“Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, “It might have been”.”
~ Kurt Vonnegut
Ben and I came home from holidays with the world’s worst gastro bug.
Due to illness-induced misery coupled with jet lag and insomnia, I was only ever awake at ridiculous o’clock, and never at blogging central time.
Somewhere in the midst of all the misery I vomited so hard that I tore internal scar tissue and adhesions from my recent abdominal surgery. Ouch!
I ended up with infection and high fevers which caused hallucinations and complete loss of time and space.
The outside world ceased to exist, and all my plans were forgotten.
I am feeling a little more human as of yesterday. So, normal blog scheduling will now resume. Along with naps, self-care, cups of tea, bone broth, plain foods and probiotics.
We’re in the city still. Our suitcases remain in the middle of the lounge-room floor and we haven’t even unpacked yet. Maybe today? Meanwhile our little farm is an island, all flooded in by ex-tropical cyclone Debbie.
Life is indeed a glorious adventure!
Thanks for all the messages of concern when I missed blogging for a few days. You know me well. I only ever miss a post if something’s up. But really, we’re doing much better now.
“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.”
~ John Lubbock, The Use Of Life
After days of insanely long hours putting together the crystal grid, after launching my new Planner and communities, after supporting clients as they navigated Christmas and life difficulties, after blogging the New Year energies and getting ready for so much more, after working my last three designated unplugged days, all on the back of recovering from major surgery, this morning I slept in.
Yes, I did.
And it was good.
Especially considering that my Power Word for 2017 is HEAL.
I’ll see you tomorrow, with my energetic forecast for January.
“How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before it’s afternoon. December is here before it’s June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?”
~ Dr. Seuss
While enjoying a late afternoon session at the Byron Bay Writers Festival yesterday my phone went nuts in my bag. It was turned to silent, but eventually I could no longer ignore the persistent vibrations of call after call.
It was the neighbours.
Our cows were out.
All of them. And not only out, but wandered far, far from home.
I located Ben and we roared off to look for the wayward beasts. That was at 4pm.
It took the help of several good neighbours, bales of tasty enticement lucerne, and three hours of slogging through paddocks, across roads, up and down gullies, and in and out of the yards of strangers before we finally returned them to our home paddock. We put them in the yards to keep them safe. All of that done in the dark, and by the hazard lights of support vehicles and the moon. Stressful much? Yes.
Ten minutes later I collapsed in a chair, thoroughly exhausted. You know, that place where you are vomiting from fatigue. Yep. Wrecked. Lyme disease and I aren’t used to so much frenetic excitement. Nor getting my year’s exercise quota in one night!
This morning, before dawn, we were up again. Dressed warmly against the frost we drove and walked our fenceline, finding the place where a tree had fallen and the fence needs repair. Checking that the river paddock was secure enough for us to turn our herd out there and know that they would be safe.
Farm life. Never a dull moment!
I don’t mind, really. My cows are home safe, and the walk this morning was oh so beautiful.
“You protect your being when you love yourself better. That’s the secret.”
~ Isabelle Adjani
It’s the final day of Retreat, and I’m profoundly grateful that my body has held up for the duration. Just at dinner last night my Lymey eye began to pulse and pain, and I ended up running our after-dinner channelling session wearing my trusty pirate eye patch. It has been the only misbehaving my body has done in seven days. I’ll be back on all my Lyme drugs by the day’s end but I’ve enjoyed the respite, the opportunity to feel almost normal and to live for a week without fistfuls of tablets and their not-so-splendid side effects.
I’m tired this morning. Everything’s a little bit sore. So I’m taking things slowly. But it’s all okay. We’re up to that lovely good-bye bit of final messages, praying the meditation malas we made on retreat, sharing and caring, deeply connecting and remembering ourselves, our space and our sacred sisterhood. What a beautiful week of growth, support and nurture it has been.
And tomorrow I shall give myself the day off from blogging so that I can sleep in as long as I like. In fact, I may end up taking the entire weekend for some down-time, nap time and recovery time. I’d like to be truly present with my husband, be present with my dogs and sit quietly at the farm, or at the beach. I’m looking forward to the weekend papers and a good coffee at one of our favourite cafes. And did I say sleep yet?
