Today’s Fire

You ask me can I come, an arranged celebration of life some months in advance. I do not know for the fire burns only this morning after we have collected the wood.

You ask will I be ready Monday, but today is Sunday and all the seeds I sowed in the moonlight need watering this day.

You need to know the promise I made 17 years ago to your heart grows stronger the longer we are untied but I barely know my own heart……can we love today in separation…..will that be enough for you.

Can I honour myself in this moment while I watch and feel those around me that do not. I want to love them, sit with them and talk of death.

You ask me how did I come to be this way, this happy, this content and full of time?

I dreamt myself to recognition. I dreamt back to lands once burnt with black love and replenished all that I once thought I could be from the winds, water and songs. I opened all I could….eyes, ears, heart and hands to take in the essence of country.

Today, this day I invite you to share the fire that burns inside us all.

Today I realised I will not be ready for you any time soon for I am ready now. I will not love you any harder for I love you all I can today. I wont be ready next month, or next year for I am waiting in this moment.

I am love.

I am black.

I am white.

I am.

 

 

 

 

Are we really ‘Livin the Dream’ or are you just not living yours?

 

As the bus shakes and rumbles down a coastal road towards the beach we watch afternoon workers crane their necks to glimpse in wonder (or horror) at our antics. I presume they are thinking, who is inside and what are they doing. How is it possible that this barefoot earthern garbed family is ‘livin the dream’ when I am just finishing a 50 hour week.

It comes down to choice and your belief system. Money helps when setting up but its not essential for the journey.

If you are prepared to live without expectation and without a pension – youll make it happen ……..but it’s not all beach and green smoothies. Sometimes we hide in the back of industrial estates, under the cover of scrub next to 3 other intrepid campers or just right in the thick of street life and street lights. I post all the good pics because that’s what I want to remember – that’s what I focus on – that’s what I hope to inspire you to look for. An alternative to the cycle of work and ownership. Search for the calm, search for YOUR dream and love every other day in between as much as possible.

Life is so much more interesting if you get involved with it.

Our last little adventure was through the stunning northern rivers. Humid forest, coastal beaches and plenty of vibe but plenty of people too. After being disappointed with the lack of free coastal camps we headed inland towards Nimbin, Mullumbimby and Kyogle. Although the amount of free camps didn’t improve the acceptance to us being parked did.

Luckily or for some maybe unlucky people we landed in Nimbin the day of the nude bike ride which calls for a “cleaner, safer, body-positive world” with a particular emphasis on cyclists’ rights. The girls and I sat in the main park eating our green vegan spinach pie, playing Yahtzee, watching hairy balls and pink nipples jiggle in the breeze while my husband managed a jam with Lewis Walker and a couple of his side stars. Our clothes stayed this time but feeling the draw next time round.

Some of the highlights of our trip was a brief stay at Bochow Park – although it states no camping we had a fabulous time for a few days near the river. Great toilets and gas cookers (even has a little power point near the cookers for a quick phone charge) and council garbage pick up. The kids loved looking for little amber coloured crystals by the water.

Bochow Park – Goldcoast hinterland

We visited the Hare Krishna Consciousness centre outside of Murwillumbah again for their Sunday food and kirtan and we are also considering a short volunteer stay here in the near future – thanks to some delicate nudging by one of our friends, Jasmine.

The next site was the highlight of my trip (except for my time on community in Kyogle with Tamar – story to come). A brief stay at Mount Wollumbin

A local lady directed us here for the kids to explore the rock pools and slides and soak up the serenity but be warned, I think 50 hikers in their cars drove past predawn to climb the summit. There is a no camping sign here but we didn’t see it until the next morning.

We headed back towards Brisbane yesterday after a few weeks away on the most scenic drive – highway 13 –  amazing rock formations, forest and contrasts so that we can spend the next couple of weeks finishing off our bus transformation.

Solar installation, bar fridge, shelving and top-deck for night sleep outs under the stars. For now I am in love with how the bus is coming on.

