Swishing the cloth to my tune

It is Wednesday. It is the beginning of my workweek. It is the day after "Blissful Tuesday" - my nickname for my one day off a week. It is the day I have to clean the restaurant. No getting around it. Cannot ask someone else to do it. When you are a small business owner that has to look at keeping all costs in controllable means then you yourself are the multi-tasking manager of various occupations. It is a side of me that many would never see pictures of.

I am a window cleaner, industrial cleaner (my term for welding the large vacuum cleaner around inside and out, then swishing afterwards the floors, cleaning the balcony and terrace), toilette cleaner, shelf stacker, table designer, florist, personal buyer, waitress, wine merchant, reservation assistant and rubbish collector but to name a few of my hidden professions. Restaurant owner is for me a wayside title. I rarely get to remember that I am one as I tick off all the things I need to do before opening our doors in the evening for guests.

Now the self-employed aspect has a lot of advantages but if you are not self-disciplined then forget it. Nothing will get itself done without some elbow grease from you. When we have had a heavy day and my part-time help has headed home I have roughly one hour cleaning up still to do before I myself can put my feet up (that is if I can even manage to lift them; usually I am better slipping into the bubble bath where the heaviest thing I have to lift is a glass of wine and my book!)

When our children where knee high I used to try and show them that Mummy was having marvelous fun scrubbing and polishing in the restaurant by throwing an old blanket over a table. Crawling underneath and placing blankets, pillows, a collection of books or the tape recorder with a story on tape, biscuits and drink bottles there to encourage a "camp out".  Funnily enough what actually stuck in the children’s memories was something totally different. As our daughter visited us over Christmas last year and she popped down into the restaurant (we live above it) to say hi she laughed as she saw me swishing and cleaning in full volume to my newest song love.  "Oh Mum that is what I always loved about Wednesdays. Your loud music and that we could all sing along too. You never stopped us singing out so loud!". Only now I realize I might have deafened them in the process of teaching them cleaning is fun!

So time to get down to the glad rags that lay waiting for me to twirl them around to today's choice of song after watching "Angels Share" last night ... "Now I would walk 500 miles, now I could walk... now I would clean these windows for you... now I would drop down all that I do, just to see the sparkle shine through". Oh I forgot to tell you that I make up my own words to the tunes I play. Well now you know, tee, la, la, la.

I just do so hope that my motto of "If there is something mundane that has to be done then turn it into an adventure, just for you!” got through to my kids. It makes cleaning a heck of a lot easier and more fun.

Koruswhispers

Pictures in our mind to describe who we are

Three songs playing over and over again in my head. Three songs all saying in various ways exactly the same message. 1. Ace of base:  "Beautiful life", John Bon Jovi: "It’s my Life" and Sido: "Bilder im Kopf" (A German rapper: "Pictures in my head). Take a second before reading further to listen to all three on youtube please then come back to me!


So it is with life which often plays itself in front of our eyes as memories from the past that we have collected as pictures in our mind, labeled, numbered after the year or event, not what is actually happening now! We "feed” on these pictures to get us through the daily grid of going to work. Purchasing items we do not need. Talking "shit chat" with those we do not want to. Or perhaps we pour again over these memories in the hope we can one day get back to what was. For those of you whom are having difficulty to understand this guy Sido he is rapping in German telling us exactly just how often we live in our past, in what happened yesterday. A black and white slide show playing up in our head. Images of what was. Your past. Not presenting you now. You have this moment. Only now. Use it do not abuse it.

If I told you that you have exactly 60 minutes in which to live and then you where going to drop dead. Instantly - what would you do? Wild sex with the one you never dared, drink the most expensive wine you have in your cellar that you have been storing away for a special occasion in a coffee cup, walk naked down the street saying "Can’t you see the vibrant colours of my flowing silk rags" to everyone that stares in amazement or sit down and pull out your photo albums from the past and relive what you had lived? What you wished you could re-live? Each to their own but never forget the past has its place in our life for a reason. It is to make sure we move forward. It can hurt recalling it. It can be boring for others to hear. It can be a totally different picture than others have of it, if we were to share the tales that make us who we are. Yet know why it is there.

