Category: Bert

Oh my – we have a New Year IN our hands and it’s going to be radtastic!

Yesterday I turned thirty-nine – a stage of life I never thought I would or could ever reach from when I was was a little girl, to when I had my transplant and certainly after I survived cancer. Each year is such a gift, and age is a privilege.

Lungs in perfect working order for seventeen years? √

Cancer in remission for eight years? √

Two years clean? √

Haven’t lost my mind? √

Yesterday I made the drive down to my friend Nic’s farm after I’d caught up with my folks – the people who have helped shaped me into the person I am today. I love them SO HARD.

 

Once I got to the farm, an overwhelming sense of peace washed over me until Bert and Harry (N & B’s dog sons) greeted me with whipping tails, over eager paws and a whole lot of tongue. We celebrated my birthday and it was an afternoon and evening of oodles of love, laughter, joy, amazing gifts and spectacular food. In four words? It filled my cup.

I felt full. My soul was full. My belly was full. My spirit was full. Nic and Ben remember when I was stuck in that cycle of addiction, and now to see me free, happy and awake – truly awake – makes them feel pretty damn proud.

Last night, Nic gave me my gratitude stone for the year – a beautiful brecciated or ‘poppy’ jasper which will serve to protect and ground me for the year ahead, because according to Nic, it’s going to be a big one, and I am ready to shine like a fucking diamond.

My gratitude stone is mine and mine only and it is strikingly beautiful. At first I had mixed feelings because I’m not an avid fan of red, but with its base colour of deep rust which reminds me of the outback, and the gentle swirls of pink, cream, black and grey, I ventured inside this stone today during a meditation and it was a place of safety, healing and spiritual refuge. And rainbows! And we all know rainbows fucking rock.

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So why am I telling you about this? You see, Nicole has created a planner called the ‘Year of Me Planner’. Now, whether that’s manifesting energy, magical engagements or masterpiece enactment (all Nic’s words), it’s your opportunity to make the most of the energies of 2016.

I was lucky enough to receive the year long online course and planner to the ‘Year of Me’ from Nic for my birthday, and I just about hyperventilated with excitement. I’ve been working on it most of today and it has soothed my soul. The Year of Me Planner allows you to create your own map to connect to your intuition, intentions, power and purpose. Sounds a bit hippie? Whatever! I’m excited that it’s a little witchy and really fucking sensible. Here are the tools I’m using for 2016 … That’s right – oracle cards! I’m a hippie from way back …

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Nicole created this planner because she wants to help people plan, create and achieve their dreams with passion and precision. A one year online membership means that you’re part of a supportive online community with Nicole at the helm. It’s a beautiful safe space, and what people have shared today has been quite heartening and a little emotional. It’s only day one, and I’m feeling ALL THE THINGS. So here’s the link to her website and the Year of Me Planner. DO IT.

 

New year pastoral

Loose udders and mucus plugs

signals new life on the grass and clods of dirt.

Lilies dance on water the way flies hover over fresh meat.

A heifer drops its snout into the trough to drink –

not greedily, but more delicately,

sucking on the water in a docile way – fickle for a beast.


Pebbles, clumps of wild grass and cow shit

pattern a track to the paddock where a sabre calf

feasts on the berm of the grid;

lifts its head, turns towards its tail, then stares at me.


Unsteady of his feet, he ambles to his mother

her cries echoing through the valley –

carrying that sound like some heavy burden.

From the verandah, I hear the shaking of wooden spoons in pots.

It’s time for breakfast – sweet, sticky black rice.

Feet, jesus, spooning dogs, goats and Birkenstocks

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Well, is it? ^

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The ‘Woomba ^

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Post Pent-Warming ^ Pent got warmed.

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Cannulation. ALWAYS have perfect peds in case of emergency.

*a brief intermission*

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Yeah. Eff off, Jesus.

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I do have *unreal* feet. Surely something had to go my way …

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My balcony. Magically warm on the peds in winter.

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With Billy Bob in Bangers, near the farm.

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Still not sure …

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Mmmmmm, blood-a-licious.

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Blood THAT far up the line isn’t a good look. Nor is a cannula in your foot, but it can always be worse.

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At oncology clinic.

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Aesop. Spa. Place up in Moolools. Oh, yeah.

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Not feet, but leg centric. And Bert, my protector/best spooning partner ever. Bertle is my main man ♥  ♥  ♥

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Praise Baxter bottles of Cefalothin 🙂 Gotta love thyself a hospital chapel.

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So we’ve determined that I have great feet, so why do they always cannulate them? #shitIVaccess

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Pro Hart approves.

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Feet on the clinic desk wheel-of-fortune!

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Hospital selfie.

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Oh, Bert … you ARE special.

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Last weeks transplant clinic feet on the desk Wheel of Fortune …

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Because I can.