Back in the olden days - when I wanted to be Tina Arena

I've started going to a new salon, closer to home, for my skin care. Yesterday I hit the jackpot when I met Amy, my new favourite therapist.

As she started to look at my skin, she commented on the fact that I have no lines. I liked her immediately and then asked her, why I would, since I'm only 20! She laughed, a little unsure, but then realised that I was joking.

I commented on the flute music that was playing and why everyone seems to think it's soothing. It doesn't soothe me. It pierces something important in my brain. She offered to change it and then we forgot. She marked on my card not to play the flute music when I'm in.

We got talking about music and she told me that her mother is quite a good singer, "not professional or anything, but she sings at family functions". 

I asked her if she's seen the TV show, "Nashville" and recommended it. She asked me if I watch "regular TV" and I said that I quite like "The Voice". We talked about the elegance of Kylie Minogue, the pure handsome masculinity of Ricky Martin and the eccentricity of Will.i.am. I can't remember what we said about Joel.

"Did you know there's a kids' version coming out?" Amy asked me.

Of course. This got me talking about Young Talent Time and how I wanted to BE Tina Arena. 

Amy went quiet.

"I remember when Tina came on as a contestant. She was about 11 years old and was dressed like Pocahontas. She sang "Money, Money, Money" by ABBA. I thought she was fantastic. I wanted to be Tina Arena."

Any idea that I was only 20, was banished from Amy's thoughts. 

We talked some more about my skin and I said that I wish I didn't have enlarged pores on my nose. This got me thinking about a girl at school who had had the most impressive crop of blackheads on her face. 

"Did they have treatments for that back then?" Amy asked.

I burst out laughing.  "What, back in the olden days?" I asked.

She told me that she didn't mean to offend me, she was just wondering.

I told her I wasn't offended, just amused about the picture she must have of life and skin care late last century. Surely we all scrubbed ourselves with carbolic soap and used methylated spirits as a skin toner, before flaying ourselves with steel wool if the acne was particularly bad.

To help her get over her embarrassment, I asked her where her mother learned to sing. 

Amy told me her mother had been a nun from the age of 18 to 29. She was posted to Bourke in outback New South Wales as a school teacher and met Amy's father there. 

I'd love to hear the rest of the story some time. I'd like to meet Amy's mother. Her daughter is lovely.

Last week of the summer holidays.

Here's how I spent the last week of my summer holidays...

Swimming in a bush lake.

Walking on the beach in the morning.

Singing a capella with other wonderful people.

Making harmonies - planned and impromptu.

Exploring rhythm - body percussion, playing the bush and being silly and playful with a variety of percussion instruments.

Sharing secrets in the dark from a bunk bed in a dorm.

Accepting love and appreciation for my work.

Connecting with old friends and making new ones.

Writing songs.

Finishing and performing one of these songs (that I really like!)

Appreciating the beauty of the world.

Laughing.

Dancing.

Making music.

Writing.  A lot.

Listening to music live - every night.

Being humbled by the talent of people around me.

Being blessed by their generosity in helping to create.

Reconnecting with good creative habits (morning pages).


On the drive home, I was amazed to find the artist at a the Barking Dog ceramics gallery in Uralla (between Armidale and Tamworth) had posters in her work room for concerts performed by Kristina Olsen who is one of the long standing teachers at Summersong.

I then stopped to see the Cash Only show at the Tamworth Country Music Festival on the way home on the spur of the moment - one of my favourite ways to experience music.  It was at the Longyard Hotel which I think is the greatest pub name in the world.

Summersong is where I was, and have been every year since 2005 (except for 2012).  How's that for a great way to finish holidays!

© divacultura 2013

© divacultura 2013

Jellyfish.
© divacultura 2013

© divacultura 2013

© divacultura 2013

Leaving my mark.
© divacultura 2013

Jostling for power.  Impressed by the cabin mate
who packed a power board!
© divacultura 2013

Back in the bush. View from the back verandah.
© divacultura 2013

My normal daily publication schedule will recommence shortly.

