‘I’m sorry I’m not available to answer your call right now, … please leave your message at Shell beach. Western Australia.
Gone on a family walkabout in the wonderfull lands of Oz
More fun, more adventure, more laughter.
ABOUT SHELL BEACH
This aptly named beach is found on the drive into Shark Bay and you won’t find sand here – just billions of these tiny Shark Bay cockle shells reaching depths of up to 10m and stretching for more than 70km.
In the early 1900s, shells from the beach were quarried, cut into blocks and used to construct a number of buildings in nearby Denham.
When you #WanderOutYonder along the Coral Coast Highway, stop to explore Shell Beach then keep your eyes peeled for shell block buildings around town.
ME: I’m in a bad mood
HIPPOCRATES: Go for a nice long walk and if you’re still in a bad mood,
go for another walk.
FOR THE PLEASURES OF YOUR SOLES
When the world is chaotic, your mind is in a buzz,
with in an infinite overload of ‘out of the blue’ stuff.
Take your mind, heart, soul and spirit for a walk,
listen out for the exhilarating sounds of nature’s call.
Soul of Mother Earth, to soles of your feet;
Heart to ground, centred in peace.
Heel, then toe, mindfully across terrain,
smell and touch the stability of Earth again.
Let the grass grow under your feet,
heart lifting moments, as senses meet.
Earth and Heart, letters are the same;
they’re just ‘sounded’ out in a different way.
Victoria Healing ~ 27.4.2021
Heel to Toe
‘When you realise Heart and Earth are spelled with the same letters,
it all starts to make sense’ ~ ~Jennifer Bramley ~ Earth Day Tag
Image: Unknown ~ Pininterest
Reading:
‘The soul of the earth, can best be felt through the soles of your feet.
When you walk arrive with every step. That is walking meditation. ~
Thich Nhaat Hanh.
Kinhin. Walking Meditation.
This is the Japanese Monk from the documentary Baraka
‘
This Monk is ringing a bell as he walks, so that it chimes at a constant interval, calling people to pay attention and join him on his spiritual journey.
Mindful Walking Explained
Simply apply the core concept of mindfulness to the process of walking. Focus the mind on the movement of walking. This increases the mind-body connection, heightens mindfulness, and boosts our mental well-being.
“The most primitive way of healing the body is by putting bare feet on natural ground,” says US cardiologist Dr Stephen Sinatra. “I call it caveman medicine and I thoroughly recommend it.”
‘There’s a difference between knowing the path and walking the path ~ The Matrix
Solvitur ambulando/ˈsɒlvɪtər ˌæmbjʊˈlændoʊ/[1] is a Latin phrase which means “it is solved by walking” and is used to refer to a problem which is solved by a practical experiment. It is often attributed to Saint Augustine.[2]
DOGNAPPED
There were a lot of comings and goings,
backwards, forwards too-ings and fro-ings.
As the station wagon was stocked and packed,
luggage being stuffed and stacked in the back.
Taken hostage and secured in the rear seat,
stolen for ransom, as they handed me treats.
Driving miles, along roads and dusty tracks,
I worried, if I would know my way back?
My world was instantly, entirely rearranged,
I remember thinking that ‘This is so strange’
“Where are they taking me on this ride”
as my tummy was feeling all wobbly inside.
Scanning the peculiar scenery and vista,
as my sniffs to the air, smelt much crisper.
Where will I sleep? when will I be fed?
worrying thoughts, spiralled in my head.
Into the dreams of sleepy lands otherwhere,
head down, bum up, I surrendered my cares.
“We’re here” I heard the humans shout,
we’ve reached our stop, let’s all get out.
Seized and trapped into a small house,
I pondered the unfamiliar and odd layout.
There I was, in freestanding, metal box,
they called it a caravan; my home, it was not.
Captive and restrained with a long lead,
sitting warily on the suspicious fluffy seat.
There was no noise, or people in sight,
was this where I’d spend the rest of my life?
