Andalusian Dusk

There's only a few minutes left of day. The air is changing right in front of my very eyes. Soon, the sun will be gone and I will be indoors, sitting beside a roaring fire.
The mountains begin to turn a deep shade of red.
I tip my head backwards and see white contrails cutting diagonally across a dusky sky. I follow the plane’s journey as it makes its way over the mountain to disappear from sight. I wonder about all the people up there; some will be reading, some watching a movie, some dozing lightly.
In the distance, a pack of dogs bark as a chainsaw revs up. There is smoke billowing from a blaze somewhere up in the mountains.
And I breathe in deeply. The delicate scent of pink almond blossom rushes into my nose as I realise that change has come in…again.
It was so warm today, I felt my body relax and soak up every last ray of Andalusian sun. But now I zip up my jacket against the chilled evening air.
And as the birds make their final flight of the day back towards their nest, I pick up my phone and empty coffee cup to make my way indoors. Just as I am about to head up along the dusty path, something makes me stop. There, just poking out from behind a eucalyptus tree, sits a gigantic moon. And so I stand there for a while, holding my things, looking up into the evening sky. As a cool breeze blows through the trees, I can't help but feel that everything is exactly as it should be.

Alignment

I was 2 when it last happened.
I might have been cuddling with my mum on the sofa or playing make-believe in my wigwam; laughing, crying or smearing chocolate around my little mouth. I was completely unaware of the celestial show happening just up in the sky. The lifelong scar that now sits on my body was barely a few months old.
38 years later, I am watching the moon rise slowly in the sky. It’s lifting away from the trees and up into the night. It bathes everything it touches in a silvery light. The hedges at the end of the field begin to disappear, and trees transform into gnarly silhouettes.
As we dance and spin through the blackness of space, we find ourselves, once again, next to a Christmas full moon. I sit on the bed looking out of the window with soft beams falling gently on my face…and I breathe.
There are times in our life when everything is in tune and perfectly aligned - all is well in our wonderful world. Then there are moments when the rug gets pulled from under our feet and we struggle to simply get through the day - we are left disorientated, unable to see beyond the trees.
But it’s all about letting go and believing; having faith that everything will work out in the end. And just like this coming full moon on a Christmas day, some things will only ever happen when the time is right.

On this full moon Christmas Eve, I wish you all the love and happiness in the world. Shine bright.

Sunday silence

Sunday morning, not a cloud in the sky. There's a peacefulness in the air that I've not felt in a while. With only a gentle breeze wafting through the branches, the city is unusually quiet. I am alone but for the bees buzzing from one purple Chive flower to the next. Taking a sip of my freshly brewed coffee, I suddenly notice patches of damp stone on the ground. It must have rained heavily last night. Somewhere lost in a dream, I was oblivious to the cool downpour.
As I look up at the giant tree at the bottom of the garden, I smile at last month’s discovery of Parakeets. Lime green with long elegant tails, I couldn't believe my eyes at first. They seemed strangely out of place. My mind jumps quickly to São Paulo - the crazy, giant city that I called home for a short while.
The sun on my neck feels warm and comforting. The smell of honeysuckle is delicious.
Then there's a loud bang of a door slamming open. A child cries and a mother shouts. A plane’s engines whir overhead and a dog barks in the distance.
My moment of peace vanishes in an instant.
But as the city slowly comes to life all around me, and a butterfly flutters softly past my face, I can't help but feel that everything is exactly as it should be.

The edge of tomorrow

Another train journey, another fiery sunset burning across the sky.
People on the carriage are reading, and texting, and stretching and dozing. I want to pick up the book that I’ve been trying to finish for the past month…but I'm too sleepy. The music playing deep in my ears seems to be putting me into a trance. Lost in my thoughts, I drift over the trees towards the glowing horizon. The last of the day’s light reflects off glass and steel, temporarily blinding me between buildings.
Events of the past year have left me tired and disorientated.
Flying halfway back across the world, I discovered a new home and a new chapter.
I said ‘I love you’ to my mum for the last time, immensely grateful for one final, beautiful conversation. I’ve cried though two funerals of people I adored, and danced at the arrival of my gorgeous baby niece - The cycle of life, of love never-ending.
The train is warm and cosy. With hot air wafting out through vents under the seats, I unzip my coat. My hand reaches up towards the ice-cold window as we continue to speed through the city.
And I close my eyes.
There is a second where everything seems to stop spinning, just for the briefest of moments. Lost somewhere in-between the end of today and a new beginning, I suddenly feel at peace.
And as the final hours of this year drift slowly away, I am hopeful for a brighter tomorrow.
Hopeful for more love, more light, more laughter.

