That’s it then. The DANA CHALLENGE completed. Just the letter to myself to write at the end of this first month of 2011.
I have been watching closely as you moved into this New Year. Trifle hectic. Seems to me that you are doing OK so far. No reason you won’t continue to do so. Don’t forget that this is one freaky period in your life and take a look now and then at the Cainer Horoscope for 2011 and pay attention to it.
You’ve taken years becoming who you are. This is not the year to rattle and shake that too much. Its solid. Leave it standing. There’s enough outside variations going on. Hammer the tent pegs in a little more firmly. Dig the trench a little deeper and stay where you are. Stay where you are, doing what you’re doing with the people you’re doing it with.
That’s one month passed. Whatever happens during this time, keep it relational to what’s happening in Port Mac. Acknowledge the impact. Even if something doesn’t appear to be connected to Port Mac, it most likely will be.
Hang in. Hang in. Hang in. Add some more Meetings. Walk. Talk a little more. Buy a gas heater. Allow the panic to wash over you. You won’t drown it.
Laugh a lot. Roll around on the floor laughing. Apologise for nothing. Nothing at all.
Hmm. Hmm. Forget the Variations and enjoy the Unvarying. That’s an art form in itself. Check in at the end of the coming month.
Fear nothing. Regret less. As the Urunga Nippers say.
Here we go on Family. I’m not choosing one person. I’m choosing family. En masse. This weekend we are gathering to go South. Carloads of us. To say ; “ We love you ! “ Here we go for the 250 words.
Well – my family once lived a little further south of here. That’s 160 years or so back. Some of them still live there. Distant relatives. And my sister and her husband are back down that way.
I am interested in the real oldtimers. The ones who came here at the start. The white folks in my family came from Scotland and England to the Mid North Coast of New South Wales. Working class poor and some convicts. They settled in a line along the side of the Pacific Ocean and are buried thereabouts. Frederickton Cemetery holds a few of them. A good few of them including a young fella who was accidentally shot by his brother way back in the 1800s.
Laurieton Cemetery holds some more. That one includes my Great Grandmother known as Granny Bell. Her grave says “ a Legend in her own Lifetime”. I rather fancy that wording.
I almost died down that way myself in the mid 1980s. In Hastings District Hospital at Port Macquarie. Had a near death experience instead which set me up for the good life I lead now . Then My Mum was crook down there in the late 1990s. Now my sister is ill in the same town.
I figure it must be something about the Hastings and the Camden Haven for the women in our family. Maybe Granny Bell is still there someplace watching over us.
Welcome to you, the 250 word challenge of the day. The lawns are mown and I am home after visiting with my sister. Took 2 rides on ferries today across the Hastings River in Port Macquarie and that brings to mind the Dream held by my cousin , Keith, and me. We wanted to be Ferrymen on Sydney Harbour.
We lived in the Western Suburbs away from the Harbour. There was a canal running through my street. Paxton Avenue, Belmore. No 27. Not a canal that took boats or barges. A concrete canal, usually waterless except if they opened the floodgates at Warragamba Dam. The Harbour was about a 45 minute train ride away. Sydney Harbour with green and yellow Sydney Ferries. Not very yellow but definitely green.
Once we took a big ferry right out through the Heads and up to Broken Bay. That was back in the 1960s when people had vision of grand schemes. We rode on it as passengers and the sea surged and flowed. It was Grand. We took ferried from Circular Quay to Manly and once to Bundeena. We were allowed to steer the Bundeena Ferry for a little part of the trip.
I have had dealings with ferries from time to time since “greater” aspirations interfered with the Original Dream but seems to me that being a Ferry Master is something I can no longer do.
Nonetheless, the thrill remains. Soon as I hear the cable crank and see the inexorable movement across the river of a car ferry, the yearning returns. Or stand waiting on a wharf to board as foot passenger.
Brisbane was a fine place to ride before the 2011 floods washed it all away. Ulmarra was a fine place to cross the Clarence River before the 2009 floods raised the sandbank and restricted the operations to high tide. I crossed on the Ulmarra Ferry once with an 8 year old girl playing violin as we crunched our way from one bank to the other.
Hear tell the Ulmarra Ferryman dropped dead halfway across the river. Just last year that was.
Now for the 250 words. I have had the blessing of finding some blogging ideas which appeal to me this morning. Whew ! I also have some Steampunk studies going on and an idea for LETTERS IN THE SAND so despair is a little further from me than it has been re the blog challenges.
