli hot chocolate and a dark chocolate truffle. And to your left a family is posing for photographs. And to your right people are eating assorted food stuffs from the street vendors dotted all around. And you make your way west towards central London and stroll around St Paul’s Cathedral and feel oddly moved by the Occupy London people. This tent city outside the church, peacefully protesting the status quo. And you head back home and buy pasta and sauce and garlic bread for dinner and supplies for cookie baking. And the sun sinks deeper into the west and streaks the horizon with a dash of highlighter pink. And you smile at the chill in the air. And know you are living the life enchanted. The end.

I Could Write A Book

2011-10-17T00:49:00.000+01:00

And it's nearly 1am
And you're wired
Because you've spent the last seven hours reading about musicals in Australia
And you're a bit frustrated because you can't access all the journals you need to
And the more you read the more you want to know
And every now and then you have "ah ha!" moments
And you feel like you get it and it all makes sense
And then you re-read your notes and realize you need more material to back up what you're thinking
But you have a mighty list to go and tackle the British Library with tomorrow
And that makes you so excited
Because you love learning and reading and theorizing and trying to make sense of it all
And you're really grateful you did that podcast thing last year
Because you have all these quotes and useful bits and pieces up your sleeve
And your sensible self tells you to GO TO BED ALREADY!
But your inner writer needs to VENT!
And your soul needs to calm down because it's so excited
So you promise that NOW you will go brush your teeth, and meditate, and journal, and sleep
To start all over again tomorrow
The end.

You'll Never Walk Alone

2011-10-11T23:19:00.000+01:00

http://www.sharonwheatley.com/

Sometimes you are down and out and feeling really crappy. And you feel like drama school is just code for "expensive creative therapy." And you've spent the day questioning yourself and doubting yourself and feeling super frustrated that your top notes aren't where you want them to be. And feeling like It Is All Really Hard. And then you come home and you make a massive batch of rice and lentils and carrot and leek and beans which you stuff into freshly baked capsicums and your flatmate has cleaned the bathroom and it doesn't feel so share-housey anymore and you have an amazing internet connection which gives you access to the world. And you have a really good cry. And then you stumble across blogs of Broadway actresses and you read them and remember that "the journey" is at times just "hard" but dear child, you never walk alone. And you can still smile. And you can still be inspired. And you can go to bed feeling like the sun will come out tomorrow. The end.

Idina and Marvin

2011-10-07T01:49:00.001+01:00

Imagine you are ten and you dance around the living room with your arms up like this and suddenly you are a grown up living in the city where Mary Poppins comes from and you are sitting in Royal Albert Hall, which is very beautiful, and very big, even for a grown-up. And Marvin Hamlisch, who is the man who wrote A Chorus Line, the first musical you ever saw live, the first musical where you felt that little tingle in the bottom of your stomach telling you, “Oh! That’s what I want to be doing!”, walks out onto the stage which has a full symphony orchestra sitting on it, and he walks up to the podium and all the people in the audience cheer. And he raises his baton, and the people with the instruments know which notes to play and they are the notes to the opening of the song “One” from A Chorus Line. And you hear that familiar refrain and you suddenly feel a bit teary because there is Marvin Hamlisch conducting one of the pieces he wrote, which happens to be from your first proper musical, and here you are in London studying musical theatre and sitting in Royal Albert Hall!

And a little while later Idina Menzel floats onto the stage in a beautiful white ball gown with a black sash. And she sings “I’m not that girl” from Wicked, and Cole Porter and Lady Gaga and she tells the story about being cast in a little off-Broadway show called RENT and how on the night of the dress-run the writer Jonathan Larson died unexpectedly of an aneurism and she sings a lovely version of No Day But Today and oh god it makes you cry. And your friend passes you a tissue. And then Idina sings For Good acapella and that is very good too. And outside the theatre you get to meet Sir Tim Rice. And he is a very friendly chap. And you can’t quite believe that the man responsible for many of the lyrics that you have sung, listened to, heard over and over since time began, is standing in front of you smiling and shaking your hand and introducing himself as “Tim”.

And then you go and share pizza with a new friend who you met in the audience, and she is lovely. And you float home on London’s wonderfully efficient public transport system and you think “oh my! What a week this has been!” Because the day before you saw a concert at the Barbican where the BBC Symphony Orchestra played a new score as live accompaniment to an old silent film from the 1920s. And it was utterly magical to be transported by an old film made over seventy years ago and even more magical to watch a full symphony orchestra play a delicious score.

And earlier in the week you were in NYC. And last week you saw two brand new musicals. And you were a guest presenter on your favourite podcast. And in the midst of it all you get to go to school every day to learn more about musicals and be with lovely people who share your joy and your passion and your fun. And you feel very blessed to be surrounded by all this culture, this music, these wonderful people. And you walk home and the moon is shining and the stars are bright and the air is chilly and fresh, and you say, thank you thank you thank you to the powers that be for allowing me to live this life enchanted. And you crawl into bed at 1.40am and fall asleep smiling. The end.

A Weekend in New York

2011-10-04T00:15:00.000+01:00

On a whim I decided to go to New York for the weekend
It is entirely possible from London
If one has a flexible schedule and a willing credit card
So I booked the trip
And flew to New York on the Friday afternoon
And I stayed at my friend's house in Queens
And looked after his cat

I saw a Broadway show
It was even better than the cast recording
It made me laugh and cry and filled me with joy
Then I went to the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts
And melted at all the resources they have available for free
I met up with beautiful friends who inspire me
I met five young sailors in Times Square
And the wonderful, delicious musical stereotype of it all thrilled me
New York, New York, it's a...

On Sunday afternoon I went to a recital at Steinway Hall
And watched Walter Hautzig, at age 90, play delicious pieces by Mozart, and Schubert, and Chopin
The walking stick hiding his nimble fingers and lightness of touch
As he played I thought about how musicians from centuries and countries far away can be brought to life right here, right now, through patient learning, through dedication
He talked about learning Chopin's Ballade in G minor at age 16
And how when he was ready to perform it at his school in Vienna
The soldiers marched in and the world fell apart
And Mr Hautzig decided that they could never take away his music
And they didn't
And he ended up working with my great-grandfather in Baltimore
One from Shanghai via Spain via the Philippines
One from Vienna via Jerusalem via New York
And I ended up working with his granddaughter
An Australian in Connecticut
Completely separately, amazing coincidence of strange happenstance
Or are we drawn to the same people in each life time?

Going to the airport, it was chilly
The rain kissed a gentle goodbye
There was even a rainbow
I boarded the plane
And suddenly I was back on the Tube wondering if I had dreamt the entire thing

Beyond My Wildest Dreams

2011-09-16T14:29:00.000+01:00

There once was a little girl in Sydney

And she used to dance around the living room

And it never occurred to her that she wanted to do anything else but be an actress

But other things got in the way

Like school and boys and

Other People’s Expectations About What Is A Good and Proper Life

And so the girl went on her way

And skipped through life

And soon found she was very sad

Because she wasn’t doing what her heart told her she needed to be doing

And one day she said, “Ohmygod, enough!”

And she packed her bags and hopped on a plane

And found herself on the other side of the planet

And traveling in peak hour and crammed into the tube

With all the three piece suits and briefcases

And people commuting to offices

And the girl thought,

“These poor unfortunate souls!”

How many of them get to do what she does everyday?

Run around a room and play games and sing songs

And dance

And Live The Dream

Dear People!

It’s okay to live your dream!

Why hold onto those doubts all those worries?!

If I don’t I just know I’ll turn back

I must dream of the life I am seeking

I am seeking the courage I’ve lacked

The courage to live life without reliance

Face my mistakes without defiance

Show them I’m worthy,

And while I show them

I’ll show me!

Because it IS so exciting

To be out in the world to be free

My heart IS wildly rejoicing

There is nothing the matter with me!

I made a choice to be happy

To let go of the angst and the pain and the worry

And I made a choice to go out into the world

And do whatever it is I’m meant to be doing

And hey world, here I am.

A little girl from Sydney living in London

Spending her days learning all things musical

And it is wonderful.

The end.

Journey to the Past

2011-09-05T23:52:00.000+01:00

image by rosel-D

Dear Uncle Mordechai. Could you ever have imagined, two-hundred and twenty odd years ago, as you sat in the pub in London that your great-great-great (etc) niece would one day be here in this city of yours?! Because here I am. I’m in London! There’s no place like London! Demon barbers aside... The double-decker red buses, the Tube, the masses of people from every walk-of-life, colour, creed, background, and birth status. That building is from 1200 A.D and that one was built on Roman foundations. And yet, here I am, this child from Australia whose ancestor sailed from here over two centuries ago! And in the intervening time his son sailed from London too, and he had children and they had children and they had children and so on and so forth and in between there were whole World Wars and the Depression and stolen children and whole countries were formed (including Australia which was signed into being in London!) and other immigrants arrived (including my mother) and suddenly history has fast forwarded, has appeared at this moment and here I am this Australian child born of Spanish, Filipino, Dutch, and Polish ancestors standing in London! And like a game from the Age of Empires, my map slowly unfolds around me as I explore this unknown yet strangely familiar territory. All the names from the Monopoly Board, all those markers from collective consciousness suddenly here in my real perceived existence. It is strange. It is lovely. It is just here. And here I am ready to start drama school, ready to begin this Next Chapter. And I think of everything that has brought me to this moment. Two hundred and twenty odd years of history. Twenty-seven years of my own history and memories and recollections of the life that has brought me to be living in London. And then I smile and let it all go because it doesn’t matter. Because here I am. And here we go.

This Is

2011-08-22T14:20:00.000+01:00

This is me breathing

This is me standing in space

This is me embracing all twenty-seven years of me

This is me rejecting everything I know and starting again

But embracing everything I know and incorporating it into the starting again

Everything is important

Nothing is important

Everything matters

Nothing matters

In the words of Alanis

I’m high but I’m grounded

I’m sane but I’m overwhelmed

I’m delirious

I’m stable

I’m happy

I’m emotional

I’m floating on the energy of you

This is me kissing your face

Your hands your lips your ribs your thigh

This is me holding you

This is me crawling into bed to be tangled in you

This is us lying in bed together

This is the sound of rain on leaves on trees on the world

This is us snuggled under the doona

This is us sharing who we have become today in this moment

There is no time no space

Only what we have constructed determined to be so

There is only this moment

How can we make promises beyond the moment when this moment this breathing this now this second this “this” is all we have all we can be

The power of memory

The power of now

Eckhart speaks to us and we smile and quote movies

Heath and Julia and Joseph and Alison Janney

And it makes us smile

It makes us laugh

Makes our energy sparkle radiate pulsate on the same frequency

You said that

We were on the same frequency

And it made me tingle with delight

This is me falling in love with you

This is me feeling light and wonderful

This is me wanting to rush to rooftops

And tell everyone about you

This is me smiling

This is me writing

This is me not being able to find the words to express what I’m feeling

This is me laughing at myself for being like this

This is me being incredulous that it is at all possible

This is me giving thanks to the universe

To the powers that be

To spirit

To the unnamable thing

To you

To all the stuff of the last year and a half that has had to be lived

To experience

To life, to life, lachaim! To Tevye saying why is it so? I don’t know. Because. It is.