Silent beaches surrounded by blue water,
was this what my humans had sought after?
This was my first road trip, to be fair,
I’ll always follow my family anywhere.
As chief protector and guardian of my family,
I take on this responsibility happily and gladly.
It’s not where you walk, its who you walk with,
that was another day, I’m glad that I did.
Charlie (Am Staff) Healing ~ 12.10.2020
DOGNAPPED
Charlie’s first road trip
Carnarvon ~ Quobba Camp
“Lets go exploring” our daughter said,
with a huge whoop of excitement.
“There’s a dirt track, just up ahead”
into the unknown, we were invited.
I’d been curious about these 'off' roads,
what secret surprises, they'd reveal, to see.
You know, where sedans are forbidden to go,
because city cars couldn’t drive, easily.
Gatekeeper nods, with outstretched hand,
beckoning us forwards, through rusty old gate.
As we entered, into a desert of no mans land,
anticipating “how long our expedition will take”
Inching slowly over corrugated track,
our destination, 80kms in the distance.
That dusty, bumpy road, was no easy task,
we had to remain steadfast and persistent.
“This was a bad idea” hubby griped,
stranded in the wild, eerie, remote and barren.
‘What if we have to camp out here overnight,
something beastly and frightful, could happen”
Sandstorms whisked, around and ahead,
gnarly shrubs, laced bright yellow and grey,
Escorted by our small convoy; we were led.
amongst windswept lands, being driven astray.
At last! our journey's end, was in sight,
socially distancing, in true Ozzie style.
At the heart of Gnaraloo we found paradise,
a hell of a ride, but happily ending, with smiles.
Victoria Healing ~ 8.10.2020
UNCHARTED TERRITORY
Making Tracks Entering Gnarloo Okay, so perhaps we got lost Images: Miri Johnson
Gnaraloo is a working pastoral station, adjacent to the Ningaloo Marine Park, 150 kilometres north of Carnarvon, in Western Australia. It may be some of the areas most uncharted territory. This is Australia’s surfing mecca. Legendary for its fishing, waves and wind.
https://www.gnaraloo.com/
Stepping out of our caravan door,
we saw an odd ‘thing' we’d not seen before.
In the middle of nowhere, out of the blue,
was a strange and peculiar, angle of view.
Our world had turned upside down,
the sea was on top, I thought ‘I’ve drowned’
Our dogs were barking and making a fuss,
the Alien in the sky, had all been too much.
Wobbly body, eight arms and bulbous eyes,
it was a giant flying Octopus, to our surprise.
Multi faceted, intelligent and highly capable,
most see an Octopus as a tasty food staple.
I’ll be giving this seafood meal a miss,
I refuse to see it grilled, with garlic on my dish.
Resourceful, magical, mysterious and clever,
the oddities we see on our travel endeavours.
Billions of years, being impossible to find,
now here is one, hanging onto a string line.
Victoria Healing ~ 5.10.2020
Out of the Blue
Did you know?
An Octopus doesn't only see... it can recognise your face and even get to know you. We have so much to learn about these magnificently ancient creatures.
If you want to feel inspired by the power of nature, watch the movie “My Octopus Teacher”
CHECK YOUR REAR
In the barren wilderness of the remote Ozzie bush,
the ablutions are basic, don’t expect classy or ‘lush’
A car ride, is required, a kilometre or so,
you must drive quickly, if you ‘really, really’ want to go.
Self sufficient in your camp site, you must be,
especially if you frequently need to pee.
Tin shed Potties, are the essential trend,
never luxurious, or swish, can you comprehend?
Search for spiders under the toilet seat,
they’re the critters you never want to meet.
Inspect the privy, before sitting on your throne,
the local frogs may be swimming at home.
Our mate, Mr Brian had gone for a ‘relief’ meeting,
his regular ritual, primal and basic seating.
As he sat on the Dunny, he’d heard a flapping,
scaring him, that some ‘thing’ may come attacking,
Investigating the water tank to check the foray,
he found a baby Falcon, drowning, thrashing away.
