Intuition

Over the last year I have had an amazing lesson in trusting my intuition.

In some ways it has been a costly lesson too - when I haven't trusted my intuition. In other ways it has been difficult to trust my intuition because of others' expectations.

However, I have now had so much proof that the only thing I should follow is my intuition (which is different to following your ego), that I have enrolled myself in a course with lady G (no, not lady GaGa) to learn how to use my intuition, and how to distinguish between intuition and ego. As she couldn't start a course immediately, I purchased a book from her and made a start on developing this skill. And I also booked myself into a healing session with lady G, as a last final resort to try and get rid of the cancer. (Rather than having it removed through an operation).

Tonight the phone rings. My husband picks it up, then he looks at me with that questioning look - "Do you know a lady G?". I snatch the phone from him. "Hello, lady G, how are you?". "I am well, but, I have a situation, and well ... I can no longer give you the course, I can't give you the healing, I simply need to stop working immediately". I thank her for letting me know, and wish her well in her situation and I assure her that I will be fine with mine.

I hang up, raise my hands up to the air, and call out "Allelluia!". To the observer it might look like I have just been let down. But the universe plays out its game like a cleverly designed multidimensional game of chess, where every move, however subtle, is carefully calculated, and events plait themselves together and weave apart as required.

The message I have just received from the universe, is that I have arrived! I do not need lady G's healing, and I no longer need the course. I am doing just fine following my own intuition, and distinguishing between it, and my ego.

I am now totally at peace with my situation, my cancer and my life. Cancer has taught me an important lesson in my life. Not just one of following my intuition. It taught me one of value. Of balance. It taught me that above all things is my health. That it's a privilige to be alive. It taught me that you can only do a limited number of things in a day, and you are fully in charge of what they are. So you should do the things that are most meaningful to your life. The opinions of others are just that ... the opinions of others.

Of course it has been, and will be a painful lesson. The operation looms a mere few days ahead of me. But I know that things will go well. I know that the universe wants me to be alive. It doesn't just want me to be alive. It wants me to achieve my dreams. That's why this is just such a small hump in the road. Because there is so much "life" still ahead of me.

Could I have learnt some, or even all of these lessons earlier? Of course I could have. Life and the universe had been sending me hints for years. Some hints were too subtle, and I never stopped to think about them. (I don't know, do you call a raptured ACL too subtle?) Other hints were too confronting, and I found them insulting, and turned away from them with arrogance. I was too tough, too fit, too much of a tomboy, feeling too much like an invincible 25 year old. It took Breast Cancer to stop me in my tracks, and make me grow up and become a woman. Or should I say ... an Amazon?

Maybe I'll take up archery on horseback?

Horses have feelings too

Tornado is a slightly cheeky pony, and one that doesn't always love the attention of his devoted five year old owner.

Putting his ears back and running away from the little girl are frequent occurrances, but he has also been driven to extremes of biting and kicking out. Of course, when these things happen, Mum steps in to call truce and both the little girl and the little pony get some re-education, as most of the time, both are at fault in some way.

I guess the pony could argue his case that "she started it", but ... well ... whatever.

Today Sabina and I head out soon after breakfast and saddle up Tornado. Sabina never eats very well for breakfast, and normally I am loaded with snacks. Not so today. Fatal mistake.

By the time we have the pony brushed and saddled, Sabina is out of energy. Some small tiny insignificant little issue sets her off, and bingo, she's in tears. I try and soothe her with words.

Tornado lets out a big sigh, walks over to Sabina and cuddles his head into her chest. Ever so gently. It works like a magic healing balm. Sabina, overwhelmed, gently cuddles his head, wipes her tears, and is all smiles again. Ready to ride.

If I hadn't seen it myself, I would have never believed it.

Water

As part of our spiritual retreat we watch DVDs. Yes DVDs. Carefully selected DVDs. Tonight we watched a DVD on water.

Have you ever wondered why water in its solid state (ice) floats in its liquid state? This doesn't follow the laws of physics of any other compound.

