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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

Sunday, 31 March 2013

A Self-Portrait a Day….

This is how I hide:
by constantly moving
buying take away coffees instead of sitting down and ordering in
solitude when it’s not purely to spend time by myself for my own energetic and creative needs
staying quiet when there is something I want to say from my heart
averting my eyes so you can’t see in
wearing dark glass and headphones which looks uninviting to outside contact
avoiding social engagements and limiting social contact
keeping a safe barrier by being abrupt or short
There’s probably many more tools I have used over the years but these are the main ones.

There are many reasons why I hide:
a life-preserving habit I developed as a child in relationship to my mother
I learned as early as Grade 4 that if you shine your light too brightly others will attack you and try to bring you down
I am introverted and shy by nature
I don’t always trust people
despite the fact I know I have done and achieved some pretty amazing things in my life so far I still don’t always believe in and back my own light

During the week I shared a self-portrait and a spontaneous poem with a facebook group that I am part of.  It is a diverse group of women, supportive, wise and deep.  The words were easy to share.  I have blogged for four years now and am mostly unafraid to publish my words but sharing a photo that I had taken of myself made me feel vulnerable and uncomfortable.  I hesitated before I posted it but post it I did.  It was a safe place to do this kind of sharing and I received nothing but encouragement and support.  I realized afterwards that my discomfort was with me seeing me, with me sharing my own image of myself in a way that said “hey I love and value myself and I want to share that with you all.”

Since I’ve come back to Melbourne I have slowly enveloped myself into a chrysalis.  To some I have looked lost and indecisive and to others just resting here quietly for a while.  Inside this chrysalis a deep transformation has been taking place; healing of old and deep wounds, clarification of purpose, knowledge of self, growing into my own light and brilliance.  And because of all of this there are some things I am done with.  I am done with shrinking away from my own light as I am done with hiding who I really am and that includes my spiritual nature.

This cycle of transformation is coming to an end soon.  I am in the final stages and developing comfort with being seen but more importantly how I see myself is part of it.  To practice seeing and sharing myself and in celebration of me and my transformation, I have decided to take a self-portrait a day, and…I type this reluctantly…share it…via facebook.  I can feel my resistance already.   What will people think of me posting photos of myself?  They’ll think I’m a freak or vain or have too much love for myself or I’m just plain weird.  What if I receive flack or criticism?   What if they want to de-friend me or hide my posts?  I hear all these concerns and know it doesn’t really matter because I’m also done with worrying about what everyone else thinks of me.  It is a practice in being present with myself and an exercise in self-love that I am doing for me and sharing with you all because I want to share my light and I am worthy of sharing my light.

So let the self-portraits begin….

Here is the spontaneous poem and self-portrait that started it off…

Oh sun on my skin
Sun on my skin
Feeling the blessings
And joy within
Heart shaped clouds
Pass in the sky
Bellbirds call
And ring reply
I breathe the earth
Here where I lie
Listen clearly
Heart does sigh
Oh sun on my skin
Sun on my skin
This is the best way
To begin


Thank you Hannah Marcotti  for the inspiration from your own daily self-portraits.

Sunday, 24 March 2013

On Waves of Wonder I Rise

an endless sheet
of transparent black
dotted with dim diamonds.
The moon,
her face unveiling
four days from full
eyes, mouth, nose
clown-like smudged
cornflower blue
in the way
only I perceive,
stares somber
as if mourning
separation and aloneness
forced by gravity.
Or maybe she can see
the wide, deep wounds,
inflicted by vandals
on her eternal slow dance partner.

despite the fabricated fluorescence
of this concrete city
I can finally see it all.
The sheet of blackness,
the dim studded stars
and the moon’s forlorn face
in a halo of luminous light.
I stand still, look up and stare.
where I am small.
where my own light languishes
in artificial bounds.
Trying to comprehend
how all of this can exist.
Trying to fathom
how much is dead
before it is even seen
by the eyes of those
who choose to look.

On waves of wonder I rise
and I am both small and big.
On waves of wonder I rise
and for a moment
there is no separation.
There is no inner fizzle.
Just union,
through pure presence,
in which the light is shared.

Saturday, 23 March 2013

Waking Up

I grew up at the foot of the Dandenong Ranges to the east of Melbourne.  From our kitchen windows, we had a clear view of the low-rising hills.  Their quiet presence was a fixture of my childhood landscape yet they were always changing with daylight’s flow then ebb, ripening from forest green to dark teal to dark purple-tinged grey.

I loved those hills.  Whenever we ventured away to visit relatives, my first glimpse of those hills on our return journey was how I knew I was almost home.  As a teenager, I promised myself they were always how I would know I was home.

But in my early twenties, the city drew me near.  I could feel its pulse, throbbing with life.  In comparison, the outer suburbs felt stagnant and lacklustre.  Over the years, I moved closer and closer to the city until I lived an arms length from the central business district, from where I could no longer see the mountains and I no longer called them home.  I created a life I thought would make me happy.  I lived in a trendy inner suburb immersed in cafĂ© culture and bars.  I had a blossoming career with the six-figure salary, regularly flying interstate and even moving interstate for a six-month project, my input and insight in demand.  I shared a home with a man I loved and who was my partner of five years.

