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[soul-mamma]

The Parent Pay-Off

It is evening at our house. Two out of three kids are sleeping, maybe not for very long in the case of the 7-month-old, but still, this is one of those peaceful moments in an otherwise relatively chaotic phase of our family’s evolution. Mr 14 tells us the piano piece he has been teaching himself over the past 6 or 8 weeks is ready to be played to us, in full.

Sounds like no big deal. Thing is, he’s never played the piano before. Never even had a lesson.

Some weeks ago, we stopped letting him be on his smartphone past 7pm, so through a confluence of factors - having an electric piano in the house, having learnt a basic tune at school in music class and enjoying it, and his newfound night-time boredom - he decided to teach himself my favourite piece of piano music from YouTube. 

Big Rich and I descend to our basement where Mr 14 has set himself up by the old desktop computer, the keyboard resting over two storage tubs. We live in Bath, England. It is a place that is about two hours from the nearest decent beach, but has somehow become overrun with seagulls. So all we can hear is seagulls squawking and cawing outside. It is slightly damp down there in the underground dungeon of our four-storey Georgian, stone house. A jasmine tendril has crept in tentatively through the open window over the summer. He begins to play. 

It is honestly astounding to me how he has learned an over 5-minute composition by heart. He plays without the music, without the video. He just plays. It isn’t perfect yet, but he plays it with feeling and he has pretty much nailed it. I felt tears forming in my eyes: partly because I’m really tired and slightly hormonal from breastfeeding, but mostly because I’m so damned proud of this boy. And he has no idea how amazing it is that he’s just gone and done this. Like so many teens before and surely after him, he’s that strange mix of bravado and arrogance and timid uncertainty as to his own strengths and remarkable, one-of-a-kind, specialness.

I feel proud, hearty, and touched all at the same time. That he chose to learn my favourite piece of music. No biggie, just going to go downstairs every night for a couple of months and learn that piano song you always like. How divine. When in your life does that happen? This might be the only time someone ever does something like that for me, like some kind of quiet tribute.

He’s not had a traditional upbringing. His Dad and I despite all the love in the world couldn’t make it work past his third month of life. It was a mix of heartbreak, desperation and acrimonious interchange. We somehow got it together enough that over the years we have co-parented with relatively few dramas. He’s moved on, I’ve moved on. Mr 14 now has four half siblings - two from Dad and two from me. Big Rich has now been his step-dad for half his life. He has benefited from two vastly different styles of families but is loved from many directions. Despite all the halves, he seems surprisingly whole.

So I sat there, looking at this kid becoming a man, now only 2cms off being as tall as me. All the cliches are true - I can’t believe he is this young man before me, yet also I have felt the years pass just as they have in real time, slowly and day by day, triumph following challenge, all in equal measures.

I feel immense gratitude. This is surely one of those parent-pay-off moments. As they grow, my three children, I am incredibly enriched and grow with them. My character must expand to meet their needs. My metal must be tested and discarded to be replaced with grace, love and acceptance at each and every tiny transformation they experience. I must let go of them more and more as they constantly move upwards and outwards.

This is motherhood, so many mixed emotions, so deeply felt. And this moment is one of the soulful ones. I’m completely humbled by this young man before me. I wonder, how did he get here? Is he the same boy, once a tiny baby, in my arms, so wide-eyed and wondrous? And what happens next?

Ask me tomorrow when I’m pleading with him for the fourth time to clean up his room and help me around the house, I’m sure you’ll get a different answer to today. For now, though, I’m going to relish this special moment, the jasmine tendril, the musical notes, the great talent being played out right here in our very own basement. This is one of those moments I might remember in 30 years.

This... is a kind of real love, I think to myself. And then, I think, don’t tell him that, he would be so embarrassed.

Image credit:  Amanda Tipton via Flickr Creative Commons / FLIC.KR/P/C8FYHA

[soul-mamma]

Natural Fertility Top Tips

So you’ve been trying for a while, and contrary to your best laid (‘scuse the pun) plans and good intentions, you’re still not pregnant. What next?

Having had my own fertility journey, ultimately culminating in an uncomplicated natural birth (following a natural conception) at age 45, I am often asked to share what worked for me.

Once you get to the 6-month mark of attempting to conceive naturally, it’s probably time to see a really good GP and talk to them about your options. They will most likely suggest that you consider your stance on IVF (in vitro fertilisation) treatments and start looking into seeing a fertility expert after some initial test are carried out. Depending on the GP, they could be asking some pretty specific questions about your diet and your lifestyle.

It isn’t the same for any two people on the planet, so please feel your way through and trust your own intuition above all else, Do your own research and follow the advice of those you trust. 

This is just one story, and hopefully, it goes some way towards helping women get back into their own body-minds and following their own soul’s voice.

I was told I had super low levels of everything that mattered in relation to fertility (details below*), I had a highly respected fertility doctor in Sydney tell me I was likely infertile and peri-menopausal and I had a swathe of miscarriages. We even tried IVF but to no avail. It was not easy. It was heartbreaking. 

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I felt that there was another child for us, and that feeling didn’t go away. It wasn’t logical, it wasn’t medical, but it was undeniable. 

So if you, like me, have that feeling, and are willing to throw everything at it whilst ideally remaining completely unattached to the outcome (easier said than done, I know), then give these ideas a try. 

And try your best not to take too much to heart of what you are told without checking in with your own intuition, and doing your own research alongside it (this article included).

Here below are some short points on what worked for me.

1) Find an Arvigo practitioner near you (Mayan Abdominal Therapy), our good friend Andrea Lopez is a teacher and leader in that scene, although she practices from the Sunshine Coast of Australia. These guys work magic on your womb and teach self-care that will last your whole life.

2) Look up The Whole 30 - it is a protocol that involves cutting all inflammatory and hormone disruptive foods from your diet. Well worth doing - trying for babies or not. 

3) Go to a fertility-specialising naturopath (preferably by recommendation). If they're worth their salt, they'll do some blood tests and go from there. Not cheap I'm afraid. LIkely you’ll find out some stuff about your body and some nutrients required to get it humming. 

4) Consider doing yoga/meditation with the direct aim of reducing cortisol (stress) on a daily basis. This is the number-one main fertility blocker we have. I looked at a crew called Pulling Down the Moon in the States who are all over this and have great books and videos.

5) Start getting acupuncture, again from a specialising fertility practitioner. These are not all made equal, so again, try to find a recommendation if you can. Or, as I did, you might have to try a few out and see which one you feel is doing the good-good work. In Sydney, you can’t beat Jane Lyttleton at Paddington Medical Centre. In Bath, I would recommend Dr Damin Wan.

6) See an energy-practitioner to check out your state of spiritual health (which could mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people). The two I have worked with are Zoe Dixon and Nancy Valentine Smith. The latter was probably the move pervasive for me along this path; but again, you have to go with your gut. I believe they both work remotely. Tell them I sent you, they are both amazing. 