There are a bunch of scientists that have been puzzled by this property of water, and so, they have been studying it. This is what they have discovered, in a nutshell.

Water has a memory. If you treat it with love and gratitude it will heal you. If you treat it with anger and rage it will do you no good. Holy water is holy. It has properties that can heal you.

Water likes to flow, via gentle curves and over sloping ground, and in nature. When water pours out of your home tap it has been chemically treated, it has gone via a series of long pipes, it has been pumped under high pressure, it has flowed via right angle turns. That water feels hated. It has the memory of hate. If you drink that water it will have a draining effect on you.

The good news is, that all you need to do is bless your water with the words "Love and Gratitude" before you drink it.

For those who are interested, I am hoping to be able to host a showing of this DVD at my house, at some stage soonish.

Tough Day

I had a bit of a tough day today at the retreat. I never thought it could ever get to this point ... but I actually felt like just packing my bags, and heading home. Yes, I felt like quitting.

Of course, I come from the school of "You never quit". So, I am still here at the retreat.

I was wise enough to bring up my resistance with my teacher. And I must admit that she is a true spiritual master, in the way that she handled it. She got me right back on track and for the rest of the evening my head was spinning (I think it's still spinning now) as I tried to catch up. (I find that when you take huge spiritual shifts, your mind spins, sometimes to the point of nausea. It is very disorientating, and the sensation itself makes you want to quit.)

Now that the day is over I am really glad how it has all turned out. I have just learned probably the most important lesson of the entire course. As my spiritual teacher says - "it is in our darkest moments that we learn our most important lessons". So true.

Feeling like a kid in a lolly shop

The lady running the retreat is warm and wonderful. She also knows a lot more about wholistic eating than I do. So the pantry is stacked full of exotics I have never heard of like Agave juice and Chinese red dates. She has brewed up a pot of chai that I can't seem to get away from. She made us the most delicious porridge with ginger and Chinese red dates.

Before I went on this retreat, my parents were very worried that I might lose weight out here.

In the meantime ... I feel like a kid in a lolly shop!

Retreat

I have gone on a 10 day live-in retreat. It's FANTASTIC!

We live in a lovely cottage, that I don't have to clean. Someone else is doing the cooking. All I have to do is turn up to classes every day. Life is bliss!

Change of Diet

I have had a solid few days to do some reading about cancer.

The nurse told me to read the booklets she gave me, and not to surf the internet, and not to change my diet.

I read the booklets (which proved far too simple for the level of understanding that I require), surfed the internet, and now I am changing my diet.

So it's mainly fruit and veggies for me - preferably fresh, raw and organic. Some nuts and seeds. I am not sure about the meat yet - a lot of cancer advice suggests taking the meat out. However, most of our meat comes from next door, and we know that these are the least stressed cows in the world, fully grass fed, and kept on pretty much organic land. So for the time being, the meat stays in.

Alcohol, caffeine, sugar, bread and pasta is out.

The schedule

On Monday I got a sick leave certificate from the doctor and stopped going to work.

But it's not like I have all this free time to ponder things over. I have a new full time job. I attend what seems like a 1000 and one doctors appointments - mammograms, ultrasounds, biopsies, CT scans, bone scans, blood tests, and consultations. And in between all these, my husband and I are busy reading up on the disease, its causes, its progress, and the cures. I am seriously working 10 hours a day, 5 days a week.

The mammogram

The mammogram was a week ago. I went to the mammogram appointment after a particularly stressful moment at work. So when I went into the X-ray room and I felt tears stinging my eyes I couldn't decide whether it was the stress of work or the probability of cancer. "You're still young, you've got a good chance", said the radiologist, as she proceeded to take photo after photo after photo. Two huge tears hit the deck. She didn't seem to notice. It felt good to let the tears go, so I stopped holding back. The radiologist seem immune to them. She just kept asking for different positions, and kept taking photos. You don't take that many photos if you don't suspect something.

