Blissfully happy in Melbourne

Rose and I drove through the night to Melbourne last night. We drove through banks of fog, through fields and scrub, we saw the sun rise, the dawn chorus, the Grampians. It was shattering and magnificent.




We arrived this afternoon, we’ve booked a room in a family home instead of a hostel. I’m thrilled with this decision and feel utterly at home.

We unpacked the car, showered and crashed for some sleep. In the evening Rose woke us to go and find dinner. Our kind hosts directed is to a local Vietnamese restaurant which was just perfect for my fragile state.


This evening has been utter bliss. I love Melbourne. Every time I visit I fall more in love with it. We went for a walk and found beautiful second hand book shops. I couldn’t restrain myself from buying a beautiful book on neuropsychology. The shops are quirky, there are hand made art and items every where.  Rose and I find a coffee shop and order chai lattes with honey.  A live jazz band is playing, with a pretty woman in a red cotton dress leading on trumpet.  The tables have lamps that cast soft light onto the yellow plaster walls.  The toilets have long scrawled graffiti conversations all over the walls.  I feel deeply relaxed and at home.

We buy eggs and bread and wine and maple syrup ice cream and come home.  A day ago I was frantically re writing the DI website and preparing my resources for this conference.  I packed into a manic 48 hours about 2 weeks of work.  Much more unusual is that I’ve been able to come down off that manic high so quickly.  We’re switching constructively,  easing the build up of tension before muscles seize,  being able to be entirely in the present moment.  It’s magic.

It’s also been wonderful to have a conference to write for again,  to have the researcher out again,  reading,  thinking,  hungry for material and gnawing big ideas down to small concepts that can be shared.  It felt so good to walk into a bookshop again and want to buy all the books!  We’ve been burned out this year,  we’ve read almost no non-fiction.  Tonight we’ve read more than we have in months.  I’m so deeply looking forward to touching base with my community.  I need this. Seeing all the wild creativity around also woke those longings in me,  to go home and find my paint and ink.  To be liberated from those destructive notions of what art should be,  must be,  how it must be created,  what an artist is,  and to be able to play. 

I feel renewed. Tonight I am utterly content with my world. 

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