The last Rebel Yell and Ben’s gift of Balance

Symbol of Change

I have always been an extremist. Black/white, right/wrong, yes/no – well, let’s face it, mainly no, to any form of authority. Rebel without a cause. Rebelling mainly it seems against myself – making life hard for myself, beating myself up or putting myself on a rack of my own making. Goodness, what a torturous path I have been trudging all these years.

I am a firm believer that children come to teach and heal us. They mirror us so perfectly and show us ourselves, they hold candles to illuminate our dark corners and recesses – those shadowy places where we would rather not see how we are, how we behave, what we show the world.

We ask ourselves where they get their ideas about life and how to behave from, and if we are brave enough, we see ourselves. It’s not pretty. It’s very confronting. Sometimes it is truly horrible. All we can do is change ourselves, our reactions to the world, our interactions, our perceptions. And we can read and listen and learn and try to be better parents, different parents to the way we were parented – less controlling, more patient, kinder etc . . . it all sounds so nice and sweet and obvious – but when the child is tired and hungry and throwing a complete tanty and the mother is desperate to get same child to bed so she can have some peace and quiet, things can degenerate very quickly if the Mum reacts at all. In other words, it’s bloody hard work!

Balance and the middle ground were unknown to me until Ben, the perfect Libran, came into my life and slowly, slowly (and against my knowing) started pulling me from my alternate extremes into the middle – neutrality, balance.

I see so clearly now how swift and sudden my swings can be. The recent cleanse has shown me how much of a role what we eat plays in our emotional and physical wellbeing. Now that I am back on ‘normal’ food I am finding that I miss how good I felt on the paleo primal diet and how many grainy foods really don’t agree with me. Just ask Ged about the first time I had lentils after my cleanse!!

So many grainy starchy foods are convenient and quick, requiring little thought or pre-planning but don’t serve us either in energy, clarity of mind or digestivity (did I just make that word up?) Of course vegetarians have to eat lots of pulses and grains to stay full and get enough protein. They are safe, familiar and filling. But actually, I have to admit, I felt amazing on the veggies, meat and seeds.

But now that I am eating grains again, I don’t fancy meat so much but I don’t feel as good in myself. I don’t want rules around food because as an anorexic and bulimic I have imposed far too many of those on myself in the past but I do want to feel the best I can – body, mind and spirit. I have long known that my vegetarianism was just another way of controlling what I ate and would ‘allow’ myself to put in my body. For sure I just need to relax and have no rules but I think it is important to know what serves me, nourishes me, fuels me. Because as I learn to love myself more I want to give myself what is good for me.

Because it feels like for so much of my life I have been torturing myself – with my thoughts, diet, repetitive running, and other strict regimes. And rebelling against any form of authority with my giant ‘f**ck you’. But in the process have been hurting only myself. Smoking for 15 years to spite my parents (hello?), drinking to excess to spite myself, drugs as my anti-establishment two finger salute, but the only one I harmed or scared or hated with all that was myself.

And I have always rebelled against ‘goodness’. Why don’t I want to be ‘good’, why do I want to be ‘bad’. Or is it that I believe I AM bad and therefore want to hurt myself accordingly, or that because I am bad I don’t deserve good things, or gentle treatment, or nurturing . . . or love?

I rebelled against my cleanse and jumped off the wagon to start supping my tea again. But you know what, my body has been telling me for more than 4 years that I have to give up the black tea. And I keep fighting and reclaiming my last great addiction, clinging to that pommy warming sustenance which actually no longer serves me. Bucking feeling good, clear and bright in the head, and glowing in body and mind. Why? Because I want to have one last vestige from my past life as an addict – because I want to stay an addict? because I want to feel bad? and be stressed and be cranky instead of peaceful and happy?

Wow, this self-sabotage of mine is sometimes mind-blowing. Literally.

I am going back on the cleanse in order to shed this unhealthy habit once and for all. And to let my light shine unfettered. And because tea stresses my adrenals which then hurt and powers up my negative monkey mind, whereas herbal teas make me feel lovely and ‘good’ and happy. I am going to further explore the no grains paleo primal diet and work out how to bring more health-giving foods into our lives and lifestyles, without compromising taste and flavour (I am always up for a bit of a kitchen magic challenge!)

I don’t know why I am so scared – I have been caffeine free before and it was great. Maybe it was because I was fat then that I am so scared of getting fat again (hello, that rings true!) I can be caffeine free and slim for sure!

In two weeks I am going to walk the middle way – balancing meat, grains, fruit and veg in healthy quantities (am so loving my huge daily salad). And picking fresh herbs from my beautiful herb garden for tisanes and fresh, healing drinks which nurture and sustain me.