Happy travels and much metta to all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Livin the Dream- Perception or Reality?

Since leaving Australia a year ago to travel the world in a little blue bus there has been one constant perception from people all across the globe – that we are living the dream many would like.

I want to tell you this is no dream. We are more awake than ever and its not always as pleasant as you would think. Its full on life occurring inside this little tardis with two pre teens and only 6 x 2 mtrs to share on the rainiest of days. BUT you are right – its been sensational and if this lifestyle is  something you are remotely thinking about than I would say don’t hold back – don’t overthink it – go for it.

Don’t let fear cloud your intuition or your dreams. The level of which you want to experience something is matched by the level of commitment you are willing to make. Sometimes this means committing to nothing or a whole lot less of something.

We overcame the fear of letting go of all our possessions and the possibility of not seeing loved ones again early on. It was the hardest part of our journey but after the initial shock – the world literally became our home and the limitless potential for personal and spiritual growth became our focus, whether we wanted it to be or not.

We travelled hard and learnt a lot about ourselves and the world in which we live.

The world may seem large to those that cannot travel but to us, to me, it is very small. What you do in your own backyard or town affects your neighbours, your nearest school, the closest river, our oceans. Just like our minds affects our bodies, our daily flow and interactions with others. We are all so connected and the world is suffering because of our lack or awareness, as is the poorest of our brothers and sisters.

Along the way we have learnt to give, respect, love and release what serves us no more. We have learnt to live with ourselves and like who we are becoming, as people, as parents and as a soul of this time. Only yesterday we were asked back to a mans home in Meknes, Morocco in return for giving him a ride. After sharing tea, bread and a few laughs about why I wouldn’t agree to a marriage proposal between my two daughters and his two sons, we prepared to leave. Full of love and kindness my two girls were about to jump aboard the bus when they said they would like to give the boys their bicycles and not because they were flattered but because of their apparent poverty. My heart melted as we unlocked the bikes and waved goodbye. I knew then we were doing something right in the parenting books.

With our South east Asian, European, Balkan and Moroccan adventures coming to a close and the next phase starting, I wanted to say thanks to everyone who sent a message, wrote an emailed or just enjoyed a picture or two. Its been an epic journey filled with joy and disappointment – just like any life – anywhere.

Yes, I am truly grateful for the opportunity we have had but it came from hard work and a determination to not let money and social conformities rule our decisions. See what happens from here as the years progress and let you know.

Choosing life as our journey we will continue the dream in 2017 with plans for the next Gentle Revolution back in Australia with a new and slightly larger version (for the teenagers of course).

Many blessings and love to you all.

With special metta to those in Hungary whom we almost began a community with (Matthias, Illdiko and Orsi) and for my time with Helena in England at Vipassana, Jenny and Kia from our Rainbow Haze, Heart Culture Festival and all the crew (Rolly) , Frankie the bee man, the Loves, Putu in Bali and her mother, the crazy Latin Americans traveling like us, Pietro in the hills of Italy, Faith, a Slovenian boy who stole my daughters heart for a weekend, Sultan the amazing goat cheese man, Shiri Fink, Cat in Morocco, Bella my bike, the girl who saw my soul on a sad day in Croatia, Bosnia (the man), Green Peace dude and all the nameless connections of love and play.

Most of all my family and our Gentle Revolution who took us almost anywhere without fail

The Muezzin of Marrakech

The Muezzin are calling ezan in Marrakech right now. Some voices are deep and inviting, others harsh and scratchy from years of dryness. They call for the people to come, attend the mosque, for the sun is soon to rise. I guiltily lay in bed knowing that his final call reminds the people “prayer is better than sleep”.

My family however is sleeping. We have our own faith. I should get up and meditate.

Nestled in the middle of a traditional riad, in the heart of Marrakech, I found a bear like cave that shields my family just enough while allowing the daily flow of Moroccan life to circle around us. Its been a long 5 months on the road, in a bus and on display.