My love to you all, always.

Santa in the sun

As I slip on my new favourite blue and white Havaianas, I grab my sunglasses and head out the door. It is another glorious day with not a cloud in the sky. An air-conditioned Metro train provides me with a brief, refreshing respite from the burning sun shining just above the surface. Back out onto the bustling street once more, a giant Santa Clause defiantly wears his warm woolly clothes and smiles through the heat. I see trees covered in baubles, penguins carrying presents and elaborate nativity scenes being played out, all in the Brazilian midday sun.
And that's when it hits me: I am 5,899 miles away from gloves and scarves, mince pies and mulled wine, ice-skates and log fires. A momentary pang of missing home wrings in my stomach and leaves behind a feeling that I just can't shake.
And then it suddenly occurs to me that a huge number of people in this wonderfully crazy city might not have ever seen snow before. I smile as I watch a snowball hurtling through my mind and go crashing into a happy snowman.
Shopping done, I trade in a mulled wine for a Caipirinha and sit watching the world go by. Our beautiful blue planet is home to over 7 billion people, all with different life experiences. But despite our differences, we all have the same beating hearts, hopes and fears.
And that's what makes us family.



As 2013 comes slowly to a close, I want to thank you for following my blog every week and being part of the journey. You add colour to my life and inspire me in ways you don’t know. I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, and hope that 2014 brings you health and happiness!

With love!

Driving blind

And suddenly my ears pop; the sweet release of pressure.
Two and a half hours after leaving the city we begin to snake our way up through the mountain. I love to watch the world whizz by, getting lost in my thoughts. People and places wash in and out of my mind like a summer tide.
The weather is changing. Gone are the blue skies of earlier to be replaced by something else.
Carefully navigating a tight bend in the road, everything is suddenly smothered by a thickening white fog as horizon vanishes right in front of our very eyes. The car slows to a crawl as an eerie silence descends. I suddenly remember the foggy morning in East London that concealed Canary Wharf from view; a lost moment in time that now lives safely in my heart forever.
Higher and higher we drive, embraced tightly in the fog.
And my mind is racing. I can't help but wonder if, with all the challenges and choices in life, we don't all get lost in the fog sometimes. There are days when the sky is cloudless, blue, we know exactly where we are going. And then there are times when we just can't see the wood for the trees.
But sometimes a fog is there just to remind us that, as long as we stay true to ourselves and trust our intuition, we will eventually find our way through, once again breathing under a blue sky.
And just when I think that we are never going to get out of this, we turn a corner and discover a bright burning sun once more.

The people in the picture

The afternoon sun is scorching. With barely a cloud in the sky, the only respite from the searing heat comes from an odd gust of breeze that randomly circles around the square and disappears just as quickly. 

And there he stands; brush in hand, bold of stroke. Framed either side by a row of majestic palms, I stand mesmerised by his poetry. The colours are bright and the paint, thick. He seems oblivious to everyone who dances in and out of his periphery. The only thing that exists is the Catedral da Sé in front of him. It captured his imagination and is now being brought to life through the canvas. They have a connection that I will never have. He switches brushes. I watch as he coats the hair in yellow and continues on, adding more detail to his creation. Passers-by stop momentarily to watch. And then I suddenly notice the people in the painting, frozen in a moment. I wonder where the man in the red top is now. And the child in the buggy. And the woman in yellow. Did she make her way up the stone steps into the cathedral, or did she disappear down into the Metro and is now standing on a crowded train homeward-bound? 

