Category Archives: our little rollercoaster

musings about life and all its ups and downs

The love goes down …

I have been quiet for a little while here on the blog. And just this week I have realised I have been quiet within myself, for some months now. Not really myself. Not seeking company. Wintering if you like within. Not cold and frosty, just cat-like content within the walls of my own quiet hearth.

I’ve just had an operation, a hysterectomy, and I’m home today. And all is well.

I’ve been debating whether to even share this latest here and now with you.

view from st vincents paddington

I had five nights in hospital in Sydney doped up on Endone and other lovely drugs until the penultimate day when I refused all heavy meds just to get a real sense of how my hurts were truly traveling. I woke in the middle of the night and for the first time all week, the chatter of work and day to day worries had returned. We talk a lot about being mindful but I realised how utterly blissful it had been to be mind-less for those few days. How long has it been since you have had the headspace to read a page turning novel? How long since you have had regular day-time sleeps or just sat and stared out a window at a late afternoon lightening storm? Or woken early and watched the sun rise, the whole beautiful show from pink to blue?

Happy to be out the other side.

Happy just to be.

To be.


In a week of quiet reflection I was thinking about when my mum had a hysterectomy many years ago, experienced through semi-whispered conversations at some vague moment in my teenage years. And those of my family and close friends who have since been through it or some different, even scarier challenge. And how, on reflection, I wasn’t really there for any of them. Concerned yes but there? Really? Sympathetic? Empathatic? Understanding? In the deepest closest way? I would have to say no. I was on the sideline rooting for them. But that’s different to being on the playing field - with them – part of the same team.

It got me thinking that life is a series of clubs.

I am now part of The Hysterectomy Club.

At different points along the way we suddenly find ourselves admitted to a new club and set out on a whole new round of figuring out what the hell is happening.

I’m thinking about The Pregnancy Club when the line turns blue and suddenly everywhere you turn you see babies and mothers pushing prams. Or the Pelvic Floor and Everything Post Birth Club that no-one ever talked about because if they did you would probably never get pregnant in the first place. I’m thinking about The Being Bullied at School Club, The I Will Never Have Children Club, The Parents of ‘Adventurous’ Teenagers Club, The Breast Cancer Survivor Club, The Divorced Club, The Friends Who Have Lost Friends Club, The Losing Your Partner Club, The Gone Broke Club, The Club of Broken Hearts, The Dicky Thyroid Club, The Children Who Have Lost Their Parents Club. The list – as life randomly throws its best curveballs at us – is endless. I know you will have memberships of your own.

I have a glamorous 80-something year old friend Lorraine who has a favourite saying: “The love goes down.” Until this week I’ve never really understood what she meant. But all of a sudden I get it.

I wasn’t anywhere near the playing field for my mum or older sisters or friends. But they have variously been there for me. When I became a part of the same club, the love flowed down.

Just as when my daughter and son or nieces or nephews or younger friends will face their own similar challenges in the future. The love will flow down.

It’s not that as youngies we don’t care. We just haven’t lived some things yet and until you live them, no matter how hard you might try to empathise, you just can’t know.

Have I crossed a threshold? This week I realised I’m a card carrying member of more clubs than I’d care to count. It comes with getting older. But you know what, it’s not a bad thing, it’s a bloody beautiful thing. This whole getting older business, this getting of wisdom – not buying it, not stumbling on it, not winning it – this getting of wisdom is the gift we receive for having lived through all the trials and tribulations of life.

Have I crossed a threshold? I dunno.

I still feel like a 24 year old in my head.

Then again, it could just be an Endone flashback ;)



Halcyon days

If you could

would you have halcyon days roll on forever …

halycon days

If they were here and now

would you surrender to their warmth?

Cast off the boat

and float.

Face up in the turquoise.

Not a single thought of returning to shore.

halcyon days 2

The magic is in the fleeting.

The fading.

The rose wash of missingness that time adds to the canvas.