The riad is centred in a traditional Medina or town and surrounded by a 20 foot high polished earthern wall. It is cool, mysterious and secured with a chain smoking security gang who stop every car with as much determination as the morning Muezzin. I only wish they had put down their cigarettes long enough to catch the kid who smashed our bus window yesterday. It seems that security only starts once you cross the red and white line and not a meter out. We didn’t catch the kid and we didn’t know what we would do even if we did.

I found this little oasis on the net and after just one day our bodies have relaxed enough to sleep peacefully. Everything you would need to survive a 2 month sandstorm is right at our disposal and the compound also boasts a few cafes, a little shop for various supplies, a pharmacy and mosque. I think I saw a pool too but swimming is prohibited on Friday and yep – that’s today.

There is an eclectic strange mix of global warriors and hard to understand French speaking Muslims who share the compound. Over a strong black shot and cheap pizza yesterday afternoon, I have already met a gorgeously garbed designer who I want to buy from for my market and an old time rocker from the 80’s called ‘Mr Tiger’ who has an amazing energy and recording studio. Dare I say, I lost my husband for hours yesterday. There is something here for each of us and we haven’t yet explored the world renowned markets of Marrakech located only 10 minutes away.

Light starts to creep into the bathroom window and cars begin to choke outside. The compound is still quiet and I imagine the Inam or leader of prayer has begun his service. I wonder a lot about the Muslim faith and would like to talk the many of the men and women who fill the mosques but the language barrier makes learning slow.

A friend of mine traveling through Morocco at the moment wanted to learn more about this religion so thought he would attend a mosque for the Muezzin had called so beautifully this day he told me. He followed the swarm, removed his shoes and entered the inner sanctum. He was respectful, removing his shoes and sitting quietly up the back but it wasn’t long before someone approached him and asked what had happened to him.

My friend replied, “I am here to learn”.

The stranger said “Well learn outside”.

Although my friend has the sweetest heart and a humble manner I am thinking he forgot to bathe or prepare himself for prayer. Just like in our home or hearts there are certain ways in which we perform sacred offerings or blessings, even the way we go about bathing or eating. To practice or pray here one must be in good shape and pure condition before starting prayer. It is necessary to wash the parts of the body which are generally exposed to dirt or dust or smog and going on past experience I doubt my friend had cleaned well in days.

Prayer to me looks like a gymnastic exercise and a mechanical act but one thing for sure its brings the awareness of God into their daily lives. I can only hope my day is filled with such devotion.

I hope for you too that your day is filled with such devotion to life and a love inspired by higher forces.

Rock on Marrakech.

 

Prayer or chant for Muslims carried out 5 times a day.

Allaahu Akbar (four times – “Allah is Most Great”).
Ash’hadu an laa ilaaha illallaah (twice – “I bear witness that there is no god but Allah“).
Ash’hadu anna Muhammadan-rasulullaah (twice – “I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah“).
Haya ‘alas-salaah (twice – “Come to prayer”).
Haya ‘alal falaah (twice – “Come to the good;’).
Allaahu Akbar (twice – “Allah is Most Great”).

Beds of War and Porridge

When I lay my head down to sleep tonight, I am not thinking about the usual travel adventures but of war and the long lingering effects it has amongst its people and upon the land.

Its been about 20 years since the war in Croatia raged. The ruins here tell a similar story to that of the locals. Run for your life or be destroyed. Thousands of homes, businesses and farming land lay ruined or scarred across Croatia but in this village, at least for the duration of the war they lost everything. Tourists, families and what military lived, ran for their lives or took to the sea. Most have never returned.

Stumbling across these abandoned buildings while trying to find a free camp was intriguing for a naïve Australian from the forest. With the personal protection of my husband I walked through many of the rooms and lobbies of these once prestigious hotels imagining a shocking and scary past. Now they are home to few and a novelty for many.

Trashed and littered with rubbish they stand testimony not only to the brutal past but to the disorganised governmental controls of today and a youth with no amusement.

We discovered that when the Bosnians invaded the coastline they took many of the hotels and houses in this area for themselves, using them to house their own. The entire tourist strip was captured by the military and used as a centre point for their warfare.