When being one of the "best people" is dangerous.

"The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice."  

As I read this sentence from Ernest Hemingway I identified with his ideas.  These ideas align with my own aspirations.  

Then I read the next sentence:  "Ironically their virtues make them vulnerable, they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed."

I felt vulnerable just reading that and then I wrestled with my feelings.  Initially I wanted to argue with Hemingway, the writer I think of when I think of "masculine".  Then I started to think and remember.

Before I was a freelancer, I worked for a trade union in a variety of capacities.  I was an elected official for many years.  I was a campaign leader, a director, a negotiator, an industrial officer.  While I was doing it, I loved it.  It was challenging and dynamic.  Some of the battles were impossible, but it felt like they really mattered.  I took my role as an advocate and representative very seriously.  I had some wonderful colleagues and delegates to work with - some of these people remain important in my life.  There were others who I didn't enjoy being around, but recognised that we all shared the same values.  

What I didn't appreciate at the time was that "battle mode" was my default setting.  Sometimes the foe was recognisable because they were in the traditional role of employer or the conservative government.  Sometimes the enemy was less recognisable - they were the person sharing a table in the lunch room or reporting to me.  Being in battle mode meant putting armour on every day and being battle ready.  In terms of Hemingway's quote, I took risks regularly and it took courage; truth often looked different depending on who the audience was; I made enormous personal sacrifices in order to put the interest of members and working people before my own.  I still had a "feeling for beauty" but didn't have a lot of time to devote to it.  

I now know that this changed me.  I became quite hard.  Tough.  "Intimidating" was a word that was often used to describe me.  I hated that.  I didn't want to be known as that, even if it did mean I succeeded in meeting my responsibilities.  

At a music retreat about nine years ago, I had a life changing experience.  Before the celebration party, there was a ritual.  We were asked to think about what we wanted to let go of.  Then we were asked to find a natural object to represent that thing and bring it to the ritual.  I decided I wanted to give up my "hardness" and I found a stone to represent that.  

As we arrived at the door we were greeted.  The greeters held eye contact and physically "blessed" us (it wasn't a religious ceremony, more a spiritual one).   As I was being greeted, I felt a lump just under my sternum.  It moved up through my torso as I moved to the next stage of the ritual where I had my feet washed and dried.   As I was sitting there the lump was replaced by tears.  I started to weep, uncontrollably.  I held the stone and felt that I was indeed letting go of my hardness.  I placed the stone in a basket and all those objects were released into the ocean.

I was inconsolable for the next hour.  Raw emotion that had been bottled up for many years of being tough was now released.  Nobody thought I was weird, they seemed to know what was happening and I remember having my hand held by people I'd known for a mere four days, but who seemed to understand.

I felt different, refreshed.  The world looked different.  As the time to leave the retreat came, I became aware of my new found vulnerability.  I wondered how long I'd be able to stay "soft".  Would I be able to be like this and continue my work?   I was conscientious about this, but also aware of the need to protect myself.  That was not sustainable.  Spending time appreciating beauty and creating beauty helped but sometimes it was a struggle to fit it in.  Accidental opportunities did not often arise.

I'm pleased to say that I now spend a lot of time appreciating and creating beauty.  It has required a complete change in my life.  At the time, the change was traumatic and frightening, but now I know that it was the best thing.  It facilitated a way for me to live more truthfully.  

As I consider this now, I know that I am very fortunate.  I'm still drawn to work in conflict, but my mindset is completely different and my investment is different.  In a way, conflict resolution and facilitation is a way of creating beauty.  When human beings find a way to see past their differences there is beauty to be seen.

So despite the dangers, I do strive to be one of the "best people" as described by Hemingway.  Friends have told me that I'm nicer to be around too.

How about you?  Do you have balance in your life? Are you living truthfully?