Because it must be so. Because the world is completely unknowable. And yet I know it. I can fathom it. Even if just a little bit. But that’s ok. It’s my little bit that I fathom.

And here I am fathoming and living and breathing and being frustrated and being delighted and being here on this earth. And my god, it has taken me so long to be okay with the fact that I’m even here! But HERE I AM AND I’M OKAY WITH THAT.

And then let go of that because that’s not important either.

Soothsaying for the ego.

All of it is great. All of it is nothing.

Love. Life. Joy. Bliss. Sadness. The world.

Here we are.

Here you are.

This is me.

This is us. This is the world. This is everything and nothing.

These are signifiers for the unnamable unquantifiable unimaginable energy of life of shifting of currents of time of space of the world of everything ever happening to be existence.

Once upon a time there was a big bang

And the world began

And the light was started

And a little while later you and I were lying on the grass (that had grown in the meantime)

And the lights from that beginning were shining down

The very glow of them

And in the moment I offered my thanks to the universe the spark the divine unnamable thing that is the energy of the world

I saw my first shooting star of the summer

And in a ring around the field where we were lying

Were dark clouds, even darker than the dark of the night

And they were flashing bright with lightning

Somehow that night

We were simultaneously star gazing and storm watching

And the air smelt sweet

And you tasted like peppermint

And there was a fizzle a spark of chemistry an exchange of energy a thrill of joy rush delight

And then we agreed to say goodbye

This is me breathing

This is me standing in space

This. Is.

The end.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

2011-08-15T17:07:00.000+01:00

Rain is absolutely falling from the sky. It’s been raining for three days straight. The constant patter of the rain on the roof on the trees on the pavement on all the towels and swimmers hanging on the line and on the umbrella above the porch. Everything is damp. Everything smells of wet. But I’m singin’ in the rain. I’m dancin’ in the rain. I’m laughing at those clouds up above. I am in Connecticut. I’m smack bang in the middle of a grand adventure. I’m Living The Dream of being a world traveler, of living overseas, of being a creative soul. It’s raining, it’s pouring, my heart is absolutely soaring. The grass is green. The trees are green. The pavement is shiny black. It’s okay to fall in love again. It’s wonderful. Of course, it is raining. Soon I’ll be in London, the land of stereotypical quintessential rain. I’ll be standing in the English rain! Nearly all significant events of my life happen in rain. The day I was born. The day I started school. The first time I visited drama school. The first time I traveled overseas. The day my ex-fiance decided to end our relationship. The day I started uni the drought actually broke (for a bit). Dear London. Apologies in advance. It’s probably going to rain a lot between the end of August and early September. The end.

The Hunger Banquet

2011-08-09T03:55:00.001+01:00

Talking about issues of food security and food distribution and the wealth of people and economics and people living in the world and the way we eat and distribute our resources. I was in the “middle income group” and so my dinner was rice and beans and it was surprisingly delicious and the kids on the floor, the “low income group”, ate bowls of rice and the people at the “high income” table ate three different kinds of pasta! Imagine the luxury, three different kinds of pasta in one meal!

I live in total luxury. I have everything I ever need in the world at my fingertips. I have the power of my mind at my disposal. I can choose to be happy with my lot. It is a surprise that the people who live in the most wealthy most product filled most resourceful countries have the highest rates of depression. They have everything and still the world holds no joy. I choose to hold joy. I choose to have gratitude for all that I have. All that I have access to. I want to make a difference. I want to make the world a beautiful place, a joyful place, leave it a little better than when I found it. This place I came into. This time, this place, this age of terrorism, of mass consumption, of food aplenty yet mass starvation, of highest technological innovation, of new age hippie spiritual life. To love, to life, to joy. To be. To be here. Here I am. Hello.

Rachel

2011-08-07T17:08:00.000+01:00

So imagine you have a friend

And she is an artist

And she knows a lot about sustainability

And she studied trash for her thesis

And she inspires you to know more

To learn more

To be better than you are

And she shares her books about recycling and up-cycling and waste reduction and breaking the waste cycle and the one about how it is possible to use human excrement as fertilizer without making people sick

And you see her in action

Teaching young people about sustainability

The table of beads made from rescued factory bits

Rubber tubing and buttons and bolts and nuts and screws

The left overs from other things

That in the current system would just be thrown away

The table with the “guess-who” games on food and energy and water

Did you know that Fiji water comes from a place where the local people have no access to clean drinking water?

The fact sheets and interactive tables

How quickly can you sort the recycling?

Do you know what can be recycled in your town and that it changes from region to region

And country to country?

And it blew you away

Her commitment and her enthusiasm and her passion

And you know she is one of life’s rare people

A sparkling gem of intellect and vigor and joy

And you want to know more, do more

Because you have met her

And shared a few days with her

And been inspired by her

And you know it is possible to live in a world where people care about the resources they are using

And be responsible for the life they are living

Because she showed you it was true

She shone light on that which was less than ideal

And she made you see things in a new way

And you are glad that such people in your life exist

To make you question

To make you see

To give you renewed enthusiasm for this life this path

Of creativity and sustainability and passion

Dear Rachel, thank you for your light and joy

Run, Lulu Run! (Again)

2011-08-02T20:43:00.001+01:00

It is hot. The sky is blue. I am standing with several hundred people. We are converged on the green in the center of New Milford. We are all decked out in various forms of exercise gear, mostly shorts and t-shirts and sneakers. We are at the starting line. A man’s voice announces “Ready... Set... Go!”. The New Milford Library clock begins to chime 9AM. We shuffle off, and by the end of Main St, we are running. The pace is quick. We leave the main town behind. The sound of feet on the pavement. The crowd thins out. All I can think of is how different it is to the City to Surf. I miss the crowds. There are stretches where I’m almost running on my own. It could just be another Saturday morning run. A few families sit on their lawns to watch the runners passing by. They wave, or just watch quietly, observing the motley crew of humanity running by their front doors. Children, and grown-ups. Serious runners and running clubs and people who just like to run, and, of course, the parents with prams. An older runner calls out to a group of spectators, “Am I winning?”. A woman calls back, “Top 500!”. Everybody laughs. I try to focus on my breathing. At the first mile we reach our first water station. It is a hot morning. It is difficult to pace myself in miles. I have only ever known kilometers. The scenery is stunning. We run through the leafy green back streets of New Milford. I think about how at home I feel here. But I am a foreigner. I have a different accent to all the people around me. When we run though, we sound the same. I have a revelation about what I want from life. I'm doing exactly that. And that feels good. I round a corner and see a group of people I know cheering the runners on. I feel both elated and strangely confronted. What do I look like when I run?! They give me a boost. Later when their cheering has worn off and the pain returns, a kind stranger and fellow runner jogs up next to me and says "You can do it! Finish strong!". It gives me the final boost. The last mile is mercifully all down hill. I can see the finish line ahead of me and I get that delicious rush of adrenalin that comes from long distance running. I’ve nearly done it! A man on a microphone calls out the names of the runners as they come through the finish line. He incorrectly pronounces my name, twice. It takes a little of the shine off the achievement of having just run 8 miles. But it’s not the finish that counts. It’s the inspiration from having done it. From the possibility of being fit, of being in control of my body, of my mind. Of living a life where I can run races in different parts of the planet. I grab an orange quarter and another drink and head over to the green to meet my friends and cool down. It wasn’t my best event. It was harder than I expected. But I got a new sense of resolve out of it. And that is exhilarating. See you at the next one.

Choice of Awe

2011-07-28T19:30:00.000+01:00

Sometimes life is hard and downright scary

And sometimes we feel like shit

And the appropriate response seems to be to run away and hide and bemoan the travesties of the world

All the murder, rape, and pillage

We are killing the planet

We are killing each other

All this war

All this killing

All the emotionally unstable sad miserable people in the world

It is terrifying, it is big and huge and out of our control

But I choose to believe that I do have a choice

I choose to smile

I choose to breathe

I choose to see the light and the lovely

And if that makes you uncomfortable, that’s your issue

Because I happen to enjoy the light and lovely

In the midst of awful you can find the world is full of awe

You just have to look

And believe in what may not at first be evident

And believe that it can all be ok and can even be better

There is light and love and joy and bliss

And you can choose to see it

And you can choose to cultivate it

And you can choose to make a difference in your part of the world

To make the awesome and lovely and inspiring more evident

And perhaps then life won’t be so hard or downright scary

And less full of killing and war and emotionally unstable sad miserable people

Perhaps I’m a crazy left-wing idealist hippy

That’s ok.

I know which world I choose to live in.

Hunter Valentine

2011-07-15T15:09:00.000+01:00

You are in the middle of the forest. And one night three women appear. One holds drum sticks. One holds a guitar. One holds a bass. They form a band called Hunter Valentine. Three women on stage rocking out. It lifts your heart. It pulses in your soul. They are fantastic. You watch your campers dance around you. A group of campers are allowed on stage to dance. One of the youngest campers runs up to you and tells you that being at camp makes her less afraid of being on stage because she feels safe here. I tell her that she should do it all the time. She tells me the people at school will laugh at her. They probably will. Because people at school are horrible. They are afraid of people who follow their bliss and so we are conditioned to be afraid of ourselves. Dear Camper. People will always tease you. People will always be afraid and jealous and ready to knock you down. But someday you will find the strength within yourself to say I CARE NOT WHAT YOU THINK!!! And you will laugh when the girl who bullied you in high school and pushed you into the lake for no reason other than she thought you were tragic “friends” you on Facebook. And people might say "oh, you are just a guidance counselor", but you will know that you make a difference and you love what you do and one day you too will be on stage rocking it out. And you will dance beneath the moon and find kindred spirits and be inspired by powerful women who fill their music with passion and energy and sing love songs about revenge. The end.

An Australian in Connecticut

2011-07-09T19:29:00.000+01:00

Imagine you are in a place nearly 10,000 miles from where you grew up. And you are surrounded by teenage girls a whole thirteen years younger than you. When you were their age they were babies, some not yet even born. When you wake up in the morning you don’t hear the raucous call of kookaburras, magpies or cockatoos. You hear woodpeckers and the pretty chirps of birds unrecognisable. The girls eat cheerios and eggs and bacon for breakfast. The tea is “er-bal”. They eat fries instead of chips, and drown them in ketchup not tomato sauce. Nearly everything they eat contains high fructose corn syrup. They wear tank tops not singlets. Thongs are considered inappropriate day wear. When it’s “cold out” they wear sweaters, not jumpers. They giggle at your accent and wonder why you call trash “rubbish” and cell phones “mobiles.” But across time and space, you find yourself sitting on a picnic bench on a porch. And together you are writing stories. And you all love to write, and create things, and play music, and dance, and sit under a bright blue sky with trees sparkling in sunlight. And one night you have a slumber party. And you listen to the rustle of chip packets, and smile at their giggling, and look at the world anew again because you remember what it was like to be them, even if you have grown up world's apart. And it fills your heart with light to know these girls and to share a piece of summer with them.