As I eventually say goodbye to the man and his canvas, a thought occurs to me: we encounter so many people on the journey through life, our paths cross for only a second. Sometimes we share words, sometimes just a glance. But regardless of whether people live inside a painting or in our heart, everyone has a story to tell, and underneath it all, we are family.

The change

The air is chilly. Something has changed. There were no fireworks, no announcements...just a simple glance downwards to spot the lone golden leaf adorning the evening pavement.
Trees will soon be bare and sunsets will arrive just that little bit earlier. And so comes the change.
The carefully packed boxes in my lounge suddenly make me realise that in two weeks, I will no longer be here - here in this flat, looking out over towards the glistening canal.
I will be gone.
As I watch summer skip merrily away for another year, I can't help but wonder what this new season will bring. Who will I be when the snow starts to fall?
A cold breeze whistles across my body and makes it shudder. Then as I zip up my hoodie, I look over towards the water. It is still flowing gently like it did the day before.
Then I realise something: As much as change can be scary, we have no choice but to embrace it. Whether we like it or not, everything on our beautiful planet changes every single day. It's meant to be that way. Every sunrise and season brings with it new opportunities; a chance to smile, to dance, to grow.
The cold pulls me out of my thoughts and I head inside. I lock the door, close my blinds, and turn on the lamp. The room is instantly bathed in a warm glow...and suddenly everything changes.

Rainy Tuesday

Tuesday evening rain splashes down onto cold pavement. It has been like this all day and looks set to carry on into the night. 
As the door to my office clicks shut behind me, I breathe deeply and watch my umbrella pop open...and so begins the commute home towards drawn blinds, soft lighting and a comfy sofa. 
I love these moments! Music pulsing through headphones down into my ears, I join the strangers on the street, and walk. I can't remember the last time I didn't feel at home here. Nights of feeling alone and scared in a big city seem like a lifetime ago. 
As I approach the corner to cross, I notice a massive, muddy puddle spilling out from the kerb into the road. I know this corner, and I see what's coming...As I take a step back away from the edge, people around me suddenly understand my movement and follow me in quick succession. We share a knowing smile with each other just as the bus trundles past and splashes the puddle up and out. 
Moments of random connection remind me that we are all related. 
And so I continue on towards the tube. I know that it will be packed down there this evening. A wave of peace washes over me in anticipation of the warm cocoon that awaits. I can get lost in the crowd once again and feel the mass of beating hearts. 
We see so many people every day on our journey, some familiar, some not. Sometimes paths cross to turn into something more meaningful, and sometimes, one glance is all we ever have. 
And as I begin my descent to the ticket hall, I can't help but wonder where all these strangers are off to tonight - strangers with their dripping umbrellas and soaked newspapers.

Homeward bound

As the train speeds through the tunnel, music floats into my ears. Scenes from earlier splash into my mind and begin to overlap: My friend's sweet little boy roaring like a monster, her lovely twin daughters randomly discussing Hula Hoops, us reminiscing about days gone by, and the rain that began to fall lightly over our picnic, making us pack up and call it a day...

Then I suddenly remember the old man playing a piano in the main concourse of St Pancras station just moments before we said goodbye. We stood there transfixed, watching him lost in his music, us getting lost in him.

My reverie speeds up time, and before I know it, I am standing on the wet evening platform once again, close to home. I watch the train disappear into the distance and suddenly realise that there is no one else around. I feel the light drizzle on my face and stand looking up into a darkening sky. Right at this moment, my friend and her family are speeding out of the city, whilst the piano man is settled in his seat, dozing peacefully as his train sways onwards.

And as I walk down the length of the platform towards the stairs, a thought occurs to me: even if I had wanted to, with all the will in the world, I couldn't have orchestrated this exact evening: The piano man, the picnic in the rain, the moments we laughed; all set against a dark blue, late August sky.

And all it takes is a second...a second to stop, a moment to realise, that we have so much more to be grateful for than we will ever know.