Submerged and sinking, the small fledging, was in panic,
Brian knew, that he must dive in quickly, to grab it.
As the Hawk was pulled safely back to dry land,
his healing and recovery was hopefully, at hand.
We thought that young Falcon’s end was nigh,
but then we heard him screech, croak and cry.
Rescued, resuscitated, refreshed and revived,
our Mr Brian had thankfully saved this bird’s life.
His urgent rescue mission was a total success,
that little Falcon flew elsewhere, to find happiness.
At the end of this story, it is obvious and clear,
just like Brian, when in the Lav, you must check your rear.
Victoria Healing ~ 2.10.2020
Check Your Rear
Young Falcon, In the dog cage, resting and drying out.
There is no water available at Quobba Point, Western Australia. It is a free camp, 80 kms out of town. Travellers have to have their own water supply. Some inconsiderate idiot had taken the top off the water tanks by the toilets to steal water, which is not drinkable anyway. They didn’t bother putting the top back on, so this young Falcon got in, but couldn’t get out.
Far away in Australia’s remote bush,
we parked up our caravan to savour the hush.
80kms out of town, surrounded by scrub,
amongst lots of creatures who lived in that hub.
A plethora of food is available in their surrounds,
they were all very quiet, not making any sounds.
Horrifically one night, as I lifted up our van bed,
I saw some 'thing' moving, or was it in my head?
Screaming out to hubby in distress and surprise,
I called him to “come quickly” to “Look what’s inside”
“No, nothing is there” he confidently said,
“Lets just get comfy and tucked up in bed”
In the morning, brown pellets, scattered all around,
calling cards from nature, that we had found.
Quickly running to lift up the camper bed,
terrified at the prospect of what lay ahead.
Screwdrivers, torches quickly were fetched,
even six year old Mr Grandson joined in our quest.
Hubby had said it must be my imagination,
a scream from Mr Grandson confirmed the true situation.
“Yes” he had spied a brown running ‘thing’
Pop eyes bulging, he shrieked “I can see him”
as apprentice of creature catcher, he swiftly leapt up,
looking to trap him, just under the wooden struts.
As the storage chamber was quickly revealed,
we saw to our surprise, the mystery as concealed.
Both chased that ‘tail’ quickly to find,
as Mr Grandson remained vigilant all of that time.
Skirting boards and cupboards went a flying,
I reminded them, “I didn’t want to see ‘it’ dying”
Hiding on the periphery, sniffing human scent,
the ‘beast’ ran into hiding in his own defence.
Nothing or no-one that morning, could catch him,
‘it’ was a tiny brown field mouse who’d been scratching,
Visiting hubby’s chocolate stash, in the evening,
we couldn’t allow him to continue, his proceedings.
Sadly to say, this tale has an unhappy ending,
a mouse trap was set up to prohibit his attending.
Sneaking sweet treats, had caused his demise,
Now we’ve confiscated all confectionary inside.
Victoria Healing ~ 2.10.2020
“That’ Tail
Rhyme Universe
@rhymesvpoetry
· Writer
Mom looking at the stream at the bottom of her garden in South Wales. Home of her (paternal) Grandmother ‘Susan Howells’ Cardiff, South Wales. (1940)
DEAR DIARY,
“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go” ~ Jamie Anderson
On the day my Mom passed away …
I was too shocked to speak or comprehend, that my life would never be the same.
Would I ever feel that loved, protected, safe or whole again?
My world had turned upside down and stopped!
Falling into a cold, empty void of heartbreak and tears. Scrambling and searching to find a ‘safe place’ to store all of this love that I have and will always hold for my Mom. This is the life force and the pulse of my love affair in the blogosphere with “Hey Momma”
My philosophy of life is absorbed from the wisdom of my beautiful Welsh mom and from the most extraordinary love that she exuded not only to me and our family, but all whom she met.
I had promised Mom that ‘I would trace her Welsh family ancestral roots’ as a legacy addressed to our new generations, yet to come.