If you had to describe yourself in five words creating a picture of who you are in our minds eye could you do it? Now I do not mean "tall, plumb, educated, single, workaholic" way I mean "open-minded (this we count as one right!), nature lover (oh should this be three already?), nurturing, curious, strong backbone (here I go again trying to keep it to one word but needing two!). Now if you actually have managed in your minds eye to create your five-word list of "whom you are" and you were to give it to a friend and ask who could this list be describing; would they guess you? Are they only descriptions from the past or a wishful present? I have a dear friend who sees me totally different than I do and it blew me away yesterday to see her short description of me through her eyes:

" I always describe you as this amazingly stylish friend that has a knack at making fashion work, a brilliant restaurateur (along with Christoph of course!) with an artistic and slightly alternative flair! You never mention those things so I'm here to tell you this story and blow your trumpet for you! “

Is that me?! How would you see me? Is that important if I only have this moment? Do I want you to know me? If you check out my blog title "do you really want to know me" you can learn perhaps a little more. I have so many corners, cupboards or drawers I have filed parts of me away. Now I am 47. Middle aged. Somewhere between the “cradle and the grave” and I do not have time to collect only pictures in a black and white album to look at later. 


I want to collect pictures in my minds eye now to pull out when the day is over; when I sit seeped in a low moment and need some boasting for the next step in life. I want to pull out my past to recall so as to help those younger than me in similar situations see there is light at the end of a tunnel. 


Collect your pictures and place them upon the pages of beautiful albums. Though do not forget to show the images of yourself to others to inspire them to reach heights they never dreamed of! I want the pictures in my mind to remind me to grasp with both hands, the passion for giving and loving and living within this moment! 


The pictures in my head are the essence of what I was. The visions of me in your minds eye are the impulses of me in my past. The impulses I place on the page of my life now are the person I am growing into within every second that passes in my life. I love me. Embrace that who you are now. Carry it into your future with pride and just maybe it might end up being similar to the picture others see of you and are then inspired because of you!

Koruswhispers

I love the smell of bookstores

The doorway into getting to know me seems to stand wide open revealing what you would reach if you were to take a step within. Yet upon closer inspection the way to the light hidden right at the back has many nooks and crannies to be explored and noted along the way. We are not only what you see on the outside. There are so many levels of me to get to know if you take the time to go beyond just saying hello.

For instance I love the smell of bookstores.  There is something about the various aromas that bombard my senses when I come into contact with books that could be quite an embarrassment for you if you knew me because it would require you to be very flexible. I will not only pull you into a new multi storied bookstore in a foreign land but also into op shops which always have a corner devoted to someone’s throwaways or slam the brakes on while driving to jump out and run towards a fridge that stands on the corner of the street filled to the brim with “take me and I am then yours” freebies from the neighborhood.

Is this weird or am I just becoming a sad, middle-aged woman whom gets her kicks where she can. Sniffing the air as I walk along the carpeted, half titled lanes of my local second hand bookstore. I get suddenly a shot of adrenaline that literally surges through my body. When I venture into town and step into the four floor leveled bookstore, I get quite weak in the knees at the sight of all these tightly bound new books enticing me with titles that make me want to dive inside them jiggling around getting comfortable with the theme they wish to inform me about. We will not even mention perhaps how I look or seem to those around me - gasping, eyes rolling, slightly out of breath mad red headed lady whose feet seem to be trying to go from the holistic shelves to the cookery at the same time.

My husband, since our trip overseas to an English speaking land last year, is very weary of being asked to carry my backpack please! He said it weighed a ton and what was I transporting back to Germany that I felt was so important? Oh I said nonplussed; “Just eighteen new books I brought, another dozen I gathered from second hand shops and a few I had exchanged with some other partners during the long wait we had while watching you guys run around in the Iron man race.” I couldn’t lift the thing and I knew it was over the hand luggage limit but he made it seem to me rather lightweight work. Funnily enough it was after that he brought me an e-book for our next overseas adventure – timely hint maybe!

