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Hello and welcome to my blog formerly called Gypsy-K. Please note that I am only updating this blog while I am walking from Rome to Jerusalem from September 2015. My online home and permanent blog is at You can also sign up for pilgrim postcards and newsletters here. Thank you for being here and supporting my journey. With love and courage, Kym xx

Friday, 28 September 2012

Waking to dream

This morning, I was roused from my dozing slumber by a long, resonant rumble as a gentle thunderstorm passed by. Lulled by the rain pattering the pavement, sleep took me back into her arms once more until I was ready to wake for the day, enveloped in silence. Despite living so close to the railway line and a busy arterial road my home is surprisingly quiet at least when my housemates and their two-year old son aren't home.

Spring and Winter continue their tug-of-war. A few consecutive days of expansive warmth is now replaced by rain, wind and cold until Spring can find her feet once more. I observe how the weather affects my own moods with interest. How the warm breeze and the scent of fresh blooms pulls me out of my shell and into the world then how quickly I contract and retreat with the onset of cold, grey rain.

Today is Friday, the start of my four non-office days. These are the days I don’t earn a living but when I do my real work. 

I write. I dream. I sit in stillness. I unravel. I integrate.

Some days this is a tug-of war as part of me resists what I most long to do. I breathe and bring myself back to the page and to my intention for that moment. Or I cut myself some slack and allow my wandering mind to indulge and follow its own thread knowing I will find my way back.

I am learning to be kind to myself, to allow myself to be perfectly imperfect. I have no greater judge or critic than myself. I can be my own best friend or enemy. The choice is mine.

Today I choose kindness.

I sleep until I am less weary. I move slowly as I shed the corporate cloak I have worn for three days. I cleanse and tidy my small sacred space. I savour my coffee. I read words that inspire. Then when I am ready, I begin.

Today, I dream.

For years, I created a life based on practicality, safety and security. I dreamed and lived a life that I thought would make me happy. It did, for a while. But those dreams were from my head, not my heart. I didn’t know any other way.

I became an adult, young, a co-carer for my disabled mother when I was eleven years old. Almost overnight life wasn’t carefree anymore. Yes, there were gifts from such an experience but weighed down by sickness and a turbulent relationship, I saved myself by creating my own inner island. Life was hard and it hurt. Surviving was the only dream I knew.

Then three years ago, I left the life I had created as my restless heart lead me alone out into the world. I discovered that there is a simpler way to live that doesn’t involve an office 9 to 5 and 4 weeks annual leave. I discovered wordless beauty and meaning in those moments I watched the sunset, floated on the sea or was held neutrally buoyant in the ocean’s depths. 

My heart aches for what I touched and left behind. I discovered who I really am and that I yearn to live a life that is in alignment with my true nature. This longing will not rest until I dream it real.

Books and journals, part of my sacred space

Good morning outside world

Rainy day, winter rears its head during Melbourne springtime

A rainy walk into Richmond

This is what I am currently reading.  Check out
Danielle Laporte or you can buy her book here

Sunday, 23 September 2012

Celebrating the light

Today is Spring Equinox. Twelve hours of dark and twelve glorious hours of light. Winter is losing its hold. Naked trees are softening with buds of new blooms and the scent of new flowers lingers in the warm evening air.

The time for hibernation, contraction and stillness is ending. The earth slowly awakens and calls me to life, to open, to let go, to give a little more light of my own.

Today I watched an Italian movie in one of my favourite cinemas and I strolled home through the gardens in the late afternoon sunshine, the sun kissing my face, the cool breeze tossing my hair messy. I stopped to watch the sun shining over the top of the city buildings casting shadows on the ground. I stopped to smell the sweetness of the pansy-like blooms.

My longing, to feel the raw earth under my feet and be embraced by tropical sea, is incessant. My city life surrounds me in tall buildings that block the sun, and concrete and bitumen that hide the earth. These moments, where I stop, I pay attention and see the living world around me are as essential as breathing. There is much that I miss but much that I am grateful for. Today I give thanks for the stillness of the passing winter as well as the return of the light.

Me, walking

My favourite door, Richmond factories

Melbourne Conservatory, Fitzroy Gardens, Melbourne

View to Richmond Hill from Yarra Park/Melbourne Cricket Ground

Spring flowers, Fitzroy Gardens, Melbourne

Spring flowers, Fitzroy Gardens, Melbourne

Fluffy, because she is too cute

Sunday, 9 September 2012

Back to what I know

Here in Melbourne, Spring is tapping Winter on the shoulder and saying, “Come on love, it’s time to move on!” Winter is stubborn and selfish and often likes to hang around longer than invited. Spring, gentle and insistent that new possibilities must be born, nudges forward showering the air with her delights until Winter, sullen and annoyed by her displacement leaps forward and overtakes with a cold, rainy burst. Although the skies are silvery grey and scattered showers fall upon the city, the sweet scent of Spring lingers and the daylight hours continue to grow longer and a little warmer.

For me, Winter is a time of hibernation, especially this year more than any other. I am unraveling my life. It is a process that requires me to go within, mostly alone but sometimes with a trusted guide to heal the source of my disconnection. A deep and painful wound I have carried and hidden for most of my life. Ashamed. Broken. Edge over edge, I breathe, I step, I cry. This is how I heal. This is how I find my voice, for the wound is where I first lost my voice.

I am learning that the darkness of the wound is the source of my light. Not all wounds are ugly if they are embraced and kissed and showered with love. In time they reveal their gifts. We work so hard to avoid pain in our lives but an untended wound festers. I am tired of living my life in this kind of flight. Reluctantly, I came back to Melbourne from my imperfect paradise but I knew this is where I needed to be and this is what I needed to do. I came back to what I know so I could heal. Here, there is comfort and ease in familiarity. It can be easier to find yourself in the streets you know well.

My voice appears in fleeting moments. Inspired by the words of others, a walk through the park or sitting in silence. The essence of who I am and what I came here to be and say intermittently calls through then the line drops out. I am rebuilding the connection. In time I will have a permanent high-speed link. But for now, although the expansive energy of spring flows in and winter begins to ebb, my time of hibernation is not quite complete.

"Remember, there is one word you are here to say with your whole being. When it finds you, give your life to it. Don't be tight-lipped and stingy. Spend yourself completely on the saying. Be one word in this great love poem we are writing together" - The Call by Oriah Mountain Dreamer