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Beneath my feet

11/28/2017

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I distinctly remember a moment when I was walking around Windsor Castle and realised that the ground beneath my feet had also been beneath the feet of kings and queens I’d learnt about as a child. Suddenly they were no longer names in a school history book, but real people like me, who walked this earth in boots and shoes.
 
It was something akin to the feeling I experienced the day I discovered the Shakespeare and Company bookshop in Paris, which I’ve written about before. As I mounted the stairs, I thought of the many writers who had climbed them before me … the steps worn thin by the soles of a thousand shoes, searching for inspiration and a future in the written word.
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At the far end of George Street, Sydney, in The Rocks, are the remains of wooden streets which were once a part of the early colony of Sydney. The original roads had been constructed of sandstone, which cracked and shattered under the horses hooves and iron carriage wheels. From the 1800s roads were built from wooden blocks of Jarrah and Kauri, laid like bricks. It wasn’t a new concept. Timber roads had been used in London, but they were built from softwood, which couldn’t withstand the continually wet and often freezing conditions. Our Australian hardwood made for a strong, durable surface that  remains today. 
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As I wandered down that stretch of wooden road, I heard the footsteps of the convict who built it … the butcher, baker and candlestick maker, who walked it on their way to work and the labourers who swept it each day. Their life was so different to mine, and yet I’m sure they too had hopes and dreams, longed for love, and wished for more comfort than their life allowed. They walked ahead of me not knowing what their labours would unfold and in the process of their everyday lives,  built a city that would one day be mine.
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Conditions for women and children in the those early days of the colony were appalling. Many young women who arrived without any money, friends, family or jobs to go to, ended up working the streets to make ends meet. Enter Caroline Chisholm, who worked tirelessly to provide shelter and employment and to improve the living conditions for the women. She could be found waiting at the wharves each time a ship arrived, to welcome women and children and make sure they were cared for.

She campaigned for better working conditions and often travelled with the women to regional areas where employment opportunities were more plentiful. The stone step pictured below is one of the last remaining remnants of the stone building where Caroline worked in Goulburn, NSW.  It's a reminder of one of Australia’s most outstanding women, a great humanitarian who changed the lives of over 40,000 women over 38 years. Many of those women walked across this step. I wonder how their lives and the lives of those who came after them were different because they met Caroline Chisholm.
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We walk in the footsteps of those who've gone before .. those who've changed the world for the better, like Caroline, Mother Teresa or William Wilberforce ... those who fought for freedom on battlefields of war ... those who served their time for stealing bread and became the forbears of generations of Australians. Authors who've inspired us ... teachers who shaped us ... parents and grandparents who loved us, prayed for us, challenged us and sacrificed to provide for us.

Like ripples on a pond, the footprints of our lives are leaving a mark. I wonder about the footprints I'm leaving on the world and in the lives of those who've come across my path. How will their lives be different because of my life? 

Nature teaches me how easy it is to crush beauty underfoot. To be oblivious to a tender heart, an enthusiastic idea or a cry of the soul. To be so focused and busy that I miss what's right beneath my feet. Oh how  gently and consciously we need to tread.
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Two inevitable realities of life

11/21/2017

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Grief is a lonely road. By necessity we have to walk it in our own way; no one can navigate it for us. For each of us it will be different.
 
In the opening scene of the movie, And so it Goes, Oren Little, (Michael Douglas) is laying flowers on his wife’s grave. He had been her nurse and carer throughout her long illness and his way of coping with her death and his devastating loss has been to shut down emotionally, to close off his heart so he won’t ever have to hurt again.
 

CS Lewis got it right when he said, “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable”.
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And that’s just what had happened to Oren, hardened and angry at the world, his heart had become impenetrable, and he’d forgotten how to love. He’d put up walls that shut people out. It took a 10 year-old child, a granddaughter her didn’t even know he had, to break through his locked away heart and teach him how to love again.
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Love is the greatest power in the universe. It can penetrate the hardest heart, turn an enemy into a friend and build a bridge over turbulent waters. Love is the ultimate change agent. It doesn’t just change the one I love, but changes me in the process.