By the time I went in for the ultrasound, the tears were coming thick and fast. I had become a waterfall worthy of tourist attention, by Australian standards anyway. The ultrasound technician seemed just as immune to the tears. And what hurt me the most was not the fact that I might die. Because I won't die. Not from this. It wasn't the fact that I might lose a breast. (Although maybe that childhood game of being an Amazon was a bit tactless). It was the fact that there might never be another baby. And even if there is, that baby will never feed from that breast.

Meanwhile ...

Here we are busy with this, that and the other, enjoying our farm and lifestyle, making plans for a bed and breakfast, when out of the blue I get diagnosed with breast cancer. Ouch. The breaks on our life screech to a halt.

Christening the new float

So, yesterday I picked up the new float. Now, horse floats are used for transporting horses. About 50% of the time. They are also very useful for moving furniture, taking rubbish to the tip, and doing other runs that are part of every day living.

Everyone has their own idea about christening the new float.

Firstly, it gets a name "The Flummery". Then, I barely bring it home, and Pete insists on christening it by taking some kitchen cupboards up to the farm.

In the morning, at first light, I christen the float my way - I take Crownie to pony club for some cross country training. Crownie, of course, christens the float her own way.

Then I barely return from pony club, when Pete insists we use the float to pick up the trees we bought last weekend.

On the return trip, we decide to test the user experience. I jump in the float, and have a ride.

By the time we've had the float for 24 hours, it's well and truly christened.

And I haven't even mentioned the wombat. Oooops. I think I just did.

Mothers' Day

We celebrate Mothers' Day with a sleep in, presents for mum, and freshly baked croissants.

Well, it's a sleep in for me, but husband groans at the 7:40 start dictated by our little girl. On the days when I quietly get up and go horse riding, Sabina is quite capable of sleeping in till 8:30. 9:30 if you're really lucky.

While I am still lazing around in bed, Sabina brings me presents. Fist two drawings of a very happy mother. Then a notepad. She's very proud of her choice of notepad, but she's not sure if it will actually hit it off with mum. I can see that everything rides on my approval. Her happiness, her confidence, almost her entire existence. I marvel at the notepad, and repeatedly comment on how pretty it is, and how useful it will be.

The croissants for breaksfast - they are from Sabina's school. I organised them, I followed the instructions to thaw them last night, and I bake them this morning. I am still the mum. Even on Mothers' day. But it doesn't matter. Just eating these yummy croissants for breakfast together is fantastic.

Later we dash off to the local tree nursery and buy a golden elm, and a norwegian maple. The golden elm will go next to the sandpit to create a shady canopy. The norwegian maple will line the driveway.

Towards the end of the day we have an early dinner. The farrier is coming tomorrow, and I am staying the night at the farm, while Pete and Sabina are heading back to town by train. The train is running 15 minutes late. 20 minutes, by the time it hits town. My mother spends the better part of an hour waiting for them to arrive at their destination, so she can give them a lift home.

She's still a mum. Even on Mothers' day.

Seasoned

I arrive at the farm in the evening, and unpack the car. The temperature inside the house reads 17 degrees C. 16.4 on the other thermometer. In the past, a mere year ago, this would have had me rushing off to the woodpile and starting a fire.

Not so today. It's not exactly balmy warm, but the fire won't make much difference once I am in bed under my superwarm doona. And in the morning the fire will be out anyway, so really, why bother.

Letter box

I arrive at the three letter boxes, enroute to farm. The middle letter box is ours.

As I drive up to the letter boxes, I glance unintentionally at Sabina. Her eyes are fixed on something. They grow bigger, wider, more intense. She has stopped blinking, and perhaps breathing too. It's as though she has seen a snake hanging on the fence behind the letter boxes.

Yeah right! I giggle to myself, and turn around to look at the fence. OMG! I almost jump in my seat. There IS a snake hanging off the fence!

Never, ever, doubt your children's facial expressions!

Mushrooming

Sabina and I drive off into the pine plantation next door. A couple of kilometres later we park on the edge of the track, and joyfully jump out, bucket in one hand, knife in the other.