Connected

I love this time of day. The bustling city is changing gears to another pace. Final splashes of golden sun illuminate the grass below and cast shadows across the lawn as I sit looking out. Within a few short minutes, day will become night once more. I watch the last rays of evening light gently cover the city in its golden blanket, and even though there is still a pale blue sky, the street lamps have already come on to see us through the small hours.
Today I saw a picture of the earth taken from beneath Saturn’s rings. And today I saw a picture of a train wreck...I will go to sleep this night, a different person.
As I look down towards my hands, I suddenly notice the orange stains from the dead lilies that I placed into the bin earlier. An image of the child presenting the bouquet to me last week flashes through my mind, making me smile; gestures of kindness and gratitude that will never be forgotten.
I read somewhere that London was hotter than Bali! These warm summer days quickly give way to cool nights, and as a chill blows across my skin, I realise that the shadows are no more; we have spun away from the sun.
I am contemplating going inside for a hot Green tea when a thought occurs to me: In this moment, everything is happening; someone is laughing, and someone is crying; someone is arriving, and someone is dying. With 7.1 billion of us all sharing this planet, we are connected in ways we don't even know; variations of a theme with beating hearts and hopes and fears. We are family.
And as I make my way inside to put the kettle on, I know I'm not the only one.

The flower and the weed

Today, for the first in a long time, blazing sun greets me as I step out of the house. A slight breeze on my arms and a warmth on my skin tells me that our English summer is here. It seemed like the hovering grey clouds above would be a permanent fixture...but they are gone, for now. 
And as I walk past the grassy patch to my left, I see the beautiful little things that I used to love. Suddenly thrown back through time, I land in a field of daisies. There was something about the way they looked that always made me smile; like mini flowers growing wild, free.
Endless summers of playing out until the sun went down, of daisy chains, kiss chase, and he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not, float through my mind. I suddenly can't remember the last time I sat and played with the daisies...5, 10, 20 years ago?
There was something I heard once, I can't remember where or when: 'Weeds are just flowers in the wrong place.'
And as I look up into bright blue sky, I begin to wonder if the same can't be said of us too. Sometimes in life, we find ourselves in the company of people who can leave us feeling less-than. We can doubt our uniqueness and be labelled a weed. But that's the beautiful thing about us! We are all special in our own way, and like the mini flowers standing wild in the grass, we continue to grow and make the world a brighter place.

5-a-day

Feeling the first few drops of cool summer rain splash against my skin, I step casually into the quiet cocoon of the supermarket and snatch a basket from the pile as I walk past. Hit by an air-conditioned breeze, I instantly feel refreshed and ready to tackle the maze. And so I move forward into the aisle, suddenly engulfed by towering shelves and eye-catching labels. Plucking items from their metal branches, I place them one by one into my basket and continue onwards. Finally reaching the colourful fruit and veg, I stop to run through the list in my head and make my way over to the bright red peppers. My favourite song of the moment begins to play joyfully through blue headphones into my ears and I begin to think about what it means to get our 5-a-day. I have a new routine. My gratitude 5-a-day. Every night as I gently drift off to sleep, I run through the day and pluck out 5 things that I am grateful for: lessons learnt, conversations with friends, being lucky enough to see the sunset.... It's amazing how once we take a moment to really look at our life, we see how much we really have. Even on our darkest days, there is always something lying just under the surface to be thankful for.
And as I make my way through the checkout and back out towards the exit, I see that the rain is coming down heavily now...and I smile. Soon I will be home, safe and sound, grateful for the food in my bags and the music in my ears.

Dust down

As I bang my hand onto the chair's stripy blue canvas, particles of a season's worth of settled dust are released out into the air. It suddenly hits me how long it has been since I've sat out here. Apart from the semi-constructed concrete shell blocking the once uninterrupted view of Canary Wharf, my physical surroundings are exactly the same.
And so I sit, looking out over towards the flowing canal which lies just beyond budding branches. For a long time it seemed as if everything had died; barren limbs blew patiently in the breeze, waiting for the moment of change. They waited and waited, never giving up hope, stoic against frosty mornings and stormy evenings. It looked as if they would remain this way forever...
Then, just like clockwork, everything began to change. The sun came out and bathed everything in its warmth.
Something catches my eye, pulling me out of my reverie. As I look down towards the daisy-filled grass, I notice a bumblebee making its way through the air and come to rest on a clover patch. It is the first one I've seen in months and heralds a new beginning.
I am suddenly struck by how delicate life really is; it is precious, and beautiful, and amazing, and perfectly imperfect. Beneath heartbreak and struggle, something truly special lies. Seasons change and people grow, and even in our darkest days, in incredible ways, life has a way of making us smile once again.



