I’m usually not a huge fan of the Open Letter, though I’ve written one or two before, I find myself wondering why must these letters always be public? Say what you need to say in private and then move along on your merry way. Why the need for an audience?
But ever the hypocrite (aren’t we all just a little, if not very well versed in hypocrisy) here I pen/type yet another open letter. The true recipient and any identifying characteristics shall remain anonymous, but the letter itself public, for my own sake. For the sake of accountability. As a not so subtle reminder to me, of self-responsibility, the responsibility of one who so often harps on about organic community and true vulnerability, then not-so-subtly veers off course.
I’ve seen you around at church. Unfortunately until the other day we hadn’t had a chance to meet, at least not properly, but I’ve been watching you. Yep, I know that sounds creepy. But it’s not in that creepy stalker way, but with curiosity. I’ve been reading you, trying to glean images of your story and put them together.
I could be totally wrong, but I think I’ve managed to view some of the collage that is you…
I read a news story today that completely wrecked me. That’s not entirely true, it was in fact the accompanying YouTube clip that turned me into a blubbering mess.
It was a story on Donald Gould and his beautiful gift of music, you can read the article and watch the clip here:Read More
Yesterday morning I crashed my car.
It was a minor accident, no damage to persons and both cars still thankfully drivable. The accident was embarrassingly all my fault. I was searching for a tissue because my nose had spontaneously started running (this is the only running I do these days), when I rammed up the back of a van that had stopped abruptly. I had planned to spend the day with bestie. We usually spend most Friday’s embarking on mini road trips in my car, and exploring the nuances of life together. There is much musing, and much laughter. We take my car simply out of habit, and maybe slightly because I’m a
massive teensy bit of a control freak and prefer to drive…I feel safer. Oh the irony! But yesterday, although I kept our plans, I was just too shaken to drive. Instead the bestie drove, and I was her ill-at-ease passenger.
If there’s one thing I hope Sydney-siders have learned this week, through the discussion, debate, and vitriol of not just the documentary itself, but the people themselves- and let’s not get lost in the word ‘people’ as just a verb, let’s instead embrace its essence, real, living people who showed immense trust and courage by allowing themselves and their vulnerabilities to be beamed around the nation for this documentary, it’s that the divide between ‘Us and Them’, confronting and ugly as it may be to admit, is still a gaping chasm that must be closed.Read More
Healing testimonies are great, but what happens when you step out into active obedience, and things don’t go according to plan… well your plan anyway?
A few weeks ago I visited a local beautician to have my eyebrows sculpted. So fancy! In reality, you hand over $10, and in return, a beauty technician or beauty therapist uses scalding hot wax to rip out your delicate eyebrow hairs, and you walk out of the salon with fantastically shaped eyebrows surrounded by red and swollen skin. Smokin’!Read More
Just a quick introduction before y’all lovingly spam my inbox with concern (for which I am grateful, truly), please remember; writing is my therapy.
Therapy, for the most part, isn’t a pretty, neat nor tidy package.
It can often be ugly, raw, messy.
This is what this piece of writing is. And for this I make no apologies, not this time, I’m sick of apologising for how I feel. I’m sick of disclaimers (which ironically in its essence is what this is) for how I feel. Just know that this piece of writing reflects where I’m at this week, this singular week. It is not my perennial state.Read More
I received the invitation from my friend Brett ‘Fish’ Anderson (please check out his amazing and diverse blog; Irresistibly Fish, you will not be disappointed) , to contribute an article to his series on Parenting, whilst I was smack bang in the middle of hosting my own magnificent personal pity party, all in honour of my perceived parental failure. So my initial response to the email was not exactly enthusiastic, more along the lines of: ‘OH HECK NO! What advice can I offer anyone?’