How many people brought up in my era were taught to hide their feelings? It took me so many years to learn how to feel and think for myself. I remember going to seminars and being asked how I felt about something that had happened in my life and finding it so hard to tap into my feelings. I have often in the past been influenced to believe that I must be wrong as my thoughts were often so different to those around me. I’m sure it is no coincidence that so many people, mainly men, who have been in my life, have been robbed of the ability to tap into their feelings.

Since the horrific incidence we experienced, almost a year ago, I have been encouraging my husband to let go of the protective shield he has had around his heart for so many years and set it free. Like so many of us, he has experienced much tragedy in his life and  has refused to let himself process his feelings about what has happened. I have found that when we bury these deep dark emotions, they rear their ugly heads at some time. It took me so many years, but I have found that once I have processed supressed feelings, I can let them go, allowing me to look at the past as my history. It didn’t happen overnight and I’m still working on it.

This year I have tried to grapple with intense pain whilst caring for my husband, but it has caught up with me and I now find that I must urgently have a hip replacement as my hip is bone on bone with one bone eating into another – ouch! No wonder there has been so much pain. Now time to express my feelings of relief, with some trepidation. There is excitement that there is hope in sight.

I have an absolute passion to assist young children to acknowledge their feelings and learn to think for themselves. That is why I am so happy about the project I am doing now which is writing a unique pre-school program which is heavily laden with feeling and thinking activities. These are the very aspects of ourselves that I believe the curriculum is designed to squash.

I have been accused of being a didactic writer and I do not apologise for that. When I wrote about Alphonso Ant trying to find a way to stop his ant family from fighting, it was designed to help children think about various situations that might be familiar to them and to think independently about what they might do to handle these situations and how it would make them feel. It is written in rhyme – because kids love rhyme, and it is alphabetical. (See example at the top). I have had to change the graphics for the manual – it is my copyright, but the book illustrations are not.

It seems to me, that we can see our experiences as positive or negative. They are always opportunities for growth, but we don’t always acknowledge the positive. That is one of the reasons I like being this age. This year more than any other, I have needed to use my on /off switch which reminds me to switch off the negative when it creeps in. It really works.

In My Heart

Chukwuebuka Moses

These feelings i nurse, i can’t explain,
They say men don’t cry but I am in pain,
Tears trying to drop from my eyes, i can’t hold it again,
Pouring out my heart isn’t like me, am i insane?

“Come on Lyn, let’s do the time warp again.” I loved my time as a teacher for senior students with intellectual disabilities. We were all having a ball practicing our version of The Rocky Horror Show for the school concert. There was always lots of laughter. I found each of these students I worked with had a special gift and it was always a joy to see them embrace their gift and learn to work with it. Mostly I enjoyed their sense of humour which was sometimes childish but often showed amazing perception. I have to confess my favourites were those born with Downs Syndrome. Unfortunately, often they are put under the sameness umbrella whereas I found each of them to be totally unique. Some were never able to speak so it was important that we were able to sign and often, as they were better than me at signing, they used it for hysterical advantage at my expense. I have always believed that everybody learns best when there is humour and wherever I have worked in education, humour has been a valuable tool. It was amazing what a difference this made to these young people who were much more aware than people realised.

Humour has helped me through so many difficult situations. When my Matt was close to death in an ICU ward, I would talk and sing to him sometimes all night. During that time, two people in the ward who had been on life support for many months, passed away and the doctors and nurses told me they thought that it was my singing that gave them the impetus to leave. Anytime I ventured into a musical rendition, my family would remind me of this fact.