That bright burst of what was.

halcyon skies

And the gentle melancholy


left wondering …


will it ever be again?


of Sunday mornings, gentle goals and little dreams …

The frost is thick on the ground, the sky is blue and clear.

The house is mine alone this Sunday morning so I am languishing in bed, propped up with pillows, enjoying the stillness, thinking it’s been a while.

A poached egg, fresh toast from Legall’s and a little avocado.

Polly is nosing in for a pat. Yes I love you too.

What a year this has been. Is it just me? Working in a business where everything is moving so fast, feeling the pressure to stay on top of things, to change things up, to ‘follow my passions’.

I did eight weeks of BSchool in autumn and it fuelled the fire. Don’t get me wrong, there was lots of good juice, especially for my clients, but it was very noisy. People climbing over themselves to be seen and heard online. 12,000 of them in the Facebook group. I’ve never been good in crowds. Like many of those courses and self help type books you’ll take away just a few gems and that’s OK. But I’m happy to shut the door on that one for a while. You can’t be creative in an environment like that.

It’s made me question again (I know) the role of social media in our lives and as I mentioned last post it’s something I want to talk about with social researcher aka wise owl, Hugh Mackay. I’ve finished reading his book The Good Life and I took away more than just a few gems. It was quiet. And good soul food. And it reminded me how intensely more satisfying it is to drown in a good book than bob about like a cork on social media. With a book you are down below the waves and the noise and the foam, in that exquisite womb of silence, utterly in the moment. Tim Winton territory. Senses alive. Every one of them alert and open.

Warm toes. Soft sheets. A second cup of tea. I am so very lucky.

I have also been continuing the fitness journey which has taken me away from the computer too. Four weeks in with the personal training I pinged a tendon at the base of my spine and that put me back a few weeks. If it had been left to me I would have called it quits but having made the commitment with the trainer we found a gentler path through it all and I am out the other side.

And over the past eight weeks I have learnt something.

I have learnt that I am more inclined to exercise if I have a purpose and I set myself some gentle goals. For instance, two kilometres on the bike in 8.07 minutes. Next time aim for under 8. Next time a little less. Walking the Mount with the girls I am the resident chain dragger on the hills. When I first started I’d have to stop three or four times on the climbs to catch my breath. But yesterday I walked it with no breaks. Little. Personal. Gentle goals. Trust me if I can do it, you can too. We are stronger than we think.

Hello Polly. Yes we’ll go for a walk soon.

There is so much I need and want to learn with work. I need to get a better understanding of html and css. I want to learn Lightroom. And I want to swap across from Final Cut Pro to Adobe Premiere for video editing. Mountains. Always more mountains. But one at a time.


Go gently …

We are losing a friend. And I have been reluctant to visit because I am not of her inner circle and I can’t help but feel that’s who you would want around you in your last days. Cut down way too young with acute myeloid leukaemia. So brave and positive throughout these wickedly fast few months. I had a call from another friend who had been to the hospital last night and said it might be a good time to visit. Quiet. Just she and her partner. They were planning to be married in September. Big dreams. Little dreams. They can come in all shapes and sizes. What my friend would give just to be sitting in bed with a poached egg, fresh toast from Legalls and a little avocado. How I wish things were different…

Sunday mornings,

gentle goals,

and little dreams…

I am so very grateful, this cold clear morning, for them all.

And with that she decided to treat herself to a third cup of tea because it just felt so damned lovely to be able to stop for a while. But there was a very patient dog lying quietly at her doorway with its head on its paws, eyeballing her, poised to pounce at the first sign of movement. Perhaps no mountains today Pol. Let’s just stroll the river.


late evening walks

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    Hi I’m Margaret. I live in Australia.
    I sprinkle creative magic onto businesses
    over at red moon creative.
    When I'm not there, I'm here and now, doing my own creative happy dance – primarily to avoid housework and other
    high impact activities.

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