So, a few years ago, after I had come to terms living without her, I began to search for my Mom’s, Mom’s Mom… but that is where I came to a full stop:
‘Gwyneth Jones’ from South Wales?
W H A T!
A needle in a haystack doesn’t even begin to describe the monumental search I had in store,but I had made my Mom a promise, that I could not break.
This is where my search into the folklore, legends and history of her birthplace in Neath, South Wales began.
Each day as I’ve researched our Cymru history and culture, I find myself closer to the heart of my great Celtic Mom and all that she had stood for.
Happily, I have found her again, in the silence of sacred mountains, the wildest and deepest of valleys and in the wandering of streams, right back to the memories of my childhood trips to visit my grandparents. And so here I am today, having smuggled myself back to Wales, following in the footprints and spirit of my Mom and our home.
I have met King Arthur and his knights, warriors, goddesses, kings, queens and princesses. It has been quite an adventure! Thank you for joining me.
WHERE TO NEXT? There will be more ‘Welsh’ adventures yet to come in a few months time.
but now, for the next little while, I am going to find ‘my self’ again, getting amongst the great outdoors in the outback of this great ancient land where I live and love today, in the golden heart of Western Australia.
“Don’t look so shocked” he said;
I hadn’t got the heart to lie,
It is not widely known; how the poor, are getting by.
When, we crossed the US/Mexico border,
an eerie air of silence, in anticipation of their law and order.
Standing patiently waiting in the queue,
remaining speechless, seemed the safest thing to do.
Passports were scrutinised and checked,
wondering ‘what on earth’ would come next?
An alien world beckoned, as we approached,
inhabited by poor, starving and disadvantaged folk.
Countless Mexicans, had tried to escape,
but that was, their biggest mistake.
People smuggling, extortion and rorts;
many had died, according to reports.
Refugees, desperately trying to flee, by the thousands.
sneaking across, wild lands and dangerous mountains.
Hidden in the backs of cars and trucks,
left to suffocate, their misfortune and bad luck.
This being the first time, I’d encountered starvation,
Mexico for me, was a strange, underprivileged nation.
I cannot begin to explain the horrors I saw;
never having seen the needy and deprived before.
In our wealthy countries, as comfy as we are,
safe in our warm houses, owning flashy cars.
We may be in ‘self isolation’ but why complain?
when others are desperate, we should think again.
In 1990, I was a “Disney World” tourist. We took a day trip across the San Diego/Mexico border. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw there. I’ve never forgotten my first encounter, with a poverty stricken country. There is a lack of sufficient information from the media, about the Mexican peoples welfare, during the covid19 crisis, making me wonder; what is actually happening over there?
Image: French artist JR has placed the 70-foot tall image of a one-year old boy peeking over the edge of the US-Mexico border. facing the US and overlooking the Californian landscape. The child peers over the wall with curiosity and interest at land on the other side.
The project reacts to president trump’s recent reversal of the DACA program — a policy that protects eligible immigrants, who came to the united states when they were children, from deportation.
Paradise one minute, Heaven the next, in this lucky land, of Australia, feeling blessed. Fishing rods set up and shelter for our girls, watching the sea, for fishing line swirls.
Calm turquoise ocean, lulls over the shore,
never could we ever be bored.
Seagulls swoop by, just for a look,
watching intently, what’s on the end of hubby’s hook?
Turtle nesting , well hidden in the dunes.
remaining cautious, in case they hatch too soon. Spotter planes, flying high in the sky:
seeking whale sharks for their clients to snorkel by.
Although there are no guarantees; Mother Nature is in charge, of unpredictable seas…
Tasty snacks and some chicken pate,
soft drinks, although, I’d prefer a latte! Back to the caravan for an afternoon nap,
a visit from our neighbours, when they get back.
Happy hour at 5pm: our friendly travellers arrive, chatting around the campfires, side by side. Consuming too much wine, beer, chips and dips,
oh dear, this camping life, is ending up on my hips!