Humour threatened to go missing when my husband was so seriously ill in ICU but only a few days into this part of the journey, once more humour saved the day. I was having mobility difficulties so was relying on a wheel chair. My daughter had wheeled me into the ICU ward to visit him. By this third day I had become used to his mop of white hair        still being tinged with blood following the episode that almost took his life. But on this morning, I was shocked to see a distinct change in hair colour. I could barely recognise the man I had married only six months previously. He was squashed up at the side of the bed with an ominous looking ventilator inserted plus tubes that seemed to be exiting from so many parts of his body. He was a stranger to me, but I leaned over him caressing and kissing his forehead, murmuring words of love and encouragement. I heard a gasp from my daughter standing beside me, “John doesn’t have tattoos does he?” Peals of laughter immediately diffused the tension as staff realised I had been kissing the wrong man. Some comments were, “Wow! I think you made his day.” “Just as well his wife didn’t arrive.” It was good to feel the release of laughter after the grimness of the previous few days. It gave me a new lens to approach my daily visits and helped me through the following six weeks. We rejoiced when he returned home – see the photo, even though he was a shadow of himself.

I am so fortunate to have been blessed with a sometimes-irreverent sense of humour. We all have certainly needed it these past few years. We can slide through the most hideous experiences so much better when we look for the positive. It is great to remember that we are so much stronger and more courageous than we realise and we are never alone. Laughter is certainly our best medicine.

I have always loved writing. Even as a small girl I would write little books and hide them in my drawer. So, what has been going on for me these past few years. I have tried to write this blog so many times, but apart from a few short articles, I have written very little. It isn’t as if there has been nothing to write about.

As everybody knows, there have been a few men in my life, some absolutely lovely and some more challenging, but every experience has been rich in learning experiences. I thought I was done. Maybe time to settle into the rocking chair with a book. Of course, those who know me well will have a giggle at this notion. I found that being single had some positive things going for it. However, one sunny June day in 2020, I met my Irish leprechaun. Here before me was this cheeky smile, surrounded by a mop of white hair worn in the style of Rod Stewart. This was just going to be one casual date, but what unveiled on that first meeting had us both realising that this was not going to be just a casual date. Some things are just meant to be. We were absolutely on the same page which over these past few years has been very comforting.

I gave up my lovely Currumbin retreat and moved to the Sunshine Coast which has been quite an adjustment. Covid had blown up and I felt surrounded by an immense curtain of fear and suspicion. It was sad to see that the New Year’s Eve invitation from our lovely neighbours began with the heading, “To all our double vaxed neighbours, you are invited …”  It made me long for my Currumbin retreat. However, with some of the triumphs and tragedies experienced by our residents here, there has been a real shift and the divide is not so great.

On the anniversary of our meeting, John took me to a magical place called, “Secrets on the Lake.” At exactly the time and date of our meeting, he unexpectedly proposed and we married four months later.The unique ceremony was conducted by beautiful Margit at the Phoenix Sculpture Gardens. How special is the memory of my handsome grandson guiding me through the gardens dotted with Graham’s exquisite sculptures, on the way to the top to complete the ceremony. All the more special as just a few short weeks ago, Graham left this earth, leaving behind not only Margit, but his beautiful paintings and sculptures and a wealth of knowledge. I’m so glad he was there on our special day.

We had no idea what was ahead for us. When I met John, he was extremely fit as the result of a strict exercise routine which included yoga, running up six flights of stairs to his apartment and lots of long walks. A year ago, I noticed a change. Very subtle at first but I noticed he was taking more rests and there was something that was not quite right. He had a bout of mercury poisoning which took a lot out of him but there seemed to be more.

April Fool’s Day passed uneventfully, with no real hint of what was to come. Breakfast was over and we were both in the kitchen cleaning up. I had my back to John and I heard this strange noise. As I turned, he fell backwards and immediately huge amounts of blood spurted out of his ears and head. He didn’t appear to be breathing. Except for the blood, this is exactly what happened to my lovely Mick. As I called 000, I panicked as I wondered why this was happening again.

Two ambulances arrived, thankfully very quickly. After assessing the situation, they advised me that I should come in the ambulance as they were not sure he would make it to the hospital. To cut a long story short, they found that his collapse was caused by his slow heart rate and he badly needed a pace maker. Of course, that wasn’t possible as his brain was injured and it took almost four weeks of very intensive care in ICU to get him conscious and well enough for the pace-maker.

