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Hello and welcome to my blog formerly called Gypsy-K. Please note that I am only updating this blog while I am walking from Rome to Jerusalem from September 2015. My online home and permanent blog is at www.kymwilson.com.au. You can also sign up for pilgrim postcards and newsletters here. Thank you for being here and supporting my journey. With love and courage, Kym xx

Monday, 21 January 2013

A River of Stones - days 11 to 20


January 11

The plane trees arch,
a meeting of forest green and
summer-browned leaves shaped
like pronged palms,
waving,
create a corridor of shade.


January 12

Perched on the peak of the hill, the church spire spears the pinkening sky.
On the street below, a young lady, teeters in platform shoes, 8 inches closer to the sky.


January 13

She trundles along the footpath, sitting courtly on her electric-powered tricycle, her snow-white hair tied into a neat bun just below her crown and her black spoodle on short rein galloping sideways to keep up.


January 14

Perched on the streetlight, a pair of yellow-crested cockatoos supervise the evening traffic.


January 15

Silver doors pulled open by an unknown, unseen hand.
The carriage, peak-hour empty, crowded floor, wall and ceiling with scribbled words scrubbed til faded.


January 16

The breeze brushes over the blades of summer grass scorched olive green and hay.  Only those that raise their blunted tips to salute the midday sun, shimmy and shake then return to stillness in its wake.


January 17

Kneeling on the empty desk, nose pressed against the window, scanning the space between here and out there, twenty-three floors above the lunchtime city traffic, until I see another.  A leaf, the colour of burnt tangerine, its fingers crisped and lightly curled, soaring higher, skyward.


January 18

On the dresser a lone candle flickers and gently illumines her image.  Each arm wrapped around a smiling toddler held firm against her chest.  A soft smile.  A coquettish gaze.  An intimate moment eternal.  She is now sixteen years gone.


January 19

Across the bronzed pond, the invisible breeze scatters disappearing diamonds.


January 20

Lifting the lid; soft grains of dark russet flecked with gold, breathing in roasted earth and sunshine soon to be brewed and plunged into the morning’s bitter dark elixir.



Sunday, 20 January 2013

This, here



  This,
       Here,
              Where the bell birds chimes repeat
              And the kookaburras cackle
              Brings me back to centre.

This,
       Here,
              Where the white butterflies gather
   To dance around the wild lavender
   Is wordless beauty.

This,
       Here,
              Where the pond duck plops into the water
              Stretches her brown spangled wings
              Then silently streams by
              Is everyday wonder.

This,
       Here,
              Where the giant trees stretch skyward
              Weaving together their olive leaved fingers
              To shelter this haven from the frenzy outside
              Is nurture.

This,
       Here,
              Where the curious turtle
              Her shell furred by algae
  Circles and hovers, watching me, watching her
              Is oneness.

In this,
       Here,
  Time has no real meaning.
  The sun rises and there is light.
  The sun sets and light ebbs to darkness.
  And in between there is only this moment
  Followed by the next
  Then the next
  And the next.

In this,
       Here,
  There are no chores,
  Only living;
  A constant, slow foraging for food,
  Bathing and grooming,
  Mating and sleeping,
  Call and reply.


Despite the rumbling city traffic,
Despite the helicopters whirring overhead,
Despite the mixed accent chatter passing by,
This,
       Here,
              Is peace.

This,
       Here,
              Where I can lie on the earth
              As the sun caresses my cheek
              And the wind strokes my hair
              Is where I love and am held by the Great Mother.

This,
       Here,
              Is where I come to restore
  My city-tired soul

Botanical Gardens, Melbourne

Lavender scatter, Botanical Gardens, Melbourne

Tree Bark, Botanical Gardens, Melbourne

Turtle friend, Botanical Gardens, Melbourne

Trio of Black Swans, Botanical Gardens, Melbourne

Moreton Bay Fig roots, Botanical Gardens, Melbourne

Sun stream, Botanical Gardens, Melbourne


Thank you to Liz Lamoreux for the "Here" prompt that inspired this.

Sunday, 13 January 2013

An Anniversary of Stillness


I have been back in Melbourne for one year.  That’s one whole year in one city.  One whole year of living with my feet planted firmly on Australian soil.  One whole year of living with more than a bag of clothes, a bag of diving gear and a temporary permit to stay.