I want to thank Ben who all those years ago brought meat into our lives and instigated the raising of our own meat animals and who shows me myself in all my fury and who is teaching me to love my inner child, the importance of play and relaxation, and how precious family time is together – just the three of us.

Both Ben and Ged have taught me that while it is tempting to rail at the behaviours and actions of others, we can only change, and heal, and help, ourselves. And by changing the way we see and react to the world around us, everything changes – the world shifts and a new paradigm is born.

So here I am, letting go again, free falling into the unknown and trusting that the grass is truly greener on the other side . . . so mote it be.

Mother Love

My parents have been visiting from the UK.  It’s the first time they’ve been to Avalon since our wedding here on the farm so you can imagine what a huge effort we put into trying to get all the outstanding jobs finished before they arrived (the thing is, there are always a million jobs still to do on a farm . . . )

We have always fought like cat and dog.  I was so angry and felt so rejected when I was sent away to boarding school aged 8 and I hated school and didn’t try, so I didn’t get good grades and I was an endless disappointment to my parents who knew how intelligent I really was.  I was an angry and troubled soul who rebelled as a teenager.  I hurt myself as much as I hurt them – smoking, drinking, sex games etc  Of course I failed miserably in my ‘O’ and ‘A’ levels and the family myth is that I got expelled for smoking.  At least with a change of schools and a headmistress who saw past the bluff and bluster to the pure heart beyond (thank and bless you Miss Hibbert you turned my life around and were the first person who gave me reason to believe in myself) I finally made good friends and began to belong.

My lesbian liaison didn’t help relationships with my parents and my subsequent heterosexual hedonism was more cause for concern and criticism.  Then I had an abortion and ran away to Hong Kong and pastures new.

Relationships were always strained and full of censure although we always had our honeymoon periods before I crashed and burned in some way in my selfish acts of self sabotage.  Needless to say I have been the black sheep and true to form have dabbled in all the addictions and explored far and dark horizons of the soul, psyche and society.

Not surprising them that they have viewed my spiritual journey with mistrust, that they have had to pick up the pieces financial and otherwise more times than any of us care to count or mention.  If their story has been one of disappointment, frustration and despair, mine has been that of rejection, lack of love and never being seen or heard for who I truly am rather than measured up to who they want me to be.

Needless to say its a relationship of tears and sorrow, rage and rejection and failure from all sides to forgive, let go, start afresh or see the other’s point of view.  Part of the problem is that we are all so alike.  Not only did I inherit my father’s nose, varicose veins, dodgy hip and temper, but I inherited my Mother’s constant criticism, aspirational nature and love of nice things, wealth and money.

Somewhere in there though is a pure and innocent, trusting and perfect heart.

This year as you know I have travelled deeply into my story and my self hatred, I am learning to forgive and nurture and be kinder to myself.  I have been opening my heart space with my ‘Heart of Yoga’ and have released a million tears and some long held heartache.  Instead of being a cold hard stone in my chest my heart is a living breathing thing.   I have had a huge shift.

None of us are getting any younger and who knows when or if  we will see each other again or whether they will visit Australia one more time so we were all determined not to fight or fall out.  We all decided not to spend too much time together and to bite our tongues and we succeeded.  By the second week when we had hardly spent any time together we all realised how much we loved each other and even had some beautiful times and some precious memories I will treasure in my heart forever.

Showing my parents the pristine rainforest of Angle Creek I held my Mother’s hand many times as she clambered over rocks – I don’t remember ever holding my Mother’s hand before.  Papery, warm, small and gentle, it was beautiful and somehow in those moments in the healing cathedral of green that is Angle Creek, where Mother Nature comes to rest, heal, nourish and nurture, something between us that has been broken for 40 something years was finally mended.  A miracle happened and I realised that contrary to my life ‘s lament that I hate my Mother and that we don’t get on, I realised that I love her.  Always have, always will.

She isn’t perfect, she is sometimes very unkind, she sometimes says things that are cruel or hurtful or thoughtless.  So do I. But like me she has a golden heart.  Like me, she had a far from perfect childhood and was abused and damaged.  Like me she longs to be loved and shows her love with the giving of gifts.  Like me she has a doughy belly and snake like skin on her shins.

Maybe the reason we have butted heads so often and for so long is because we have looked in our mirror reflections of each other and not liked what we have seen . . .

But finally, aged 45, in the middle of my life, I am able to proudly say ‘I love my Mother’, I am part of her, she is part of me, she made me, grew me, nurtured me, shaped me.  I chose her for a reason – so I could learn what love is and what love isn’t and finally learn to forgive and love unconditionally.  I love you Mummy, I really do x