I was having mobility issues and it was a long way from the car park to ICU. I was offended when my daughter bought me a wheel chair but that wheelchair became my best friend. I could put it into the back of my car as it was quite light. I would drive to the hospital, take it out and off I would go. The result is I have much stronger arm muscles after almost six weeks of action. I thought it was vital that I be there and talk to him each day, even though there seemed to be no response. The doctors did feel it helped. I told him that I would not give him permission to die even though initially it seemed like there was no hope for him.

On the second day I felt an incredible increase in the energy in ICU. Later I found out that there were hundreds of people sending out prayers and positive thought. I could feel them, just as I had so many years ago when my Matt was so seriously ill.  Every morning I would rise early and meditate. I cannot emphasise how much this helped me and also gave me the opportunity to ask the universe for the staff at the hospital to be guided to know the best treatment for my husband. I was then able to let go any anxiety I might have about the care he would be receiving. I have nothing but praise for all staff in ICU and then Cardio Care and such gratitude for the many people who sent out prayers and positive thoughts. The worst part of it all was the three weeks of delirium with doctor’s telling me that he may not get any better cognitively, but he has. Still a little confusion but we can work around that.

Once again, there have been so many learning experiences. I am much more conscious of the need to love and validate ourselves. I’m far less conscious about what people may think after experiencing being this eccentric old woman flying through the hospital in an orange wheel chair. One of the biggest lessons is firming up on my own gut feelings rather than a long-term affliction of accepting that others know better. I do think this is linked to self-esteem. As my lovely grandson said to me once, “Mema, when you stop learning you will die.”  I guess I’ll keep living as I’m sure there are still more lessons to learn. Yes, like most people, there have been a lot of traumas in my life, but it has been a wonderful journey and I’m still working out what I am going to do when I grow up.

I am still busy being a ‘carer’, but life is gradually returning to a bit of normality and there is so much to be grateful for. I’ve had a few writing opportunities come up so, maybe that is my signal to ramp up some activities. It has been tough for so many these past few years, but the insights I have been getting show me that we are moving towards a far better world.

Bring it on!  Meanwhile, we are always reminded to visualise what we want to happen. Our thoughts really do affect our reality and the best is yet to be.

The last line in the final chapter of my book, Sizzling at Seventy” stated, “I wonder what I will be doing at eighty?” Now here I am as the clock has clicked by and I cannot believe that I wrote this so many years ago. I didn’t feel old then and I certainly don’t feel old now. I will always hang onto the words of my beloved grandson who told me once that I was getting ‘newer’. His more recent gems of wisdom include, “Mema, when you stop learning you will die.” Wise words and I know I still have a great deal of learning to do, so I guess I will be sticking around for plenty more years. Of course, we know that time really doesn’t exist and if we didn’t have birthdays, we wouldn’t get old.

The main reason I wrote “Sizzling at Seventy” was for my clients, who like myself, had received abuse as children. It took me many years to realise that I had been stuck in victimhood and it took a great deal of reprogramming to be able to include my by-line –“From victim to victorious’.

What a journey it has been. I came to realise very quickly that there are always more steps to follow and soon after the book was released, I lost my beautiful husband who had contributed so much to my growth. I really wanted to go with him and for a long period of time, I lost my grip on reality. So many things happened and my emotional world crumbled. I certainly came to understand the term ‘mental health’. I wanted so much to get well, but it was not happening. One night a dear friend called me and I remember asking her if I would ever be well again. I am so thankful that she said, “Yes, you will.” I clung to those words which sustained me for the remaining months of my illness.

Now I am finding that it is pay back time. Living to this age and experiencing so much has given me an insight and hard-won wisdom which I can share with those who are open to receive. I will not just inflict myself on suffering souls, but I have found a real number of soul connections this past eighteen months which have been such enriching experiences.

I am able to say with absolute confidence, we are so much stronger than we think we are. I know it sounds brutal, but when people tell me they can’t go on, I will answer, “Yes you can.” However, I do remember clearly standing at my kitchen window and screaming, “I can’t bear it, I can’t bear it.” That still small voice said, “Well you’ve just gotta bear it.” I got it – and sunk my sorry self into a lavender bath.