I have not been on a plane since I returned.  The closest I’ve been to the airport is passenger drop-off when I drove a friend to the airport just before Christmas.  I miss the airport.  I miss the anticipation of adventure, the sadness of goodbye and the bitter sweetness of return.

It’s been one year since I’ve floated in the warm tropical sea.  And it’s been more than a year since I’ve slipped below its silvery surface and been held, neutrally buoyant.

It’s been more than one year since I’ve watched the sun slip behind the Andaman Sea spraying the sky shades of tangerine.

More than one year since I’ve ridden a scooter through the jungle covered hills with glimpses of the azure sea.

It’s been a year of stillness.  A year where my external landscape has remained the same but a year where everything has changed; a year of tears and love and healing.

A year surrounded by friends.

A year with my blessed and beloved family.

A year in which I have drafted my book.

A year in which I have returned to fitness and health.

A year in which I have discovered part of my tribe.

A year in which I have reluctantly returned to what I know so it can be the foundation of great change.

There is so much to cherish here yet so much I miss; those sunsets, the sea and the simplicity of being.

The creature that that got me addicted to diving, Green Turtle


Me at the very pretty Shark Point, Phuket, Thailand


Dopey, my first favourite street dog

Paradise Beach


Amazing sunset from After Beach Bar, Kata Noi

Sunset from Trattoria Buongustaio, Naiharn, Phuket



Amazing clouds, Naiharn Beach, Phuket

Another of my sweet beach dogs, Naiharn



Koh Doc Mai, Phuket

Returning to Chalong after an amazing day diving

Bubble Rings by Pae

Full moon over Chalong Pier

Whale Shark # 2, Palong Bay, Koh Phi Phi




Friday, 11 January 2013

A River of Stones - the first 10


I am so excited about this new year.  Anticipation.  Beneath the surface I feel magic brewing that is going to erupt into the universe. Soon.

For me, January is mindful writing month as I commit to noticing something every day and writing it down.  I am not alone in this.  There are other mindful writers scattered all over the world and together we are creating a River of Stones.

It requires discipline, especially on the days I spend in paid employment, rushing to the office, rushing home.  Resistance arises.  
I don't want to notice anything.  
There's nothing to see that I haven't seen before. 
I'm too tired.  
I don't have enough time.  
And then I take a breath and relax back into my body, remember my commitment to myself and start to look.  Then I see the world around me.  


January 1st

Through the Lillypilly’s weepings
The sun’s splintered silver wands


January 2nd

Slender, elongated neck,
smooth and thorn-ridden
abruptly ends
in a swift beheading.
The open wound,
a pale straw pith.
Her mottled glory
scattered, faded, dying,
amongst lowly
weedy worshippers.


January 3rd

Rectangles everywhere in this grid of a city;
historic cobblestones line lane ways;
rows of windows, lengthwise, width wise, rarely square;
slatted metal barriers enclosing the multi-level car park;
smooth stone panels of a high rise facade;
the train doors that open to the underground station
and it's bright blue paneled walls;
red clinker bricks some painted charcoal grey;
slabs of concrete paving the walkway
and in between the city towers,
the irregular column of sun-drenched sky
luring eyes upward


January 4th

On burning bitumen
paper-brown leaves whirl dervish.


January 5th

A round of candles burning draw a crowd of joyful singers.
At the last hooray the wily wind sneakily snuffs them out.
Birthday girl stands poised, mouth open, lungs still full with that one required breath.
Instead she laughs and blows anyway.


January 6th

Pond bugs ping the surface from below
shooting sunlit sparks and rounds of ripples retreating.


January 7th

Above the jagged city, a soft summer haze
as the sun silently slips away,
the horizon blazes brilliant gold.


January 8th
  
Through the dust smeared window:
office buildings soar skyward;
toy-sized cars and trucks speed east and west;
yonder bricks and mortar intermingle with trees;
the silvery bay flecked white
and a stationary tanker awaits port.


January 9th

Eventide
The flame tree burns crimson


January 10th

She is waiting for me at my door as I emerge to start the day.  Her eyes pool the sky, her nose points chocolate brown, her static coat softer than creamy cashmere.  She is demure softness until she blinks, moves four silent steps forward one padded paw at a time, bares her jagged teeth and unfolds a lengthy mew; strangled lion in a pussycat’s body.  Cranky demands a smooch.


Water + Light = Evening Delight


The path next to my favourite Moreton Bay Fig Tree, Botanical Gardens Melbourne


Sun descending through tree, Botanical Gardens

Light, Botanical Gardens