It’s also the hardest and most exacting task I will ever undertake. Honest, consistent, wise, deliberate love will require every ounce of energy, courage and determination I have … to constantly decide, “What does love look like in this situation?”

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And sometimes love doesn’t look or feel loving at all, sometimes it’s tough love for the good of another. I distinctly remember grounding one of my children so they missed a long awaited camp. I remember going to bed that night and crying myself to sleep, it felt so cruel and yet I knew it was love; just love they would never understand.
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The English language has managed to limit our most complex emotion to one four-letter word. No wonder we find it hard to define, explain or even fully comprehend.
 
The Greek seems to capture so much more of the breadth and capacity of love with five words, Philia, or deep friendship, Agape, selfless love, Pragma, making compromises to help the relationship work over time, showing patience and tolerance, Eros, sexual passion and Ludus, playful love. It involves every aspect of my life ... nothing is exempt.


Love is a calling. A calling higher than any other calling I may believe I have. It’s the measure by which my life will be judged. I can lock away my heart to avoid being hurt or choose love and vulnerability with all the associated risks and inevitable pain.
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Like love, grief comes in all shapes and sizes … the loss of a loved one, a friendship, a marriage, a job … loss of health, hope or a dream ... regrets and disappointments. How easy it is to find a way to deaden the pain and in the process unwittingly close ourselves off to love.

The rest of the movie follows the inevitable boy meets girl storyline. Oren’s neighbour, Leah (Diane Keaton), is a widow, but her way of coping with grief was to refuse to let go of her husband. Grief never ended. It was always just under the surface and spilled out continually with the mention of his name or the words of a song they’d shared. It was a coping mechanism that had crippled her too, until the love of that little 10 year-old girl allowed her to love again.

Grief and love, two inescapable realities in each of our lives. Each with its own lessons. Each with the power to change us at our core if we are open to its wisdom.
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The four best Christmas gifts

11/14/2017

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There are a few Christmas mornings that stand out in my memory. I must have been about 5 when my father woke me on Christmas morning while it was still dark, to give me my gift. He’d made me a two-story doll’s house complete with handmade furniture, wallpapered walls and tiny electric lights. He was so excited he couldn’t wait any longer and wanted me to see it in the dark with all the lights on.
 
It was a true gift of love. I can’t imagine how long it had taken him to make, fitted around his fulltime job and all the chores around the home, but I loved that doll’s house as much as I imagined he loved making it for me.
 
I remember another Christmas morning receiving Anne of Green Gables. Just one book, but what an adventure that began. My mother read it to me one chapter each night before I went to sleep. I can still remember getting to the final chapter and feeling as if I couldn’t wait until I found out what happened next. I had to wait until my birthday, three long months later, to get the next book and find out. Oh the anticipation!
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There wasn’t much money in those days and life was simple. We only had one Christmas gift but how special that was.  
 
Today Christmas has succumbed to the materialism that’s crept into every crevice of society. The planet is groaning with stuff. Our lives are cluttered with more possessions that we can ever use or manage. Children have more toys than they can truly value or appreciate and they are learning to want and expect more.
 
I often hear people say, “I don’t know what to buy him/her, there’s nothing they want or need”.  I wonder if we’ve bought the materialistic mentality to such an extent that we can only think in terms of commodities.
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What about giving something of ourselves … our time … our imagination and our creativity?
 
I love to give largely 'intangible' gifts, gifts that fit a person’s personality and interests … that say, “I know you” … something unique and unexpected. It can be simple and inexpensive or cost according to your budget and limited only by your imagination.

