by Krista | Sep 3, 2018 | Spring
Morning sunshine is streaming through the kitchen windows as I sit quietly with my coffee and listen to the ticking of the cuckoo clock while I think through the last few months.
It has been deeply unsettling for me, in a painful, exhausting, yet wondrously beautiful way. There’s been a massive shift in how I occupy my place in the world, in how I feel about myself, speak to myself, view myself, and how I engage with others.
My foundations not only moved, they shattered into dust then reformed, stronger, so much stronger, than before.
I learned anew that there is a huge difference between believing things and knowing them.
Believing, to me, is mind stuff, head stuff, a conscious choice to force myself into alignment with something. But knowing a thing is so much deeper, an intrinsic gut feeling that “this” is true, good, right…for me…regardless of how things look from the outside.
They’re the inner, deep-seated assurances, the ones that provide the base from which we step out into the world each day. The feeling of being grounded, secure, safe, loved, worthy of being treated with kindness, respect, and compassion.
This shifting began when I walked my anxious self out into our bush and said aloud to Whoever Was Listening: please help me.
I’d reached a layer in my soul/spirit/whateveryouwantocallit that I couldn’t get past. It felt like our soil in this drought: dried out, hard as a rock, with crevasses that plunge down rather terrifyingly into utter darkness.
I didn’t know how to break through.
So I asked for help.
Some people think that you have to ask for help from certain sources, A Deity, an Institution, a Book. But honestly, I’m weary of those sorts of things.
I wince when I hear people say, “You can only heal if…you can only thrive if…” It’s so staggeringly arrogant. I cringe at the notion that there is One Answer, One Source, One Way, and if you happen to find help, healing, and support from anything else, you’re doomed.
To me that is Evil. It removes hope. It squeezes healing into the tiniest of boxes. It slams doors shut on options that may be just what we need.
It’s so easy to judge each other. To look in from the outside and say, “If only they would do/believe/feel this, THEN they’d be OK.” And, honestly, if we got down to the heart of it, what we’re really saying is, “If only they would do what I do/believe what I believe/feel the way I feel, THEN they’d be OK.”
And that’s simply not true.
Sometimes what works for me is just what someone else needs, and that’s lovely. But you know what’s also lovely? When they find something totally different that is just what they need.
It’s easy to celebrate with someone who believes and lives and feels the same way we do, but somehow it’s a whole lot harder when they’ve battled their demons, fought their fights, and healed their hurts in a totally different way.
For a long time it was hard for me when my friends found healing in religion. It was like they were saying to me, “Your abusive ex-husband is the best therapist EVER!” It took all the strength I had to celebrate with them as they found healing through prayer and Bible reading and going to church.
It was equally hard for them to celebrate with me when I found healing through non-religious things. They felt fear and anxiety and distress as I healed my deep wounds through Inner Child and Journey Therapy, Reiki, EFT, art, and other modalities.
But we learned together. We learned to value each other’s well-being above all things, more than religion, more than politics, more than lifestyle choices.
Basically, we learned to love.
That day I asked for help seems so long ago now. I had no idea the beautiful helpers who would come into my life and restore my faith, my hope, my purpose in this world.
I’m sitting here quite teary now, teary and smiley, because help looked so different than I anticipated. It did not undo the past or fix the present. Instead, help was love. Real love. Love that believed in me, trusted me, forgave me, valued me, and protected me, until I was able to do those things for myself.
It is an amazing thing to wake up in the morning and know that I’ve got my own back. That even if I feel anxious, afraid, or cranky, I still love, trust, believe in, accept, and forgive myself. Always. No matter what. And it makes me smile to see those things naturally spill over onto my people, to know that even if they’re out of sorts, sad, or feeling lost and unlovable, I still love them, I’m still on their side, I’m still here for them. We’ve got each other’s backs.
Today I met with one of the helpers who came into my life and she said, with so much love and compassion, “You can stop trying to heal from the past now. It’s time to live.”
Time to live. Yes. It is. xo
by Krista | Aug 24, 2018 | Autumn
When I was looking for accommodation in Tasmania, I knew I wanted a beautiful place where my recovering friend could rest between hiking adventures and jaunts to gorgeous Tasmanian beaches.
A place that felt like a holiday even if we didn’t go anywhere.
I found it at Armytage House in the tiny town of Bagdad, Tasmania, just north of Hobart.
Armytage House is a sandstone barn from the 1800’s that has been fully restored and converted into the coziest, most welcoming homestay.
