by Belinda on August 15, 2012

Happiness is....

Happiness is....

Happiness is....all the glorious shades of peach, apricot and petal pink I'm seeing all around at the moment. On lips, on hips and on nails and tails, they're girl shades that make me smile. -Pink Patent Mary Janes “ At the first kiss I felt something melt inside me that hurt in an exquisite way. All my longings, all my dreams and sweet anguish. All the secrets that slept deep within me came awake. Everything was transformed and enchanted, everything made sense."
Bella to Edward

Bella to Edward

“You may be brave enough or strong enough to live without me, If that’s what’s best. But I could never be that self-sacrificing I have to be with you. It’s the only way I can live.” -Bella to Edward
Notes from Mr Kypo

Notes from Mr Kypo

7.45am - I am going back in a time machine 12 years ago and I am waiting to meet the woman who changed my life. - Mr.Kypo I may not make you the richest woman in the world. I will make you the happiest. - Mr.Kypo "I found my way home the very first time your eyes finally met mine." -Anon
Your Passport to Prettiness

Your Passport to Prettiness

"The most important relationship you have in your life is the relationship you have with yourself. Because no matter what happens, you'll always be with your self." - Diane Von Furstenberg '"With the right words you can change the world." (Charlotte's Web by E.B White)
This Lullaby

This Lullaby

"What did it feel like, I wondered, to love someone that much? So much that you couldn’t even control yourself when they came close, as if you might just break free of whatever was holding you and throw yourself at them with enough force to easily overwhelm you both." -Sarah Dessen (This Lullaby)

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An unhurried life

by Belinda on October 6, 2014

Bakers box 2

Bakers box

I miss her so much it aches. When the emotion of her not being here overwhelms my body, I am anchored back into the present moment and I am prompted by something I cannot explain. I  know she has passed away and she her visits are now shared in different ways. It is with this tenderness I feel an unhurried life is for me. My Nan reminds me of this.

An unhurried life transports me back to weekends spent at Nan’s around her dining table. No where to rush off too, we were grounded right where we were meant to be. We all would gather. Stories were shared, laughter could be heard, tears would sometimes fall, secrets were kept, food nourished our bodies and my Nan would sip her tea or coffee while she listened or offered touch on your hand if needed. Her eyes drank you in. They smiled and you knew you were the most important person to her in that moment.

Every meal my Nan made me was cooked with love. Every bite was mouthwatering and my body was taken over with love.

During these gatherings I knew I always wanted to create this in my own family. Our kitchen to be the centre of our home. I recall some weekends sitting there, closing my eyes gently and pray that I would be like her when I grew up. She served selfless.

As I grew so did my relationship with food. Gathering for meals served me with anxiety as a teenager and fat became my only thought. This transitioned into adulthood and has now grown into nourishment and anxiety no longer serves me. My meals aren’t filled with anxiety or fear that will not be received with pleasure, they’re unhurried. The process of cutting, mixing, blending and serving is mindful, pleasurable and a delicious warmth is served with an abundance of love. Meals are unhurried and are sacred.

I have wanted to transport these feelings further than our little nest at home to our businesses. I want to serve our educators and invoke  the emotion of my love and gratitude I have for them through homemade baked goods.

A few months ago when I was in Melbourne watching my sweet friend Tam who has created the same loved up environment in her home, I came across her Bakers Drawer. I immediately wanted one. It was beautiful. Handmade and the perfect vessel to transport my baked goods. Tam led me to Winnie and Co.

Reading their story behind the Bakers Drawer I traveled back to my Nan’s dining table and a longing for her. I wanted to encapsulated all my emotions.

I ordered a Bakers Drawer and I named it Philomena after Nan. I write our favourite meals out in a journals along with memories, feelings and thoughts that call forth and I relish in the knowing that my babes will find the journals  on day and use my Bakers Drawer. I like to think they too, with love, will be anchored back to the unhurried life when life overwhelms them, eat a meal cooked with love and drink tea slowly and share their stories.

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Happy Equinox

by Belinda on September 23, 2014

Happy Equinox. Midway through Spring. This is the time for equal day and equal night. The balance of light and dark.

Happy Equinox. Midway through Spring.
This is the time for equal day and equal night. The balance of light and dark.

Earlier today I sat here before work. I took out my journal and reflected. I wrote blessings of love and my words expressed much gratitude that I began to cry. I think about these things daily, however reading the words on the page, deep emotional meaning surfaced and I was overwhelmed.

This is the time of year we have a chance to invite balance back into our life.

As I wrote, I let go of old stories that no longer serve me, because really, who wants to replay a story that no longer serves them? I know this will be a daily practice, the ‘old’ stories have been on replay for far too long.

I honoured the light and the dark that resides within me and acknowledged without both, it wouldn’t make for the beautiful raw and awakening growth. The journey is delicious.

I expressed forgiveness for others and most of all myself.

Once I had written pages and pages of words, I took my shoes off and nourished my feet in the earth. I walked back to the car with my journal and pen in one hand, boots in the other, inhaling the view with a deep seeded love and zest for my life. I want to honour and embrace all transitions, always. They are magical and I know very deeply, I don’t want to rush any part of my journey.