I think my fascination with the smells one finds in the bookstores has not to do with the building themselves but with the books and what they offer me. I have a temperament full soul, swelling with a passionate need to live out my desires, wishes, needs or fantasies among the pages of a book before putting them into real time action.  I always buy more books than I need just because I get such a rush when wallowing amongst the shelves of all these undiscovered themes! I am in wonder at all I could be, what I could do and how to go about it all and words help me make sense of what is out there waiting to be explored. I also get caught up in how others go about their lives. Fascinated at the way someone has mastered a difficult challenge, completing something from his or her personal "kick the bucket list".

Life has a lot to offer me still if you look at the layers of newly pressed or used pages lying upon my shelves at home waiting to be read.  That is why I think it is time now to go put the jug on for a cuppa and grab a book to stick my nose for a few hours of personal pleasure instead.

Your Korus

My "Life is sometimes a little bit crazy list"

This was my "Life is bloody amazing list" on 5th March 2012.

I breath... therefore I am

I love... therefore I am loved

I laugh... so that the tears can flow when needed

I ache... so I know the difference between pain and pleasure

I smile... so I understand why frown wrinkles exist

I dance... because movement reminds me I have a wonderful body

I speak out... and remember that I have a voice to help others

I sing... to remind me of the beauty within

I cry... to connect to the healer in me

I live... because it is the choice I have made to make

I hug... while I adore embracing you

I write... to share my thoughts and ideas

I dream... of how bloody marvelous life is.

and now it is time for an up-date!

My "Life is sometimes a little bit crazy list" 23rd May 2013.

I smirk ... when I feel something I knew of a long time ago on my skin sunshine
I chuckle... when I sneak the last bit of chocolate bar out of its hiding place behind the book ends
I groan... when I suddenly realize that my stomach has different sides I never knew existed after gym
I squint... at the words not wanting to admit a pair of reading glasses would be the hit
I gulp... in deep when trying to recapture memories in pencil thin jeans from 1993 that I have found hidden in a draw I think no one was even meant to open anymore
I jiggle... around the living room, forest floor or in front of a shop front store letting anyone know who finds it strange it´s a Kiwi thing to do when things go your way instead of saying "sick babe"
I squeeze... all I love, find pleasing, must learn to like and sometimes even hate before it is to late
I shout... too often because I am sure I am not being heard
I bawl... my eyes out by every sentimental word I hear, read or find scribbled something weird like on a toilette wall

I type... all that comes into my head even if it should not be said

I daydream... more than I should because I swear it is healthier than any reality show I could watch instead

I wonder... honestly am I just getting older or perhaps going crazy in the head.

Koruswhispers

Awareness

Living your life in a state of awareness

... taking time to see whom or what

also shares this planet with you.

Acknowledging their existence.

Seeing their beauty.

Valuing their purpose.

 Realizing that everything is here for a reason.

Not expecting more than what is given

to you at the time you are aware.

A curious stare, a loving look.

 Just being grateful for the bonding of souls

for a fleeting moment

when your hearts beat as one.

Living together your lives

in a state of awareness.

Koruswhispers

Why turn down your lip ends when they can go up?

Behind the rolling blanket of darkness outside that covers everything in a lifeless shade of grey does lay a smidgen of light. And when it finally breaks through we will be bathed in Sunshine. Have started doing a sunbeam dance with my morning coffee to tip the scales of chance in its favor!

Now several hours later when I look outside and still see the rain pouring down I realize that I have got some wires crossed this morning when doing my moves for liquid sunshine and ended up only drawing in more rain along with dense heavy skies. Have had to pull on the woolly pulley in late Spring to get warm in these freezing temperatures so decided why not add some childhood memories of reading a book by torch light under the blanket to this gloomy day. No sunshine outside to see, then I will pull that up which I have stored inside me, to get me on the right side of the track for working later. It is all a matter of the way I view it right and I prefer golden light than dark gloom. 

It is a fascinating process life.  Often we go back to the stepping-stones we created as children to use as a pathway to get along smoothly on the road we walk in our adulthood. This is I realize the case for me and in many ways my personal view on looking on the shiny side of the coin more often than not. 

