Crying Over Sushi

Me, driving!

“There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask “What if I fall?”
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly?” 
~  Erin Hanson


Yesterday was quite a remarkable day for me. In the morning I drove to the other side of town for a meeting with an illustrator who’s joining my team. We’ll be working on a few projects together, including a tarot deck, oracle cards and a fairy book. Squeeeeeeee!!!

From there I drove to a supplier to pick up a few things. Then I was STARVING and also quite urgently needing to pee, so I drove a little further to a shopping mall at Carindale where I was able to use the rest rooms and then eat some lunch.

Lunch was slightly delayed though. As I wandered the huge mall, trying to orient myself and find a lunch spot I saw a woman coming towards me, crying and in obvious distress. She stopped me to ask me where the bathrooms were, and as I touched her arm to ask if she was okay information and images flooded through me. She had just been told that her Nana had died. A lady who had brought her up, and been a steadying influence for a dysfunctional family.

“I’m so sorry about your Nana,” I said to her without thinking. “She loved you very much.”

The woman lifted her head in panic and stared at me. “How do you know that?”

“I’m psychic,” I said. “Sometimes I just know things.”

The woman began crying harder so I led her over to a bench and we sat down together.

I sat and waited as she cried. She needed someone with her, and I knew it was wrong to try and comfort her; she needed to feel her feelings.

Finally she calmed and asked me about a necklace I was wearing. It’s my meditation mala I made for my recent Temple of Light retreat. I explained that each crystal represented a student, and that the final few crystals represented my family, my community and the world. I then took my mala off and showed her how I used it to meditate and pray for them all twice a day.

“Could you pray for my Nana?” she asked me.

So I held her hands and we sat in the middle of Carindale with our heads bowed and our eyes closed and I prayed aloud for her grandmother, and for this woman and her family, and I asked for her Ancestors and Angels to gather around them and watch over them all.

After which we talked about death and souls and love, and how souls and love are eternal. Finally comforted and okay the woman thanked me. We hugged and then went our own ways. I’d never even learned her name or given mine.

A few minutes later I was sitting in a little corner of a sushi restaurant, watching the plates come towards me in an endless stream of yumminess. Now I began to cry. Not over the events with the distressed woman – anyone who knows me will tell you that my daily life inevitably looks like that. I’m here to be of service. My door is always open and my light is always on. Somehow, people find me when they need me. No, I wasn’t crying about that. I was crying about freedom.

I was sitting on my own in a sushi restaurant. I had driven myself from one side of town to the other, I’d merged with other cars on the freeway, I’d negotiated traffic, I’d parked the car, done hill-starts in a manual car on a steep road, visited places of business, enjoyed a fruitful design meeting about projects I had shelved several times due to poor health, and now I was in a fancy shopping mall buying myself lunch. After which I would drive myself home. ALL ON MY OWN after ten years of relying on Ben to drive me almost everywhere, and for the past five years of having been almost a complete prisoner to illness that had stopped me driving.

I was free. And it felt like a miracle.

After lunch I drove myself home and immediately rang my sister to share the adventures of my morning. Later that afternoon I drove to my elderly mother-in-law’s to drop off some groceries, make her dinner and keep her company. It was a very full day indeed.


That’s all I have for yesterday… Wow. I got my life back. After years of suffering all kinds of horrors due to Lyme disease I am finally well enough to reclaim my independence.


Thanks for sticking by me as I’ve walked this long road. I’m not done yet, but I’m well on my way. I think that deserves a few tears at a sushi train!

Sending the biggest love and hugs your way, Nicole  xoxo

PS –  if you want to join me for the last retreat of the year you can find out more here: Soul Sanctuary – Working With Crystals. But it’s almost full, so please act quickly. I won’t be running this particular retreat again any time soon, so this is your one chance for this one, and it’s going to be AMAZING!

Meditation mala and a happy driver!



Ready For Going Home!

2015-12-22 05.09.35

“Mr. Fred shook hands with her, said he was glad to see her, drew out a wet Coke from the machine, wiped it on his apron, and gave it to her.
This is one good thing about life that never changes, she thought. As long as he lived, as long as she returned, Mr. Fred would be here with his…simple welcome. What was that? Alice? Brer Rabbit? It was Mole. Mole, when he returned from some long journey, desperately tired, had found the familiar waiting for him with its simple welcome.”
~ Harper Lee, Go Set a Watchman


Nurse Bert and Cafe Dog have pronounced Ben well enough to travel. He is still sore after his knee surgery, but getting better every day.

