Fooled by the Love Drug

 

It’s easy to love someone when you first meet and you’re all jacked up on love hormones. You can look at your new fandangle boy or girl toy and say, ‘you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.’ You actually mean it too!

Barf.

It’s so easy to look past their flaws when the chemicals overtake your brain, for the sake of pro-creation. It’s not real. Sorry. It’s your hormones telling you to make thousands of babies, gay or straight – the love drug finds a way to make wee mini reproductions of YOU.

Fair Go, Mate!

Last week I said to Hubby: ‘My darling sweet man, I desperately need some new baking trays. Wouldn’t you agree?’ Because that is exactly how I speak, in real life.

 

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Please get some. You could almost classify your old ones as a food group.’

 

‘Ha! Very funny.' He was right, though. Years of baking will do that to a beloved tin. There’s always a little bit that won’t scrub off.

 

Delighted to get out of the house, off I went with a skip and a hop (with baby Charlotte in tow) ready to buy some new trays. Now in my head I was thinking, ‘mortgages, electricity, phone bills, petrol, rates, water bill, Foxtel, internet connection, baby formula, nappies’ and the list goes on.

 

These things are a priority over baking trays and so when I made my choice, I chose the $6.99 ones, on special—the ones made in China.

GivingUp On Trying Hard

Look different.

Better, faster, stronger, thinner.

I never liked looking like me.

I decided, one day, to give up on everything. 'IS IT A BIG MISTAKE?'

‘What if I balloon up to 150 kilos? It might happen!’

Sustainability with African Style - by Lisa Heinze

Jambo!

I'm writing this from Tanzania, where I've been for nearly 6 weeks, partly on holiday, partly volunteering, and mostly absorbing all the African culture I can before I leave next week. It's been hard to decide what to blog about in Africa. There are some very serious environmental, social and economic sustainability topics I could write about - animal welfare in safari parks, unreliable residential waste removal, the lack of education options for young people. I will write a little bit about these in due time, but first I want to share with you a beautiful and inspirational organisation called Shanga, a group succeeding in making a positive impact on many lives.  

How fabulous is their tagline?!

Throw Me A Bone!

 

A couple of years ago, when I was buying fragrances at Myer, as Christmas gifts, the lady at the counter looked at me and said, ‘you know, love, you can get these two fragrances, plus a large tote bag for 50 cents cheaper!’ She was delighted with herself.

‘Thank you,’ I responded coolly, ‘but I don’t need a tote bag.’

‘But, it’s cheaper!’

‘I don’t need one.’

‘It costs less.’ As if saying it differently, would somehow help me to understand. So I rephrased, too. ‘I’d rather pay 50 cents, than to see that extra-large monstrosity go straight into my local land-fill. But thanks.’ She left me alone after that.

Save The Elephant Foundation- By Lauren Shuttleworth

 

Beautiful Medo - she has terrible injuries from her time in a forced breeding program.

Elephants were never my favourite animal as a child. Don't get me wrong - I've always found them beautiful and majestic, I was just somewhat obsessed with kittens for a while. It was Mum who truly loved them, although I'm not actually sure why. There was just something about elephants she found particularly wonderful.

But Mum had a soft spot for all animals really. From a young age she taught us to be kind and respectful to them. The house that we grew up in backed on to a bush reserve, and so Mum was always pointing out the koalas and whistling to the native birds. She used to say that if she hadn't been a teacher she would have liked to have been a park ranger. When she retired she wanted to volunteer with WIRES. Sadly though, Mum never did get the chance to retire. She had been getting ready for work on the morning she died. I could tell you about my shock, my grief and how much I still miss her, but that's a story for another time. Instead, I'm going to tell you about how she inspired me. About how I packed up and went to Thailand, and spent a month volunteering with those gentle giants Mum loved so much. I arrived at the Elephant Nature Park in June 2012. It's a 250 acre jungle-green sanctuary, complete with mist-topped mountains and a pretty, meandering river. At last count, thirty-five elephants call it home. Aside from those born at the park or saved as babies, all have been rescued from a life of horrendous abuse and neglect. They have come from decades of illegal logging, perilous forced breeding programs, and many are victims of the booming trekking tourism industry. There is a dark side to the popular elephant safaris of which few holiday makers are aware.