Forest Meditation

2011-07-05T19:43:00.000+01:00

Imagine you are in a forest. You are on an elevated platform. And somehow you are protected from the mosquitos. And it is quiet and still. The occasional chirping of birds. It is like a meditation tape. The setting, the sounds, it is all what you envision when you are sitting in concrete and imagining yourself somewhere calm and lovely. The forest, like something you have dreamed about, wished about, seen represented so often, suddenly now your reality. It is even more gorgeous than you could have ever imagined. The way the sunlight filters through the trees, shimmers deliciously, all that green! It must be impossible! Yet there it is. The way sun is setting into the trees. It is like gold. It is like the trees are on fire. It is all you can do to run through the forest to catch it with your bare hands. The shimmering sparkling orb of light of it. But somewhere in the logical recesses of your mind, you are aware that running into the middle of an unknown forest at sunset is not safe. Is a crazy thing to do. So you sit and you stare at the shimmer and let your heart ache at the joy beauty splendor of it.

It's a Wonderful

2011-06-22T03:56:00.000+01:00

And people are here from all over the planet speaking all their myriad of languages and think of all the hours worked to get here all the emotional upheaval all the planning the working the wishing and praying and suddenly you are there in Times Square and your heart just sings at it all and your inner child is practically climbing up your inner organs and screaming dear Lulu! THIS IS WHERE WE BELONG! OH HOW I LOVE IT HERE! And your adult sensible self thinks, oh god. New York?! Times Square?! It is grimy and full of advertising and pandering to mass consumption and the massive energy use of the place and the people everywhere. And surely this is not paradise! But oh my! Another hundred people! NYC with all your shiny lights and endless billboards and theatres on every corner and crowded streets and vendors selling hot dogs and pretzels and the stands with the men selling prints of paintings of the shiny lights and endless billboards and theatres on every corner and crowded streets and vendors selling hot dogs and pretzels. And everywhere you look is a sign advertsing a show! And theatre is number one! And you’ve just come from a Broadway show and here you are walking down Broadway to the subway at 42nd Street and it is wonderful! It’s true what they say, the Bronx is up and the Battery’s down and the people ride in a hole in the ground, New York, New York, it’s truly wonderful brilliant amazing makes your heart and soul sing!

LA-NYC-MA-ACK

2011-06-20T23:30:00.000+01:00

And you find yourself on a mountain. And over to your left is the Hollywood sign, unfocused and blurry not from romantic screens over the camera but from the haze that covers the sprawling city. But still the view is pretty and surprises you because there is more green than you ever expected or remembered from your last time in this place. And then you are sitting in a chair that gives you a massage while one lady buffs and files and paints your nails while another buffs and files and paints your toenails and suddenly you are in a restaurant which serves the best quality food and it makes you happy to know that there is a place that values organic whole foods too. It even has a name here. Macrobiotics. And you spend time with friends and you play games with dice in red cups and you work together to save yourselves from the sinking island and capture the treasure and escape before it's too late and because there are more of you playing you can't quite figure out how to do it and the game sinks you twice.

And suddenly you are on the other side of the country watching the Tony Awards in Brooklyn. And it is nice to be with people who have even been to see some of the shows, let alone know what the Tony Awards are. And then you are standing on the High Line, a disused railway line that is now a garden. And it really is delightful to walk above the New York hustle and bustle and be amongst the greenery. And then you are in Central Park, and the Frick Museum, and then you are walking across the Brooklyn Bridge and you find yourself in a little shop drinking hot chocolate spiced with chili and cinnamon and nutmeg because although it is the beginning of summer this afternoon is a little cold with a constant drizzle of rain and it is perfect weather for spicy hot chocolate and little hand-made chocolates.

And then you are in Boston. And you are with your cousin. And although she is several years younger than you, and you grew up continents apart, she gets you. She understands. She is like you. And it is nice to be with a kindred spirit. And you eat pizza with goat's cheese and fig and caramelized onion. And you sit in an Irish-style pub and listen to an Italian musician sing convincing drinking songs, and everyone around you is banging the table with their hands and singing and laughing and even thought the room is dark the mood is light and you enjoy your red wine and your gorgonzola melt and singing and laughing with the rest of them. And then you are in Salem and you marvel at the history of it all and when did that history become a tourist attraction? The cemetery with its old graves makes you shake your head in wonder. A grave from 1692! And you look out at the lake behind Kassie's house and marvel at all the events that have brought you to this place, this whole year-and-a-half of events, and you are glad that you are here with this beautiful friend overlooking a beautiful lake.

And then you find yourself on Nantucket. And you are with Los Titos de Nantucket. And they make you feel so at home, so welcome. And although there are many memories here, you feel OK. And it surprises you to feel OK. And it makes you feel better. And you wander around town and feel joy in all the flowers and the prettiness of the place. And you are walking along the beach looking out to the Atlantic. And all around you are shells - the flat mother-of-pearl ones are Indian currency. The round stripy ones are scallop shells and remind you of the Camino, but these are smaller. There are rocks and shells of every colour and the sand alternates between soft and rough and you watch a seagull picking its way through a fresh crab. And as you get closer, the gull picks up its lunch and moves further down the beach, lest you try to steal his catch of the day.

And you breathe in the salty air. And on the ferry you toss two pennies overboard, just past the lighthouse, to make sure you will return. And as you approach the lighthouse you inspect the pennies and discover that there is a penny for each of the years your sisters were born, the older and the younger, and you think that is a nice touch of coincidence. Your family are with you wherever you go. And you hope that by throwing those pennies up into the air and sparkling down into the water below, they will draw your sisters here, and bring you back too. To this pretty place where you have so many friends and so much delight.

Leaving Oz

2011-06-09T19:01:00.000+01:00

Imagine a girl who wakes up one day to find herself on a plane. And she is somewhere over the Pacific. And she thinks perhaps the events of the past year and a half have only been a dream. Because suddenly it all seems right to be flying in the air towards a new life, heading towards a life of musicals and theatre and being away from the place where she was born and grew.

And even though this is her third trip away, this trip feels different from the trips before, because now she has the Scarecrow and the Tinman and the Lion by her side. In the past year and a half she has acquired a little more wisdom. She did the meditation course and sometimes it was hard but mostly it was wonderful and she learnt to sit quietly with herself and be still.

And even though her heart had been shattered into a million thousand pieces, she realised that she had all these wonderful friends around her (And you were there! And you were there!) and she learnt to look after herself and take care of herself which were all very important. And it was heartening to make all these discoveries.

And in discovering she had a little more wisdom and a little more heart than before, she discovered she had the courage to go out into the world as herself and not be afraid of what other people thought or said or how often they projected their own fears about the creative life onto her being.

And she made a promise to herself that she would continue to practise as often as possible to have wisdom and heart and courage and remember her friends by her side and to go out into the world and trip the light fantastic.

The end. Sort of.

Chestnuts Roasting

2011-06-02T05:19:00.004+01:00

What on earth possessed a human to look down at a chestnut pod and think

Hmm, I’m going to crack open that there spiky pod and then I’m going to take out what ever is inside and I’m going to throw it on a fire and crack it open again and eat the yellowy white flesh in the middle

Because truly, chestnuts are a strange item

And it is hard to imagine that you didn’t eat your first roasted chestnut until you were 24 and walking the Camino in rural northern Spain

Because by that time in history chestnuts had already been reduced to a cliche

Swooney tunes sung by swooney men at Christmas time in the northern hemisphere

Entire worlds away from your birthplace

And at 24 you are walking through a chestnut forest with your beloved

And you wonder if the chestnuts on the ground all around you are edible

And you exclaim I want a roasted chestnut!

And you round a corner and there are Giuseppe and Maria collecting chestnuts

And Giuseppe calls out to you

And you start chatting

And he talks about the niños in the area lighting fires at this time of year

And you and your beloved shake your heads and tsk-tsk those naughty niños because where we come from children who light fires in the forest at the end of summer are asking for trouble

But this is northern rural Spain

And autumn time is chestnut time

And Giuseppe lights a fire and throws a couple of chestnuts into it

And you stare around nervously wondering if it is ok to be in the middle of the forest with old Spanish men lighting fires

And then he gives you a smoldering chestnut

And you peel it

And it burns your fingers

And then you taste your first roasted chestnut

And it is like a hot potato

It is like a hot potato with just the right amount of butter

It is amazing

It is heaven

Suddenly the cliche makes total sense

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire

And two years later you are at home in Ashfield

And your beloved is gone

But you have a bag of chestnuts from the markets

And you’ve roasted them in the oven according to your uncle’s advice

And the smell of it makes your heart yearn for another time

And you peel the first chestnut

And the heat of it surprises you

And then you bite into it

And the taste is as blissful as heavenly as wondrous as you remember

And you remember the time and place and happenings of your first chestnut

And you smile

And you wonder how it is it all began

Don't Judge a Soup

2011-05-24T05:10:00.000+01:00

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

Synchrone

2011-05-24T05:03:00.000+01:00

And one day you are walking down the street in Glebe and you see a flyer for a lady named Keyna who teaches piano and flute and you think, that is an excellent name for a musician, and I would like to take flute lessons again. And you call her and it takes you nearly six months to organise a lesson and finally you meet and you discover you have met a kindred spirit. And every week you share music and meditation and it is fun and lovely and inspiring. And she makes you better than you are, and she inspires you to work hard and suddenly you found you have passed your eighth grade flute exam and it makes you happy and proud and gives a great sense of accomplishment. And then you sing her original music and it just makes you so happy.

And then you discover that she is playing in a new duo called Synchrone and they are playing French music. And you go along to the Flute Tree at Leichardt and for an hour or so on a sunny Sunday afternoon you listen to delightful music that touches your soul and makes you want to move to Paris and drink wine and eat pastries and be surrounded by beautiful people who play beautiful music in pretty little unsung venues. And they do a lovely cover of the theme from "Amelie" which is one of your favourite movies of all time and you smile because music makes you happy. And sharing music makes you happy.

In the words of Felix Riebl, if only the whole world could be made of people like these, then the news would not be telling me of all that warfare endlessly. The end.

Stratton Cottage

2011-05-20T12:31:00.000+01:00

Today I wandered around a lake

And breathed fresh mountain air

And ate beautiful food

Which Zev and I prepared together

And then we sat by the fire and toasted marshmallows

And my inner child positively sqealed with delight

At the gooey molten deliciousness

And I came home on the train

And watched the sky turn orange

And when I got home

I sat with Len and we ate icecream with chocolate bits and maple syrup

And sometimes you feel down

And sometimes you feel nice

And sometimes you miss old lovers and friends

And sometimes you need to just let it all go

And watch flames turn wood into ash

And drink tea

And know that your friends are the most wonderful beautiful special people

And that life sometimes is scary but it’s only temporary

And everything in life is only for now

Because tomorrow you may find yourself on a jet plane to a land far away

To seek new adventures and new lovers and new people

And dear, you simply must trust that it is all going to be ok

Because it is

The end.

It's a Jolly Holiday with Mary

2011-05-05T15:19:00.000+01:00

So it seems Mary Poppins is taking over my world.
I'm seeing her everywhere.

A couple of weeks ago I discovered her in my local park.

Last week I saw her at the Capitol Theatre.

That night I even got to shake Mr Banks’ hand (well really it was Philip Quast, who is even cooler, and it is lovely to meet people from your childhood, people who unknowingly sang and danced into your loungeroom and heart and soul every afternoon on Playschool).

And then Mary’s image appeared on banners all over the city.

And then this week I heard an interview on Margaret Throsby with Valerie Lawson who is P.L. Travers’ biographer.