7) Have fun! Drink a glass of wine and enjoy yourself during your fertile window. Have sex every two days during this time (not daily, as sperm needs time to regroup). Also, bear in mind your key reproductive assets are created 3-months before you use them so that’s at least how long you need to be healthy, not drinking much and for men, taking zinc before having the best chance for conception. 

8) Last but not least, get a second opinion. If something doesn’t feel right to you, it probably isn't. I saw the second doctor after feeling like the first had missed something, and sure enough, they had. Same goes for holistic practitioners. Seek out the best for you.   

*My first consultation with a fertility doctor returned these restuls: 

Based on all of your tests, your ovarian reserve is very low:  essentially you have an undetectable AMH level; very low ovarian volume (1.5cc, with the normal premenopausal volume 5cc); and 4 follicles, which is the median number for a 47 year old.  You have had had several miscarriages since the birth of your second child, and recurrent miscarriage is often a sign of poor egg quality. Your FSH (not progesterone) was 44.6.  Ideally, it should be less than 10. 

I’m not saying that the birth of my baby was plausible, or even likely, I’m just saying it is possible, and that my intuition was not misplaced. 

This is my miracle baby. May this article help you meet yours. 

Please write to me and tell me how you go, or comment below, I love hearing your stories and would be honoured if you feel like sharing it with me.

With love from this Soul Mamma

[soul-mamma]

Nutritious Jelly Gummy Sweets

I love making these at home! They take literally a matter of minutes to make and then you are left with these lovely and nutritious sweets instead of the ones from the shop that are so expensive and potentially full of nasties. 

Also, gelatin is actually really great for your skin and your overall health in that it contains important amino acids. 

I’ve adapted this from the Merrymaker Sisters recipe for paleo lollies. I also purchased a jelly lolly maker from a local craft shop, which is just a bit of a gizmo for making it more fun with the kids and providing cool shapes (though you don’t really need one). You can even just use ice cube trays as moulds if that’s what you have on hand. 

INGREDIENTS

1/3 cup fresh fruit or vegetable juice 1 1/2 tbs. powdered gelatin 1 tbs. honey, sugar, agave or rice malt syrup

INSTRUCTIONS

In a small saucepan mix the juice and sweetener well.

Mix in the gelatin (add slowly so it doesn’t clump).

Allow to stand for 5 minutes till a soft jelly forms.

Place the saucepan onto a medium heat and continuously stir for 5 minutes until smooth.

Carefully fill silicon moulds or ice cube trays.

Place in in the freezer (or fridge works too) until set.

Pop out the lollies and enjoy!

Store in an airtight container for about a week. 

[soul-mamma]

An Everyday Miracle

These words were sent to me by a local midwife who was reflecting on a recent birth. 

An everyday miracle happened today, Baby, born at home, the old fashioned way. A miracle happened and nobody saw, 'cept partner and midwife who looked on in awe. You see birth just happens if left undisturbed, No poking or prodding or being observed. Just trust in the process and loving support, From a midwife who knows you, and what you have brought, To the altar of birthing, a most holy place, Where maids become mothers in peace, and in grace. A miracle happened, believe me it’s true,   And believe it or not, it could happen to you. Just trust in the process, in love, and in birth, So women and babies can bring peace to earth.

Joy Horner, Midwife (2017)

[soul-mamma]

Valentines Veritas

You're kneeling facing me on the floor, And I'm kneeling facing you on the couch. My white-knuckle grip squeezing your shoulders  So hard you could almost yell, but instead You whisper sweet words of encouragement in my ear As I breathe our baby out.

This is real love.

You've worked all week hard as you can To build our future and feed our bellies You never complain each morning you go And on the weekend our daughter cries in the night Keeps you awake, holds you with frightened small hands Even still in the morning you make my tea When I’ve breastfed all night

Because this is real love

Our son who became yours when we met And who you love as your own Plays us piano songs he has learned It's late on a weeknight and you're spent Fighting off a bug, sore throat and sore head But still you sit there and listen Even pulling out your guitar and jamming

Because that is real love

All the things you do for me, for my family Writing letters in German to my gran far away If my brother is hurting you invite him to stay When your in laws come to stay you love them too

If you lose patience and behave accordingly You soon realise I'm upset and invite me to rant You listen well, you apologise You always say you'll do better, and you do.

Believe me, this is real love.

We create our family with all these small actions That, in fact are massive in their effect On our future and the future of our children On our relationship and the feel of each day We live together and face our lives With one united effort, though we may differ Sometimes we wrangle and wrestle With how to do that willingly and gracefully But we always love regardless.

This is the realest thing I've ever done. I pinch myself to know I'm not dreaming Feeling like the luckiest woman in the world Companions for life on this crazy ride, Side by side, up and down, round the sudden corners Thank you doesn't even cut it but I'll say it anyway I'm not taking one second for granted. I wish it will last forever.

This is me, really in love...with you.

Photo credit Olivia Moon Photography

[soul-mamma]

Ask a Question (It Might Just Change Things)

Forgive me. This is going to be one of the posts that involves a little toot of horn-blowing. I mean I don’t want to boast or anything, but this morning I had small triumph.

This was a simple win arising out of very little effort on my part, just thought and action. It began with an afternoon pick up at pre-school. “Do you mind if Miss 4 takes home one of these cookies? We baked them today with the kids.” I felt too mean saying no, so I said yes. As we left, I nibbled a small corner off the cookie to give it a try and it tasted like it was about 70% sugar.

As we walked home and the cookie was voraciously devoured I watched her become more and more excitable and then emotional knowing full-well that the cookie was the major cause of the behaviour. Sugar-high, then sugar-low, just like clockwork.

If you’ve watched That Sugar Film made by my infinitely talented friend Damon Gameau (you can see the trailer here) you’d know that sugar is one of those insidious aspect of our modern diet that is sabotaging us and our wellbeing, often without our knowledge. Especially here in the UK there seems precious little understanding and education on this subject (though it is enough of a concern for the public medical service to have a fact sheet on its ills). The main premise of the film is in fact that we inadvertently consume much of our sugar within perceived health foods.

Without going to go into vast detail, you can read an article in the Guardian here that will get you started on the concerns around sugar as put forward in Damon’s film.

So on arriving home I wrote a slightly tersely-worded email outlining my concerns at both the timing of the sugar-hit as parents collected their kids right before dinner, as well as the high sugar content of the treat. I suggested that the carers take a look at the film and educate themselves on the way sugar works in the body and alternative ways to look at sugar in the diet.

And well, what do you know, it worked. One of the co-directors not only watched the movie but soon after adopted a completely sugar-free diet in the wake of some severe migraines that had been taking her out the week prior. She is now spear-heading some major changes in the way the kids at the nursery (aged 6 months to 4.5 years) are being fed and educated. I’m pleased as pie: that’s sugar-free pie of course.