It's been raining a lot recently, and mushrooms have popped up everywhere. Mainly the poisonous ones, but there is also a solid supply of the edible ones.

First we find the "maslaki" and I show Sabina how to recognise them. She collects them into her bucket.

Then we find "rydze". They are plentiful, and growing everywhere, and Sabina is forever fascinated how they hide under the pine needles.

A short time later, with one and a half buckets of mushrooms, we drive back to the ranch.

I clean and fry a few "rydze". Sabina loves them, and asks for more.

Have generator, can ...

open garage doors, use the stove and water. How good is that?

But, can't use the lights, fridge or kettle. No, if you want to use those, you have to plug the genrator into a different power socket. Then of course you can use the lights, but you no longer have running water.

Love it!

Have generator, will ...

read instruction manual.

We have finally bought a generator. Because out here, on the perimeter, when you lose power you lose the water pump, the lights, the stove, the ability to open garage doors. It's like going back in time a 100 years.

And, out here on the perimeter, you lose power pretty often. Once a week on average.

And, sometimes, when you do lose power, you better be the one to call the power company. Because it may turn out that the problem is your very own power pole in your own back paddock, and no one else but you and your two best buddy neighbours are experiencing a black out. And your best buddy neighbours have a generator, or three, so they don't care!

So we've bought one.

And tonight, husband is sitting and carefully reading the instruction manual.

The table

We've inherited a table from our friends. The beautiful wooden table is cleaned up and assembled.

The existing table is moved out, against the sofa. We clean the floor, then move the new table into position.

The new table is beautiful, don't get me wrong. And we really appreciate getting it. But it's huge in comparison to our old family kitchen table. It has converted our meals area from a cosy farm kitchen, to a ... well, boardroom. And I just can't get used to it.

In the meantime, Sabina has placed a lamp on the old table, and converted it into a desk. She looks like a football in the middle of the football field. Or like one of those super talented children in some movie, studying materials far beyond her five years.

We look like a bunch of hill billies who struck oil, got rich quickly, and lashed out without much thought or consideration for style.

Holiday Diary: Reading

Reading is definitely a great part of any holiday. There just seems to be so much time to read.

I really enjoy reading books during holidays, but because I am forever busy packing gear, I always forget to grab a book.

Somehow, I have been blessed to find a very interesting book at each of my recent holiday destinations. When we got away to Bright I managed to find John McEnroe's autobiography, which had me reading for hours into the night, and buzzing all morning.

Here in Merimbula, "The other Bolyen girl" by Phillipa Gregory catches my eye, and I honestly cannot get away from it. I hide away with it at every opportunity, almost to the point of being rude. But the historical detail, and more so, the politics in the book have caught me in their iron grip. I learn far more from it than from any book on marriage, relationships, or business acumen.

Holiday Diary: Gear

We arrive in Merimbula with two kayaks (and associated paddling gear), two bikes, and a boot full of boogy boards, nets and other sundry beach items.

The logistics of packing all this gear takes up days of thinking before the trip even commences. Then comes the packing itself. At least one hour just for the gear alone. Then the mental note ... our car now requires a clearance of at least 2.5m. Then the unpacking. Where to put the gear at the destination. Etc, etc, etc.

So is the gear really necessary? Doesn't "getting away from it all" mean you just take your beach towel with you?

I hate to say it, but in our case, the gear is necessary. We holidayed in Noosa a couple of years ago, and found it excruciatingly painful to watch paddling and bike riding opportunities pass us by, because we didn't have our gear.

Can't we borrow it? Gosh no! I guess I can't really tell the difference between one boogy board and the next, but kayaks and bikes are tailored to our needs.

So do we use the gear? Yes, yessety yes!

Going on holidays

We're off on holidays today. For a week. To Merimbula.

We do the obligatory stop at Bairnsdale and ride the flying fox. Then on through smoke filled bush and into New South Wales. Once you see a sign that says "Eden" you pretty much know you're in heaven.

When we arrive, Opa is standing on the balcony of the "Blue House" well aware that we managed to stock up on supplies at the pub.