A PROMISSORY NOTE – this note entitles you to …
  •  A weekend of my time to help with that special project
  • Dinner for two, including me!
  • A day out to do whatever you choose – I’ll be your chauffer 
  • A day or night’s babysitting (So parents can have some time to themselves)
  • A candlelight dinner delivered to your door.​
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A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE
  • A trip back to a childhood home or town
  • An album of memories - stories of times you’ve shared together, written or in photos, revisiting a special place or experience you’ve had together. Children love this – photos of themselves with captions trumps any store-bought book.
 
CREATE A MEMORY
  • Something handmade to keep and treasure, maybe it will become an heirloom
  • A photo shoot with the images turned into a book to keep and remember  - a beautiful gift for parents or grandparents.
 
GIVE AN EXPERIENCE – Give a homemade ‘gift certificate’ with clues to the experience, without disclosing the event. Date can then be arranged to suit and let the anticipation begin!
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  • Sharing a special picnic in a place of beauty, a day bushwalking, beach experience, a fishing trip, visit to a glowworm cave
  • A farm gate trip, wine tasting, ghost tour, a cookery class, High Tea
  • A treat at a new café or restaurant you’ve discovered
  • Share a movie experience with the person’s favourite actors
  • A weekend away in a tree house, a converted train or a camping trip
  • A day at the Powerhouse Museum or Questicon – loved by children of all ages from 5+

Include children in creating some of the ideas, it will help them learn to give outside this materialistic society we live in and to learn to receive something other than 'stuff'. My grandchildren love to receive an adventure and throw themselves into working out the clues.

​Whatever it is, make it about relationship.
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“It's not how much we give but how much love we put into giving.”  Mother Teresa
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Timeless

11/7/2017

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Timeless
Six Tuesdays until Christmas! How time flies. But what is time anyway ... this difficult to define thing that controls us more often than we control it. 

We spend time, keep time, waste time, give time, mark time and it always seems to be in short supply. It defines our day, "I'll be back in a minute", "I finish work at 5 o'clock".  We talk about running out of time like we run out of money, yet every morning the sun rises and every evening it sets ... the seasons come and go  .... and time continues.

Time, that precious resource that never runs out and yet never seems to be enough. What a paradox.
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Dave Barry quipped, “Aside from velcro, time is the most mysterious substance in the universe. You can't see it or touch it, yet a plumber can charge you upwards of seventy-five dollars per hour for it, without necessarily fixing anything.”  
 
Time is a gift, given in equal proportions to everyone. We each have the same 24 hours in a day and the choice to use it as we will. We can't buy more time, invent more or save it for another day. Its a bit like the manna in the wilderness, valuable only in the here and now. It is one of the most precious commodities we have; we can waste it or invest it.

One mother will see leaving the housework to spend time with her child a waste of time, while another will see it as a valuable investment. For most of my life I thought taking time for myself was a waste of valuable time, but I've come to realise it's an investment in my health and growth and a blessing to others because I'm more alive and refreshed.
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And here's a mystery. Why is it that when I'm enjoying something, time flies. When I'm sitting in the dentist's chair it seems to stand still? Time passes at the same rate but my perception of it is different. I have the ability to change the way I perceive time by changing the way I think.

I want to take more time for the things that are timeless ... kindness, generosity, gratitude, laughter ... things that have no used by date. Time to listen, really listen with my whole attention, my mind and heart engaged. Time to notice a cry for help or the need for a word of encouragement. Time to play and invite others to join me.

Whenever I go out with my next door neighbour she never fails to take a moment to stop and tell a mum how beautiful her baby is or someone how well the colour of her blouse suits her ... she's always on the look out for opportunities to brighten someone's day. It only takes a minute but in that minute something changes.


“The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is” CS Lewis.  Time is a great equaliser. 

Every morning we wake, our past increases and our future decreases. Grabbing hold of every minute and living it as if it as if it were my last, gives me perspective on what's important in life. If God told you that tomorrow would be your last day on earth, how differently would you live today?
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    Author

    Glenyss Barnham
    ​I'm a mother and grandmother who loves  discovering beauty in unexpected places.

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