Today I saw the past and felt the energy of pain and loss. For some they reside here, amongst the burnt remains, with no other options but mostly it just falls apart. Rumble and graffiti joining hands in the current fight against tourism and international property ownership and development.

For me, for my family, it was a reminder how fortunate we are.

I left the ruins this morning, allowing nature and the locals to reclaim their stake but not before meeting Marco who slept in his car right beside our bus. A local guy who felt the pain of this land just as much, if not more than ourselves. We talked, shared porridge, sling shots, pheasant feathers and dried mushrooms. It was camp site to be remembered.

Love to you Marco and all the people of these lands. So much healing to be done. So much learning from these walls and their scars.

 

 

Like the Lunar Tides I Rise and Fall

Life is not floating around me at the moment, whispering sweet nothings and beckoning me to soar on the winds with ancient beings.

I am low, close to ground and clawing my way through the day. Its nothing to be ashamed of, its life. The highs and lows of someone still trying to master their own inner egos and illusions.

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Today I measure the character of my spirit by my ability to remain calm and aware.

I don’t need to smile, let the sun.

I don’t need to run and dance, let the leaves in the wind.

Observe the stillness of perfection around me and maybe tomorrow I will reflect that again.

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Hello Beautiful World

Sometimes we come through the storm to be amazed by the clarity in which we can see all things. Today is no exception.

This is my view today. The winter coast of Croatia.

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Life on the road is just like life anywhere with its highs and lows but today I don’t have words to describe how fortunate my family is.

It’s a ride full of adventure, love, misery and mystery. I cherish every moment of this awakening.

Family life around the fire.

 

Early morning dreaming

 

Sometimes its just the people you meet or don’t meet.

 

 

See you on the road.

 

 

7. Campsite Criteria

Heading south towards Cape Cornwall, the narrow lanes widen and the amount of people trying to catch some warmer rays increase. We all have the same idea. If the sun is shining – get outside.

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The girls are excited for new adventures and I am nervous about having my first drive. Until this time I have been unable to reach the clutch and my husband has been in full command. I am ready now, after some seat alterations to see how I perform under pressure.

After several corners and a close encounter with a sandy bank I realise the bus drives like I feel after eating a hidden block of chocolate all in one day.

Unresponsive and slow we roll down the road with an open timetable. We plot a course through as many National Parks as we can in the hope to see some wilderness. Open heathlands and sheer cliffs to windy tors and hedge-lined roads all inhibit our ability to appreciate this land and see the naturalness. The hedges, although beautiful and laden with nutritious berries and edible herbs, make us feel like horses being led with blinkers on. National Parks are grazed following century old traditions and coastal landscapes are inaccessible or privately owned with every inch of soil being claimed for agriculture. It’s hard for the English to just get away but they need to feed the masses.

Our selection criteria for campsites is not a difficult list and includes, turning or reversing room, level ground to some degree, a sense of remoteness or at least privacy and a connection to the surrounding land. Everything else we carry onboard. Each time we think we find somewhere to stay for the night out pops another ranger, local farmer or geocaching madman to spoil our serenity.

How to embrace this dilemma?

Get amongst it I suppose. I glide into a pay parking area situated in the heart of Penzance and score one of the last remaining car spaces teamed together. I hear boat bells through my window as I try to position the bus between 2 cars, a pole and a concrete edge keeping man and sea apart. They chime in the breeze like 100 grandfather clocks, carrying the dreams and secrets of sailors now ashore.

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The girls disembark first, scrambling onto the slimy concrete causeway, inspecting animals and seaweed. Bill, my husband and I stare across an ocean of cars towards the shopping mall and sit beside a herring gull to contemplate our next move. There are numerous warnings about how dangerous the gulls can be so we shelter beside the ‘Gentle Revolution’ and crack open some lunch. Far from the greens of natural reserves or forests we laugh at how this came to be.