When I was sent off to boarding school at a young age of 7 3/4 I thought everyone saw the world and their part in it like I did.  Always looking on the bright side of life enjoying every sensation, new experience or unpleasant happening, with a sense of “no worries it will all be right” along with a smile.

My book heroin Pollyanna showed me just how it was done. I followed willing in her steps. If it were pouring down with rain as we walked from our boarding house to school (about 2km) I would jump in as many puddles as possible. With always the hope the next splash would reach higher than the last.   That I would be saturated and required to strip down and sit in a blanket in sickbay until some dry spare clothes were found was not important. I had created a tidal wave on the way to school. Not something every nine year old can claim.

When we should have been sleeping I read to my girlfriends adventure stories I myself had written in my minds eye of the nasty schoolteacher whom locked her pupils in the broom cupboard when they spoke out in class. Or the cook at lunch time who used the stray cats for filling in the stew that was why we always found pieces of strange gristle on our plates. Or the child whom wanted only to shower each day with hot water but was told cold showers made you strong. All huddled under the bed blankets I was a stickler for reality and would provide different voices to all the characters, forgetting to keep my voice down. This made my girlfriends squeal with a mixture of delight and fright at what lay lurking in the muddy depths of the back shed where all naughty girls got locked up when it stormed (an English Anglican Nuns boarding school is for a young mind a bit like an army boot camp where rules and regulations are the A and O of orderly life!). It would not take long before the matron would flick on the dorm light demanding for us to stop our wicked ways of not sleeping at the appropriate time for young ladies! I would be punished later for encouraging unruly behavior at wicked hours.

One event I remember clearly to this day was my desire to earn some extra pennies towards my weekly allowance. I decided I could cut hair for a small charge for my “expertise”.  My girlfriends did not think to ask if I could actually do this as they willingly took a seat for a new bob.  I had even invited a story of having had some experience in seeing how hair is styled.  No one actually asked from whom.  I wasn’t about to say it was just the few times I had been with my Mother to the hairdressers waiting on her as she had her hair done and watching intently as the hairdresser styled and cut. The bob cut was in the mid 70´s all the rage anyway and that I was sure I could manage. By the fourth cut a very angry Matron stormed into the shed (where all naughty girls got locked up when it stormed) where I had set up my saloon and snatched the scissors from my hand. She had seen the girls in the bathroom sink washing their hair of the loose strands and upon asking what exactly they where trying to do found out about my money making scheme. I felt I had actually helped out in making it not necessary to have to plait their hair each morning. Saving time and energy. I saw the haircut experience as fun. She saw it as a very, very undisciplined young rascal action! Punishment was once again dished out.

So did I despair and find that life was not a game to be savored but more a battlefield to be maneuvered? Luckily for me I had my armful of knowledge with me when I walked in that first Sunday afternoon through St Margaret’s doors. My fathers humor and his side tracked view on life had installed in me another way of seeing things. Along with his telling me tales from my Mario culture I looked for adventure not capture. My mother gave me books into my hands as soon as I began talking her ear off and this provided an inquisitive mind with material to allow my fantasy to grow wings and often take me away from the reality that was so harsh.

So we have had a long drawn out Winter come Spring and those rain clouds do not look like parting ways for a while to come yet, well I am just going to keep going, dancing on the pearls from heaven as I run over wet fields singing songs about finding my own sunshine.

For life is given to us for a time span that we have no knowledge of. Unless illness brings us to the transitional door of closure before we expect to be there stay living in this moment for why turn down your lip ends when they can go up?

Koruswhispers

A reflection on finding your way...

Finding your way is never without its turns and bends.

There are differences in the levels of understanding

to be reached about who you are, why you are here and what you want to achieve.

These are like the various shadings we view within nature.

They all come together to make the picture a harmonious composition another would want to rest within.

Our own shadings make us fascinating to get to know.

Take the journey of going deeper within yourself and

get to know your own tones of colour.

Then bring them out for all to see.

It makes loving you so much more of value.

Koruswhispers

"what if" becomes "I see"

I often wonder what would have been if... then I remember hey it doesn't matter what so ever!  I took another pathway. I climbed over another hill. I ventured down another lane. I chose another way.