The food revolution, fad, trend or social enterprise?

by Halinka Panzera

Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution can teach us much about social enterprise strategy. In trying to change the way we eat he has implemented a comprehensive multi media campaign. What makes it a social enterprise and not advertising is the fact that it is public education. He is concerned about the quality of food people are consuming and how it affects their health. His approach involves a genuine focus on food issues as they relate to the end user. Through his attention on the health needs of the population his brand becomes strengthened.

STARK

Lurking in the corner of a seemingly clear conscious, you ravage me in your ungracious attempt to kill me off.

Black Crow Preacher entwined in hate and soulless garble, spraying words of death sentences, you throw your noose over the heads of children and innocent alike.

You damn us with your spin on life; bittersweet revenge in the guise of something noble- we see though, but only when we're looking.

Making once gullible hope your guilty pleasure- taking all and leaving nothing with your ego- driven nonsense. I won't listen.

Foibles craving of a clumsy, senseless woman you say- down woman, down!

Speak you not- speak of nothing, for it is all you are good for. Waste of space. Waste of breath.

I won’t be solemn or humble in my call to arms, I won’t be peaceful or quiet in my screaming. I won’t be shushed, nor fearful.

Open and bare I’ll stand, revealing every crook and cranny of my imperfect heart, with nothing but an honest, prevailing pulse. My skeletons fall into the open and clatter before you and still I am not afraid of my sinking ship.

There will be no bleeding dry here. The course is set and I’ll sit in waiting, for your downfall, upon this unforgiving ground.

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Speaking Out Against Domestic Abuse

It is all well and good to sit there and judge others who have been a victim of domestic violence or abuse, and to say ‘why don’t they just leave?’ If that is your stance, then you really need to stay a while. Hopefully this discussion will help someone to understand, just a little better.

Shhhhh, The Kids Can Hear You.

Teaching your children to love their bodies is not going to work.

Unless, you are extremely consistent, often discuss putting nutritious food and water into your body for fuel and never talk about weight loss. And if that’s the case, good for you!
Children hear every word we say and if on one hand we are telling them to love and look after their bodies, then on the other hand criticising our own, they are going to pick up mixed messages. Trust me, as a teacher, kids pick up EVERYTHING. They are such clever, little beings.
So for me, I’m calling for surrender. I’m not going to teach my daughter Charlotte that she ‘has to’ or ‘should’ love her body. I’m going to teach her that a large part of the Western world has completely forgotten how, and it is my greatest wish that we could all relearn it. And wouldn’t it be wonderful if children could teach the adults of the world how to love themselves again?

I’m not going to put pressure on her to change things; I’m simply going to wonder with her. I’m going to let her know how it really is, and what my dreams are. Children’s imaginations and ideas are phenomenal. It’s about time we tapped into this clever eagerness, this complete innocence and total unencumbered understanding of the Universe. This would not only give power and a voice back to our children, but imagine who they would become because of it.
Rather than complain about violence, poverty, Governments, global warming and body issues- let’s start discussing it with our children and let them know that we’ve made mistakes and we would love very much to have their help, in fixing them. Imagine a child who looked at a problem, for just long enough, and then turned towards the solution and stayed there.
There is nothing more awe-inspiring, creative and genius- than a child that knows the magnitude of their own power.
Peace
HMC

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Thailand

The Mother of Insomnia (Monday Memories)