And then tonight walking down George St (how apt!) I discovered that Town Hall has become Number 17, Cherry Tree Lane!

Hallo, hallo, hallo! What have we here then?!

Chimney sweeps and umbrellas lit with fairy lights tumbling out of Town Hall!

And the night was crisp

And the air was fresh

And it made me smile

Because anything can happen if you let it

Town Hall is transformed for the official Opening Night of "Mary Poppins", Sydney

The three (seriously happy) sisters and Philip Quast

Indigo Trio

2011-05-04T02:14:00.000+01:00

They say there is nothing new under the sun

But change is the only constant

Find new for yourself

Discover a new everyday

Singing with Indigo Trio was a delight

To learn new music that no other singer has sung before

To explore new songs

To play with other musicians and discover the new

Make changes

Every morning

Under this sun of ours

That glowing ball of chemistry

Is a new day

Original. New or back to the source from whence it came

All is light

All is song and dance

To find the new and make it your own

To be unafraid and just go out and do it

To conquer the old sayings

And make change

Make bliss

This is delight

Art and About

2011-04-26T08:19:00.000+01:00

Imagine walking to the train station

And along the way you can see the Olgas

And an idyllic beach

And a hundred years of history marching through the tunnel

On the other side of the station an old steam train comes rushing out through green fields peppered with yellow flowers

Outside the fish and chip shop herds of seahorses swim in a blue ocean

And it is nice that someone took the effort

To paint murals around your suburb

The council made an effort to make it nicer

Prettier

Deter vandalism

Art is everywhere if you look closely enough

I have often walked down this street before

And now it sings in technicolour arrangements

(murals were painted by Robin Martin and commissioned by Ashfield Council. The Underline Project is also an initiative of Ashfield Council)

Music

2011-04-21T12:20:00.001+01:00

http://www.josephinewall.co.uk/flute.html

Oh the joy of music

To play to sing to listen to watch

To play a freshly serviced flute

It’s like playing a new instrument

It’s fun to hit the high notes and not have to push as hard

It’s so satisfying to play and be so immersed in the music and suddenly a whole hour has passed

Sometimes the notes elude you and jump about the page and make no sense

Other times it’s like, well, music

And black notes and lines become melodies

And gloriousness

To connect with Bach

Who lived over two hundred years ago

Whole lifetimes and continents away

And yet here I am

This girl in Sydney, Australia playing Bach! Playing Chaminade and French Romance melodies and twentieth century abstractions and studies and scales

How incredible that I should be here

In this time and space

Playing music written hundreds of years ago!

Sharing music with children

Spreading musical love across generations

My grandmother and my mother gave it to me

Remember sitting in the lounge room watching The Pajama Game with Abuela and she knew all the words. She sat there singing,

I’m not at all in love!

And you looked at her in wonder! She knows all the words!!!

And now I pass it on to children through teaching

Kids this is music and it is the best thing since sliced bread

Sharing knowledge of melodies and dynamics and inspiring people to dance and sing and act

Today I found myself telling fifty children that performing is the best thing ever

And I meant it

How exciting how thrilling how joyous

The exhausting heartbreaking wonderful thrill of it

Music! As Jonathan Larson wrote: “food of love, emotion, mathematics, isolation, rhythm, feeling, power, harmony, and heavy competition!!!!”

I’ve done my practise for the day

The girl next door is playing her violin

Houses apart, worlds apart, connected by music

sand art mandala from Lanzarote

Sunday Night

2011-04-17T13:50:00.000+01:00

Happiness is coming home on a Sunday night after a long week of work and rehearsals and teaching and being able to chat to your family on the phone and throw together a pot of potato and leek soup and have a vegetable quiche slowly cooking in the oven, ready for lunches and dinners for the following week. It's slicing up a loaf of fresh sourdough bread from the markets, ready for toasts and sandwiches. It's having Adam Hills and Co. playing in the background, making you laugh as you chop spring onions and leeks and peel potatoes and throw diced pumpkin into a pot of boiling water to soften the flesh. It's finding a double yoke in the last egg. It's going to group meditation and feeling the love and being surrounded by oodles of positive energy. It's listening to podcasts on the train on the way home. It's wearing gumboots in the rain. It's the kindness and support of your friends. It's watching a musical with scripts in hands and being so close to the actors you can literally reach out and touch them. It's the magic of being able to watch productions of shows thousands of miles away on your laptop. It's about taking pause amidst the hustle and smiling and saying wow. I live a life enchanted. And it is magical. And you lick leek and potato soup off the wooden spoon and know you've done good. The end.

Moving to London

2011-04-08T07:29:00.000+01:00

Left: Abuelo and Abuela in Manilla in the 1950s, Right: Mum and an assortment of (now) uncles and aunts in 1963

Forty-eight years ago you sailed into Sydney and leaned against the railing of the ship

Thinking of children who weren’t even born yet

All the children with you would one day be grown-ups and married with children of their own

Could you have imagined me, your granddaughter, named after you

Who when she went to Spain for the first time felt strangely at home

Despite the language barrier

Who longed her whole life to be European, to speak Spanish, who thrilled and delighted at finally getting a Spanish passport

How would you feel knowing your nieta is not an out and proud Australian

That I cringe at our accents and our inability to speak more than one language

That I find Australian culture frustrating

That I can’t stand that our national day of pride is a day commemorating a bloody battle thousands of miles away

That I cannot connect with Australian history because it is so contested

A few months ago I sailed into Sydney myself

I got up at 5am to watch the lights of Sydney Harbour come into view

And I thought of you leaning against the railing of the Iberia

Could you have imagined as you sailed past Nielsen Park or Point Piper or Taronga Zoo that these would be the sites of my childhood?

Strange to think that the Opera House wasn’t even finished yet

Could you have imagined me singing in the Opera House?! Or having my year 10 formal at the Zoo overlooking the giraffes looking out to the Harbour?

Could you have imagined that I would grow up among the eucalyptus and the smell of the Australian bush

And yet never feel at home in it

To feel frustrated every time someone asks “but don’t you feel so lucky?”

In two months, I’m leaving this place

To go to the land where your brothers live

And then to London to seek my own life and put down my own roots

Where I will be in forty-eight years time?

And what stories will have played out between my arrival at Heathrow and sitting down to reflect on it all?

Abuelo, forty-eight years ago you sailed to Sydney

To a land that for you was entirely sight unseen

No internet to do your research

No crystal ball to let you know that it was all going to be ok, that you were making the right decision

Our wanderings are not over yet

We are still shifting in time and space

But wherever we go, there we are

And we have our stories and our ancestors to guide the way

Autumn Afternoon

2011-03-29T06:38:00.000+01:00

The sky is melt-your-heart-blue, and it has been snowing white flowers all over the back corner of the garden. When you go for a closer look you discover three small toadstools. There must be fairies at the bottom of the garden for all this enchantment. The breeze is warm and the air smells like change. It is nice.

Cultivating Happy

2011-03-27T14:10:00.000+01:00

Sometimes you feel down. And tired. And frustrated. And you have to remember that it’s okay to feel this way. And you have to remember to allow yourself some down time. It is okay to sit and watch television and not be productive a thousand percent of the time. And you watch Adam Hills who is a very funny and lovely man because he is so human and genuine. And the episode is about hobbies. And you recall that your hobby is collecting moments of lovely. And Nick Vujicic warms your heart because he is all heart. And Jennifer Byrne inspires you to smile because she genuinely smiles and talks about optimism. And you remember that happiness and bliss and joy need to be consciously cultivated. And you feel better because you have had a cup of chamomile tea with honey. And you have laughed. And you have let yourself be. And that is a moment of lovely in itself. And that lifts you a little bit so you feel ready to go out into the world again. The end.

Anything Can Happen

2011-03-21T04:47:00.000Z

Imagine that as a child you watched Mary Poppins on repeat and there are countless million times you have watched Mary float down from the sky and dish out coloured spoonfuls of goodness and hold the beak of her umbrella and say that will be quite enough of that thank you! And as that little child you wished and prayed that Mary would one day actually fly into your world. And then imagine one day you are living in a place you have never lived before and one morning you go out for a jog. And you are in the park and next to the playground you spy a statue of Mary Poppins. And there she is with her feet in perfect first position and her umbrella held above her head and the familiarity of her makes you gasp. And even more surprising is the discovery that P.L. Travers (who wrote the original books upon which the movie was based) once lived just a short jog from your house. And the person who unveiled the statue six years ago is your aunty. And it is surprising. And it is lovely. And your inner six year old says that is too cool. Mary Poppins lives at my park.

Jason Robert Brown

2011-03-07T12:46:00.000Z

And one day you find yourself in a theatre surrounded by a bunch of avid theatre nerds and you are all there because in time and space you have sat listening to the original cast recordings over and over and some of you have performed in amateur productions of his shows and the music is what gets you. And although it is not a large venue, it is entirely intimate and you can hear his breath and the plosive p’s and b’s and t’s and feel the pressure of his pinky hitting the top notes of the piano. And he excudes so much energy so much passion so much life as he plays and sings the songs you know so well but suddenly tonight they are new because the brain that wrote them is performing them in front of you and you wonder how he can possibly still be sitting with all that energy surely he must be floating surely the way he taps his foot so insistently that the whole auditorium can hear it feel its pulse surely he must need to stand but his back is straight and there he is sitting playing the piano and singing. And he is utterly marvellous. The way the music is driving and full of vigour but the lyrics are melancholy and funny all at once and the whole room is transported to intimate worlds far away in the land of America but still so familiar it could have been your own living room. You have had that conversation. You have had that heart break. You have felt that loneliness. You have shared that laugh. The magic of watching the craft come to life. Feeling like you are there as he writes the notes the chords the lyrics the song is created in front of you before your eyes inside your very ears. And all there is is a piano a microphone and a man in a spotlight. And it is lovely. It is breath-taking. It is music. The end.

You Don't Win Friends with Salad

2011-03-05T23:36:00.000Z

Homer Simpson once said, "You don't win friends with salad." Well, actually you do. Because this week, salads, and variations thereof, have become some of my best friends. Rainbow chard and basil, grated carrot, beetroot, and ginger, roughly chopped tomatoes, goat's curd with olive rind, fresh corn on the cob, cold roasted potatoes, all drizzled with balsamic and olive oil, a sprinkle of black pepper and a pinch of salt. Oh my. The flavour explosions of joy. Filling refreshing, and so damn tasty. It's hard to believe I was once rather adverse to the idea of being a vegetarian. But fresh salads made from locally grown organic ingredients, and purchased from the markets where I have a community of friends who like me love the idea of fresh greens, I believe dear Homer, that I have won.

Part of It All

2011-02-26T23:41:00.000Z

There is a song in the musical [title of show] called "Part of It All", in which the two leads Hunter and Jeff sing about wanting to be a part of the buzz, excitement, inevitable post-show blues, and life that is show business. And it is lovely when you are in the midst of it, and feeling exactly part of it. When you spend your days singing and dancing and fluting and running to the theatre and from rehearsal to rehearsal and you go to sleep dreaming about inversions and chord progressions and you spend your nights covered in white paint and hair gel and glitter and the thrill buzz excitement of being in front of an audience. And you wake up ready to start all over again. And if that is being part of it all, I love it with every inch of my being.