For a while, I lived happily in the city.  I reveled in its pleasures, its sexiness, its constant distracting action as well as my financial freedom but as the years passed by I walked blindly into a web of incomprehensible sadness, depression and despair.  On the outside, I smiled.  I said all the right things about how wonderful my life was.  But inside I was crumbling and behind closed doors I cried.  Daily, I cried.  And I didn’t understand why.  I didn’t understand how I could feel so miserable when I had built my perfect life.

I didn’t know it at the time but I had already been gifted the first of many golden threads that have enabled me to swing through the jungle of my confusion and onto a new path in life.  I discovered scuba diving and on my second dive I locked gaze with a small green turtle and fell in love.  In an instant I knew that although we were different, we were connected, like all creatures and humans are connected in a way that we often don’t understand.  She saw me, and I saw her, in essence.  And she gifted to me the wisdom of wonder.

This dive, this connection, changed my life.  My holidays were planned around scuba diving so I could be in nature and in the sea.  I wanted to see more turtles, to experience that wonder over and over again.  This light temporarily penetrated my darkness but still I lived mainly in sadness until I finally mustered the courage to change everything that was making me unhappy.  I ended my relationship, I quit my job without another job to go to and just as I became comfortable in my new life, I followed an incessant calling to travel and go diving.  I packed up the life I had just built and moved to Thailand to fulfill my diving dreams, to complete my rescue diver, dive master and eventually dive instructor courses.

And this is where I woke up.

Drenched in tangerine fireball sunsets, floating on the azure sea, submerged in her depths, held neutrally buoyant in oneness, surrounded by the tropical island landscape and the ever-changing sky.

I woke up.

To beauty, to endless wonder, to freedom, to spirit, to what really matters in my life.

My dormant connection to this earth re-awakened and ignited.  I lived my days alive, free, filled with wonder and gratitude.

The earth called me home and reminded me of my true nature.
I fell in love with life, the earth and myself.

I have come back to the city for the inner work I have to do to continue my awakening but I have come back changed and I will never be the same.  I don’t want to be the same.  I don’t want the life I lead before.  I don't want to live asleep.

For now, I once again live amongst tall buildings but the energy that once drew me to the city now repels.  I crave open space, to see the sky, to feel the earth cradle my body so my spirit can breathe.

My needs are far simpler than I ever expected.  I can survive without the latest fashions, eating out at restaurants and cafes, and drinking at bars but without witnessing the natural beauty of this earth, my inner light languishes.

I am a child of the earth.  I need space, sea, sky, silence and solitude the way one needs air, water, food and shelter to survive.

Those childhood hills were my first connection to this earth.  I may have walked away.  I may have forgotten for a while.  But the earth never stopped calling for me.  When I was ready, I heard and understood.

Those sunsets opened my eyes.  The sea unblocked my ears.  The simplicity and complexity of the natural world awakened my spirit.  Through being present with all that was around me, paying attention and witnessing with wonder, I found my way back home.

My first sunset in Thailand, Kata Beach, Phuket

Green turtle.  One of my favourite sea creatures.

My favourite Thailand sunset ever, Naiharn Beach, Phuket 2011

Monday, 4 March 2013

Dancing deeper

I am going deeper into this ebb that calls me to stillness, silence and solitude.

I am riding the wave of retreat, pulling back, drawing inwards further and deeper within until I’m not sure I can retract anymore.

My spirit will not rest until it consumes all of me, owns me, marries me, dances through my body in a new way of being.

A tsunami of change is coming. I am preparing to surrender, to let go of all that I know to ride the powerful flow of change and inner knowing.

I am ready to receive the call that has beckoned me for so long, that I have longed to hear clearly and understand what it is asking of me.

My spirit reads to me only one line at a time from the endless book that is my life. I have wanted to hear and know the whole story before I step and change but this is not how the book is read.

Right now those words are instructions; sink into silence and stillness; no distraction, no numbing, no mindless chatter.

To be simultaneously quiet and still I need solitude. I have retreated physically from many people I love and adore. I stay close to home to keep my energy close to my centre. There is no spare time to waste just hanging out, only snippets of time to connect purposefully and meaningfully with others before solitude calls once more.

I’m spending so much time alone that one of my sisters asked me if I am depressed. I am not. I am in the midst of a peace and energy I’ve never known. I am not lonely. I am not needy of people or things right now, only food and shelter, deep stillness and quiet.

Coming back to Melbourne and work I thought I would leave behind forever finally makes sense. I have not failed. It has lead me here to this point in my life, this place I need to be to reclaim my spiritual power. Stillness and quiet is what I need to embody so the call can approach then enter, mingle, merge and consume.

Two steps forward, one step back and breathe in silence and stillness.

This is how I dance deeper.

Rumi's Go Deep, Go opened on this page
Stillness and quiet at Melbourne's Botanical Gardens