Truth is, we’re all missing our farm…

We’re longing for wide blue skies, the smell of the rich earth and the fragrant trees, the gentle movements of the cows as they wander through our paddocks, the birdsong and the spaciousness and the chance to earth again.

We miss the beach and our early morning swims followed by good coffee and breakfast. We miss our friends. We miss afternoon naps with a good book, and digging things out of the garden.

We miss farmers markets and Sunday markets and stores and cafes where organic produce is normal rather than a novelty.

So today I’ll pack us up and drive us home.

Home for Christmas!

What a beautiful thing. <3

Signs of Life

Image by G. McKeiver

Image by G. McKeiver

“Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what’s for lunch.”Orson Welles


There have been some signs this week that my world is beginning to extend beyond the farm, my pyjamas and bed, as I edge ahead in my battle against Lyme disease.

We had to get a new radiator installed in the old farm ute, leaving the vehicle at the mechanics for a few days.  For the first time in I don’t know how long I drove the new ute on Wednesday, by myself, carefully following my husband into town after years of not driving, so that we could then drive home together. On Friday we reversed the journey, and I drove home to the farm on my own. Oh, the freedom! I even stopped in at the butcher, whose door I conveniently drove past. The first time I have visited him in over two years without someone having to drive me!

If truth be told I then spent all of Saturday in bed or on the couch after an epic bout of insomnia brought on by too much excitement. I kid you not. Driving and being out and about plays havoc with my poor, depleted adrenal glands.

But I’m well rested after being in bed by six pm last night, so today I’m going out for lunch with friends!

It’s been a long time since I’ve had this much of a social life. (Yes, sadly I now count a trip to the mechanic as social – it’s me, out of pyjamas, out in the world, saying hello and looking at everything with fresh and hungry eyes.)

For a few years now I’ve been too ill to manage more than the shortest of outings, and my lyme drugs have made me so unpredictably nauseous that including social and food in the same sentence has not been a winning combination. But today, I am going out to lunch.

Sure, I’m only venturing next door to the neighbours, but still, it’s an Event, and I’m celebrating because it’s one more sign that my life is slowly but surely returning to some kind of normality.

They are lovely neighbours, and Ben and I are looking forward to an afternoon rich with conversation, laughter and some delicious food.


Wishing you all a relaxing Sunday with some time for the things that matter to you.  Life is such a beautiful thing. All these ordinary things are so, so precious. Remember that, and revel in the ordinary, my friends. Much love, Nicole xx

The Freedom of Four Wheels

Cartoon Car by Cassius

Cartoon Car by Cassius

“Not all those who wander are lost.” ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

Something fabulous happened late last week.

I drove a car. All on my own.

Yeah, you might be thinking. No biggie. But actually, for me, it was.

I haven’t really driven a car since November 2012 when my health took a turn for the worse. Problems with my heart. Problems with my eyes. Problems with my concentration and reflexes and spatial knowledge. It became untenable for me to drive.

I’ve had to rely on my husband or friends to take me places. Mostly though, I just haven’t gone anywhere. My world shrank small. Honestly, while I was so sick it didn’t seem to matter. Public transport wasn’t an option either. I had no strength to walk long distances or to wait around when I could have been home in bed.

A few weeks ago I began to notice a positive shift in my health after months of horrible uselessness. More energy, more alertness, better reflexes, eyes that mostly work. I received the okay from my doctors. I could try driving again.

For my first outing I drove the short distance to a local coffee haunt at six in the morning, my husband beside me. There was not a car on the road and I felt like a teenager under the watchful eye of their father. I was nervous but excited. Oh, the sensation of freedom! The joy of four wheels! What a rush!


This past weekend I drove from my farm to Brisbane, a two-hour trip, with Bert the dog for company. I have my independence back. I was able to go back to work. I could head out to the store when I needed something. I drove across town to meet up with friends for breakfast. I took myself to my own doctors’ appointments. And last night I drove myself home to the farm. Hooray! I’m sustainable again. I can look after myself. I can drive.

On the last few miles of our trip last night, as we travelled down the winding narrow country roads that lead to our farm, I put the windows down. Bert and stuck our heads out the windows and sucked in lungfuls of clean cold farm-scented air, and I got why dogs find car rides so thrilling.

There is something quite empowering about being able to drive, about jumping in your car and going wherever you want, whenever you want. I’d never realised the importance of that freedom, that liberty. My car is nothing less than a magic carpet.

Makes me wonder where else I might dare to go…

Image from

Image from Justin Perricone

Photo by Ollie Craford. Lyrics by Defiance, Ohio.