"What ifs" hold us back in a time gone by which has no purpose in giving your energy into now.  "I see" gives us the chance to go deeper within. It takes our attention into the nitty gritty of what we are doing. Our view becomes centered upon an object, goal or plan and we note the very texture of our desire.  We begin to feel inside the possibilities that could be. It inspires us to move forward to feel what the eye views. 




Let me explain here by using an example such as not being able to get motivated to exercise. You perhaps have health reasons of excessive weight. Your abuse of alcohol or drugs has left their marks in and on the body. Or you simply have no stamina to walk two flights of stairs without puffing extensively and breaking into a light sweat. So what do you do with yourself? Moan and groan it was the gang that I hang around with that caused me to land in this hole? Or I was always told to eat everything on my plate therefore I do not know my limits? Maybe you feel movement is only for the beautiful because most sporting names personify that image!




Do not be fooled! These are only mindsets we have been feed. They need not be part of your reality if you chose otherwise. Anyone can consciously apply movement into their lives by taking one step after another, for fifteen minutes each day around your city block, park or in the open countryside. In these fifteen minutes you only focus on the feeling of placing yourself upon the ground on which you walk. Be here. Take a stand. Notice how you hold your body. The framework which carries you through life. Do you slough? Do you cover yourself with folded arms or leave then hanging naturally by your side ready to catch yourself or others if you trip? Notice your breathing. Do you inhale deeply or grasp for air? Where is your attention? Are your eyes looking upwards, down to the ground or noticing the activity around you? Are you feeling comfortable with yourself or do you wish you could run away? 

Observing "you" is the start of turning your life energy to being open to try out something new. Look at how others carry themselves while walking for perhaps you will see a pattern emerging. Head down - wanting to hide. Arms folded - wanting to block. Smile upon my lips - open for joy. Shoulders back - taking in life in my lungs to be filled be laughter bursting to get out. Seeing the changes in your  surroundings helps you sense what directions are available for you to take. From fifteen minutes of exercising your "personal walk" can grow the insight to seeing what more levels of hidden delight await you! Suddenly the benefits will mean you will want to get out longer. Perhaps take on a slight jog. Or drive to a place you have longed to visit and feel how it "works" on you.


"What if" I could not see, holds you down. 


"I see" where I could go, opens a space to be filled. Your individual space.


Begin the filling, not sealing, of the personal spaces in your life. 

Koruswhispers

You Lucky Duck!

Do you hunt for the four-leaf clover in the hope of bringing a little streak of luck into your life, whenever you see a bunch of these? Or do you go within, to find that extra strength, to take on what perhaps seems at first impossible? "Financial Friday" how do you spin?


Yesterday we had a wedding in our restaurant of a couple in their mid to late fifties. The atmosphere was not electric with excitement, like by two lovebirds in their teens: bubbles, laughter and bursting at the seams sexual energy. It was a deeper pulsing vibration of commitment, smoldering passion and open wonder at something magnificent that lay in the aura of the newly weds, as well as their guests. When you read their reason for marrying at such a late time in their lives, you might say to yourself its only possible because of luck. Or is it?

The groom Marco had earlier this year “coded” on the scorer field, in the middle of referring a game. His son, who was playing, as luck would have it, was also a trained nurse and knew exactly what to do in the case of cardiac arrest. He literally saved his Dad’s life. It was this event that brought the Marco up to the realization of being given " a second chance" to do all he had not undertaken in his "first" life. Such as marrying the woman he had been in love with, living with and raising a family with, for over the last twenty years. The wonder at all the "luck" Marco had on the day of his "unlucky" wake up call was very tangible for me to feel in all whom were celebrating their wedding day with them.


Well he certainly had his fair share of luck you are saying to yourself. Lucky Duck to be able to fix old wounds or undertake newly desired activities. Not all get such a chance to re-capture. True you might not get the opportunity to fix up what you feel needs fixing. You could be gone, out of the picture in a flash. What bad luck that would be.  So what are you waiting for? The six in Lotto, the lucky four-leaf clover, the third sign or the right word? All our installed into us at a young age, as being ways of being able to see when luck is standing at your door step so you can just invite it in. Through old wives tales or traditional superstitions many of us have a lucky coin in our money purse, a rabbits foot hanging from the car revision mirror or only take every third item from a shelf.  All in keeping luck on our side. All hidden from the normality of life but used as ways of making Lady luck step into your corner. 