I have really terrible insomnia lately. I’ve had it before in my life, but never for weeks on end. It’s not my 6-month-old bub Charlotte- she sleeps soundly through the night, only waking once for a small soothe, if at all. It’s me- ALL me. Maybe it’s my horribly stiff neck and back? I finally fell asleep at around 12:30am this morning, when I was promptly woken by that oh so familiar ‘meeeeeooooow’, at my door. Reaching over I read my phone, all bleary-eyed and found that it was 3am. Okay 2 and half hours of sleep- not bad. My cat Thomas is fifteen-years-old and since the day I brought him home, he has very rarely woken me up at night. It was just the start to my lucky day. Could I sleep again? No. I sprayed my tongue with sleep remedy and lay there in hope, until my partner’s horrendous alarm went off at 6am. It was the moment I decided that I would have to venture out in the storm, which has been raging through Queensland for days now, and go to the chemist to get some sleeping pills. Not the heavy ones- I have to wake up to the baby on the monitor- just something to knock me out a little. Up I got, back aching, sore shoulders, grumpy as hell- and then I went and looked at my angel in her cot, smiling up at me and giggling. All the crap melted away in an instant. Suddenly, nothing was as bad as it had seemed five minutes ago. Ever had one of those moments? So, we went through our morning routine, mine involving copious amount of caffeine, and I decided it was time to brave it. Putting up an umbrella I took my baby out into the storm and headed 3 minutes up the road, in the Pajero. There were not many people about. I parked the car and got out, umbrella flopping around like crazy and quickly becoming more of a hindrance than a help. I took out Charlotte’s pram and for the first time, attempted to don it with her new, fandangle, plastic, storm-cover. Sounds simple enough right? Ha! I covered the pram and the thing flew right off. I ditched the umbrella and gave in, letting the storm saturate me. It was more important to try to keep the pram covered, to stop the rain from soaking it. There were Velcro bits everywhere, none of them matched up and the moment I let go it would fly away again. Finally when I got the damn thing on right, I had to try not to hold Charli too close to my soaking, wet body. I poked my arms underneath, strapped her in and took a proud look at the excellent job I’d done, at keeping my baby dry. Me? No such luck. I looked like a wet poodle. Promptly dropping off the DVD- ‘Hit and Run’ (great movie by the way), I headed over to the chemist to find that my wallet was no longer in my pocket. Had I put it in my pocket at all? Returning to the car, I went for a search and realised that I had left it at home. I scrounged around to put some change together, maybe the chemist ladies would take pity on me and give me the sleeping pills on credit- they know me, I’ve been going there for years. Surely they would let me call them to give them my credit card details, or something, later on. Certain that I would find a way around it, and with bub in her pram, dry as a bone; I headed over to the chemist doors. They were closed. There was a public holiday sign hanging on the door. I knew that because the DVD shop was not open either, but I was so tired, I had failed to observe anything other than my poor, poor self. I headed back to the car. When I took Charlotte up to the house, the umbrella in my hand flew out and I watched it tumble down the road. I let it go, went inside, sat on my couch and looked at Charli. She was still giggling. How could she find this all so funny? Then I realised… It was funny. It was a MAJOR moment for me. I really got something this morning. There was nothing I could do about my morning- absolutely nothing. Not only that, but there was only one thing I had control over in that exact moment and that was: what I chose to focus upon. I realised that the only thing we ever truly have control over, is how we choose to respond. I sat there and laughed... hard. If anyone had seen me, they’d have thought me crazy. I laughed about the fact that I had actually been going about thinking that I had control over everything in my life. It was obvious to me then, that the more that I pushed, prodded and poked and tried to MAKE my life perfect, the more I was losing it. A line from the mentoring my boss gave us recently, popped into my head: ‘The more you try to control things, the less control you have.’ It rang so true to me today. Maybe if I let go of trying to control everything in my life and let go, perhaps then- my back and shoulders won’t be so stiff and rigid and perhaps, I’ll get some sleep. Peace HMC Visit my Website Follow me on WORDPRESS

