Tag Archives: KISS

The magic mirror

love

My kitchen window is the portal into another time and place. I’ve been looking through it and writing about what I see for years. Even when I don’t see any physical activity apart from the day that is – a gluttonous sky thundering over the Chinese Elm, the first blossoms on the apricot tree or chooks basking in the dusty hole they’ve dug to bathe in sunshine – I see so much.

The three little boys that once jumped in and out of a portable swimming pool in summers of years gone, white in a heavy layering of sunscreen and laughing with each butt print made on the hot concrete path. They’d ride scooters and bikes from the back gate onto a track in the grass, have parties with friends and chip golf balls on a make-shift putting green. They’d hang washing on the clothes line while I washed dishes over my window, throwing the ball for Teddi and hitting it out with a cricket bat when they got tired of throwing. They’d bring washing in, all folded and ready to sort. They still do.

Today through my kitchen window is one of them with his love pulling weeds together by that clothes line, cute in their occasional smiles and exchanges. He’s older and wiser now, although sometimes when a shopping trolley full of garden stakes and an azalea bush plucked from an anonymous front yard appears after a night out with friends, I do wonder.

Our house, it has a crowd

There’s always something happening

And it’s usually quite loud … Our house, in the middle of our street

Madness sings over the radio, reminding me of how time moves at a snail’s pace, and yet ever moving as the rotating Earth. This magic window of mine shows glimpses only I can see. Memories of little boys that are now as men, a second 21st birthday in weeks.

Waves in the unseen pulse through, hurts from deep love and happiness scar of a life meandering as a unique Jackson Pollock drip painting. Sharp pains clash in red and blue lines highlighted with ochres, the clash of words that gnaw at the heart.

It’s a fine line between pleasure and pain

You’ve done it once you can do it again

It’s the Divinyls now as the gentle reminder, prodding the longings, whether known or not, for him or her, that thing in the corner. To be by the beach; to be home. A longing for peace without turmoil, peace even when the ocean roars its endless rhythm of now and what’s to come. Longing frees the honesty within the heart, to smile even when not smiling. Perhaps that’s a contentment, even with emotions brimming and wanting to spill.

Whether I’m looking through my kitchen window at those boys of yesterday and today, or for the rabid clucks of chooks being chased by Teddi and Schnooze, all in good jest of course, it’s always wide open and full of reflection. I can be cooking butterflied lamb that’s been marinating for 36 hours for dinner and whizzing past the window from bench to stove, stopping at the kitchen sink to wash hands of sticky garlic oils, and still, all manner of stark brutality can flood in to choke. A gulp of rosé from the antique crystal glass can smooth it away, spritely and clear compared to the robust of swallow of the same wine from my brown short glass last week. Senses swirl in the heady grilling, aromas fill nostrils to where I can smell no more.

This evening it’s simple burgers browning in a pan with bacon and pineapple and it’s not until one of those boys walks in from work that I realise I’m immersed in the Monika-world.

‘Mmm, that smells nice,’ he says. ‘I can smell it from the back gate.’ His hello kiss brings me back to today with bonds to yesterday. Another sip of rosé.

That magic mirror can show possibilities of what’s to come, of more little children running through the yard or by the beach in their little Hawaiian shirts, more dogs and chooks and golf all fusing as that next part of a growing life. My magic mirror keeps me wide open to possibilities, many I cannot imagine.

There’s always a kiss of tomorrow, the kiss from far away that should have been, could be. Kisses maketh thy life.

Here comes the rain again

Falling on my head like a memory

Falling on my head like a new emotion

I want to walk in the open wind

I want to talk like lovers do

I want to dive into your ocean

Is it raining with you        ~ Eurythmics

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Kisses

giraffe kiss

There’s something in the sharing of feeling beyond understanding of language, where supple lips meet and tongues swirl to be lost in dizzy delight, or where cheeks brush in a softness of silk and kisses linger in the air of personal space.

Mine begin early from pooches, my blue-eyed girl first after thumping down the hallway in good morning squeals, her nails nicking the wooden boards as she bounds over her petite brown-eyed sister gliding for a hello too. Licks come fast and frenzied and a scratch on their head settles them to snuggle beside me, one by my chaise lounge of greying blue and the other resting her chin on my feet under my desk.

Then come the boys, usually one by one and in quick succession during a work and school week, or as a stroll that can be hours apart every other day. Their sleepy good morning kisses can be warm and soft, even over chiselled jaws, or come in a fleeting hurry to get out the door. They can be the lightest of pecks on cheeks that sometimes glide by with no skin contact at all and go beyond the ‘hob-nobbery’ of air kisses. Other times, one simple kiss lands with such powerful intent, loaded in boundless love that overwhelms and leaves me sopping in nourishing love. As little lads, we sometimes played games of butterfly and fish kisses that led to such laughter, of tigers and Eskimos too.

Lucky for me, I still have hello and good bye kisses from Mum and my brother who has spent all of his nine lives and is looking exceptionally well these days. And Mum’s partner, my partner and aunts and uncles, cousins, sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews … from families galore. They’re hello and good bye kisses on cheeks and lips, automatic and customary, ones of habit steeped in deep memory and others brimming in open love. And from friends too, kisses and squeeze me tight hugs come with a depth of appreciation, care and love, and understanding of no matter what.