11 Steps to Bliss on A Sultry Summer's Day

2011-02-20T11:08:00.000Z

1. Buy bag of achachas from Eveleigh Farmers Markets
2. Freeze entire bag of achachas
3. Take desired quantity out of the freezer (always one more than you think) and allow to sit out of the freezer for 5-10 minutes.
4. Ensure you have a damp cloth or serviette handy
5. Peel off the hard orange skin
6. Marvel at the small white ball of goodness in front of you
7. Sink your teeth into the flesh
8. Enjoy the cold sweet fruity sorbet goodness that is the frozen achacha. Enjoy the sensation of fruit juice running down your fingers and hands. It is like you are five and eating a melting icy pole. It is better.
9. Repeat steps 5-8 as often as necessary
10. Place scraps in compost bin, clean hands and face
11. Enjoy the contented feeling of having consumed frozen fruity sorbet achacha goodness.

The end.

The Life I Lead

2011-02-10T22:03:00.000Z

to dance around the living room

to watch cyd with her legs up to eternity flirt with gene

who danced in the rain laced with milk

so it would be more visible on camera

to watch yul and deborah

one-two-three-and across the royal palace of what is now Thailand

but used to be called Siam

etcetera etcetera etcetera!

to have tea with jam and bread on the mountains of austria

maria and mary are your nannies

julie is magical because she sings and dances and appears in two different movies with different coloured hair and rescues the children of europe and england from their sad fathers

just a spoonful of sugar and imagination and pop into the pavement to win races

singing makes everybody happy

even retired grumpy sea captains

yes sir!

to want to be a part of that world

to be a strong princess

to be like barbara and fiercely independent and capable

just leave everything to meeee

hello dolly, hello dolly, it’s so nice

to one day find yourself transported

from the land of oz to the rooftops of london

and all you have to do is click your shiny red shoes together

and wish and pray your life could be enchanted

the end.

Magic Beans

2011-02-05T23:07:00.000Z

Imagine if you will, a purple bean. It is so purple it is the very definition of purple. It is what purple should be. The bean is long and skinny. And you have a handful of these purple beans. And you chop off the end bits and peel off the stringy bits and you throw them in the fry pan along with some chopped zucchini and capsicums and kernels of yellow corn and Spanish onion and garlic. And it all smells amazing. And as the stir fry simmers and sizzles, a miraculous transformation begins to take place. The purple beans, so purple in their purple beanery begin to change colour. It is like kitchen magic. See here my purple beans! See how radiant they are in their purpleness! Look closely, watch carefully... a flame, a sizzle, a wave of the magic wooden spoon and VOILA! Green beans! And before you know it, there are no more purple beans in your stir fry. Just green. And the tiniest traces of purple to remind you of what was once before.

And soon the stir fry is ready. And you turn off the heat. And you munch into your greens. And they are delicious. And another day you can add purple beans to a salad. You can sauté them in olive oil and a bit of garlic. You can drizzle lemon or garlic butter over the top. They are even delicious raw. And as you consume and remember to be thankful to the people who took the time to plant the beans and watch them grow and harvest them from their vines and bring them to the markets, you know you have shared in the magic that is the bean. Lovely.

Eleven

2011-01-31T02:47:00.000Z

I'm not big on maths, but I love patterns in numbers and dates. Like when the date is 01/02/03 or 04/05/06, or the fact that one of my birthday's fell on 10/09/87... It's a strange idiosyncrasy that completely defies my utter distaste of mathematics as a subject. We were never good friends. But I digress.

This week I received a delightful email that stated the following. In 2011, we will experience 1/1/11, 1/11/11, 11/1/11. and 11/11/11. So cool. There is something poetic and lovely about all those ones. Now, take the last 2 digits of the year you were born. Add the age you will be this year. The answer will always be 111... Amazing. And yes it works for everyone, even if you were born after the year 2000 (the answer will be 11).

One of my work colleagues pointed out that this will work for any year (for example, in 2012, the last two digits of the year you were born plus the age you are turning will be 112). Now, how all this works is completely beyond me comprehension of mathematics. I'm sure it's so simple it's obvious. But my brain doesn't work that way. I'm just happy to enjoy the symmetry and poetry of it all.

In the world of numerology, eleven means mastery. It is also said to represent idealism, vision, artistry, invention, and balance. So if this is the year where we master our dreams and passions and artistic selves, may the year be filled with eleven. And now, if you will excuse me, I'm off to enjoy elevenses...

Melbourne

2011-01-23T10:35:00.000Z

image from ineedaholiday

Once upon a time yesterday there was a girl called Lulu who liked musicals very much. She liked them so much that one she decided to fly all by herself from Sydney to Melbourne to see some new musicals. So she booked her ticket and off she went. When she got there she was very excited because her hostel was right by the river and in walking distance to Federation Square and the Melbourne Arts Centre, which are both very lovely.

After walking down by the riverside and admiring all the pretty sculptures lining the riverbank, Lulu took herself to the Australian Centre for the Moving Image to see the current exhibition, “Dreams Come True: The Art of Disney’s Classic Fairy Tales”. Lulu spent a few happy hours wandering the halls of the exhibit, admiring how clever the people at the Disney Studio were and still are, and getting a little bit teary at all the lovely princess stories and remembering just how much they are a part of her psyche, even if her university educated feminist self says that the messages they espouse are a little bit dated. The critical part in Lulu’s mind also wondered about the stories not being told in the exhibit, for example, why/how/when did the Walt Disney Brothers Studios become just the Walt Disney Studios. Lulu remembered from her university days that there is a lot of story being told in what is purposefully left out, and she made a mental note to investigate it further later on.

Then Lulu made a mad dash for the Melbourne Arts Centre, which was luckily just a hop, skip, and a jump across the river. She collected her ticket, and went downstairs into the Fairfax Theatre to watch Program One of Carnegie 18, a new musical theatre development program. In short, it was utterly wonderful (if you would like to hear the longer version of this part of the story you will need to keep an eye on Flusical for Episode 6: Carnegie 18). Lulu laughed, cried, held her breath, and was filled with utter excitement at the high level of talent, and the wonderful new works on display. In the interval she met a lovely lady named Jan, who happened to be the editor of Australian Stage Online, the newsletter in which Lulu found out the London Central School was holding Sydney auditions. Lulu thanked Jan profusely for changing her life for 2011, and with much discussion about musicals and Australian theatre to be had, Lulu and Jan sat above the river eating wicked but utterly delicious treats.

In the late afternoon, Lulu was lucky enough to interview Vanessa Pigrum, the Artistic Director of Carnegie 18, for Flusical. Vanessa was very lovely, and Lulu was left feeling inspired and ready to take on the world. The second program of Carnegie 18 was equally as exciting and moving as the first program, and Lulu was particularly taken by the new opera about netball. She had no idea that the drama of netball could be so fitting for an opera. Or that sopranos could be so funny.

By now the sun had set over Melbourne, and while most other folk were watching the tennis, Lulu made back for her hostel. Sitting in the kitchen writing up her notes for the day, Lulu had a wonderful conversation with a Canadian traveller. They talked about politics and nations and the state of the world and indigenous affairs and national identity. It was very lovely, and it was only when the kitchen was closed for the night did the conversation come to an end.

Four hours later Lulu was back at the airport, and by now she was very tired from her grand adventure and severe lack of sleep. Thankfully adrenalin and inspiration were abundant, and helped her to stay awake throughout the day so she could work, edit the next episode of the podcast, and write about her adventures. And then she collapsed into bed to dream about all things musical.

The end.

19 Lovelies

2011-01-19T12:47:00.000Z

Just because it is the nineteenth day of the year, and the nineteenth day of the month, here are nineteen things inspiring me at present...

1. My job. I love getting paid to watch a profesh musical every day. It is amazing.
2. Being in a new Australian musical, Wonderland. Working with beautiful, lovely, talented, and awesome people.
3. Seth Rudetsky. Whenever I am down, sad, or lonely, Seth is there with a deconstruction to remind me that someone is as obsessive about musicals as I am. Perhaps even more so.
4. MusicalTalk. Every episode I learn something new. It inspires me to learn more, to get my hands on every musical ever recorded, and to watch everything that comes out.
5. The absolute plethora of musical activity happening in Australia right now. Carnegie 18, Jersey Boys, Wicked, Hairspray, Mary Poppins, Xanadu, Rock of Ages, Doctor Zhivago, Legally Blonde... We are not a cultural wasteland of despair.
6. My beautiful friends. You know who you are. You are amazing.
7. Playing flute and learning new music.
8. Watching people rally together to help each other in the flood crisis.
9. Singing in front of an audience. Singing at home. Singing in rehearsal. Singing lessons.
10. Writing every morning for half an hour.
11. Knowing that I'm moving to London to study musical theatre.
12. Knowing that I'm going back to summer camp in June.
13. Going back to the markets and seeing all my lovely vendors again. Eating beautiful food.
14. Nemo, my regular "The Big Issue" vendor, who always has a smile and a story about the current issue
15. Running weekly morning meditation sessions in Glebe and sharing what I've learnt and knowing that others are benefiting too
16. Amy Krouse Rosenthal and her 7 things. Always Trust Magic, Beckon the Lovely, Connected, Do, Empty Spaces, Figure it out as you go, Go to it.
17. Researching, writing, and recording episodes for Flusical with Flick.
18. Going to dance class and being surrounded by beautiful, talented people, and being pushed to be better
19. Breathing into the moment and trusting that it will be ok.

Double Dutch

2011-01-14T02:01:00.000Z

photos are from Dutch Double's Facebook page

Back in the day we used to spend our recess and lunch times jumping rope. The teacher on duty would bring out the crate full of skipping ropes. Red handles for individual ropes. Yellow for long ropes. If you combined two together, you could play double dutch, two ropes turning in opposite directions. It was tricky, but with practise, you could do it. And perfecting the art of double dutch was hardcore. You were elite if you could do double dutch.

Yesterday I came across a group in Pitt St Mall called Dutch Double, a performance troupe using a combination of break dance moves, fast jumps, pumping music, and skipping ropes. It was awesome. It made our primary school days of skipping in the playground look like, well, primary school kids skipping in the playground. This is hardcore skipping.

A quick Google search reveals that double dutch is quite popular all around the world. There are championships. It's an official varsity sport in New York. And watching YouTube clips this morning of other jump rope troupes, I thought, wait 'till they make a movie of this... And then discovered, they already have! Disney (of course) released "Jump In" in 2007 starring the rather gorgeous Corbin Bleu, which roped in (sorry) a massive 8.2 million viewers when it premiered in January 2007 (higher than High School Musical which debuted at 7.7 million). But the sensation is not new as evidenced by this HILARIOUS pop song by Malcolm McLaren (former manager of the Sex Pistols)...

Skipping. It's fun. It's good for your heart. It's good for your soul. And if you master double dutch, you will have awesome dance skills, be able to work in a team, and busk in Pitt St Mall for money. Win.

Tangled

2011-01-10T12:19:00.000Z

http://adisney.go.com/disneypictures/tangled/#/home/

Ah the magical world of Disney. It has received many criticisms over the years. That Walt was a controlling, conservative, women-belong-in-the-kitchen-and-chained-to-a-man kind of guy, that the corporation treats its employees badly, that it fills children's minds with unrealistic expectations about life and love. As an eighties baby, it's almost in my genetic code to love Disney. I grew up with The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, and The Hunchback of Notre Dame. These movies are under my skin. The heroes and heroines and tunes are a part of my very being.