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The rhythm of time

by Belinda on September 21, 2014

 

moving through time 2

‘The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.’ – Rabindranath Tagore

I listen to the rhythm of his breath. The rise and the fall! The rhythmic sounds draws me in and I kiss his sweet lips, I can smell his breath – A milk scent. I used to inhale his milky breath when he fed off my breasts. I can’t help but feel an ache in my chest with remembrance of the week he weaned himself.  For tonight, I long for that scent,that feeling.

I write in my journal as he sleeps reflecting on my day. Thanking the blessings, acknowledging thoughts, when my mind wondered to the thought of time. I looked over at the clock, I’d been writing for hours and the only sound that can be heard is his breath and the occasion car that drives past. Mr. Kypo and my older babes are out.

Time is a funny thing. I’ve wished it away, I’ve wished it still and other times, I have no regard or need for it.

I remember when all three babes were born and in the blissful days, weeks that follow, I relished in their time.  Time from a clock had no meaning.

My girl, so small and fragile I would cradle her, drink her in cocooned in Mr. Kypo’s arms. We’d just stare at her. Kiss her. Look at each other and stare some more. Loving eyes fixated on her. She would cry, my breast soothed her. My heart swelled so big knowing what unconditional love feels like. It was summer, the warmth in the air, still and thick. I wished for time not to tick another second.

My boy, my middle boy! He all mine. Milk drunk on my breast, he’d collapse his body into my chest. We perfectly moulded together. Mr. Kypo cocooned us in his arms, on a different lounge, in a different home and I wanted to pause. My boy, my middle boy and I  slept together. I’d wake to feed him through the darkness of the night, he my company in our bed while Mr. Kypo and my girl drove to visit Mr. Kypo’s family. Time ticked over, my awareness of it seemed to only be day and night. Outside the noise of the cicada’s echoed! The summer air was humid.

My baby boy, belonging to all of us. The curtains open, the light in our lounge -room warming us as I sit on our lounge. A different lounge, a different home bare chested, he too, skin on skin  nuzzling on my breast. Mr. Kypo sitting with us! I moved toward him and he marveled. His eyes reflected love, wonder and creation. We did it again. He fed me, he nurtured me, loved me. Time wasn’t still, I  didn’t wish it to be. I wished it would hurry. I longed for our older kidlets to be finished school, be at home where we are all complete. It was spring, the flowers were blooming the sun was subtle and birth was in the air.

My heart fills with a knowing tonight. As I write I can feel them. I’m back in the present moment of time. I hear the key in the front door they are home. I know it’s late, cars in our street can be heard more frequently, perhaps there destination is home too.

Time draws me in, reminding me to remember, to be still  and give blessings for it. Be in it and ignore the binding a clock can have.

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When you listen

by Belinda on September 17, 2014

The mix-match of yoga tights and my apron. My family. Home comfort.

The mix-match of yoga tights and my apron. My familiar. Home comfort.

I am really emotional, actually very tired. Parker has been awaking a lot and needs only his Mama. He is cutting his two year old molars, his last three. I know he is demanding my presence, so he should.

I am aware of all the extra noise. It’s as though my brain is completely full, my senses are heightened and I am retreating. Once again, I am deleted Facebook off my phone. Today I have checked it only once on the computer. I haven’t mindlessly scrolled through my newsfeed, I checked my messages, replied and logged off.

I’m in bed, dressed with my apron still on. A book sits beside me, I can’t bring myself to read it, it too is noisy. There is silence in our home. I can hear the birds chirping outside their conversation and I don’t wonder what they are chirping about. A lot of the time when I hear them, I make little stories up in my head about the Mama bird, her babies and their conversation. Today, I just observed.

Mr.Kypo is sleeping with Parker in the bunk bed, perhaps it is time to transition him from our bed. It’s 10.45am. Tears are swirling in the beauty of silence. It’s my sanctuary. It hasn’t always been. Silence has been a place I have resisted. I would fill up those moments with Facebook, blogs, talking on the phone and any other way of distracting me what used to be the loud noise in my head.

For today, I am relishing in the silence not through meditation, not through yoga, not through mindfulness, purely just being here.

My body wants warmth of my doona, my toes intertwine the bottom. The coolness brings relief and comfort. They have been here before.

Lotus is home sick and she’s in the other room. I question whether she too is craving the absolute beauty of nothing?

I know my body is getting ready to bleed. My thoughts tell me , my body is telling me. Its inner wisdom reveals all the answers. There is a dull ache in my back and I am feeling the need to be nurtured.

Go gentle I tell myself. Be gentle, you have permission. I feel humbled and grateful for these little moments when I listen, honour, feel deeply and love endlessly.

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My absolute yes and my absolute no

August 10, 2014

Spring is emerging. As I wander our neighbourhood, blooms are birthing and the colour is eye catching. I am excited to see what spring unravels for me as winter has been a season of raw, delicious growth. I have learned to not resist emotions, I’ve embraced them, listened, taken rest and begin to understand the […]

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