My friend and I love good food, so having such a beautiful kitchen to cook up the gorgeous fresh seafood, salmon, apples, and foraged berries we collected on our travels was sheer bliss.
Shirley had the ground level room with easy access to everything, and I squirreled away in the loft, feeling like a little girl again as I snuggled down under a feather doonah and watched the stars through the skylight.
I loved every bit of this place, from the rough brick walls and towering ceilings to the wood floors perfect for sliding across and the enormous bathtub that was the best place at the end of the day to sip wine and watch the sunset through the trees.
Armytage House is now surrounded by thriving fruit and nut trees, lush gardens, and even chickens who provide fresh eggs for guests. It was so nice to wake up to the sound of roosters crowing and hens toddling about looking for bugs.
The gardens are beautiful here, with little formality but great charm and diversity.
Even in Autumn, when we arrived, they were vibrant and healthy, providing an oasis of calm for our stay.
This bench was a lovely spot to sit, especially on early mornings and at end of the day when temperatures dropped and the sun-warmed sandstone kept us toasty.
One of my favourite parts of this place was its location, set in an orchard of walnuts and numerous varieties of apples. I loved being about to walk outside and pick crisp apples each morning to take on our drive and add to picnics.
Armytage House is the kind of place where you want to spend a whole week just so you have time to not only venture out for adventures, but also have a few days to simply stay home and enjoy the outdoor kitchen, wander through the woods, and sit by the pond and hope for a glimpse of the resident platypus.
Autumn is a lovely time to visit, for the property and surrounding hedgerows are loaded with deliciousness to forage. From blackberries, haws, and rose hips to apples, walnuts, and elderberries, there is endless scope for imagination when it comes to planning menus around seasonal produce.
We enjoyed every variety of apple we could find, loaded up on ripe berries that we piled on cereal and desserts, and used rose hips for hot tea.
And most of all, we relaxed.
We took naps and went for solitary walks, read books and sat in the sunshine, had leisurely meals of fresh eggs and locally smoked salmon, homemade bread and handmade preserves.
It was wonderful.
Where is the most relaxing place you’ve stayed? xo
by Krista | Aug 9, 2018 | Autumn
I did a lot of driving in Tasmania, and absolutely loved it.
With its spectacular scenery, charming villages you just have to stop and wander through, and excellent, seasonal, Tasmanian food, this is a place made for road trips.
From lavish estates and former convict settlements to glorious beaches and lush gardens, Tasmania offers innumerable reasons to stop along the road and get inspired, informed, and fed.
After a wonderful morning at the beach, we headed down the east coast of Tasmania towards our next home base outside of Hobart, stopping wherever took our fancy.
Our first stop was Kate’s Berry Farm, a lovely spot perched on the side of a hill looking out over the ocean to the jagged peaks of Freycinet National Park.
It was such a nice place for a break, to soak up sunshine and gorgeous views, wander through the shop filled with locally-made products, and treat ourselves to delectable goodies: homemade strawberry ice cream and crispy waffles piled high with poached berries and ice cream. Mmm.
Our next stop was Spiky Bridge, a delightfully odd edifice that is part of the old convict coach road that connected Little Swanport and Swansea.
In the 1840’s, all convicts in Tasmania were required to serve part of their sentence in a government work gang rather than be immediately assigned to work for private settlers. The Spiky Bridge was built in 1843 by convicts serving time at the Rocky Hills Probation Station, and is renowned for being made of field stones with neither mortar nor cement to hold them in place.
The origins of its unique spiky design remain a mystery, but locals and historians hold a couple of theories. One is that it prevented cows from falling off the bridge into the deep gully on either side. The other, and the one I like best, is that disgruntled convicts decided to get revenge on their supervisor by sticking rocks in all higgledy-piggledy. Based on the saucy nature of the Aussies I know, this is just the sort of thing they’d come up with.
We got back on the road again, taking our time to enjoy the wild, rocky shoreline.
Anytime we came to a side road or dirt track heading towards the ocean, we’d follow it to see what we could see.
We were never disappointed.
I stood on windswept rocky outcroppings, breathing deeply of sea air.
Sat on sun-baked boulders to watch waves crash onto white sand beaches.
Carefully walked down gravel-strewn pathways to find hidden coves of clear, turquoise water.
Now and then I’d spot a hiker scrambling over the cliffs, kids splashing in the water, and once, a solitary figure reading a book, all by themselves with only the wind and sea for company.
I loved this stretch of coastline, and promised myself I’d return one day to camp and hike and find a solitary cove to read in.