My love goes out to everyone touched by tragedy, and pray that one day, you too will smile once more.

First

Walking out into early morning, the sky, still a sleepy blue, begins to wake. It is literally freezing this morning. At some point during the night, whilst I was fast asleep, the first few flakes of snow fell silently to earth. The light bouncing off the crisp whiteness bathes me in its glistening glow. And then I hear it, I feel it...The sensation that suddenly floods my body with utter joy; snow crunching and compacting under my feet. Being one of my secret pleasures in life, I begin to smile as I take a deep in-breath of air and watch as a cloud of warmth leaves my body and vanishes just as quickly. 

With the realisation that this is the first snow of the year, I begin to think about all the other firsts in my life; the first time I came to this bustling city, alone...the first time I sat on a plane and watched the ground drift away...the first time I ate gelato...the first kiss...the first time I found love and the first time I lost it. 
Life is littered with firsts and, as constantly changing as the world is, that will never change. There are endless opportunities for new beginnings everywhere, and as I continue on my journey, I suddenly feel excited for all the firsts that are yet to come.

Journey on

The first candle I lit was for the little nana with a penchant for crochet and sparkly things, then another for the little school children I didn't know, then one for the brave woman who battled courageously right up until the very end, and one for the spirited man who simply gave up, tired and ready for the next adventure...I had lit too many candles this year. I was tired and emotionally drained. Nothing appeared to make any sense and the world was like a crazy ball of discordant mess.
And so, on the last day of the year, I closed my eyes and began to breathe…in and out, in and out, my lungs filling my chest. Overexposed snapshots came and went in a blur. Suddenly, in amongst the slideshow, a memory of being inside the Olympic stadium and the wall of sound that pounded straight into my heart flashed up. It was spectacular. Aside from all the tears and loss, this would also be the year that I witnessed determination and strength on a magnificent scale. I saw athletes without legs running faster than lightening and limbless swimmers moving gracefully through the water to a backdrop of rapturous applause and incredible support.
And then, as the clock struck midnight, in amongst all the fireworks and cheers, I realised something: There will always be new beginnings. Opportunities to heal and grow are everywhere because we are amazing and life goes on. Our spirits are strong and so is the love we hold in our hearts.
May you shine brightly in 2013 and find joy in everything you do.


Thank you so much for faithfully following my blog and for being a part of this incredible journey. I love you.

Dinosaurs and ice

As I say goodbye to the Diplodocus, I move smoothly through the revolving glass door and come out into the cold December evening. Walking down the steps, I turn my head to gaze down the length of this cathedral-like building and am immediately thrown back to when I first came to the museum as a child. It was like a dream, magical. Decades later, I am still awestruck by its sheer magnificence. Sparkling trees line the path, encompassing me in a festive cocoon and fills me with a sense of warmth and cosiness.

As I reach the ice rink bathed in blue light, something makes me want to stop. I stand there leaning against the thick Perspex wall and rest my head on folded arms. I watch as people wrapped up in woolly hats and scarves weave in and out of each other, circling, gliding. A smile creeps across my face as a couple struggles to stay upright on the ice. Like new-born lambs with limbs moving in all directions, they eventually land entwined onto the cold ice and I can't help but join in with their infectious loud laughter. And then, as the wind begins to pick up, I find myself drift off into thought. Our journey through life is rarely smooth. There are days when we glide effortlessly along the ice, picking up speed and dancing as we go. Then there are moments where we just can't find our balance. Despite all our best efforts, we still land flat on our face...but that's ok. Nothing is for nothing and sometimes it takes a fall to get us back on track. The best we can do is put both hands on the ground, push ourselves up and straighten our hair once again...For we are much stronger than we know.

