Lazuli Green Island Mama

Lazuli Green Island Mama

Thursday, August 22, 2013

For the love of illness

A vomit bug has just arrived in our home. I was in a work meeting for an hour or two this afternoon. When the meeting ended, four calls had been missed on my phone... 2 from school, 2 from the Zimbabwean. Oh. No.

Within an hour I was home with vomiting child, guzzling wormwood & clove tincture, taking probiotics, echinacea, vitamin C, anything I could find (!) in the hope of avoiding it myself. I cooked dinner while I helped one child with maths homework, while I helped the other child with vomiting. Later I attempted to listen to an online uni lecture that I'd missed today, again while tending to retching child at the same time.

Eventually it was all too much. All activity paused. I sat on the sofa to focus on heaving child.

Secretly I don't mind a vomit bug. Well, not the bug itself but the golden moments of expanding heart that it brings. The lights are dim, the sounds of pipes, guitar and waves lull my little one, while I rub his back, when he has nothing left to eject. His body surrenders to sleep - if only for an hour - and his soul's glow simmers down, but is still present, warming his usually strong physical being. And that there is the golden grateful vomit-bug moment.

Today is Thursday. On Sunday I was the one getting the rub down. My head pounded and threatened to split, while my two little boys tucked me into bed. One lay either side of me. One stroked my hair, the other rubbed my back, and that's how we all fell asleep. My sleep was fitful. I stirred and felt the splitting still going on. I was in pain but was so very happy... bathed in the love of my children, who had stopped fighting and jumping and tackling and pushing my buttons long enough to just give me all of their goodness.

The vomiting one is lucky to have his mama loving him.

I'm blessed to have them, to be the one to rub their backs while they - the very essence of them - bring love into and out of my heart.

I give thanks and praise for the vomit bug

for stopping me in my tracks
for reminding me what's what.

Blessed be,


Saturday, August 3, 2013

What's your deepest fear?

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
Marianne Williamson

Sunday, May 12, 2013

This is to mother you

"May my soul's love strive to you
May my love's meaning stream to you
May they bear you
May the hold you
In the heights of hope
In spheres of love".

Rudolf Steiner

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Calm after the storm

Crescent moon
pre-dawn walk with ink-black-silver water - me and my beloved dog - 
cooling air
early morning sun over our boat ride
today was a good day.

Frogs croak inside the office at my new workplace. I'm surrounded by good people, who value health and healing in the same way that I do. Passion for natural health, integrity, respect, work-life balance, family, social responsibility... they are all up there, held as the pillars of our striving. It was so worth the wait. Thank goodness the tea shop didn't ever respond to my letter. If they had, I wouldn't be hearing the croaking frogs, coming to me live from the extensive internal gardens and external herb gardens.

Life has sent us a few curly ones this week.




What will you be doing this weekend?

(I'm sure that's not how I left it)

We will be going car shopping.

Friday, March 1, 2013

One little girl's Vanishing White Matter

This isn't a flippity pippit blog post. 

I have never met Chloe Saxby but I do have the pleasure of knowing her beautiful Aunt Nic. If Chloe is anything like her aunty, being a sparkling disco duck with the warmest heart and biggest sense of fun would be a piece of cake.

Chloe is a 4 year old with a rare and degenerative brain disease. It's called Vanishing White Matter Disease. Her life expectancy is now 5-10 years. 

Chloe and her family live in Wollongong, NSW Australia. If there is anyway you could help to make Chloe's life more comfortable, or assist her parents in their journey and provision of Chloe's increasing needs, please direct your energies and resources their way. You'll find more information at

Thank you for visiting this blog today.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Not the new girl I used to be

Ahhhh, you're still here? Lovely.

She is so tired, the lady of Lazuligreen. Her arms hurt, her eyelids are droopy, her ears are ringing (what? don't yours?) but she thought she'd just pop in for a quick helloooo-o-o-o-o.