Kisses can be the obligatory greeting hello between acquaintances and colleagues, more heartfelt than the handshake. They can grow in warmth with hugs of thank you and good bye and air kisses of serious connection, even though lips may not touch and it’s the caress of skin that locks the energy. That can feed lingering thoughts over lunch and in meetings, of good byes in passionate, locked lips where hands cupping and caressing become part of the kiss and all is lost to tantalising tingles and hearts in jitters.

Then there are those ‘others’, the ones where a kiss landing lip to lip takes you by surprise and you wonder whether if mouths were slightly open, you’d go all the way, and the secret within of wanting to go all the way. Or the online flirt that could be a kiss if that person stood in front of you and you imagine what that kiss might be.

Of course kisses are never all Daphne and tulips and there are those soaked in sadness and laced in loss and blue, the ones weighted in tiredness and burden that require a sit and unravelling of the day. These kisses can be an exchange that lessen the load and strengthen a connection.

Regardless of the intent and expression of any kiss, all carry their own reservoir of precious, pooling droplets ready to fall into a garden of ripe and rich. I’d wilt without them.

woman blowing a kiss

Transition II: Nurturance

Find yourself

Nurturance: emotional and physical nourishment, support and care given to someone; the ability to give such care.

Transition and nurturance go together. The two are like the rain and sun, night and day. The rain comes, dampens, sometimes floods us and brings the wind with it as its partner to wreak havoc and destruction. Then suddenly, we’re out of the storm and wake to the sun emerging, peering over clouds as if arriving with careful consideration of what’s gone on before. It slowly expands in shine to help grow life again.

Occasionally, that sun bursts past clouds as if to say, ‘Enough is enough!’

With life as a string of constant transitions, nurturance exists as the ability for us to care for others, as well as to care for our own self. But when we’re deep in transition, how do we find or summon that nurturance?

Sometimes that nurturance appears when we feel a small progressive step towards a goal we’re striving towards and which we’ve taken great chances on, or at the senseless passing of a another human who may seem to be a stranger but whose passing strikes so much more in us.
It can manifest in the simplest of grounding forms, as three children home from school crowding around me with two dogs mingling in between, at the ‘Aha, you did it!’ moment of one of those children’s impressive school report after years of struggle.

As I gasp for air while swimming my laps at the pool, I’m appreciative of my powerful breathe when I’ve just heard family news of a grandmother suffering with emphysema leaving this planet. I’m groundingly grateful, albeit in water, for the ease she has once again, and for what I have.

Ultimately, nurturance finds its way, just as Daphne flowers emerge to bask in the day-after sun of a winter solstice to permeate every molecule of air. Poet Rumi sums it up well,

Your heart is the size of an ocean.
Go find yourself in its hidden depths.

However sometimes, it’s not as easy as those simple words reflect and when I’m in deep transition and struggling for nurturance, I use KISS – Keep It Simple Sweeties. Following, is an earlier blog on KISS …

Sometimes life is about keeping it simple sweetie

Sometimes, KISS just doesn’t work. Life is supposed to be about keeping it simple stupid. Yet today, a drabness overcomes me and mutes me to make me question whether my heart exists.
I know what to do though, to connect with my heart and open that love channel again. I’ve learnt how to do it.

So I sit, albeit a squirmy still, close my eyes and ‘be’ in the quiet. I blank my mind and bar thoughts from entering, and begin searching for my heart. To my surprise, I can’t see it or feel it. I know it’s there though, pumping this muted life through me.

I look harder and see nothing but darkness. I glimpse a mass of black, thick tar that has dried rock hard over where my heart should be beating. At least I found where my heart should be.

I begin to visualise breaking through the crust of the tar, but not a budge, nothing. I can’t see my heart, yet I know it’s there suffocating, unable to feel and give, unable to care. I know I must uncover it so I can breathe again.

I squint and squeeze my eyes to envisage my heart beating under the shiny crust.

More, stronger, forcefully …

And there it goes, a pump bursts through to shoot off shattered black pieces of rock-solid tar into forever.

Streams of light begin to pump in and out as a light show of sunbeams blazing. My chest collapses. Relief.

I’m open again, breathing.

Now to the next step of being able to feel and give again.

Our hearts can shut down and our love can be battered and cloaked from time to time, but it’s an energy that never dies. It can become scared and vulnerable, and can go into hiding. It can be so easily hurt and smothered and sometimes feels too hurt to recover. It wants to shutdown forever. And why not? It would save a lot of pain that sometimes, can be too great to acknowledge, let alone overcome.

Yet I refuse to believe that the heart and love can be restrained or stopped, or lay dormant for too long. Love never stops and is endless.

One day, I asked a mother of thirteen how she could love all her children so equally, how she could have that much love for so many. ‘I just do,’ she said to me, calmly and reassuringly. I didn’t understand the concept until I had my own children.