So basically one email with a few questions and a couple of suggestions has made a potentially massive difference for about 40 little kids. I’m hoping that there might be an additional filter-through wave of ideas to parents and carers now that the nursery staff have joined the conversation.

Next challenge – find a way to talk to the teenager’s Rugby Club about the volunteers and their massive lolly-table that is rolled out after games. When I made casual comments around the amount of sugar laid out on the table last weekend I was told with big smiles, “…well you have to give the boys a treat, otherwise they wouldn’t come out and play every Sunday.”

Really, though? Hmmm...

[soul-mamma]

Seasons and Sapiens, A Long-Held Love Affair

As I sit here, the chill of the walk to nursery just beginning to peel off in the warmth of the café, it’s a curious feeling that the air outside is a lot colder than in here for the first time in months. I’m an Australian living in England and about to face the first full northern hemisphere winter of my life. I’ve got over 40 years of sunny and moderate climate conditioning to overcome and I feel like I need to prepare.

So now that the coffee has arrived and I’m all set to ponder on the page, how does our experience change with the seasons? Even though many of us live in cities, how are we affected by weather and the natural environment?

First things first, that old adage about Spring being a time for friskiness and reproduction is actually no joke. I mean did you know that sperm counts actually increase significantly at that time of year? I myself am walking proof of this, a spring pregnancy now 27 weeks along after three and a half years of a real intention to have another. Maybe it was the spa – the 10,000 year old rainwater that bubbles up through the old Roman Baths at our city centre and has long been known to create healing – or maybe it was just spring.

In Sydney, where I lived until last year, the weather was important but I don’t recall it being quite as important as it seems to be here. When we first came over I noticed the daily conversations about the weather and I resisted for a time thinking it was some kind of British thing that I didn’t relate to. Right now as I sit here, the lady ordering her coffee and discussing the cold spell this morning with the barista is confirming this phenomenon – weather matters here.  And I’m starting to see why.

Over here in the south west of England, there aren’t heavy and dramatic tropical storms, but there might be light to medium drizzle for days on end with an accompanying blanket grey palette. No short sharp statement, but a long and seemingly unending squall on the soul. It forces you inside, it gets you damp and dank and everything around you is the same – the house, the washing, the mood. So of course people talk about it, and of course it has an affect.

The owner of the café I sit in right now was just saying how his patronage is reduced by 30% in summer because people around here feel a massive pressure to use the good weather when it’s around, not to waste it sitting inside drinking coffee.  

So when we talk about people with a ‘sunny disposition’ it is as if we are saying, ‘that person reminds me of summer’. If you’ve ever studied marketing, you‘ll know that brands are about how you feel when you experience them – like for example the black fizzy soft drink or the swoosh running shoe. Seasons are the same: they make us feel things.

In summer with the sun shining on your face walking through a field of grass, endorphins and serotonin are pumping through us – our very control centre shifts a gear and gives us all kinds of free hormonal joy rides. It doesn’t stop there. Eating seasonally ensures greater nutritional value as levels of vitamins and minerals peak in fresh food that has not travelled long distances nor been grown in artificial environments out of season. 

So yes, even though we may live in a garden (the city), we are still borne of the jungle (wilderness). And even though we wear clothes and drive cars and live in built environments, we are still subject to the laws of nature. Indeed we remain physiologically animal.

On that basis I recommend that we attempt at every possible opportunity to connect with nature, to remember our wild souls and to surrender to the laws of the environment. From this we may only benefit, we may become more a part of the world we depend on for existence, we may respect nature and its needs and impositions and even hopefully work with it to the betterment of ourselves and all other beings on the planet. So now you see where I was going with this?

Smile. Breathe. Take a walk outside, no matter the weather. Remember you are and will always be connected to the greatness that is nature and the seasons, consciously or not. 

[soul-mamma]

Resilience, And How To Build It

...especially with your children

This article was inspired by a post on Bath Mums, a local mum’s forum in our home city of Bath in England. A mother was bearing her soul and expressing her lack of resources to help her young daughter with high sensitivity and coping at school. The little girl was having real trouble adjusting and displaying highly emotional behaviour.

It got me thinking, how do we build resilience both in ourselves and our children?

Part of this taps into something I am really passionate about: how do we learn to accept and support our children’s (as well as our own) emotions? In so many scenarios at schools, in public parks, on the bus or train, or even just walking down the street, I’ve observed children having feelings and their parents or carers treating them as if they are being “naughty” and punishing them accordingly.

I question this. Is it a cultural thing? When did emotions become the enemy?

In one way we are talking about accepting and understanding our own feelings, as well as both allowing and supporting the authentic emotions of others. In another way, we need to to have deeper perspectives on resilience and build real life tools to help grow it.

Think about the newsworthy subject of high suicide rates amongst men, I wonder if there is possibly a relationship between our ability to incorporate strong emotion into our lives in a way that builds resilience rather than destroys us. Feelings connect us as human beings and being connected to to each other is such a crucial part of our existence (see the book Sapiens for more on this) - in recent research it is being linked to other global issues like addiction and terrorism.

Here’s one take on it. 

Generationally there are different requirements made of people. Coming out of World War I and II, people born in or around the 1920s, like my grandparents, were required to be innovative, resilient and stoic. Growing up during the World Wars meant there was no time for people to ruminate on how they were feeling. If you were alive, you were lucky and that was that.

The next generation (that of my parents) were encouraged to embody these same qualities, though many rebelled in the 60s and 70s in the era of cultural revolution and free love. Questions were asked of this stoic, ‘just get on with it’ attitude. The pendulum swung in the other direction: rules were broken, hair was long, music was wild and so were the parties.

Still once the baby boomers grew up, that original and pragmatic approach to life their parents had instilled in them seems to have prevailed for many and all too often the quest for emotional self-realisation took a back step in the face of economic recession (the 80s) and globalisation (don’t get me started on the neo-liberal agenda…).

My generation (Gen X) has grown up in the nuclear age, the cold war looming, world economic and environmental collapse at least on the horizon or - for too many people - a stark reality. Again, we don’t all have time to consider how we feel about things. And culturally, certainly in the west against the backdrop of Judaeo-Christian values, the way you feel about things may not be a priority day-to-day. It is often seen as almost indulgent to consider such things. 

So the long and the short of it is, in my experience, unless a person is exposed to some form of mental illness, depression or trauma and is forced to explore their emotional landscape, most people just don’t.  

Fair enough really.

The result is that so many of us (especially if we become parents) are suddenly confronted with a really raw and unrefined experience of emotional expression when either something difficult happens in our lives, or as we bring up our kids. If we are blessed with sensitivity, or a “sensitive” child, this experience can be heightened.

So what do we do?