Now ten years after my 70^th I am amazed just how life has miraculously changed. So many things continue to happen that I could not have dreamt about. What am I doing in my eighties? Of course there are challenges in this changing world, yet there are so many positives including: getting married again to a special man who loves me unreservedly; working on a project which I think is the most important work I have ever done; living in a lovely new environment; continually meeting soul connections, and most of all I have learned the hardest lesson of all for me – to love and appreciate who I am and this has been so freeing. It has enabled me to feel so much more for others in their joy, their pain, their sorrow and still feel at peace. This the legacy of hanging in there when it seeme

I intend to enjoy this next version of myself.

I thought I was invincible! Some time ago one of my grandsons assured me that I was certainly  invincible. The aging process was for everyone else and I would skip through the years as youthful and robust as I always thought I was. Now as my 80^th birthday looms closer and closer, the feeling of invincibility has not completely left me, but I have found some distinct holes in my logic. Yes, we find that inside we feel so young, but sometimes the body reminds us of all the years that we’ve experienced and we need to reset the navigation.

Recently I have had a big wake up call. I am having to accept that my two sisters are now in nursing homes. My big sister Brenda, who has looked after her wild younger sister with such big sister zeal, recently transitioned to a nursing home. As I watch her becoming frailer, the urgency of connection is real. There were years when we didn’t see each other, sometimes because of distance and other times when we let ideological differences separate us. Now it all seems inconsequential and I look forward to each precious moment we can spend together.

There is a certain amount of sadness and almost guilt when I watch the frailty of both my younger and older sisters. I am grateful for the tools I have been given to navigate a life that has been full of challenges but also amazing adventures. I am glad that I have been a risk taker, and whilst some of my risk-taking exploits have resulted in what appeared to be disastrous results, there was always great learning involved.

My kids once wryly told me that they would write on my epitaph, “She meant well.” Yep, I know where they are coming from, but I prefer something like, “Here lies Lyn. She was always willing to take a risk.”

It is almost a year since I wrote a blog and it has been a year of intense learning. Whilst I have been extremely fortunate to be working on an ongoing project, I knew I was undergoing one of the biggest transitions of my life and I wasn’t sure how it was going to pan out. I watched a beautiful python on my deck emerging from its old skin, exposing a shiny bright new one and I felt it was a message to me. Something was happening and for the first time I realised that I didn’t need to talk to anyone about it.

But now as I prepare to visit my ‘big’ sister in the nursing home, I am realising the importance of making the most of each moment. This is a time to not only hang onto what is precious and nurturing but to also face the fact that I have wasted a great deal of time on some lost causes  – even if I did ‘mean well’. Now it has become more and more important when contemplating doing anything, I say to myself, “For the sake of what?” .For the sake of what do I push myself to keep doing tasks when a good book is beckoning? For the sake of what do I keep learning – apart from the fact another grandson told me not long ago that when I stop learning I will die. Not a bad incentive. I am aware that my time here is short and there is still stuff to do. That is what keeps me going.

In the past year I have gained a new loving relationship – totally unexpected and moved north to the beautiful Sunny Coast. We never know what is around the corner and I have learnt the hard way that we can turn negatives into positives. This also is what keeps me going. I acknowledge that I am not invincible as I navigate this next version of myself.

We have all been affected by this strange life with so many unknowns, but we have seen some unexpected positives arise. Mother Earth has shown her gratitude by allowing us to see nature as it hasn’t been visible for so long. Hands of kindness have reached out to others – albeit with the required distance being observed. I have watched each sunrise with a new feeling of awe, marvelling at the painted sky as the bright orange rim peers over the hills opposite my deck heralding another magic day, and once more I am touched by gratitude.

I remember a time in another life as I sat beside a glittering pool outside the mansion that was my home at that time. I remember saying that I hated my life and yet I was living a more privileged life than I ever had. My memories living in poverty in cane barracks in North Queensland are etched in my memory as a far more peaceful and fulfilling lifestyle.