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I always wondered why the British Woofers who came to work on our rainforest farm stayed close to home. The animals and land must have felt so wild and truly dangerous. I called it alive and exciting but they just didn’t know what to think. Too often we only believe what we understand at that time and right now I realise I will never have the time needed to understand all I wish too, unless I use alternative methods for raising my awareness.

Traditional learning is not enough.

After a lengthy explanation to my eldest daughter about why I didn’t want to eat her collection of seaweed and what antifoul was we headed off on foot to explore the coastline.

It soon became clear that there was a festival taking place tomorrow within the town (which would explain the number of barriers I had to miss entering the carpark) and realised the bus is in the prime position to witness the spectacle.

The day passes, the kids play and I observe the relaxing of my mind and a letting go of all the hopes to discover some untamed secret piece of wilderness. I mean really, who was I to think that after thousands of years of people inhabiting such a small country there would be some undiscovered land, waiting for a blue bus to come along so that it may reveal itself and all its mysteries.

The day was right here. The discovery was right in front of me but my mind would not allow me to see the wilderness until I let go. Life’s wilderness. My view was the same for hours and yet small portions changed every second. I just had to observe and let it all unfold.

8 hours of the time

Cold and tired after our long walk, we ate, laughed, washed, pulled the curtains and bunkered down for the night. It must have been at least 10pm and there was a multitude of people returning to the carpark, slamming doors and riding clutches. I wondered if I would ever fall asleep.

I began my bedtime ritual, breathing into 10 mins of meditation to settle my mind and open my consciousness to the night cosmos. It must have worked because the next thing I knew my youngest daughter was tugging on my arm squealing something about fireworks.

Not only were we parked in the towns busiest carpark but we were in the hot spot for the festivals’ opening fireworks. Wrapping a blanket around me I sat on our little lounge hugging Jay, watching the most beautiful reflections. We talked like friends and marveled at the scene from our kitchen window.

I remembered my day sitting by the water pondering how life flows around and through us all the time and now, as the fireworks exploded and lit up the hundreds of people huddling alongside our bus to escape the windy chill I saw myself as a speck of life existing alongside millions of other energies trying to survive. Trying to make sense of our place.

I was grateful, warm and safe inside our little bus of wonders, wrapped in the love of a child, witnessing yet another facet of what our eyes perceive and what the universe delivers.

I vowed to limit if not get rid of our campsite criteria and open ourselves up to any possibility. Conditions limit our movements and enjoyment.

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6. Whos hair, here, hearing me?

The bus has broken down and while we are lucky enough to have booked a short house sit I am coming to terms with waiting it out in cloudy Cornwall while the ‘Gentle Revolution’ is attended too. Its been 4 days since the bus went to the mechanics and I have cleaned more labradoodle hair in that time than I have in my entire life of hair loss and haircuts.

 

The dogs are odd, the house stinks and I feel further away from any sense of spirit at the moment than I have in a long time. I soften my thoughts and see the plea for approval as I pass by the dogs. Gliding my hand across their cheeks to reassure them, both dogs smack the lounge with loving tails to communicate they received my acknowledgment.

Shuffling the kids off to sleep, I remove several crummy plates from beneath the bed and begin to think of all the people who have expressed the desire to do what we are doing, and right now, I wonder what they actually think we do? We, being the family extension of me.

What AM I doing?

I am not certain most of the time. I don’t question myself like that much anymore. Right now I am throwing hairy socks into the ever increasing washing pile and stacking plates in places I am not familiar with. Sexy yeh. Okay, so we don’t have a house or land, a flashy car or retirement plan but we are free to explore at will and every corner we round is a new experience waiting to unfold, a new connection waiting to be made. Its amazing really – this world of ours  – but even the most adventurous have daily self-care tasks.

I have no shame in the mundane and no regret for the cycle of existence I played out before today. It’s here, in the repetitive actions of our lives that an element of freedom awaits. Lying within the energetic pathways of our body is a space so small its indescribable, free of conditions and limitations, waiting to be discovered. You need to find this gap, this stillness. It’s where you nurture your soul and find comfort with your present life.