I made a sacred promise – to love myself and treat myself well in 2014, starting now. So I am. How about you?
“We are creating and encouraging a culture of distraction where we are increasingly disconnected from the people and events around us, and increasingly unable to engage in long-form thinking. People now feel anxious when their brains are unstimulated.”
~ Joe Kraus
There was a huge storm here at the farm on Saturday afternoon. The Black Cockatoos came to tell me, riding the stiff breeze that ran before the bruised clouds as they shrieked their message.
Not long after they sailed over my head it began to rain. And then to bucket down…
The driveway became a river. The wind was ferocious. I’d planned to do so much work, but the power went out so instead my husband and I found ourselves eating dinner by candlelight and retreating to the soft embrace of our bed where we listened to the rain and the thunder of hail upon the roof.
It poured all night.
When we woke the next day there was sunshine and silence.
Hail had left a litter of leaves strewn across the lawn, and there were branches down everywhere.
The power was still off. Our home phone was dead. The internet was dead. And our mobiles couldn’t pick up a signal.
No matter. We cleared a path to the road and headed to the beach for a bracing ocean swim and then a good breakfast at a favourite cafe.
Within 24 hours the power was restored. But still no phone, and the mobile signal was so weak that we had to walk up the hill into the orchard to get any sort of reception.
By Monday afternoon we had our home phone back on, and one iffy bar of mobile reception, but no internet. And we still don’t. It will be the end of the week (fingers crossed) before our fried roof-mounted antenna and wireless modem are replaced. Our old phone line, installed in 1954, will not support even the most rudimentary of dial-ups. For now the modern world has retreated, and we are living in a pre-technological quiet zone. No radio, no TV (that’s our choice and I like it that way!) – we’re unplugged!
To write this blog post I climbed right to the top of the hill behind my house yesterday and used my mobile to get some sort of service, which is patchy at best. While I waited an eternity for my files to upload I lay in the grass on a blanket and read a book or watched clouds.
This morning I’ve hiked up here again to send this post out into the world. It feels quite symbolic – as if my blog post were coming to you by carrier pigeon!
I’ve caught up on some sleep this week and written thousands of words, planned a new herb garden and had many swims in the ocean or dips in the pool.
And it’s still so quiet…
I’ve missed you all, and I’ve missed being able to download and respond to emails and facebook messages, but gee it hasn’t been all bad!
I’ll leave you with the sound of my Black Cockatoo friends, who have visited every day this week. I had walked out into the paddock to record a meditation and then the storm rolled in so fast there was no time to do anything but walk home again. You can hear Harry barking and yapping as he leaps feet into the air to try and catch a Black Cockatoo. There’s the growl of thunder and my footsteps in the long dry grass. It’s only a short recording. Just click on the button below to listen:
The cockatoos are still here with me this morning. I wonder what other adventures their presence heralds for me?
Thinking of you all, and sending much, much love, Nicole xx
“My head aches, my eyes burn, my arms and legs have given up, and my face in the mirror has a grayish cast. The bed, across the room, calls in its unmistakable lover’s croon, Come to me, come, only I can make you truly happy, oh, how happy I’ll make you, don’t resist, remember how you moan with pleasure the instant we touch…..”
~ Lynne Sharon Schwartz, Fatigue Artist
It had to happen.
I’ve been travelling so well these past weeks. Feeling almost normal, almost human, almost well.
And then I began to herx. That thing Lyme sufferers do when the bacteria inside you die off with a flourish, dumping toxins and misery into your systems.
Herxing is a good thing – it means that all of these wretched pathogens are being slaughtered by my heavy-duty drug regime and shall bother me no more. Once I get past their death throes…
So I went to bed on Saturday afternoon, and am only emerging now, on Monday (hahaha, have just been pointed out that I’ve missed a whole extra day!) Tuesday morning after a fever-soaked delirious haze of agony. I’m wrung out and I feel like I’ve been run over by a bulldozer, but weirdly, I’m happy.
My mind is clear, and I can feel a huge shift. I’m crossing off more of that Lyme Load on my return to health. And I’m ready for a drug re-adjustment, which shall happen at my doctors’ meeting next Monday.
We’ll return to normal blogging tomorrow. Right now, I’m taking my cup of tea and going back to bed.