In recent years, Disney have churned out a few great films. Wall-E was beautiful. Any film where the world is saved by a robot watching Michael Crawford croon out “It Only Takes a Moment” on repeat is a winner in my eyes. But the message of Wall-E was spoilt by the plastic land-fill filling paraphernalia that inevitably followed the film. Enchanted was fabulous. It humorously captured the magic of Disney at its escapist, all singing, all dancing, all glorious technicolor best (though I will never understand why they cast Idina Menzel in a non-singing role. That’s just ridiculous).

Today, I saw Tangled. And it was magic. It made me cry. It made me laugh. At twenty-something, Disney still has me oohing and ahhing at a cartoon. The girl twirling in the meadow, the lanterns floating through the sky, the wild chases through medieval Europe. The re-telling of a fairytale with plenty of feminist, post-modern self-referential punch. The score, by that genius of film music, Alan Menken, though not particularly memorable is beautiful. The throw-away lines and psychological break downs provide plenty of adult humour. It is Disney doing what Disney does best.

Yes, it is escapist. It is a land where the concepts of republicanism or fear do not even exist. The environment is still in tact. Girl can meet boy. Boy and girl can fall in love and have adventures. There is sunshine. There is love. And your dreams come true. And you live happily ever after. Is Disney filling me with false hope that life can be so sweet? Perhaps. But it is nice to have hope. And it is nice to believe, even if only for a couple of hours in a darkened cinema, that love and beauty and inspiration can win over darker forces. And that is the magic of Disney.

Blue Sky Day

2011-01-08T00:40:00.000Z

Imagine lying beneath a tree. And the sky through the leaves is bright blue. And it is warm. And you are reading a book by your favourite author. And it is a book you have read several times before. And it is like visiting an old friend. It is comforting. It hasn’t changed since you last read it. It is reliable. It is not fickle. It is lovely to be with your old friend, lying on grass, beneath the shimmering green of a tree, beneath a bright blue sky and surrounded by sunlight.

And imagine it is now later in the day. It is night. You have been to work. And now you are home again and you are a little day-weary. And you decide you want a snack. And so you sit down with a plate of fresh bread, and some of your home-made camembert and a little truffle oil, and it is the best snack in the world. And the cheese is all at once light and rich and full of delicious. And the aroma of the truffle oil infuses the whole kitchen and makes you feel alive.

And you go to bed feeling full of delicious. And you are sun kissed. And your book is sitting on the bedside table, and you decide to read just one more page because even though you are very tired you simply can’t resist. And you end up reading a whole chapter because good friends are like that. And you fall asleep. And you dream of lying beneath a tree on a beautiful bright blue sky day.

The end.

Tom Ward

2011-01-04T13:29:00.000Z

I was inspired to make this after seeing the very talented Tom Ward playing in Pitt St Mall this afternoon. Apologies for the camera quality, but we work with what we have. I hope you too have had a beautiful day.

7 Steps

2011-01-03T11:52:00.000Z

Seven steps to a fun night out.

1. Get one of your besties to come over and play dress-ups. Application of make-up, and playing with hair absolute musts.
2. Purchase munchies (and not feel guilty that you are eating crap).
3. Go to hole-in-the-wall-blink-and-you'll-miss-it-vintage-store in the back streets of Surrey Hills
4. Meet interesting urban artsy types
5. Watch hilarious so-bad-it's-brilliant-plus-it-has-young-very-attractive-Johnny-Depp-in-lead-role movie musical
6. Drive home listening to early Cat Empire album.
7. Smile at life.

Dinner at Shelly Beach

2011-01-03T00:46:00.000Z

(picture of Shelly Beach from here)

One day one can find oneself sitting at Shelly Beach looking at the headland covered in lush greenery and at the ocean and at people picnicking and playing and swimming and in the past fifteen minutes you have encountered three water dragons, a possum, and a rabbit sitting beneath a tree. And although a storm is brewing, it is still warm, and people are not in any rush to leave. A man is strumming a guitar. There is laughter. Upstairs in the cafe there is a party going on and you can hear the music and the hubbub of people chatting and mingling.

And then you can find yourself sitting inside a lovely restaurant eating beautiful food with five beautiful people from all over the world. And the conversation tingles your toes and resonates with everything you have been thinking and feeling and reading for the past little while and it all feels delightfully synchronistic. And outside the storm has taken gentle reign of the beach. It's raining, but not very hard. The lightning camera flashes the sand and the ocean and the trees. And it is lovely. And it is beautiful. And you go home tired but happy and feeling like something within you has shifted. And you are incredibly grateful that you were there, you were a part of the conversation, and you shared the energy and it was light and beautiful and song.

The end.

New Year's Eve

2011-01-01T00:04:00.001Z

It’s days like these that will make you happy. Spending time with friends. Popping in to see Matt and Clairie-O, meeting lovely people and playing board games. Catching the train across the Bridge and seeing the myriad of people lining the foreshore. Sydney is made for big events on the harbour. A bright blue sky day. Warm. People of all ages, backgrounds, and walks of life are out on the street. The air is alive. I meet Len at Dawe’s Point. All the “VIP’s” feeling extra special because they have invites. Wrist-tagged and bag searched and inside to where the mood is festive, the music pumping. The view is spectacular. I don‘t recall seeing the fireworks from this side of the bridge before. The Opera House to my right. The sound of the giant bangs. Explosions of sparkle in the sky.

We walk around to Circular Quay. The kind concierge at the Marriott finds me a safety pin for my holey jumper. Walk up Pitt St and up to the State Library. On the steps of the palace I meet Heath and Lyn and Ben. We walk down to join the queue for the Cahill Expressway. It is orderly and calm and moves quickly. Onto the Expressway and down to the western end. The view is utterly spectacular. The Bridge, the Opera House, the Quay beneath us. People are patiently waiting for midnight. We eat ice cream. Girls in colourful costumes walk past to entertain the crowd.

On the hour, the half hour, and quarter of the hour before midnight single fireworks explode over the city and over the Opera House. People cheer. And suddenly it is ten seconds to midnight. And the pylons light up with giant numbers, helping the crowds around the foreshore count down. And then it is 2011! And the fireworks erupt. A lone bird flies confused over the bridge through the smoke and glitter. The bridge becomes so covered in smoke you can’t see it any more, and even some of the fireworks are obscured. A giant hand appears on the Bridge. 2011, Make Your Mark. With your hands go out into the world and create. High five the people you meet. Offer your hand in love, in gratitude, in peace. Wave goodbye Sydney. 2011, I’m off to make my mark on the world!

Christmas Stocking

2010-12-25T23:23:00.000Z

Christmas has passed and it’s now the season for taking stock of the year. Some of this year has been awful. But you breathe into the pain, and you just keep breathing, and suddenly you find that you are surrounded by an absolute plethora of amazing food, music, family, friends, and theatre. And you come to the end of the year with the ability to say that much of it has been utterly wonderful. In no particular order, the beautiful, inspiring, exciting, and lovely things in my life this year have been...

The Eveleigh Farmer’s Markets with my bestie Len
Starting dance, singing, and flute lessons again
Starting Flusical with Flick
Starting the Movie Musical Project
Learning to cook pasta, ice cream, polvoron, bread, pastry, and cheese from scratch
Quitting the security of a full-time job to pursue theatre and it being utterly wonderful
Getting paid to watch Jersey Boys several times a week
Moving to Ashfield with beautiful housies
Developing my personal meditation practise, obtaining my Meditation Facilitator’s Certificate, running morning meditations in Glebe
Performing in The Pajama Game and meeting all the beautiful wonderful people at Strathfield Musical Society
Singing with the Bling Band
Running my first City to Surf
Discovering MusicalTalk, Seth Rudetsky, Amy Krouse Rosenthal, and Superforest
Knowing that I am surrounded by the most beautiful, talented, wonderful, supportive friends
Knowing that I have incredibly beautiful, talented, wonderful, supportive families
Working with amazing people
Seeing Shoshana Bean, Donna McKechnie, Stephen Schwartz, and Liz Callaway perform in Sydney and Brisbane
Being accepted into the London Central School of Speech and Drama Masters of Music Theatre program

Yum and Fun

2010-12-20T22:14:00.000Z

My goodness what a weekend! There have been so many moments of inspiring, beautiful, and lovely in the past three days that I barely know where to begin. I performed in my first dance concert since I was 14, I visited the North Sydney Markets and Eveleigh Farmer’s Markets and wished all my wonderful vendors a Merry Christmas, thanking them all profusely for the past year of amazing locally and organically grown delights, I cooked up a storm with my housie/bestie Len, I met a ton of performers, musicians, and techies, I partied, I watched the 8th Annual Cabaret Showcase, and I marveled at the way the weather can change from bright hot sunshine to cold and rain and even snow in Australia in December (?!?!?!?!?), all in the space of 48 hours. Crazy!!

And now to the yum factor. Following the cancellation of other exciting Saturday night adventures Len and I decided to put a rare weekend night at home by baking up a storm. Len put his recently acquired Italian culinary skills to the test and whipped up the most incredible roast pumpkin ravioli in a thyme butter sauce. Dear future girlfriends of Len, this man is a seriously amazing cook. No seriously. Freaking amazing. The promise of the addition of roast garlic to reprises of this dish is something I’m very much looking forward to. Dear Len. Please stop reading the blog and get baking. Many thanks... :) I had some left over plums and cherries which weren’t going to last much longer, so making a variation on a Cyndi O’Meara recipe for a lemon tart, I whipped together a cherry pie. It was ridiculously easy, and oh so very, very tasty. And I realised afterwards, with considerable joy, that I knew where every single ingredient came from, and just about all the farmers who had worked to bring me these goodies. The eggs and plums came from Champion's Mountain Organics, the honey from Malfroy's Gold, the cold pressed macadamia oil from Hand n' Hoe Organics, the flour from Demeter Farm Mill, and the cherries from Yuri’s Sustainable Produce in Orange.

Beautiful food, beautiful music, performing, and spending time with amazing people. Life really doesn’t get any better than this!

Festive Buses

2010-12-10T03:47:00.001Z

Imagine you're running late. And you're a bit stressed. And you're forgetting to breathe. And you see the bus, but you miss it, and you silently scream because of course you missed the bus, you're running late!! ARG!

The next bus arrives. You step inside and find yourself in a tinsel forest. The entire bus, every pole and seat is lined with tinsel. There is a Santa statue in front of the ticket machine. The luggage bays are filled with stuffed toys. There is even a Christmas tree. And you find your stress melts away a little bit, because you can't help but smile. And at every stop, more people get on, and they smile too. And it makes you feel nice, and you marvel at the fact that the bus can be a place of such wonder.

And then imagine the girl sitting next to you has a basket full of handmade soft toys. And she looks like a lovely person so you talk to her. And she turns out to be as lovely as she seems. She makes soft toys and is training to be a Kindergarten teacher, and today she is bringing in her craft to share with her class. And you have a conversation all the way to town.

And when you hop off the bus, you feel better. It was worth being late. You got to ride inside a tinsel forest with a friendly fellow human being. If this is the Christmas season, bring it on.