I deeply believe that being a sensitive and intuitive person bears immense gifts, but only if we can work out how to become a container, or a conduit, for those gifts and remain flexible as well as strong enough to experience our lives fully along the way.

This is where resilience comes into play.

There’s no escaping it: life brings failures. I mean the concept of failure (like success, which I’ve written about before here), is a moveable feast of ideas. To a large degree, it is defined by our conditioning, our expectations and perhaps our exposure to difference. Resilience is an incredibly powerful response to the ups and downs. 

When I separated from my son’s father he was just three months old. The six or seven years following I had to work out how to become a parent, how to heal a broken heart and how to survive financially and emotionally as a single parent. The first couple of years we moved seven or eight times, and although my son by nature is quite a happy soul and extremely affable, he was naturally affected by all the instability. 

This translated to a real distress when it came to change. If we had to go from, say, home to daycare, or from a friend’s house back home, he would get quite upset. I learned over the years to respect his feelings around this and give him as many options as possible in that moment to move through it. I would acknowledge how he felt, “I know you’re sad that we have to go”, and then tell him what we had to do and why, “...but I can’t let you stay here because I need to go to work and it’s time for you to go to daycare now”. I would give him options, different ways to think about his situation, “What can we do to help you feel better on our drive to daycare, would you like to take a book with you?”. All that in the most empathic and compassionate way possible - admittedly tricky when you’re potentially running late for a vital day at work.

Over the years he has retained his sensitivity, and has become a persistent and determined, yet still compassionate and warm, 13-year-old. He travels alone between the UK and Australia to see his Dad and family there, and he is a remarkable young man who has moved internationally, experienced physical distance from his father and friends, and started high school - all with real strength and grace. 

Most importantly, he knows how to ask for help - one of the characteristics that consistently appears in research on the subject of resilience and connection. I’ll be doing all I can to keep myself open to him, as well as remain both detached and engaged in balance to be there for him as he faces the trials and tribulations of young adulthood. He has to fall so he knows how to, I just hope he knows I’m there to help when he needs me. I’ve written a bit about parenting teens here.

Resilience is one of those extremely pervasive ideas in my life now. I prefer to use it as a concept because I don’t just want things to be sustainable and maintaining, I strive for more than that. I seek to create a family that houses individuals who each have their own style, their own feelings, and their own different ways of responding to the challenges that will surely come. 

As always, I’d love to hear from you. Comment below, tell me your story of resilience, tell me how you create it in your life. 

Yours in connection, 

PS. Have your say in the comments below. How do you or your kids experience sensitivity? How do you build resilience? How is it important to you or your family? I’d love to get your take on it. 

[soul-mamma]

Success 2.0,  A Life-Friendly Version

As a topic, success can quickly become fertile ground for clichés and rote answers. There just isn’t one type of success that everyone subscribes to.  So much so, that there is even a campaign rallying to get a major dictionary to change their definition of the word.

Traditionally notions of success have been linked closely to wealth and career, though now it seems the cultural spotlight seems to be shifting more towards a whole life version – one encapsulating things that are more difficult to measure than money like happiness, freedom and time. Many who have pursued the traditional version of success and discovered that it didn’t give them the freedom nor fulfilment they had longed for have begun to question its essence and sought out alternatives... or is it that they’ve just become arrogant and rich and have decided not to care? It’s unclear.

Success has nonetheless gone rogue. To instagrammers and tweeters the world over the digital nomad who is tripping the light fantastic, travelling the world, reporting it on online with a social media and web-business-enabled un-tethering to the norm, has become the benchmark. Hardly surprising when you compare sitting be-suited at a desk in a city high rise with laying on a beach in south America eating lobsters (true story – see more about my friends Rach and Gary and their adventures here).

More than 20 years ago, after growing up in the shoulder-padded and sisters-doin’-it-for-themselves 80s, I was thrilled to be accepted into a respected business school. I lasted three short months of driving across town and sitting in accountancy lectures crying into my cheap cafeteria coffee. My soul cried out. I left and re-entered university the following year to study psychology and history as part of an arts degree. They were my people. They were not all about money and traditional notions of success. Critical thinking, actively questioning the status quo, these were our way – and none of the things that large corporate structures really encourage too much, particularly in junior roles.

In the years to come I went from working in public relations (smuggly earning more than my friends at the time), to independent filmmaking (including a brief stint on the set of Star Wars), to office administration, to legal word processing for top 5 legal firms, and back again to working in community and arts organisations. Eventually I studied to be a builder, a teacher and a permaculture designer and then finally realised that I had to work for myself to find a role that could really value all I had to offer. None of these jobs were considered really ‘successful’ (except maybe the Star Wars one in some circles).

Through it all I maintained a close relationship with my son whilst bringing him up as a single parent. In fact I even quit a job with quite good career prospects in construction when he started school because I just couldn’t bear dropping my little 5 year old darling off at before school care from 7 in the morning till 6 at night during his first few weeks in big school. His little face was so poignant..... I just couldn’t do it.  

In my opinion, THAT was me choosing success. I chose success as a parent, as a mother, as a person. I decided that the money and the opportunity were not as important to me as him and his experience of starting school. My relationship with my son trumped it all. 

Since that time I’ve made decisions that meant I could prioritise things differently. I’m now married with two kids and another coming along shortly and life is very different to the working/studying/mothering on my own life. Still it was back then that I changed things to value my relationships and the quality of my life over the money and career I could have pursued. I feel proud of this rather than ashamed that I am not conventionally career-successful. I have ditched the shame for a better life. 

I often have this conversation with other parents who stay at home, or people who have chosen to work part time, about why we make that choice. I’m by no means judging anyone who doesn’t, the point I’m making is we define our own success. 

For me it means having space and time for my kids, for my soul, for my calling. It means being able to be there for the people I care about as much as possible, and also be there for myself in that deeper way.  Yes, I am financially dependent. No, I am not ashamed of that. I am choosing it and incredibly grateful for the privileged position I am in to have that choice. I’m not going to gush, but anyone who knows my history also knows that things have not always been this way for me so I don’t take it lightly.

My question for you dear reader is what small choices can you make in your life today to honour your heart and soul, the people you love, the life that would be a true success for you? For where your attention goes, energy flows. So I say, find your version of success and live it in any way you can. 

[soul-mamma]

Embercombe: How A Special Place Helped Us Get Real

Late on a Friday afternoon after a few hours of driving through Glastonbury and the South West countryside of England, we arrived at Embercombe where our four-strong family had been invited to spend a weekend. 

This general area of the country, especially around Totnes, is conventionally regarded as home to some of the more alternative British communities. Totnes is particularly known as the place that the Transition movement was founded - a now worldwide network of Transition groups based around the idea that we can learn the skills to transition from a culture relying on oil and fossil fuels to a more resilient future. 