I know someone whom considers Friday his financial day to get lucky before the stock market closes over the weekend. Another friend sees Friday evening as the start to his lucky strike at the gambling machines which he sits at all weekend, trying out his luck.  So many people feel that lucky feeling when Friday comes around because it is their start to the weekend when they do not have to go to work - what a stroke of luck it is Friday they think!


Honestly there are as many people out there telling you how to pull luck onto your side as there are meant to be ways to do it. It is a bit like the toad I almost trod upon this morning while out walking through the woods. I could literally hear him whispering, "come kiss me my beauty, you just might be lucky and I am your prince charming in disguise".  But do I actually follow such a crazy act through – would you?


I prefer to see luck as "looking under covered karma" in my life. The word karma I use here from the modern day emotional view. Devoid of any religious connections, as in it is something we do not actually even take notice of because it basically belongs to life itself, such as breathing. Then when I look beneath the fact, I was able to brake in time, for the child whom ran out onto the crossing without looking first or that the grooms son was there just at the right time to use his knowledge to save his Dad; I see that it all has to do with our being connected.

A part of the natural process of being aware of life itself, is noting our interactions with one another and acknowledging our awareness of someone else's action having an effect on us. If only for a split second it gives us the chance to make a positive difference. Bring a bit of luck into what could otherwise be a different story. When we go through our lives knowing the daily events we live out are parts of our experience to turn our lives into something magical then you feel lucky.  We get lucky. To have the chance to love again; to sing your joy at being here or to teach those whom have not yet experienced what we have. Or perhaps it is to have found the disease in time to allow you to heal it.  The list of lucky moments could go on and on.

To believe that we are guided and cared for by something much grander than we can ever understand is part of my luck. Yet I know that it is up to me to pull back those blinds covering my inner bookshelf of knowledge to realizing I need only to connect with this world and all in it to live luck.  It is in front of me, behind me and within me. I am lucky and so are you if you choose to be.

Koruswhispers

Noticing the little things...

We often charge through a day forgetting what it is that we are actually doing. Living. Going through the motions of awakening, eating, working, purchasing, planning and learning; the small items which are like the stuffing in a pillow are often over looked. By these I mean caring, loving, appreciating, being grateful or as my Dad always said "taking time to hold the flower and breath deeply from it".

I loved it when he said that because it wasn't telling me to take time to look at them while running past. It was being totally focused upon the moment of admiring the outward beauty and then going within. Allowing all my senses to be drawn into the depth of the flowers presence by literally breathing it in.  How often do we only fleetingly take a situation into our awareness so that it seems we have seen it. Yet if asked to recall a minute later what you had experienced, your description would be lacking in depth.

You here or read often of living in the now. Being present. Taking steps in the moment you stand without worrying about the future or from what you are dragging in from the past.

I prefer to say to myself "embrace the fleeting moments with your whole essence". For me it means I need to view with my eyes. Breath deeply within so it seeps into my pores. Feel with my soul the touch of uniqueness from the moment. Taste the flavor of something yet unknown. Touch with gratitude the gift of love.

Noticing the little things around me can be so abundant that my moments often turn into kaleidoscopes of still shots rolling into a passionate movie script. One item becomes a flow of many along the same thread. The experience can be so exhilarating the afterglow holds for days.

On Saturday last during work this is exactly what happened.  The evening was hard going as I only had one staff member to help me for a fully booked restaurant. I had guests whom had been coming to us for years which although means we know their preferences they also feel like old friends of ours. They need my undivided attention so as to recount what has been happening in their lives and ask after our children  or what our newest plans are with me. Yet orders need to be taken, meals served, wines opened in a smooth manner behind the scenes.  I always prepare mentally before work ands today was no different than normal except for one table whom had two young children of 8 (boy, hyperactive) and 10 (girl). In a gourmet restaurant this is a challenge for both parents and us. They want their fine dining experience while we have a generation that is not used to spending three to four hours sitting still on one place.