La Vie En Rose

2010-12-05T11:46:00.001Z

I have just watched the most wonderful film. Based upon it’s themes and story, none of it was what you would call uplifting or immediately identify as inspiring. The Great War. Alcoholism. Addiction. Abandonment. Failed parenting. Unrequited love. Affairs. Death. Loss. Grief. Music. La Vie En Rose is the tragic story of Edith Piaf, the French songstress who wooed the world with her hearty Parisian vocals and lived a most tortured and sad existence. It seems that for all the joy Edith Piaf brought into the world with her beautiful voice, she was destined to suffer endless tragedy and hardship in her own personal life.

The film, starring Marion Cotillard as the “little sparrow,” is stunning. The way the film plays with time, jumping back and forth from the famous and established, yet quivering wreck of a grown up, Edith Piaf to her sylph of a childhood self, is gut wrenching. We want life to get better, and are continually devastated when it never does. It is the magical performance of Marion Cotillard that inspires me in this film. Her performance is utterly stunning, and absolutely deserving of the seven different Best Actress awards she garnered for her performance.

In the midst of the worst, there is always beauty. The sparkle behind the eyes. The living, the breathing. The working at your craft when you are tired, miserable, fed up, feeling like all in the world is lost to you. The gift of music, of living for your craft because there is nothing else to live for. That is powerful stuff, and the kind of stuff that grips you at your very heart and soul. Marion Cottilard, and all the myriad of people involved in the making of La Vie En Rose, thank you.

Watching Mould Grow

2010-11-30T04:14:00.000Z

For the past week I have been dutifully turning 4 lumps of curdled milk in an esky, watching (semi)patiently for signs of mould, and squealing delightedly when I discover a fine furry white layer surrounding two of the lumps. I have not gone mad. I am conducting the most fabulous art/science experiment to come out of north-western France. Cheese-making. Camembert to be precise. These four round discs are the result of a wonderful day standing over a hot stove, stirring 10L of goat’s milk, adding cultures and non-animal rennet, waiting, stirring, waiting some more, more stirring, more waiting, more stirring, a little chopping, some careful pouring, and voila! By Christmas, I will have home-made camembert to devour! And because I did the course with my bestie Len, and my S’mum Meg, I will have not one, but three different camemberts to sample. WIN!

The course was a fabulous day of cheese-making and learning with Karen Borg, at the North Sydney Community Centre. Karen is the owner and creator of Willowbrae Chevre Cheese, a wonderful goat’s cheese enterprise in Wilberforce (north of Sydney). I have been visiting Karen’s stall at the markets for nearly a year now, and I am utterly addicted to her goat’s curd, and marinated fettas. Oh sweet heaven help me, if there is nothing more delicious than a bit of plain curd on a fresh piece of bread!

On the day of our cheese-making, we learnt the art of camembert and ricotta (you can also sign up for a day of blue cheese or fetta... they are absolutely on the to do list...) Ricotta is ridiculously easy, and utterly delicious when smothered in olive oil and thyme and baked in the oven until golden. While our camembert’s sat transforming from goat’s milk to curds and whey (yes, this is where Little Miss Muffet came from... she was eating curdled milk, and depending on what temperature the milk had been heated to, the beginnings of camembert or ricotta!), we sat on our tuffets feasting on pasta with a light cheesy sauce, rocket salad with pear, marinated fetta balls, and roasted walnuts, sweet potato and broccoli quiche, mini savoury tartlets, and an enormous cheese platter with blue cheese and camembert, and curd and all kinds of wonderful.

It was divine to be sitting in the beautiful surrounds of the North Sydney Community Centre on a bright blue sky Sydney day, learning the craft of something that most people may not even think about, let alone try. Cheese just comes from the supermarket right?! To attempt the science that is cheese-making, to chat with like-minded people about the origins of our food, to enjoy beautiful food and appreciate where every last morsel of it comes from. It may be slow and full of effort, but that’s why I love it. It’s like watching mould grow. A daily practise that with each day brings new surprises and joys. I can’t wait for Christmas!

Bits of Lovely

2010-11-18T23:30:00.000Z

Amy Krouse Rosenthal is a Chicago based American artist, author, and all round inspiring lady. I've been following her blog for the past couple of months, and much like the beautiful Superforest, can always be trusted to inspire beauty, joy, and lightness in the world. Her recent video Train of Thought made me smile this morning.

Another bit of lovely inspiration is Amy K.R's "7 Things" (listed at the top of this post), shared at an independent TED Talk, TEDxWaterloo.

A Midsummer Night's Dream

2010-11-14T12:28:00.000Z

I just returned from a most delightful evening at the theatre. And by theatre I mean the outdoor amphitheatre at Centennial Park. The production was A Midsummer Night’s Dream staged by Wild Rumpus Productions. The audience sat beneath the trees with picnic rugs and hampers full of food. We had Mersey Valley cheddar and Jalsberg and dips and berries and fresh bread and wine and juice and olives and eggplant and semi-dried tomatoes and fresh tomatoes. Is it obvious that we feasted? And as the sun set to the west, the players gathered around us to tell the story of lusting lovers and impish elves and fairies. No set, no props, beautiful simple costumes, simple lighting, and some wonderful good old-fashioned story telling. This was Shakespeare at it’s best. Wild Rumpus Productions claims in the program notes to create performances “that are bold, irreverant and of the highest professional standard,” and that they did. Young and old, from the four-year-old pink fairy sitting behind us, to the oldest grown-ups were all kept entertained with spirited and playful performances that bought the Shakespeare text to life. Can life get any better than this? Sydney on a beautiful clear night, summer fruits coming into season, wonderful friends, fabulous food, and a night out at theatre. My Oberon! What visions have I seen! And thankfully, not a dream, but the stuff that dreams are made of. Wonderful.

Wild Rumpus' production of A Midsummer Night's Dream is running until 28 Nov, every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday at 7.30pm. Highly, highly recommended! Tickets can be booked here.

Podcasting

2010-11-01T00:23:00.005Z

Last year I started listening to a FABULOUS podcast called MusicalTalk. Every week a group of Brits get together and talk about musicals. Their focus is mainly on London and the UK theatre scene, with occasional dips across the pond to talk about what’s happening on Broadway. They talk with actors, directors, writers, stage managers, audience members, all the plethora of folks involved in making musicals, and have a whole list of very well known industry folk on their interview credits including Stephen Schwartz, Alan Menken, Anthony Rapp, Johnny Depp, and Stephanie J Block to name but just a few.

So a couple of weeks ago, I was listening to MusicalTalk and I thought, I like talking about musicals! Why don’t I do my own podcast? And talk about Australian musicals? And in a rush of excitement I told the girls at dance about it. And they got very excited. And then, last Thursday after Chris had whipped us into shape in Broadway Jazz, Flick and I sat down and attempted our very own podcast. The results are here for your listening pleasure. In this inaugural episode we talk about our first experiences of musical theatre. It was ridiculously fun to sit and talk musicals. It was ridiculously fun to sit and edit the thing (thank you Apple and your wonderful GarageBand invention!). In short I had a total blast. Do what you love. And you will be happy. The end.

PS. We need a name for the podcast. Suggestions welcome!

Smile

2010-10-20T01:23:00.000+01:00

Things that have made me smile recently...

1. The plethora of beautiful flowers in bloom at the moment

2. Over at Superforest a little while ago, Sheri posted about everyday objects looking like faces. I came across the above goofy-like smiley face on my way to the station yesterday

3. Wearing my sparkly gumboots in the rain

4. And I NEVER thought I'd say this... but Glee's cover of Charlie Chaplin's Smile.

Smile though your heart is aching

Smile even though it's breaking.

When there are clouds in the sky

you'll get by.

If you smile through your pain and sorrow

Smile and maybe tomorrow

You'll see the sun shining through

For you.

Light up your face with gladness,

Hide every trace of sadness.

Although a tear may be ever so near

That's the time you must keep on trying

Smile, what's the use of crying.

You'll find that life is still worthwhile-

If you just smile.

The Best Things

2010-10-12T05:55:00.001+01:00

In the past 7 days I have had several beautiful, inspiring, and exciting experiences...

On Monday I went down to Canberra (the above image is actually a photo of the air con and personal light on the bus!) to visit my good friend Susie La Q and her boyfriend Ryan, and after a delicious lunch in the CBD, we headed off to the Australian War Memorial. Even though I have been to the memorial countless times, each visit is an emotional, confronting, and inspiring. It is a beautifully designed space, and the exhibits never fail to move me. It seems that the more I learn about conflict around the world, the less I understand it. At closing time, the crowds are ushered towards the exit, and we were privileged to witness the “closing ceremony”, a simple service at the Pool of Reflection. A different soldier is remembered each day, his story read out to the crowd, and at the conclusion, a moment of silence followed by a lone musician playing The Lament on the bagpipes. Looking around the crowd, a multicultural mix of tourists from all around the world, I couldn’t help but wonder, what is the point of all this conflict? I am standing with people whose nations at one time or another Australia has most likely been at war with. And for what? Has it made the world a better place? Or does it just make people more mistrusting of each other?

On Tuesday Susie and I visited Floriade. If you ignored the carnival rides and Easter Show-like stalls, you could almost believe you were stepping into an Impressionist painting. The rainbow of colours of poppies and irises and English daisies and chrysanthemums, the light green of the weeping willows dotting the perimeter of the lake was breath-taking (I love how in the photo below, the image has pixelated and it looks like a painting). The gnome knoll was a surprise highlight, with a myriad of brightly and imaginatively painted gnomes grinning up at intrigued passers-by. Thank you to Susie La Q and Ryan (and Sulley!) for a lovely couple of days!

On Thursday I took Phoebe and her friend Sara (aged 7 and 8 respectively) to the Rock’s Discovery Museum for a school holiday program called HMS Discovery. Each “sailor” was given a passport, and the embarkation point, Plymouth, was stamped onto the yellow page. The year is 1792. Captain Natalie (not quite historically correct having a female captain, but we’re willing to be a little more open minded these days) reads her crew of 10 sailors, ranging in age from about 5 to 11, a letter from Captain Arthur Phillip to King George, requesting supplies for the colony of NSW. A projected image on the wall behind the ship tells us we are at the Plymouth dock. Over the (anachronistic) loudspeaker we hear sounds of a busy wharf - sailors stomping up an down the gangplank, cows and pigs mooing and oinking, the horns of the ships.

The crew were briefed on how to run a ship by playing Captain’s Coming, and were quickly inducted into the technicalities of port, starboard, bow, and stern, climbing the rigging, sewing the sail, and scrubbing the deck. The crew assembled in the Plymouth Storehouse, and were ordered to load the ship. Sacks of tools, timber, flour, and sugar, heavy chests with currency, a large sack of mail and cages of animals were quickly despatched onto the ship by the willing crew. Once all were aboard, the gangplank was removed, the ropes were thrown in, and the sail let down.