When the mind and body experience an action or thought that has occurred many times before, it relaxes, knowing its course. As if locked on an automatic setting our mind switches off. We can drive several blocks without being fully aware of where we have travelled. We can brush our hair, pull weeds from a garden or peg out the washing paying little or no attention to the action. itself. We are unaware.

(teeth cleaning photos courtesy of many free internet sources)

Mundane, repetitive actions occur ALL the time. Which means more time to practice awareness. Next time you clean your teeth, relax, close your eyes and bring your mind to the action. Dont force the pattern but watch it. What side do you clean first? Do you move your brush up and down or round and round? Dont change how slow or fast you brush – just brush. Be the observer and you will notice it seems to occur without much effort. You have done this action a thousand times before and now it seems to happen of its own accord. I used to enjoy this game before I stopped smoking but now use it as a technique to heighten my awareness and bring spirit into my daily life.

You will also notice that for just a few seconds or even longer (depending on how much you observed or concentrated) that you have forgotten your household chores, the ache in your legs or the women down at St Ives shops who called you a ‘thievin gypsy’. You forget everything except the action of cleaning your teeth.

Once you feel the mind observing the action you can do the same for other areas of your life. You will begin to realise the patterns we play out in our mind affects us just as much as the physical actions can. These patterns are energetically trapped within the spaces of your physical body and mind and affect your health. Find, follow and catch your internal dialogue before it becomes a repetitive pattern that plays itself over and over. I am fat, I am lonely,  I am poor, I am stuck here in this life, I am, I am, I am.

I am here, in the Southern most part of England, residing in the shell of another persons home making the most of my current situation. What a blessing to have a warm, safe and stinky home in a time of need. It reminds me I am alive and how beneficial incense can be.

 

I sit, write a few drafts about what I just thought and bin the lot. It’s hard to explain how we came to be – traveling the world, laughing, living and loving – but this is only my perception and projection on a social media platform and Id’ hate to move someone further away from their true path chasing a projected image.

Trying to write from a place of authentic love, I close my eyes and follow the flow of energy from the crown of my head to the center of my chest. I have not been practicing as much as I could be – the energy is hard to track and fuzzy. Not the clear and constant stream I am used too that grounds to earth and allows my love to expand beyond the confines of my heart chakra. I concentrate hard and send metta to those I miss and thank the universe for this down time. This time of reflection and self observance. I feel some guilt about how we may present to many and remind myself that some, maybe just one, may need to hear its possible – before they take that leap of faith. So hear this – we are doing it and loving it. It’s such an epic adventure to release and step into the unknown.

Walking to the bathroom, I remove my clothes, step under the warming water and allow any guilt to wash away – it turns to inspiration and I want to shout to the people of the world.

I love you!

You can do what ever you dream.

We are DOING the same as anyone else – just in different locations and on different levels. We are living how we want to live at this moment. You are living just how you are allowing yourself to live also.

I am a carer just like you. I am a lover just as you are. Sometimes experiencing pure connection and joy while at other times too tired to turn the shower on let alone another human being. I am an artist trying to figure out the balance between ego and inspiration and I am a sensitive being, trying to live an authentic and graceful life, tormented by material possessions and comfort foods.

I am the reflection of my surrounds, including that of my own thoughts.

The hardest (and easiest) part of obtaining the life you seek is letting go of what you think you need and living with what you really need.

For now – it’s an ongoing journey and one I am loving every second of.

 

***

 

 

 

 

5. Silent Appreciation at Hells Gate

Rolling along the English laneways aboard our bus allows for great contemplation if you can ignore the clang of saucepans and occasional run in with oncoming tractors. The slow pace of our Ldv minibus suits me just fine and today is no different. The morning eases by and we start to follow the coastline of south-western England.IMG_3232

Today seems fresher than normal with an expected high of just 14 degrees. I wonder what the hills back home in Australia are whipping up for the locals. It’s about this time on the farm I’d harvest the first brassicas,  broad beans and attack the  brussel sprouts.