Cryin' Like a Refugee

You come from a war-torn country, Your children have lived in poverty for so long. All you want is to feed your babies, Start a new life, it can’t go wrong. Hop aboard a boat, to a better place. It’s terrifying but you take the risk. It’s not legal to climb aboard this vessel But it’s gotta be better than all this. Maybe your kids will grow up happy, There’s a place you’ve heard that can help you too. Go to school and even learn a new language. Thank God for this place and these evolved humans- That want to give others a chance. Thank God for this country, hallelujah Your babies, they take quivering your hand. One more time, say it one more time, Tell them all how to shush and get back in line. F**k off we’re full, stop taking our jobs, There’s no room here, learn English you snobs. You’re thieving, lying scumbag refugees Get out of my country, or get on your knees. Do as I say and do what I do. You need to turn into me and forget about you. Refugee lady, why are you crying? Refugee lady you ungrateful alien. Refugee lady teach your children- They’ll never be good enough to be Australian. Is this the kind of people that we want to be? Do racist slurs- make us a real 'Aussie?' I'd jump on that boat, if it were me; Start to look at yourself, not the refugee. PEACE HMC See me at HOME Follow me on WORDPRESS

Tough Chicks

There are some women who sends shivers down my spine; women that make me proud and want to stand up and shout out- all the things that I believe in. They might fall, get laughed at, pushed around, told to shut up and it might hurt them- but they get back up and keep shouting. This is what I love so much about The Dixie Chicks. With Bush in charge and just prior to the war on Iraq: Dixie Chicks' front lady, Natalie Maines, stood up at a London concert and spoke these words:

Battling Horrible Strangers and Internet Trolls

I once read something that has really stuck with me. In fact I use it nearly every day, when some unimportant person does something to irk me. For example: not letting me merge onto the highway, while I’m doing 110kmph, with my 6-month-old daughter in the back seat.
I would grit my teeth and repeat:
‘Serenity now. Serenity now.’
This would usually result in a massive migraine and I would end up feeling like that (insert desired cuss word here) was never going to learn a thing, unless I did something about it. Like what you ask? I don’t know; some horrible, unimaginable thing.

Well, those days are becoming few and far between since I read this (and remembered it):
‘When someone lashes out at you in anger- with words or with actions, their battle is not with you, but with themselves.’
~Abraham Hicks.

God I love you Abraham.
I totally get that. I know when I’m angry- I tend to react and behave in a much less ‘kindly’ manner than I would otherwise. Face it- when we’re grumpy/bored/angry/frustrated/flat/ even worried- we’re meaner. It goes for everybody.
So when that so and so cuts you off and rages on through traffic like a maniac- I’m not saying it’s okay, nor is it appropriate. It’s also important for us all to get angry for a minute, if we feel like it.
What I am saying is that: it is so much easier to let it go, when you remember that everyone, some VERY DEEP DOWN, but everyone, wants to be loved and needed. Especially when they are having a really crappy day, lash out at some stranger like a knob, and then later feel like a right tool for their actions.
Yes, as much as we might not think it, everybody does this- everybody- even the most righteous of righteous people feel guilty. Is it really up to us to make them pay? When we dwell, we’re really the ones who are paying.
The lesson here is that the hardest people to love are the ones who need it most. Yes…even internet trolls. Those ones that make us want to pick up our computer and throw it across the room at our unsuspecting cats. But remember there are only two reasons that an internet troll might be stirring you:

1. They are trying to get a rise out of you so that you will treat them how they think they deserve to be treated- with hate.
2. They have mental health issues.

That’s it. When you think of it that way, it is slightly easier to have compassion for those that are obviously not as open-minded and wonderful as you are (there I go getting all judgey). As much as it is difficult to have compassion for horrible people, don’t waste too much time thinking about them, unless you can eventually see them with some type of love. That is the only way that you will benefit from the interaction.

My last words of wisdom come from a drunken Bikie who, at the aged of thirteen, told me this: ‘Just because other people are a-holes, doesn’t mean you have to be one, too.’ Words to live by.

Peace
HMC