Listening to one’s heart and love can hurt and send us into a black hole. The trick to recovery is to be gentle and understanding, to allow time for recovery even in the face of a gloom and smother greater than one can imagine.

I think a wise friend understood this when she said to me that maybe KISS should be Keep It Simple Sweetie.

Maybe that’s the secret, to be compassionate to one self as well as to others. Love is two-way after all.

Sometimes, life is about Keeping It Simple Sweetie

Life is supposed to be about keeping it simple stupid. Yet today, a drabness overcomes me and mutes me with a darkness to make me question whether my heart exists.

I know what to do though, to connect with my heart and open that love channel again. I’ve learnt how to do it.

So I sit, albeit a squirmy still, close my eyes and search for my heart. To my surprise, I can’t see it or feel it, but I know it’s there pumping life through me.

I look harder and sight nothing but a mass of black, thick tar that has dried rock hard over where my heart should be beating.

I visualise breaking through the crust of the tar, but no a budge, nothing. I can’t see my heart, yet I know it’s suffocating, unable to feel and give. I know I must open it again.

I squint and squeeze to envisage my heart beating under the shiny crust.

More, stronger, forcefully …

And there it goes, bursting, smashing black pieces of rock-solid tar into the air and shooting them off into forever.

Then, the light streams in and out, as sunbeams blazing.

Relief. I’m open again, breathing.

Love can be battering and cloaked from time to time, but it’s an energy that never dies. It can become scared and vulnerable, and can go into hiding. That’s the downside to opening up the heart. It can be so easily hurt and smothered and sometimes feels too hurt to recover. It wants to shutdown forever. And why not? It would save a lot of pain that sometimes, can be too great to acknowledge, let alone overcome.

I refuse to believe that the heart can be restrained or stopped though, or lay dormant for too long. Love never stops. It’s endless. One day, I asked a mother of thirteen how she could love all her children so equally, how she could have that much love for so many. ‘I just do,’ she said to me, calmly and reassuringly. I didn’t understand the concept back then, but I do now.

Listening to one’s heart and love can hurt and send us into a black hole. The trick to recovery is to be gentle and understanding, to allow time for recovery even in the face of a gloom and smother greater than one can imagine.

I think a wise friend understood this when she said to me one day that maybe, KISS should be Keep It Simple Sweetie.

Maybe that’s the secret, to be compassionate to oneself as well as to others. Love is two-way after all.

KISS

It was many years ago when I first thought about what that simple, four letter word meant. A word that is so easily thrown around by some yet can be so difficult for others to say, even though they feel it.

It’s a word that is with me every second of every day.

Love.

It can be so simple, and yet so, so complex. And I’m not talking about romantic love.

I was pregnant with my first child and feeling quite anxious about being a mother. I went to a session at a Reiki Centre one day and asked the guest presenter, a ‘spiritual’ man, what it meant to be a good mother.

‘It’s simple,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Love. Simply love your children.’

I had no idea what he meant, but from then on, I questioned what this love was.

Some said it was unconditional love. But what did that really mean? I didn’t get it.

Then I heard that to love is to be open, and to open my heart. Again, I didn’t understand it. How do I open my heart? What did I need to do?

Years of contemplation and trying to understand, and I was starting to get it. Love is the KISS principle.

Keep It Simple Stupid.

Accept people as they are, their beauty and those things within them that are not so beautiful. We’re all humans. We all have our positives and negatives, passions, insecurities, things we excel at …

Still, I thought, how do I do that?

Then I started to meditate. It’s not a meditation that is new age, hippy stuff, or Buddha-centric, or religious, or whatever fan-dangled name you put to it. My meditation is simple. It’s to empty my mind, and to keep it still.

My meditation is to swim laps in an outdoor pool on a day that reflects dappled sunlight through huge gum trees, with branches that dangle freely and when no one else is about. Or to run a few kilometres by a river gushing with joy after heavy rain. It is to sit quietly, early in the peace of a morning when little stirs at 5.30, or with a group of like-minded people in the evening.

Meditation can calm AND energise me beyond understanding. It’s a way for me to relax and take time out, and allows me to not have to think about anything that I have to think.

It’s in this meditation, that I discovered opening my heart. For me, it’s been my secret.

I meditate, empty my mind as best I can, which is sometimes difficult to do with a million things racing about. And then I visualise my physical heart, and open it, expand it. Once I see it physically open, my love flows out and love flows in. I’m surprised by the surge that streams in and out. A peace overcomes me and stays with me afterwards, where people in the street smile at me and speak to me. I find myself smiling more and some who know me, say I look different, younger. I ‘love’ that side of it!! Nature’s anti-wrinkle fighter!

The more I practice this, the better I feel, the lighter I walk, and the more accepting of others and compassionate I feel. Everyone has a story, insecurities. Everyone seeks love of some kind.

So I think I’ve found my elixir of life.

Love.

Feel it, give it. Accept it. Accept people and life.

Understand, truly understand the circumstances. With that understanding comes compassion.

Be grateful for all that I have. Gratitude is a wonderfully grounding principle.

And above all, KISS.