The ship was off! The image on the wall changed to a painting of a ship at sea, and the sounds of the ocean could be heard all around. The eagle eyed crew quickly spotted that the ship was overrun with rats, and spent time running around the ship throwing fat black squeaky rats overboard. Each sailor took turns in the important tasks of furling and unfurling the sail, throwing the ropes, and steering the ship. As evidenced by the sound effects, and a new image on the screen, the ship sailed into a storm, and the crew tied themselves to the railings to avoid being flung overboard by the rollicking sea - thankfully everyone knew how to tie a reef knot! They charted their way down around South America and found themselves in Rio de Janeiro. The crew avoided scurvy by eating lemons, limes, and bananas, and dancing to the music of Rio de Janeiro. But the stop was only a short one, as there was still a long voyage ahead.

Finally, after 8 long months at sea, the crew could hear seagulls, which meant land was at last nearby! The distinct sounds of the NSW bush could at last be heard - cackling kookaburras and lilting lyre birds. The image on the wall transformed into Sydney Cove, and the crew rejoiced at having made the long voyage successfully. The cargo was unloaded into the Sydney storehouse, and all sailors were given a new Sydney Cove stamp in their passports. A most wonderful way to spend an hour in the school holidays... now I need to find a version for adults!

The War Memorial visit re-inspired me to keep learning about conflicts around the world, and after a delightful couple of hours in the City of Sydney Library on Tuesday afternoon, I have a new stack of books on Afghanistan to keep me busy for a while. Yesterday I finished reading Three Cups of Tea, a powerful book about the importance of providing education in Central Asia. Once again, the more I learn, the more I want to know, and the less I seem to understand... the contradictory joy of learning!

So a very busy and wonderful week, with much to inspire me! And the best part, all of these activities were free! WIN!

Do What You Love

2010-10-03T00:43:00.001+01:00

There is a wonderful film called Little Miss Sunshine. And in this film Paul Dano says a wonderful line:

"You do what you love and you f*** the rest."

Right now, life is nice, because I'm doing what I love. I’m getting paid to watch theatre 5 days a week at the best job in the world (well, second best. The first best would be getting paid to be on stage... but that will come in time!), I’m singing and dancing, I’m writing, I discovered the State Library has hard copies of Variety magazine film reviews dating back to 1910 (perfect for my Movie Musical Project), and I have time to hang out with my little little sister during her school holidays and spend an entire day at the zoo marveling at the weird and wonderful creatures that inhabit our planet.

Do what you love, and you will be happy, and all the things that you worry about will sort themselves out, and it will all be ok!!!

Rookwood

2010-09-20T02:52:00.000+01:00

When one thinks of moments of beauty, inspiration, and excitement, a cemetery is probably not on the list of things that spring to mind. Let us travel back to the Victorian era... First of all, death was considered in an entirely different way to the way we view it today. It was much more out in the open, publicly discussed, shared, and mourned. Concurrently in this period, we see the development of public green spaces - large beautifully designed parks and public spaces for people to enjoy fresh air, sunshine, and be close to nature. Central Park, Hyde Park (both in London and Sydney), and the Sydney Royal Botanic Gardens, are beautiful examples of such parks.

These two notions came together in the form of the necropolis, or “city of the dead” (from the Latin words “necro” for dead body and “polis” for city), a large open space that was at once a park and a cemetery, or as it was referred to by our Victorian counterparts, a garden cemetery. A space for people to come and bury their dead, mourn the loss of their loved ones, and be in a beautiful environment. In Sydney, we are home to one of the the largest necropolis’ in the world, and what is considered to be one of the best examples of a Victorian necropolis in the world, Rookwood Necropolis (a tiny portion of which is pictured above, picture is from the Rookwood website). Located between Lidcome and Strathfield in Sydney’s west, Rookwood comprises 700 acres of burial grounds, featuring beautiful gardens, architecture, and the names of over 800,000 people who are interred within the grounds.

Arriving at Rookwood on the free shuttle from Lidcombe Station for the Open Day yesterday was entirely bizzare. There were bands playing music, sausage sizzles and Devonshire tea stalls, face painting for the kids, and people everywhere. People of all ages and backgrounds were wandering around the grounds, looking at headstones, listening to volunteer tour guides share the histories of the cemetery and some of its more infamous inhabitants, and looking for graves of relatives and ancestors. If there is one thing that unites humanity, it’s death. No matter where we are born, under what circumstances we live, what we do, at some point or other, we will all no longer be living.

Due to the sheer size of the place, I unfortunately missed the talks I was hoping to attend - behind the scenes at the crematorium, and the history of embalming, but it was rather incredible to just wander through the grounds for an hour and a half. I felt that the original designers of Rookwood would have been proudly watching over the creation yesterday. Their ideal of the garden cemetery was not realised in the nineteenth century owing to poor burial practices, issues with sewerage, and poor management, but today Rookwood is an eerily beautiful place. It is steeped in history, and captures the ethos of a time gone by.

Is it morbid to enjoy learning about the history of death? Or is it just a natural part of living? I find it fascinating, and I think we could do well to take a note from our Victorian forebears and bring the discussion of death back into a more public domain. Tours are run by the Friends of Rookwood (a volunteer organisation that works to promote the “social, historical, and cultural values” and preservation of the site), on the first Sunday of the month. It would be great to go back and experience it again.

Sixteen Years

2010-09-14T03:58:00.001+01:00

Dear Diary. Last Friday marks sixteen years since I first started keeping a diary. I had no idea when I first started writing that I would keep writing. I just wanted to be more like Elizabeth Wakefield, the nerdier goodly twin of Sweet Valley High. Back then, I wanted to be the first female prime minister of Australia. I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to be an Olympian. I wanted to live in a world where people spent their days learning about history, and playing musical instruments, and being nice to each other. I was terrified I would never have a boyfriend. I desperately wanted my own room.

Dear Me Sixteen Years Ago. You don’t become first female Prime Minister of Australia, but you do get to be the PM in the role play in Parliament House at year 6 camp. You do go to the Olympics, but not as an athlete, you perform in the Opening Ceremony and sing in the recording choir. The Olympics is everything you have ever dreamed it will be and more. You go to State Music Camp and are surrounded by people who play musical instruments. You go to university and meet wonderful, amazing, inspiring, talented people. You spend all day learning about history. You go to summer camp and become surrounded by people who live creatively and are nice to each other. You travel the world. You do get a boyfriend (several in fact). The boy(s) will break your heart but you will be okay. You have amazing, beautiful friends. You learn to live healthily. You get your own room. I promise. And you are exactly where you need to be to do all the things you want to do.

Dear Me Sixteen Years From Now. I have no idea who you have become or what you are doing. Are you living in New York or London? Do you have an organic theatre farm? Are you a writer? An actress? A critic? Are you married? Are you single? Are you meditating? Are you running? Are you dancing? Are you eating beautiful food? Are you happy? I hope so. Because Me-Today can look at Me-Sixteen-Years-Ago and say, lots of stuff has happened since the first journal entry - good, bad, wonderful, exciting, terrifying, depressing, heart-breaking, thrilling, soul-enriching things that happen over the course of life and years - and despite all of this, I am here. And I trust that this is exactly where I need to be.

Here’s to the next sixteen.

With love,

Me.

It's Only For Now

2010-09-02T13:47:00.000+01:00

The only constant is change. Around this time a year ago I thought I was getting married and moving into my own apartment with my (now ex) beloved. Around this time two years ago I was hanging out at summer camp and getting ready to walk the Camino. Around this time three years ago I was despairing that I would ever meet a single straight guy who loves theatre (ok, some things may never change...). Despite many amazing things happening in my life right now, of late I have been feeling uninspired and tired. I have to trust that this feeling will change.

And so, in an attempt to remain positive and be kind to myself, I have compiled a list of things, in no particular order, that inspire me...

meditation. musicals. running. listening to Seth Rudetsky. watching Seth Rudetsky. reading a good novel or short story. listening to classic fm. watching a movie musical. dancing. writing. spending time with beautiful people. being kind to myself. eating dark chocolate. reading superforest. spending an afternoon in a library. going to a talk and getting fired up. candles. having a good sing. sitting in bed and listening to the neighbour practise their violin. listening to musicaltalk. journalling. colouring in. sitting in the sun on a bright blue sky and reading a good book. learning. buck’s rock. the idea of living on an organic theatre farm. travel. the camino. eating beautiful food. cooking beautiful food. Eveleigh Farmer’s Markets. sustainability. possibility. falling in crush. superforest. reading old diaries. watching musicals on youtube. going to good theatre. creating theatre. performing. playbill.com.

As they say in Avenue Q, “Everything in life is only for now! Life may be scary, but it’s only temporary...” This too shall pass, and soon I will have the energy to go out and conquer the world!

Beyond Zero Emissions

2010-08-14T23:28:00.000+01:00

I used to be incredibly frustrated by what I didn’t know. I remember being in kindergarten and being annoyed at the way grown-ups kept using words I did not know the meaning of. As a six year-old trying to fit into and navigate the world around me, I was convinced that somewhere in the city were old men in suits whose job it was to invent new words and disseminate them amongst the adult population on a daily basis in order that there would always be words I would never know.

As a grown-up, there are still many things I do not know. A big topic at the moment is global warming and climate change. As an average person with no scientific training and a slight aversion to numbers, I don’t “get” the science behind the debate. But as an average person, I can comprehend this. The stuff we use to fuel our society, namely fossil fuels, is finite. Humans live in a way that is detrimental to our health and the planet’s.

Last week I attended a talk at Town Hall on a new report called Beyond Zero Emissions: Zero Carbon Australia Stationary Energy Plan. Thirty scientists, engineers, and academics got together and asked how can Australia move toward a more sustainable renewable energy existence. And they came up with a 200-page document thats shows how Australia can move to 100% renewable energy by 2020. And you know what got me excited? The men in suits say its possible. It’s not just bearded patchouli hippies. It’s Malcolm Turnbull and Bob Carr and former Australian Chief Scientist Robin Batterham and British engineer Allan Jones.

We have to believe that change is entirely possible. It’s happening in Spain and Germany and the United States. Commercial scale renewable energy. It was something I didn’t really understand when I was walking the Camino across northern Spain a couple of years ago. I saw wind turbines and solar panels on a scale I had never encountered and I started asking myself questions about energy and how it all works.

I still do not entirely understand the world. But tell my six year-old self that she would one day go to university and spend four years learning words she never knew and even after majoring in English there would still be an untold world of words beyond her cognition, and that’s not frustrating but entirely exciting. And tell the girl who read Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and walked across Spain and saw wind turbines and solar panels that in just over 6 months she would be working for a sustainability shop and going to the Farmer’s Markets every week and eating beautiful organic food and learning that there is so much possibility.

The world may be on the brink of collapse, but I choose not to be frustrated by what the men in suits beyond my understanding make up and implement across the globe. I choose to believe it is possible for men, and women, to put their brains together and come up with ways to make the world a better place to live in. As Annie Leonard says in the wonderfully eloquent Story of Stuff, with all the clever people on the planet, surely we can come up with a way to live that is not detrimental to our health and very existence.

I live in a world where anything is possible. I can choose to understand. I can choose to make a difference. As Allan Jones said at the talk on Thursday night, “the barriers to 100% renewable energy are not technological or economic, but regulatory mindset and vested inteterest.” I may have felt powerless and small against the men in suits as six year-old. And I could continue to feel small and powerless against the people in suits today. But I chose to be inspired. I choose to be excited. I choose to believe the world I live in and the way in which I live on it can be beautiful, rich, creative, and sustainable.