My way is to treat children as having an opinion, being able to ask but never to over step the line of knowing they have boarders that can not be crossed in my restaurant. This form of caring and making them feel welcome with boundaries always works by us. Then at the end of the evening when they leave they are allowed to choose a precious stone from a bowl shaped as a figure eight. This is for them to take home, place under their pillow for the opening of the door to a wonderful dream that night.

The choosing of a stone becomes quite a challenge and so often the parents get frustrated as their young ones ponder of the color, form or what exactly could this stone give them for a magical dream! I never mind how long they take because they have given their parents a stress free evening by keeping it together hence this is their moment.

On this particular evening the eight year old boy after testing out several stones in his hand, asking all what they thought, thinking about the size or color finally made his choice. Goodbyes were said and they began to leave. Then it happened. That unbelievable moment which I felt the full impact of instantly because it was so unexpected. The young boy stopped. Turned around. Walked back to me and hugged me tightly around me waist and kissed me on the midriff. He only reached so high! Then letting go, head down, he hurried after his parents out the door. Over within seconds yet the impact was intense.

Tears sprang up behind me eyes. My throat was thick with emotion. The touch of deepest gratitude from this small person was still flowing through every pore of my being. I had been so in the moment of his choice I felt his being to my core. As I turned to walk back into the restaurant it was dead quite. The whole room of guests where looking at me with smiles on their lips. Everyone had been a witness to this moment and we had all been in various ways effected by it.

It was a little thing. We all noticed it. We all felt it; cherished the feeling to gave and now I carry this "gem" inside me to be re-looked at and felt whenever I see a small, overactive boy whom just needs to be seen.

Koruswhispers

Little pleasures...

Little pleasures are often just so good they bring a smile to your lips over and over again. Just like my Mothers Day meal yesterday.

Eating white asparagus hot is something I never knew until I moved to Germany.  As in New Zealand and Australia I had only ever tasted the green variety and mostly cold served as a salad.  White asparagus came for me out of a glass and was something that my Nana would make a mash out of under a thick white sauce in a quiche that although baked was served cold. Not one of my more fonder meal memories from her.

Now I have come to appreciate the delicious buttery texture of freshly cut asparagus. Thick smooth skinned, cooked to perfection in a salty/sour fond you can become very addicted indeed to what is known here as "white gold" or "edible ivory".  If it is possible, I love to make it two or three times during its short season.

As my husband was treating his Mother to an evening out I had brought myself a small portion to prepare for my dinner after a full days work. My treat!  A spontaneous call from my son to say he would pop around to say hi meant that he reached for the peeler and prepared to perfection the elegant white vegetable for me.

Mothers Day is about expressing you care for the woman whom nourishes you through the highs and lows of life´s pathway. It requires little effort to say "just as you are in your natural beauty you are the best Mum".  Good heartfelt food cooked and served with love and an embrace of giving your time! This is a guaranteed recipe for everlasting bonding.  Yesterdays asparagus meal cooked by my son was just that!

This meal was for me one of life´s little pleasures that can be re-called again and again and are worth their weight in gold. Thank you a 1000 times over to my wonderful son for making asparagus become even more of a gem in my treasure chest of memories.

Koruswhispers

Do you really want to know me...

Do you want to know whom I am? Are you ready to hear the truth from my side?  It might take you to a place you do not want to look at because it touches on areas you are not ready to tread in!

We all have our secrets, our hidden caves of treasure troves.

I am a woman of desires, pressures, pleasures, hidden corners and folds BUT I have nothing to hide.
Arrhhh!? You think this is strange... no.

I am open.
I am honest.
It has caused me a lot of trouble in my life to date because I do not hide behind someone else, or something else.
I am.
What you see is ME!!!
Just ask and I will tell you what you need to know.
An open book? No but I  have a story to tell if it is of interest to you.

Let us take a closer look...