I have managed to sneak some herb pots onto the bus and two bowls of salad greens but space is sparse. Adorning the kitchen bench the plants take prime position for sun and attention alongside the ever-fermenting vat of kombucha.kombucha 3

Gardening seems to have sunk its energetic teeth into my soul long ago so I am struggling to come to terms with buying all our food now. It has become my traveling ethical dilemma – buying food and fuel to allow for our adventures. I used to grow so much food for the family but now I rely on the efforts and ethics of others.

As a small cafe looms in the distance against a backdrop of stark green hills and grey skyline, I reach for my camera and jacket knowing we will stop. My heart quickens a little sensing something new. I can’t see over the edge completely but know its the sea below by the amount of spray and lack of landform towards the horizontal horizon. Birds appear to be flying out of a cliff face as they fight against the windy flows. I see the words ‘Hells Gate Cafe’ on the side of a white building and wonder who named such a place? It looks so clean and peaceful.

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Along with the inhabitants of nine other cars and caravans we walk across a sea of wild flowers to see what the fuss is about. As my family and I approach what feels like the edge of the world we feel the full force of the Atlantic Ocean. The blow rises against the steep  gradient of the cliffs, channelled by the shape of the land. The beauty of these cliffs surprise me. A rare, untouched piece of paradise, inaccessible to most where the fragile balance of life is ever-present. I begin to understand the name ‘Hells Gate’.

I feel alive here, tingling with adrenalin as I sway on the edge of certain death, watching razorbills and herring gulls protecting and feeding their chicks. Their nests perched precariously on small ledges facing the blows of mother earths’ breath.

I watch my daughters reach for their binoculars as we get closer and closer to the limit of safety. The water draws you in, the flowers mask the scent of fear and the binoculars alter your perception of distance. My heart is pumping.

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Placing my hand on Nakeela and Jays shoulder I point out the dangers of the area and leave them to explore at their own pace. Its moments like these I just have to cut the umbilical cord and allow them the freedom to be responsible for their own fate ( and death). I am constantly accessing the appropriate level of parenting. Sometimes I annoy myself with my own nagging voice. Learning when to let go is just as much about my growth as it is about their personal development. I fight the urge to stay by their side.

There is no climbing here unless you have a death wish. No barriers or fences. I am certain the girls are feeling the confrontation of life and deaths’ struggle here just as much as I am. I have forgotten about the mess in the bus from packing in a hurry. There is no insistent demands for tired people to go to bed or clean their food plates. Just body rocking winds and the cries of baby gulls waiting for their food. The parallel comparison between man and animal, food and parental responsibilities are profound.

(bird photos courtesy of the Uk National Trust site)

The family divides to follow their own interests and I sit to meditate. Rock and water battle beneath like a metaphor for my own journey at the moment and I play out in my mind’s eye the effects of opposing forces within the family that are occurring. New grounds and new buses mean new power plays, new emotions and stresses that have not been present for many years. We live so closely together and there has been many changes since selling up and hitting the global circuit. It becomes evident that the ego within me is still waiting to burst forth and all four of us need time and space to grow and develop our spiritual grace.

Hopefully things will begin to slow again soon as we have almost completed the bus transformation and the last two house sits are almost over. Life on the road is waiting for us and we are ready – impatient in fact.

Buckling up we ready ourselves and adjust the saucepans one last time before starting the engine. Nothing. My husband tries again. The ‘Gentle Revolution’ wants to start but there seems to be no ignition of fuel. He coughs and farts, releasing white swirls of smoke that join the Atlantic winds. I say a silent apology to mother earth and unbuckle the seatbelt. My husband says white smoke is unburnt diesel and a few fuck words.

All I can think is – this will test the dynamics again and the bank balance.

As the bus sits silent in the car park I smile knowing the cliffs are waiting like they have been for thousands of years, combating the elements in silent grace. I relax the tension from my nervous shoulders and smile, knowing we are just where we need to be for the moment – Hells Gate.

cornwall cliffs