The directions to the place were confusing at best so I arrived feeling a bit rattled and drained from the drive. The hectic vibe faded very quickly however on realising what a beautiful place we had come to. Embercombe is a residential, educational, working farm situated on the edge of a wide and rolling valley with views from the top of the property generously extending for miles around. Once you move along the dirt road a few metres there’s a tent or two on the lawn and then a small car park. We ditched the car and sauntered in on foot to the barn and dining yurt: fire circle out front; views breathtaking.

First impressions were of a lovely and well organised space with the capacity for many different uses. The herb garden directly outside the kitchen planted in old truck tyres is lush and practical, the long tables lining the deck hint at communal dining and the circle of stones around that fireplace beckon me closer.

One delightful vegetarian dinner and a great sleep in the yurt village later, we awake to a divine and misty morning as well as another beautiful, community-made meal in the dining yurt.  Our sleep was certainly aided by the fact that our host had built a fire for us to warm our space before we arrived that kept us toasty well into the night. And I really enjoy it when we all sleep in the same space, even if it does mean usually having at least one child in the bed with me by morning. Maybe it’s the eskimo in me (well, the fantasy eskimo at least). 

The day began with a fire-circle. All 25 of us sat around the morning fire on benches and one by one we spoke honestly of how we felt to the other wiling listeners. It was a powerful briefing: Tim Mac Macartney, Embercombe’s founder, has been charged with spreading the story of the Children’s Fire, a compelling philosophy arising out of Native American wisdom. Briefly the Children’s Fire idea is based on a concept that all leadership and major political decision-making is based on what would be the best possible future outcome for our children. It means putting the concerns of our young at the centre of our consideration. Fittingly as we were talking around the fire our kids played openly in the field beyond occasionally screaming or laughing as if to agree with the idea. 

It was a heartening experience to sit around an open fire at the start of the day with no other purpose than to tell the truth about how you are feeling to group of people with a similar intention. I was moved to tears more than once to hear what was really going on for the other residents of the temporary community. From deep and important transitions and chance to the most basic of grateful sentiments, I loved the feeling of openly and warmly receiving people’s truths in this way. I was able to compassionately hold the spaces that each person presented as their own and take a moment to honour them for sharing it. 

Next we worked. We chose jobs from a list of things that needed doing, split into groups and went off to toil on the land – digging trenches, farm maintenance, cleaning toilets, cooking or gardening. I found it didn’t really matter what I was doing so much as the act of doing physical work with a group of people that was important. This is a rare experience for a city girl like me, and one the dormant hippy in me thoroughly appreciated.

The whole day, our kids continued to play. With barely a stick and a rock at hand, still they found games. The pine-log play equipment occasionally took their fancy and they would swing on the hand-built swings, or the younger ones would jump on the ‘pirate ship’ and go sailing the high seas. My three-year-old daughter recruited a lovely young woman from London to come on her adventures with her and spent much of the next day or two in fantasy-land reminding her new adult friend how to play like a toddler. 

Around mid-morning our 12-year-old went for a walk by himself. When he returned my husband (his step-dad) suggested they walk together so he could show him what he had discovered. Our boy talked about some things that had been going on for him after our recent relocation from Australia and his transition into high school. My husband, with our boy’s permission, told me what they had discussed and we were able to hear him in a way we would not have been able to at home. 

Somehow the space away from the day-to-day and the lake and field themselves helped him to get honest with us and for us to hear him as an equal, respect him for his words. Even during the week following our visit I felt the closeness that this honesty created between us. It was lovely to re-learn him amongst all these internal and external changes he is experiencing at the moment. 

Conversations amongst people over the weekend tended to be more open and hearty than usual. Some of us did some singing on Saturday afternoon, our voices ringing out into the valley in complex harmonies. It felt so wonderful to be in a harmonising group, which very quickly become a pretty good choir. Things seemed more possible out there. 

Things seemed more possible. And this fascinates me, that a change in context and some contact with nature can shift our perspective so much. These combined with an intention to actually behave as a temporary community with its own rules and routines for the weekend, one in which there is a concern for one another and a communal reliance to get the meals cooked, the bathrooms cleaned, the beds made. It worked so well.

Coming away from the weekend was bittersweet. I was exhausted and ready for home, unused to the intense concentration of real conversation and communal activity. It was also incredibly heartening to see the people that run Embercombe striving to provide people with an alternative, another way of existing – one which involves truth, connection with the land, connection with each other. I was able to bring kernels of that experience into my life at home and enjoyed a sense that these ideas and experiences are more accessible than we are often aware. 

Well done Embercombe, I’ll be back. 

[soul-mamma]

The Myth Of The Terrible Teen, And How We May Carve Out An Alternative

Have you heard that expression, ‘the golden years’? Sometimes it is applied to the years after our kids move out of home when we seemingly will have hours in the day to roam freely through fields of yellow tulips and spend sun-drenched moments with gorgeous relatives around tables filled with food, a string of coloured lights hanging above, in our generous and pristinely landscaped yards. Or perhaps you know the ‘the golden years’ as they apply to the years in our children's lives between around five and eleven: between complete dependence and the often-dreaded phenomenon of the teenager.

Prior to World War II people in between childhood and adulthood were called ‘youths’ or ‘adolescents’ rather than the force-of-nature we call ‘the teenager’ these days.  Back then, young women and men were ostensibly conscious of becoming adults and looked to the future as their inevitable, grown-up destination. My own grandfather went to work in the 1940s at the age of 13 when his father died and his mother and sister needed supporting. He smoked and played chess to appear older, as he still looked about… well, 13. The word teenager doesn’t in fact even appear in dictionaries until the late 1950s and early 1960s.

In our current zeitgeist we seem to have adopted the idea of the broody unhinged teen wholeheartedly. Parents talk in hushed tones about the years when their kids will surely withdraw from their parents’ affections and run wild with their unruly friends only stalking home to eat and sleep. We speak of teenage attitude like it is only one single personality that all people between the ages of 13 and 19 have in common.

As a parent, I too have been guilty of this. I began to develop a kind of phobia for any kind of untoward attitude from my young man as if it was a sign that the feared teenage thing was happening. I had built up in my mind a fear of the impending doom of his adolescence, as if he would from one day to the next mystically turn from my loving son to an emotionally unavailable tenant in our home.

On further research however, I have discovered that it is more complex than I first assumed. Current science-based beliefs around the brain-in-development tell us that some parts of the cortex mature at different rates to others.

Straightforward functions such as sensory awareness, information processing, and movement are controlled by the parts of the brain that are earlier to mature however impulse control and planning (considered more adult abilities) are not actually fully developed until people reach their early 20s. This suggests that some teenage capabilities, for example the emotional response, are potentially even more active in teens than adults while others, such as the ability to regulate these responses and impulses, remain less functional (more about this here).