I was conceived out of wedlock.
I was born to a coupling of homosexual and hexosexual connection.
I was sent away from home with seven years to be raised by Anglican Nuns.
I decided to set my roots in a land that was known as a hater of outsiders with 21 years of age...
A land that to many is said to have been the start of World War two!
I am a woman... my God I might cause sexual lust!
I have an opinion which has sometimes got me in the hot seat too.
I do not take a back seat in important matters but say with respect what I think and love and embrace  that which I believe in. I have a voice and use it wisely.

Are you still reading or have you stopped :) !?

Often we search for solutions to our so called problems from the areas of comfort. Those sections of our lives which do not go bump in the night. While we do not wish to be challenged from areas that require a re-evaluation of our lives principles.

I am what I am.
I stand for equality.
I stand for love.
I stand for rights in love no matter what sex, colour or religion we are born to hold.
I stand for living as a free man.
I stand for living as a free woman.
I stand for living as a free child.

I am a person whom wants to embrace you for the beauty of whom you are... created to achieve unlimited possibilities beyond the wildest dreams of the small human being whom you are told you are by the tight, controlling universe that you have been born into.

Do you want to be magnificent?
Do you want to achieve beyond that of your forefathers?
Do you want to experience God´s (the creator of that that is pure love and the essence of whom we are and can be) magnificence?
Do you want to reach limits that were to date unknown?

WHAT IS STOPPING YOU!!!!!! Comment, react, interact, talk to me....

Koruswhispers

Sticks and stones...

"Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me!"

This was a silly childhood rhyme I through out to those whom tormented me at boarding school.  This went through my mind today as I viewed the various changes in the texture of the ground I walked over. Stony, gravel, some sticks, a few pebbles, various  leaves.  Honestly nothing really worth looking at.  Could I have gathered such items together to have inflicted any harm to an attacker?  Would they even cause damage or make the assailant stop? These where the thoughts that came to mind as I viewed the ground. I doubt it. If I had gathered at the time of my childhood a fist full of these items and thrown them, I would have been the one whom received more of a problem with the nuns whom cared for us, than the person I wanted to "hurt" back.

Such thoughts whirl through my head lately because I have been hurt deeply this year by a family member whom I trusted, loved and helped over the years without ever expecting something in return.  This person inflicted a very deep wound that will take time to heal. A wound that no person should ever have to experience. During the physical act of attack this person also verbally let out a lot of anger in platitudes that have stuck very clearly in my mind since then.

A platitude is a meaningless or one sided statement that is given out in a manner to make it seem significant and original.  It derives from the French word "plat" meaning flat.  Which I find rather exact in showing how it can be effective as it has the action of hitting rather on a sore spot, like a slap.  Such examples of platitudes would be "Go with the flow" or "Everything happens for a reason".  In my case it was "Don´t be a drama queen!".  Rather over board when it went on trying to take away the fact it was to do with a situation of life or death.

Yet so often we use platitudes to belittle or bring a very serious event down to a level of "it is not worth the trouble worrying about" because we do not wish to acknowledge just how serious a situation is. If we are required to then look at ourselves and our actions it can be to much for one to deal with.

As a child I used the sticks and stones platitude to block the pain that was caused by name calling only. As an adult my attacker used the above platitude to push away the attack from him and his taking responsibility for it; to making it seem my fault. A dangerous physical act is reduced to a word game.

A platitude is often used as a pejorative term.  A pejorative term is also known as a term of abuse or a derogatory term. It is used to express contempt or distaste.  Saying "Don´t be a drama queen" was a further abuse upon my as a person.

In my coming to terms with the event I have had to look closely at the ways such persons express themselves in various situations hence my reflection now. Words are not harmful in the physical sense of inflicting an outwardly wound. Yet they also are needed to be digested to help heal the inwardly damage they do inflict.

Just like when I was a child and called names at boarding school, I still carry within me today the scars of those children. Only now I have as an adult to deal with the fact words cut below the surface of reality. They inflict pain where our deepest fears lie buried. They can be given out by adults in a dangerous, threatening manner. How we take them and handle them becomes the key to our own healthy stand against their not inflicting the terror they are intended to do.

Platitudes do no damage to my inner self because the are a reflection upon the person using them not the one they are thrown to.

Koruswhispers