Friday, October 18, 2013

Friday, October 11, 2013

Pier Crushing.

Lately I've been overcome with a dream to build a pier on the weir just a stumble down the road from my homeland.

I would ride my bike down, with a cushion and a book in its basket, and laze about with one foot dangling in the water.

I would walk along hand-in-hand with a friend and then cheekily push them off before diving in myself.

I would strap a kayak to the top of my car, mosey on down and carefully plop it in the water - jumping in for an afternoon glide.

I would pack a picnic basket with gooey cheeses, champagne and a sounddock and listen to Fleet 
Foxes at dusk.

I would, truly I would.

If I build it, will you come?

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Roadtrips with The Paper Kites.

This afternoon I hit the highway only a whisker ahead of peak hour madness, smiling happily as the busy roads, sneakily sandwiched between city housing blocks, slowly gave way to sweeping views of bright green, undulating lands. 

As I zoomed along the highway the sun sprayed shades of yellow, burnt orange and fiery pink across the landscape, changing hues with each passing minute. 

I saw frame after frame of country goodness: cows lolling on the banks of dams, no doubt seeking respite from the warm springtime day; bales of silage tightly wrapped in mint-green plastic and lined up in neat rows across the paddocks; and a kamikaze cockatoo that swooped cheekily, and somewhat stupidly, across my windscreen to reach the other side of the road and, perhaps to take a peek at some freshly killed roadkill. 

All the while this beautiful new album States by The Paper Kites shared my journey.  From the first bars I knew this lush, atmospheric collection with its understated, lilting melodies and (good) lazy riffs would be my perfect roadtrip companion.  It didn't disappoint. 

Monday, October 7, 2013

The Invitation.

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

(pic via the yard, thanks to Sarah Capper for the reminder!)

Friday, October 4, 2013


Overgrowth is an ongoing collaboration between photographer Parker Fitzgerald and floral designer Riley Messina.  

I'm crushing on all of these beautiful photographs and limited edition prints have just gone on sale.  

Overgrowth will be exhibiting in Japan beginning 11 September 2013. 

Thursday, October 3, 2013

Home is Where You Park It.

In July 2011, Foster Huntington left his job in New York City, bought a VW Canagon and hit the road with the hope of "addressing the voice in the back of my mind that was constantly saying there was more to life".

For the past two years Foster has been travelling around the US and he started taking photos of vans and other campers that he came across in his travels.

“Not until experiencing something for myself can I really appreciate it. Call me thick headed, but it’s been true about autumn in New England, sex, and most recently, camper vehicles, or as I call it, van life. I purchased my Syncro with no prior knowledge of van life. Operating on the assumption that I liked the freedom and exploration offered by living out of a van, I committed to trying it out. A handful of interesting people’s stories of the road reassured me that it was the right thing to do. Ships of the open road are hard to understand when you’re not sailing them. Now that I am sailing my own, I have grown to appreciate the breed of adventurers they attract and the vehicles they drive."

Foster is releasing his second book, Home is Where You Park It, in March 2014 and he has launched a Kickstarter project to fund it. 

It has one more week to hit its target - go on, hitch a ride! 

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

A camping we will go...

My extended family goes camping regularly - at the beach over summer and in the country hills in autumn over Easter.  It has been a constant in my life and one of my great joys.

Since 2010, when I made a deliberate decision to live a life full of happiness and adventuring, 'GO CAMPING' has stayed at the top of my various to-do and dream lists.

I know tents and hole-in-ground loos are not for everyone.  But you can also camp in huts and cabins and chalets and modernist boxes in forests.  For me, 'camping' and the urge to constantly do it has become more than falling asleep in a contraption made from poles and canvas (which I love like nothing else); it is about welcoming a different space - involving deeper breathing, an open mind and an adventuring heart.  It's travelling to somewhere different to your home and surrounding yourself with nature.

I find it bemusing how much hunting, fishing, canoeing, adventuring, mountaineering etcetera have become the latest 'thing' when, for country people, they are quite literally a daily reality.  But I also just love it, because the logos and designs and endless photographs of hills and streams and mountains are so freaking rad. And I'm a sucker for that and movies like Moonrise Kingdom just make my little heart swell and my chest puff out with pride and excitement.  Whether it's aspiration or inspiration or complete fantasy, I don't care - as long as more people make it out of the city streets and into the country hills then it doesn't matter what inspired them to do it.

I'm off to the High Country today to begin my slow breathing/adventuring sojourn.  I can't wait to pack up my little car on the weekends and head for the hills.  A camping we will go, a camping we will go!