So when my son forgets to tell me where he needs me to pick him up and I drive around from friend’s place to friend’s place looking for him I find it helpful to remember he sometimes just isn’t capable of realising the importance of communicating such details. Fortunately, when this actually happened (yesterday in fact), I was able to reconcile my own anger at missing my karate class with the recognition of his honest obliviousness and tell him how I felt rather than yell it at him really loudly (like I wanted to at first). This allowed him to learn, feel and express remorse, and potentially lessen the impact of his actions by keeping a conflict and an altercation out of the equation. I too learned that the details are up to me for now.  

Thankfully the research also indicates that learning capacity, an emphasis on socialising, and an inclination to explore and test limits “…may all, to some extent, be reflections of age-related biology”. So what does this mean to me, the parent? It means that equipped with this information I may be able to regulate my own responses to sometimes frustrating situations with my son to allow them to be a lesson in mutual understanding, that we may meet each other where we are at right here, right now.

Translated that means that the trust between my son and I, for now at least, remains in tact. This week I have been able to apply these ideas and I have noticed just a little bit less of the head-spinning around, pop-culture “teen” behaviour, zero eye-rolling, and quite a bit more of the cuddles and appreciation that I absolutely love to receive from him. I am starting to see how my careful attention and encouragement and decisive attempts to understand him are allowing us to remain close. Not too close that he can’t do his all-important growing up, but close enough that I can help him navigate his way to his burgeoning maturity. 

You’ll find more on this in my next article about an even more empowering and alternative way to view our young-folk that promotes closeness and healthy family relationships. 

Just maybe this teen thing is more than survivable after all.

[soul-mamma]

Making Change, The True Story

Originally, this was going to be an article about change – glorifying it, giving you strategies for how to gracefully achieve it and offering tips and tricks on how to pull it off. I truly thought this would be a wonderful way to help people bust out of their comfort zones and create excitement and achieve greatness. But that was before I did it. Change, that is.

The truth, no matter what anybody else wants you to believe, is that it is uncomfortable. It HAS to be. When they say that the real action and the true buzz is just outside your comfort zone, it honestly is. That’s no lie. The thing I really didn’t understand until making a massive change in my life is that you actually have to feel uncomfortable. There’s no escaping it or prettying it up: for me personally, if I’m honest, it’s not a brilliant feeling.

I know that I have been absolutely blessed with an incredibly rare and precious opportunity to move to another country and set up a life here. I am not downplaying it. It’s a great privilege and one to treasure dearly. This place is beautiful. Eight or nine million visitors each year would no doubt agree that Bath is a wonderful place.

It is also however a really intensely emotional, deeply unsettling, and a highly precarious position to be in – moving a family of four across the world. Yes, we are closer as a family than I think we would have been had we stuck to our same old, same old. And yes, I have moments of complete elation when I look around at my life and I see a whole new world here. I have a chance to recreate myself in a way that is unprecedented and ridiculously exciting.

At the same time, I have days in which I feel despair. When considering my very new (and admittedly very nice) friends it is clear I don’t really know them, just as much as they don’t really know me. There’s no sugar-coating it. It's a bit weird. My family are only a video call away, but they are still not here. I miss them, and that’s every day. My grandmother doesn’t much like phones so I try not to call, and I write to her instead, but sometimes I selfishly just really need to hear her voice so I call anyway.

So the next question, is why? Why make these immense risky changes in the first place? We had what most consider desirable: a beautiful home by the sea, great careers (well sort of - mine is always able to be improved, I am a writer after all). We have incredible friends and a close extended family – in Sydney. It would be a fair question to ask the reasons for moving away. And people do ask us all the time, why move? Why travel away from the sunshine of Australia to the rainy miserableness of England?

The usual answer we give is that we just felt it was a good idea. We wanted to expose kids to the wider world. We wanted to be in the wider world ourselves as well, to be able to choose from more than Bali or Fiji or Thailand for a holiday destination outside our own country (not that there's anything wrong with those!). Australia is a beautiful place, but it is a massive island at the edge of the Pacific after all.

And now we are here. We fully committed. We sold, donated and threw out more than half of all our belongings. We transported the rest of them a really, really long way. We had a brief holiday and then we spent weeks setting up our life here: settling the kids into schools, busily renting a home, buying a car, unpacking a container, organising, organising, organising.

It is only now as the dust settles that I’m allowing myself to feel the massive change we have made. Now that we actually have made the change, I can soak it in and process it. I’m completely uncomfortable. I cry some days for no real reason, feeling guilty like I should be more grateful. Truth is, it’s kind of overwhelming.

Still, despite the awkward emotions, I am inexplicably not feeling any regret. I would not turn back, not in a heartbeat. I still feel incredibly grateful to be here even though it’s far from all I know and different in so many ways. Well, actually because of those things. I sit here at my desk in the basement of a four-story Georgian terrace house in the centre of a stunning historic town, and I am elated to now have this experience in my soul’s album.

If there is anything I would say to you if you are considering making such a move it would be to take heart and to steel yourself for challenging moments but to go ahead and do it anyway. The cliché is true. Life IS for living. If you have a glimmer of a chance to shake up your reality and move closer towards the uncomfortable place, GO FOR IT. I mean, what’s the really worst thing that can happen? I guess there's no other way to find out.

[soul-mamma]

The Top 3 Things Saving My Life Right Now

This past month has been a massive one for me and our family of four. We have relocated to Bath, England, and set up all the big-ticket items – car, school, home, work. It sounds so very simple to write them in a list like that, however the reality of coming to a new country and building up a life can be complex and full of unforeseen details. I’d never realised that even a bank account can be a tricky proposition when you are not a native inhabitant of a place. So many things that I previously took for granted require money, time and a whole lot more paperwork than I had first imagined.

As with most large and finicky processes, I have been setting up my life here with a dedicated support crew of people scattered about the world as well as some very effective tools. This month I offer you a list of the 3 things that are saving me as I make this transition.

One: Meditation

Being a mum who works from home, life is busy. Add to that an extra long to-do list for completing school admissions, finessing rental agreements, making car purchases and getting tax numbers and things can get hectic.At first, as we travelled on our way here, I thought I didn’t have time to meditate because the list of things I had to do just kept getting longer. I have to make that call to that country, and I have to go to that monument TODAY or I will miss out, I told myself.

It didn’t take long to realise that in fact in order to really be present and enjoy the adventure we were having, something had to be included in the daily routine to ensure that my inner world was keeping up with my outer one. And that meant sitting still and slowing down for even just a few minutes. Tuning in to that inner stillness and contacting those quiet spaces is a precious foundation on which to build experience.

Meditation is known as one of the most efficient ways of resting the mind and body. The benefits of it are proven over thousands of years and countless experiments: great for cell regeneration and immunity, wonderful for calming the nerves, relieving anxiety and increasing opportunities for clear thinking and even the modern holy grail of happiness. 