Do you have a beautiful place you’d love to return to one day? xo
by Krista | Aug 6, 2018 | Winter
I always like doing herbal workshops. Whether it’s a demonstration at a medieval festival or gathering around the kitchen table in someone’s home, the camaraderie, sharing, and tactile activities of chopping, stirring, and tasting are a delight.
Yesterday I got to spend several hours with a fabulous group of folks from all over the district who wanted to learn and share and connect with kindred spirits.
We met at a farm way out in the hills, and arrived over gravel roads, passing adorable little rock wallabies and the occasional cow foraging for grass in shady nooks on the sun-baked hillsides.
It was such a lovely spot for this sort of thing. We were surrounded by trees and beautiful gardens, and the owner’s grandchildren shyly brought us welcome cuppas before dashing off to hang out with their mates.
There were good visits around platters piled high with chocolate desserts, group Reiki sessions that left every one of us feeling calm and cared for, a lazy lunch around a big wooden table, and my workshop on medieval folk medicine and herbal remedies.
I loved it. All of it.
I loved meeting such delightful people who not only shared generously of their knowledge and experience, but received the care and input of others with open-armed welcome and deep respect.
Everyone represented unique walks of life, distinctive paths of healing and belief, yet there was no competition, no one-upmanship, no looking down of noses towards those whose experience or beliefs veered in a different direction.
It felt safe, loving, caring, and peaceful, and I felt teary more than a few times as I reflected on what a gift it is to find so much kindness in people who were strangers to me and each other.
I returned home bursting with things to discuss with Bear. My experiences that day confirmed some hopes and dreams I’d been squirreling away, hoping that one day I’d get the chance to bring them to fruition.
Sometimes, when it comes to dreams, we press on without any support or encouragement, and sometimes, just when we need it most, folks come along to give us precious nudges that give us that last needed push to step up and do it. Whatever it is.
So today, as I plant herbs and water gardens, feed animals and put away all my herbal regalia, I smile and breathe deep and give thanks for beautiful connections with good people and hope that comes when you least expect it.
Do you have a dream you’ve got tucked away? Is there something you can do today that will take you one step closer to bringing that dream to reality? xo
by Krista | Aug 4, 2018 | Autumn
My favourite part of my holiday in Tasmania was being outside, nearly all day, every day. The Autumn weather was spectacular with unabashed sunlight, crisp, cool mornings and deliciously warm afternoons. Evenings were for bundling in sweaters and blankets, but during the day it was sandals and sundresses, with only a pashmina handy to wrap around my shoulders when the wind picked up.
I spent as much time outdoors as I could, basking in the stunning natural beauty to be found at nearly every turn.
My favourite place was the beach. It’s always the beach. From rocky and wild with sheer cliffs to vast stretches of soft white sand, the beaches in Tasmania are exquisite.
This one was just down the coast from Swansea and looked out across the bay to the soaring peaks of Freycinet National Park.
Apart from a lone walker south of us, we had the entire beach to ourselves.
We each ambled away at our leisure, Shirley heading one way, me another, grateful that we’re both just as happy on our own as in each other’s company.
I stood in the water a while, letting the cold, clear waves lap at my legs, wetting the hem of my sundress. The sand felt so good underfoot. Each step like a massage, easing away the stress and pressure of everyday life.
This beach held a treasure trove of shells, polished stones, and sea glass, and I loved sorting through the cracked and broken pieces, finding a few to take home with me.
I walked and walked, letting the wind toss my hair about, filling my lungs with salt-tinged air, feeling the sun burnishing my skin with what would surely be the last bit of colour before the onslaught of winter.
I clambered up into the dunes and sat among the sea grass, running my hands over it’s spiny edges, watching it dance in the wind off the water.
I’d seen this piece of driftwood from afar when we first arrived, but when I approached from a different angle I was astounded to see it transform from an old bit of wood into a gnarled stag or seahorse. Wonderful.
Of all the lovely things I’d experienced thus far in Tasmania, spending an afternoon on this beach was the most precious. My spirits revived here. My body awoke as if from a deep sleep. And I felt connected to the world again, ready to explore this beautiful island with renewed courage and excitement.
Soon our growling tummies reminded us that we’d better get back on the road and find some lunch. There were still gardens to explore, a berry farm to visit, and so many more beaches to stop and swoon over before we arrived at our new home near Hobart.
So up the dunes we went, turning often to sigh happily over all the gorgeousness, until the ocean disappeared and we were back on the road.
I’m so thankful for video and pictures that let me revisit this place whenever I need it.
Do you have a favourite beach you like to visit? xo