I've just been having a quick squizzy at for a little update on how Nancy is going in her new nurse life. She's reminded me of my delicious week in London, this time last year, and I'm feeling a tad nostalgic. You know, I scored that ticket because:
a) my dad is very generous, and 
b) my dad can't stand the cold. 
I'm soooo glad I could go for a little trip to London in winter. I would say YES! to just about any free trip to London (and other world cities) but the chilly air on my usually sun-kissed face, just briefly, is a treat to behold and cherish.

I can't see any little trips surprising me this year, but you never know. I like to think of myself as an optimist.

Today was the first day of my second year back at uni (6th year in total if we're tallying life years at uni, but who's counting?). It felt so different to the same day a year ago. Back then, I felt so panic-stricken about being a hated mature-age student that I thought I would vomit on the library stairs. Then I asked myself... What's the worst thing that could happen here today? Being Australian, in Australia, (rather than any nationality in an American educational institution) I decided that the worst thing that could happen on that particular day at that particular moment would be me getting my period, unexpectantly, having it run down my legs and then me falling unceremoniously down the stairs outside the library, in front of all those brand new 18 year old uni students and have everyone laugh at me. Once I'd come up with that imagery, I could logically see how unlikely that was, tuck the thought of vomit back down into my belly and march on through my day.

But today.... Oh there was none of that. The sun shone. My boots, they did march themselves right on over to the lecture theatre, quite happy and relaxed. I embraced my friend, Mary, happy to see her after the summer break. After our lecture, in we boldly went, straight into the Staff Cafe. Hilarious! As Mary assured me when we met last year: No-one is going to ask us for ID in there! 

We enjoyed a rather grown-up lunch ("You ARE a grown-up", Noah pointed out. Hmphh) with a beautiful view through leaves in a quiet spot. And with that I've ticked off one of my 2013 campus missions, on day one.

Eat in Staff Cafe.
Because I can.
Because 38 is great.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013


I honour the place in you that
is the same as me.

I honour the place in you where
the whole universe resides.

I honour the place in you 
of love, of light, of peace and of truth.

I honour the place in you
that is the same in me.

There is but one.


Friday, January 25, 2013

Days on bikes and water

Somedays, sometimes, 
"I am, I am, I am Superman, and I can do anything"
as R.E.M. so aptly sing. Well, I'm sure they do. I can't find that song now that I'm looking for it. Does anyone know which album that is on?

I recently had a day with some of those Super(wo)man moments. I carried 3 bikes in to the boat. Yes, "carried". Hitched 'em up and stepped on into it. They then needed to be off-loaded, along with the children at the Point, after 3 big hearty waves to the Water Police (in their newly decorated swish boat).

My little boys and I then rode along the shore to one of our favourite bayside parks where we played with friends. The ride took about 25 minutes and was mostly flat for my little Chooch, who hasn't mastered the hand-brake on his big bike. Oh how I wish I had a photo of those skinny legs, skinny arms, flat strong back in purple T-shirt, big head in funky helmet - so happily cruising around on his newly acquired yellow BMX. That memory is gold to me.

Children riding free. Such blissful moments. I know I've always loved the freedom I feel on a bike. My home town is very hilly. That didn't deter us though as kids... we just spent more time pushing our 'pushies' than flying down hills on them. But there was a lot of flying too.

After a few hours of sun and water play we rode back and the boys were treated to ice-blocks, hot chips and jumps off the public jetty. Oh yeah... Mama's taking all the points today as holiday Mama extraordinaire! We then brought ourselves back home for a nana-nap before packing a picnic dinner and heading back to the water. Jetty jumps, dogs chasing cockatoos, picnic dinner... today was well and truly a gold star kind of day.

 Blue-tongued lizard in our backyard.

 I am Happy Feet dangling in warm, summer waters.

 Do I look like Superwoman? Who cares! Sometimes I just am.

They really were much happier than they look. Really. It was a gold star day.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Christmas 1986

Well hello there. I won't mention my summer absence, if you don't.

Here's a story about a bike. She cost my parents around $300. She was their gift to me for Christmas, 1986. I remember the first time I sat on her. I've always thought she was a beauty.

Two years ago, I gave her away. I thought she wasn't an island girl. I was wrong.

She's come home to me. Still mine. I love her.

In her heart, she's always been an island girl. Just waiting for me to realise.