There are a multitude of ways to learn more. • For those who feel they don't have time to meditate there is the just-a-minute series of one-minute audios available for free download. You can put these in a music library and play them through a mobile device anywhere, anytime.

• Audio Dharma is a library of lectures and guided meditations from a Buddhist Centre in San Francisco, again available as free downloadable podcasts. Listen out for one of the founders of the centre Gil Fronsdahl and his milky voiced episodes.

• If you’re really keen, you can attend a Brahma Kumari retreat and pay a donation of your choosing for a day-seminar or even a short stay in these ‘hospitals for the soul’. You will find literally thousands of these centres scattered all over the world being run by dedicated and generous volunteers. 

Like with so many things, become aware of it, and the very act of awareness itself seems to transform the situation in a multitude of subtle ways. It's the buy-a-red-car-see-red-cars-everywhere principle at work (not its scientific name). It’s one fine and simple way of getting back to your happy place.

Two: Trello

You might have noticed from reading above, I love lists. So naturally, having a really clever way to use them and have them with you all the time is of great benefit. Trello is a synchronisable app that runs across most computer platforms and mobile devices. It can be connected to a Gmail account for example so you can add emails directly in to lists in Trello from your inbox. 

There are loads of ways to use it but my favourite is to have four ‘Boards’ (like online noticeboards): one for planning the week, one for my action items, one/s for the current project/s being researched, and one for lists in general.

Here’s how it works. Say for example a friend recommends a film that can go straight to a list on the LISTS Board called ‘Watch’ ready for your next movie night. 

If you’re walking and remember something that needs doing – you can put a note on the ACTION STATION Board under ‘Inbox’ which is basically a brain-dump until you sort it into the next column on the same board which is called ‘Next Actions’. If an item is awaiting a response to be actioned, but still needs following up, same Board, but listed under the heading ‘Waiting’. 

If something needs to be done on Tuesday, that goes on the WEEKLY PLANNER Board which simply has a column for each day of the week. You get the idea?

There’s a heap of tutorials and articles online on the various ways to use it, you can even utilise it as a tool for proper large project planning with teams and timelines and due dates. I’m not paid by them or anything, I just really like to endorse stuff that works to make life feel like it is designed to allow organic processes to occur and precious ideas to be valued. 

Get in touch if you want to know more about how I use Trello to organise my life and I’ll happily answer any questions. You can even get really funky and involve Zapier which can set up integrations between apps like Todoist and Trello and do loads of other things, but now we’re getting super fancy and techie. 

Three: Play

For some time now it’s been clear that somehow I had lost my ability to really tune in to my playful side. Play had become one of those things that seemed like such a lovely idea but just was not important enough to actually spend time doing (nuts, right?). 

And then I watched this wonderful TED Talk by Shonda Rhimes about her year of saying 'yes' to everything. In it she links her decision to play with her kids every single time they ask her with increased piece of mind and, perhaps even more significantly, greater inspiration to write the many hours of television content she has responsibility for

Following the talk, and many other hints that fun had become a bit of a relic in my day to day experience, I decided to bring it back and work out how to dredge up the fun-gene from the backwaters of my consciousness.

Photo credit: Stuart Richards on Flickr

Now, every time one of my kids asks me to play with them I simply say yes. No matter what I’m doing, I put it down and I play with them. 

This works in so many wonderful ways both for the kids and for me. It allows the opportunity to look up from the haze of the do, do, do to simply be present with them for a few moments and completely commit to whatever silly thing is going on. It connects me to imagination and it connects me to them. Everyone wins.

So there’s my top three. I’d love to hear, what is saving you right now? 

[soul-mamma]

Check Out the Moves On Us (in which we go overseas to live in a very pretty place)

A short ten days ago I had been in six different countries in just over three weeks. I’ll be honest, one of those countries was Australia, where I used to live, and another of them is England, where I now live. Still, sounds exciting to write it like that.

My family of four and I picked up sticks and set off on an open-ended adventure. We packed up the house, put it in a container and onto a ship (this makes it sound so easy), and went travelling through Japan and Italy. We had not booked our flight to our final destination in the hope that during our travels we might secure permanent work for my husband and perhaps extend the holiday until his start date. It was cool that we didn’t know when the journey would end exactly.

End it did though, and still without any firm plans for work we visited family for a week then arrived in Bath with our (likely too many) bags and a big dream: to start a life here for a few years with access to a whole lot more travel opportunities, family nearby and some great schools.

Cut to one (very busy) week later and we have bought a car, positioned the kids in school and daycare, and hit the jackpot with a beautiful home to rent in the centre of Bath. I am amazed how much you can do in a week if you put your mind to it.

And through it all, I have been allowing myself to feel whatever I feel. There has been nerves around the no-work, no-home scenario as well as immense joy as I come to know this place we fairly randomly chose to live. Each thing I learn about Bath delights me. Every single person without fail that I say “I’m living in Bath” to, says something nice. Oooh, that’s a lovely place, that is. Oh yeah, Bath is gorgeous. Bath has my favourite spa in the world on the roof of a building in the centre of town, you HAVE to go.

It is small things about moving to a new town that I’m enjoying the most. If I see a homeless person on the street I feel like I have time to sit down and talk to them. Her name is Zoe and she has fled domestic violence and is stuck in the loop of needing a job to find a place to live and needing a place to live to find a job. I’ve been there, and it’s yuck. She’s a lovely courageous, drug-free young woman who has been braver than most people’s little finger. I commend you Zoe, what an inspiration.

Another small thing, the real estate agents are really nice here. In Sydney, where I have come from, it is really hard to find rental agents that are a pleasure to deal with. It’s probably because they are in a seriously crunched housing market and the competition for good rentals is fierce. I don’t blame them at all, and I naively expected that is just how it would be for rental agents everywhere. Not so! The agents here are incredibly nice and affable. It was such a pleasure to deal with them on the whole, a really lovely human experience.

And the nature. Oh, the nature. This town is surrounded by tree-tunneled and hedge lined, muddy lanes as well as long country roads and the green and rolling Somerset countryside. There are weeping willows over canals and old stone bridges in the town. Daffodils grow wild. And this is in winter. Imagine what summer will bring.

Just like any love affair, I’m sure there will come a time when the glossy first impressions will yield to a more realistic sheen, but for now, I’m in the love bubble with our new home.

And another beautiful aspect of moving a family overseas is that we have gotten to know each other even better than we did before. I don’t think I’ve ever shared a room with anyone other than my husband for more than a short period as an adult, yet this trip we spent around four weeks sharing a space between the four of us. Despite moments of intensity here and there, we got along amazingly well. In fact, it seems weird to have the kids (mostly) in different rooms to us now.

I’ll be writing more posts soon on the topic of what happens to your psyche when you push yourself out of your comfort zone and into a new place and new scenario - which is a whole other article in itself. For the moment I feel hugely grateful for this opportunity to get to know myself, the kids, my partner and this world a little better.