A belated Merry Christmas to you all and I wish you all the joy in the world.

My heart also goes out to everyone who has lost loved ones this year. Say strong and remember that love is energy and energy never dies.

The gap

As I pull my favourite blue Japanese cotton scarf up around my ears, I make my way down the steps and onto the empty platform. For some reason there doesn't seem to be a soul around this evening. I walk up to the pillar that holds up the roof, and lean against it. For a brief moment, I am lost in the music flowing through my earphones and straight into my heart. There has been a chill in the air of late and for the first time this season, I watch as warm breath leaves my body and disappears into the cool wintry night.

And so I lean with hands in pockets, looking down along the silvery tracks that snake off miles into the distance.

Then something pulls my focus.

I glance down and notice three words printed boldly onto the cold concrete. How had I missed them until now?

MIND THE GAP.

These ten little letters suddenly get my mind spiralling off as I begin to think about the gaps in our lives. The space we have to cross to get to where we want to be and the things we tell ourselves along the way: I will be happy once I've lost the weight, and got that job, fallen in love and made that money...And when we eventually do get these things, we barely notice their presence in our lives because we are too busy thinking about how we won't be happy until we get that car and go on that holiday, have the baby and get that promotion.

I can't help but wonder if we are always in the gap. That space in between where we have just come from and where we are going. And maybe that's all there is anyway.

And could it be that within this gap lies our true potential? The potential to be courageous, loving, forgiving, inspiring, creative, generous, sparkling and fabulous?

Shift

The city is changing again. Just when I think I have a grip on it, something shifts. Last night's fitful sleep leaves behind a shadow of drowsiness. I should be closing my eyes but something pulls me out of bed. Shuffling into the lounge, I make my way towards the balcony door and pull aside the blinds. I have seen this hazy sun before. Everything around me glimmers; Canary Wharf, the crane which popped up from nowhere, and the green watering can filled with rain water; all bathed in the bright Sunday morning light. Reaching out, I touch the glass and immediately realise it’s cold outside. Warmth washes over me as I reach to take a sip of fresh coffee...something else catches my eye. A bundle of paper held together with a bulldog clip. Basking in the sun, it sits there on the side. Waiting, watching; my unfinished book.

The Christmas channel has started back again; 24 hours of non-stop made-for-TV movies. My mind leaps back to last year and the week I watched nothing but festive films back to back, wrapped up in a feather duvet. I smile as I look up at the pale blue cloudless sky. For some strange reason I jump to the cemetery in which my mum's body lies. There is no headstone. I try to picture the morning sun splashing through the trees and onto the damp grass below. She's out there somewhere, the woman who lives in my dreams. And as I take another sip of coffee, I can't help but wonder if I will ever stop looking for her.

Moments

Autumnal evening rain begins to fall. The sky was blue when I left the house this morning and now cool drops are finding their way onto my face as strangers around me begin to rush home.

I make my way up the steps towards the platform and look up at the illuminated board.

Next train: 4 minutes.

At least I'm undercover. And so I stand there at the top, sheltered from the rain, looking around.

I watch as a couple on the other platform walk slowly from one end to the other, pulling heavy cases behind them. I wonder where they have travelled from and where they are going. The only other person on my platform is a man sitting at the end, engrossed in the evening edition of a newspaper. I wonder what story he is reading and what he makes of this crazy, beautiful world we live in. My attention is pulled upwards as a plane begins to climb noisily away from City Airport. Soon it will be high above the clouds just in time to catch the last glimpse of a burning sunset, invisible to the rest of us down here.

Next train: 2 minutes.

My mind starts to wander and I think about how everything seems to be in a constant state of change. Conversations and moments flood my mind as rain continues to fall onto glistening concrete.

And then I realise something.

I will never again be standing on this platform, watching these particular people on this wet, late September evening. As soon as I leave here, this moment will be gone, forever.

As the train pulls gently in, I'm reminded that wherever we go in life and whatever we do, we only ever have this moment...And everything's perfect.