Here come the competitive superlatives again. BIGGEST. I don’t have BIGGEST. Most. Worst. Best. Etc.
What dreams do I have nowadays I wonder? Hmmm. I have thing to write about which are not mine to write about just yet. A mellowed ability to live at peace within the day appeals to me. A greater courage than I seem to have so far. Dreams of ……… elusive shadowy things.
Steadfastness perhaps and clear sanity. A de-confused way of thinking would be a fine thing for me.
It’s a cooler cloudy day here with an edge of cloud and rain. Those things awaken fear in us out here in Australia this year ( and for the last few years) but I think today is only a small clouded affair.
I dream of Rivers and paddling about in Boats like Ratty in Wind in the Willows. Very fond of Rivers, I am. That’s one reason I live an Estuarine Life. One thing which I would like to accomplish is a decreased agitation and an observation of the River.
A doctor down in Maroubra once told me that he had promised himself a gentle life. He was going to watch the tides go out – and come in.
There’s a dream for you.
Ha ! Back in middle earth again. Only a few more days of Dana’s Challenge then I shall venture out into other realms in a hope that there is some challenge which attracts me.
I have no idea why I am here on Earth but I have a couple of hundred more words to write in this post. This is like being back at school attempting to channel some kind of a correct response.
I ma sitting in a house looking out to sea. Somewhere to my right is a lighthouse. I can’t see it but I know that its there. Rather fond of lighthouses, so I am. This one is squat and white. They should be white. It overlooks a beach where people take camel rides.
I don’t think those two things are part part of my vocation on earth, but they might be. I do like lighthouses as I said and I really like the image of the CAMEL. I like Midnight at the Oasis.
I have thongs on as well. I don’t think they’re part of my vocation but they might be. I have never been a thong wearer – Aussie icons though they may be. I have only taken to wearing them since Christmas Day 2009 when I bought a pair from a service station at Halfway Creek. Halfway between Coffs and Grafton. That could well be part of my vocation. Halfway to someplace.
I am very silent. Very inert. Very eremite.
Why on earth am I here ?
I handle them thoughtfully and in true Libran manner. Not labelling either as success or failure. I know that I do not know which will be which. It might seem a failure to me but in fact not be. And vice versa.
Sometimes I am elated with instant gratification situations and at others there is a long slow formation before something comes into being and an equally enduring satisfaction.
My ‘successes’ and ‘failures’ are things which will be determined in some other place than here in this time on this earth. That’s how I handle it.
Things which once seemed to be losses to me have years later turned out to be something quite different from what I was thinking at first.
Difficult not to be trite writing about this. I am simply an Elderwoman. Its funny getting feedback from the young ones. Youth knows a good deal – theoretically. Most of the things about life which I know now have been forged and seared and tested and refined and I know my own life very well. And I know myself very well.
I check daily. I endeavour not to live to impress anyone else. I live by a measuring stick of my own.
That means that from time to time I am in a questioning – that I see as a very good thing indeed.
One word to the Wise – don’t underestimate the StoryTeller.
To wrap up the 250 words. Once there was a little girl and she grew.
This is a funny one. Life turned out not being what I expected. Then again, I didn’t really plan it. Pratchett speaks a good bit about – I thought it would be different.
Bringing that back to one thing I planned, I shall go for the Coach Trip down here to Port Macquarie. I do a goodly bit of public transport travelling. I like it despite its malodorous dimensions. This time I was actually a little nervous due to the last bus trip. One trip I was familiar with was the KEAN’S COACHES to Armidale, up the Dorrigo Mountain. I liked KEANS COACHES – their motto was “we are Kean to have you travel with us “. A welcoming greeting I found it to be. $16 for 2 hours with a stopover in Dorrigo.
The $16 proved too little and Keans vanished so that my last trip to Armidale was $50 on the BY BUS which was small, very small with an attached trailer for our luggage and no on board movie. After hurtling through the night at a rapid rate in a bus not much bigger than the Starwagon, I was a little wary about Coach travel.
This time I took Greyhound for the 2 hours down the Highway to Port. My planning was that of a nervous woman prepared in holiday season to be squashed in.
Turned out to be plenty of room, comfortable seat, Snow Dogs the movie showing from Nambucca on and beautiful young people scattered throughout the bus. Pretty good all round. Did not expect that.
One word to the Wise- don’t underestimate the StoryTeller.