[soul-mamma]

Best of Japan, 2015

[letters-to-omi]

Sant’Estachio, Rome

Just back from dinner at a beautiful trattoria around the corner from our small apartment in Sant’Estachio. It is amazing to me how so many small restaurants and bars can exist in these seemingly obscure back alleyways and all of them are busy. There are restaurants literally everywhere in this area. And the majority of them are excellent. 

We have moved our group of four from Termini, near the Colosseum and the main train station in Rome, just across the Forum, past the giant building with the huge statues all over it that is only a hundred and fifty years old and less than ten minutes drive away. We are staying in a two-roomed apartment that we rented online. It is a basement that is lovely in its décor and kind of moist-smelling as you descend under the block of apartments above into our space. We feel really happy about having two rooms instead of sharing one between the four of us as we have for the past few weeks. 

This area is lovely – there are leather goods, clothes shops, world-renowned gelataria and restaurants in small cobbled streets that fan out from piazza after piazza. Fountains, churches and small moments of nostalgia and coolness are imminently discoverable. 

We have spent the last couple of days literally wandering from square (“piazza”) to square and from alley to alley, dodging motorbikes, taxis and cars with the intermittent crowds of people. There are sparkling lights strung up across from one side to the other that illuminate the wet cobbled streets in soft colour and people chat and meander and eat and drink and all seems well with the world. This morning we went to the Colosseum in the rain. It was strangely still in its antiquity despite being covered in large numbers of tourists, their umbrellas and their many tour guides. I decided to research the history myself (feeling qualified – I am a history teacher after all) rather than pay the 200 Euro for a kids’ tour. 

It felt good to tell stories and engage the family with the little I had crammed yesterday. The place is fascinating and bittersweet. The things it is famous for are ultimately brutal and bloody, with a death toll of a million slaves, convicted criminals and other performers as well as two species of animal – the Balkan lion and the north African elephant – notoriously sent to extinction by the demand placed on them by the hunting shows there.  Nonetheless, it is a world heritage listed building because of its sheer size and importance. The building is still the template for stadiums even 2000 years after is construction – by mainly Jewish slaves, and funded by the sacking of the 2nd Jerusalem temple. I had mixed feelings being there and being wowed by its glory.

Lunch was spent over another fortuitous meeting – an Italian friend who we know from Sydney taking us to a local eatery that spoiled us with the sheer delight of simple and tasty fare. We laughed, drank and ate thoroughly enjoying this understated establishment, typically humble in furnishings and delivering above expectation in flavour. Chairs too close together don't’ matter when the food and the half carafe of house wine are that good. I found yet another dish I would like to learn to make at home. Italian food was and is still one of my favourite cuisines the world over.

And the street art continues to bring me great joy.

[letters-to-omi]

02.01.2016 Rome, Italy

First, we arrived. We were in transit for around 36 hours (12 hours wandering around Tokyo, 12 hours in the air from Tokyo’s Narita Airport to Abu Dhabi Airport for several hours, and then 6 hours in the air to Rome). As soon as we arrived at Leonardo Da Vinci Airport it was very clear we were in a totally different place to where we had been. The space has an instantly grungy feel about it. My first impressions as we left the airport were that there is a level of activity and disorder here that is just integral to the Roman experience.

After only one or two hours of being here I thought if Rome were a real person it would be a cross between a funky, stylish and gregarious young friend and a very grumpy old man in need of some love. There is a combination of incredibly well-cared-for monuments and public places populated by hoards of tourists and locals mingled with a lot of quite dirty and neglected spaces. This impression however could be a result of us arriving on New Years Eve and staying in an area near Termini, the biggest bus and train station in central Rome. Like most areas around central transit stations in large cities, this one has a kind of edgy, dirty feel to it.

We are staying for the first few days in a hotel on the 5th floor of an old building. The lift is old and tiny, one of those ones in a cage where you can see all the cables and cogs working as it comes, and one which is rickety and seemingly unreliable compared to the new ones we have become used to in newer buildings. Our room is simple and we have three beds between four of us in a single room. There is scaffolding on the building with shade cloth over it (which looks like it’s been there for about ten years) though no construction work appears to be in progress. It just means our room is dark and our window opens to a shaded scaffold. On the up side the staff here are super friendly, the place is clean and hospitable, it is a hotel room in central Rome so I’m not complaining. It does make for an eerily silent and dark experience whenever we have any downtime in our room which is a funny kind of bubble to exist in.

We went out for an early dinner and let the jetlag get the better of us. This translated to sleeping through New Years Even despite being in a place that is well known for it’s New Years celebrations, and waking at around 4:30am on New Years Day. We headed out in search of some remnants of celebration and perhaps a bit to eat. There were quite a few dishevelled looking people wondering around on their way home. We walked less than 10 minutes down the road and stumbled upon the colosseum. It was such a wonderfully surreal experience as we approached this ancient stadium and began to realise where we were, and then a fight broke out a bus stop and I noticed I was wading through broken glass from the public revellers who had been drinking here the night before. Time to turn around.

New Years day was a fairly relaxed one getting acquainted with the local area and preparing for our week ahead. To our great delight, some good friends from home back in Sydney were here on tour and we met with them at the Trevi Fountain for an aperitif. After speaking on the phone my friend has asked “where shall we meet” and I had said, “well it can’t be that hard, let’s just meet at the spot where everyone throws their coins into the fountain”. I must have tempted the gods with my flippant comment. We arrived at the fountain and there were literally hundreds of people in a throng all around it. There were so many people in fact that you had to watch your eyes as you walked through the crowd as the ‘selfie-stick’ epidemic has taken over. This is a stick you attach your phone to so that you can take pictures of yourself. I had to laugh. The fountain itself is impressive in it’s grandeur and beauty. A statue of Poseidon stands front and centre with stone horses and people falling all about him and the Agua Virgine (the fresh water brought to Rome from the countryside) pours out and around and below.

Somehow miraculously we found our friends just as the sun was setting and meandered down picturesque allies full of people, trattoria, gelateria, leather goods and hawkers of more selfie-sticks and other trinkets. We talked and walked down the cobbled pathways and the crowds and then turned a corner and before us was the Pantheon, the longest consistently occupied building in Rome and perhaps all of Europe. It has been there and in use for over 2000 years. The foundations are 7 metres below the rest of Rome as with most older buildings and ruins because the city has been built upon the shoulders of it’s predecessors and that is how far higher it is now than then.  

We turned another corner and found a large church with looming columns and facing that a humble establishment selling alcohol which was just what were were after. We ordered four Campari Spritz and enjoyed the parade of antipasti that came with them – gherkins, olive paste on toast, some kind of pickled pepper delight and pretzels for the kids. It was lovely. There is something special about meeting up with people from home in a foreign place.