Miss Mandie

The objects of my affection

As with most love affairs, this one took me by surprise. It was love at first sight if I’m honest. Our first meeting set amongst the backdrop of the glitter and glam of the Gold Coast. There they were, tucked into a corner (that infamous line by my teen heartthrob Patrick comes to mind), looking as beautiful as ever. I knew I had to have them. And for the bargain basement price of $6. Ohhhh, my heart skipped a beat.

I was indulging in one of my favourite past-times – procrastinating from study by scouring op-shops (secondhand stores for the international readers). This time I had a co-conspirator – Regina, a fellow student and from what it seemed, fellow procrastinator and lover of things recycled. I’ve never been one to pay much attention to crockery. I bought a heap when I first left home, got a dinner set when I got married and other than purchasing some big (I mean big enough to dwarf any sized meal in them) bowls last year, I haven’t invested much time and energy into what I eat off. Until now that is.

When I got home last night, I sat outside on my verandah, enjoying the last remaining moments of daylight, as I munched my way through some cheese and crackers, on one of my newly purchased plates. I swear it tasted better. I sat the plate at the sink with the other dirty plates. As I walked past later on in the evening (yes, I’ve gotten better at leaving dirty dishes in my house for longer than a minute), I swear that part of the kitchen looked more sophisticated and charming. Seriously. I stood and admired this plate amongst the dirty dishes for a moment. There was an obvious distinction between the usual “made in china and owned by 3 million other people” to these “made in England and slightly cracking from age” plates.

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One thing about my life – it’s never dull. This morning the lawnmower man discovered a tombstone in my backyard.

Backyard Tombstone

No kidding. It was hidden behind a tree, in a patch of grass that is not normally mown. I haven’t yet managed to speak to the owner of the house to find out the full story. In the meantime, I did what any person in the 21st century would do when they want to know something – I googled it. And discovered this:

Hoping to Live, Preparing to Die

Alia Kazan

High up here in my oak tree. Strong. Solid. So unlike me at this time… so small and frail… here in my sacred place I am nestled in giant branches. Held… like I am never held by anyone. High above them all, I am safe, without a care in the world… except perhaps I wish mom and I saw eye-to-eye more often. But here I am with my reverie. Free to dream and plan the life that lies ahead… the children I’ll have, and how happy I’ll be, and of course how healthy.

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Something strange is happening to me. It first started when I heard someone refer to themselves as a “recovering perfectionist”. Wow, I thought. I’d love to be able to say that about myself one day. Then the other week, when someone was going to stay at my house for a weekend getaway while I was taking off, I didn’t vacuum before their arrival. Then last Friday, I didn’t clean the kitchen before a new friend arrived to my house. Now I find myself going to bed without having done the dishes, with crumbs left on the bench. It will stay like this until I wake up in the morning. Seriously, it’s all getting a little crazy if you ask me. But it’s making me wonder…perhaps I am recovering!?!

A torch is essential around my place at night. With minimal electricity by way of a failing solar energy system, you need a torch to weave your way through the darkness once the sun has bid its final farewell for the day. I bought a heavy duty torch when I first came to The Forest. The ”heavy duty” batteries lasted about a month. So for the past four or five weeks I’ve been getting around by the light of one of those tiny torches that attach to a key ring.

Today I had the thought that I must take my big torch into town and finally get a replacement large battery for it. About a half-hour after that thought crossed my mind, Steph, my visitor who stayed over last night, called to let me know that she had accidentally kept my small (working) torch in her pocket when she left this morning. Ah-ha! It immediately made sense as to why I had suddenly decided that today must be the day to get a battery for my large torch. Pretty cool eh?

I believe we each have an all-knowing, ever-present, part of ourselves that guides us lovingly through our days and our lives. It could be known as our Higher Self, or our Soul, or just simply our gut instinct or intuition. Either way, it’s pretty amazing to realise we have an aspect of ourselves that is so infinitely intelligent! This part sees the bigger picture of our lives, the world and the connection between All That Is. The trick is to be attentive to what it’s saying, and take action when necessary rather than dismissing it.

What’s your soul trying to tell you that you need to listen to lately?