So, what really is the secret to happiness?

I have experienced so much over the years and watched the world become a different place. I am privileged to spend some time on ABC radio with Kat Feeney in a slot called, Back in the Day. A few days ago, the subject of home movies came up and as I, alongside some listeners, raided our memories of family movies, we marvelled at the continual changes and the developments that have taken place in our lifetimes.

When my children were small, we had been quite proud of owning a super eight movie camera and projector which allowed us to take embarrassing shots of our family. I laugh when I remember how self-conscious we were as we attempted to look natural but only managed to achieve robotic, Charlie Chaplin like movements that made us look quite vulnerable. Now it seems a way of life to have a movie taken of us on our little phones. I think we are far less self-conscious. In fact, recently I had a trial run of producing some training videos online, something I’ve always said I would never do, but actually I found it much easier than I thought. As you can see from the photo, it is a bit rough and I need to up the logistics, but I now know it is possible. It reminded me of when computers entered our world and I was sure that I would never use one but of course these days computers are an essential part of my life and work. I wonder what might be next?

There have been so many evolutions of change we could not have envisioned and I have no doubt there is so much more. But has it made us any happier? Have we learnt the key to happiness – or even contentment?

I hear the term resilience a lot lately and teachers are concerned that many students suffer from the lack of it. There may be many reasons why that might be, but I believe if we are going to live to our highest potential with joy and fulfillment, learning to be resilient is a high priority.

I am passionate about kids being given as much assistance to gain skills that assist them to think for themselves and learn to be resilient. Some seem to have it naturally while others struggle under the weight of an often hostile world.

I  am working on a project which I believe is the most important one I have ever been involved with and I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to produce material that may be of benefit to teachers and students in becoming more resilient, having more courage, and being able to use the tools of adaptability. Telling the stories of three remarkable men, who have had to overcome much to develop all three skills and are now doing all they can to help make this world a better place, has certainly been a joyful experience. These men have learned to find their own measure of contentment while being proactive in their desire to help others.

I truly believe they have found one of the important keys to happiness.

Gosh, how easy it is for us to make judgements of others and I have been guilty of perceptions without knowing the back story. I am feeling this very heavily at the moment. I have recently begun to study, quite intensively, generational trauma and have just enrolled in a Master Class conducted by a hero of mine, Dr Gabor Mate´. The graphic here comes from one of my published books where I give a child’s perspective about believing and knowing. I know there are members of my family that feel that I expose too much – reveal the dirty linen so to speak, but I have found great healing in speaking openly about issues and am happy to say that there are some who have also benefitted.

So, more dirty linen to share. During my recent studies, I gained a deeper understanding of generational trauma and it has helped me understand so many things that have impacted on my life.
It used to be a punishment to be sent to my grandmother’s place for a ‘holiday’. I was not the only one who felt this way. I longed for the grandmother who sat you on a knee and read you stories – who baked apple pies with you and helped you plant a garden. I think I read too many books. I’m sure my grandmother disliked us every bit as much as we disliked her. Now I wish she was here so I could tell her I understand and how I long for a relationship with her that would go beyond the occasional stale biscuit.

My grandparents were dirt poor. I believe my grandmother even boiled up dock weeds to make soup. She must only have been at the most in her early forties when I first remember her, but she looked and dressed much older. Even looking at old photos I find very little attractiveness in her demeanour. It was only after she passed away that I found out some of her history.
It was always a puzzle to me that my very ordinary, very poor grandparents produced some highly intelligent, if somewhat troubled offspring. Well, now I’ve found out. A very special cousin gave me the gift of a large volume titled ‘The Withers – Whose forbears in ancient Britain walked’. It turned out to be the history of my mother’s side of the family.

Previously I had been told that my grandmother became pregnant to the Methodist Minister’s son at the age of fifteen and was punished by being confined to a room for the whole of her pregnancy. She was given meals pushed through the door and a slop bucket changed but no one was allowed to speak to her. Facetiously, I wonder what punishment the sperm donor had to endure. Her mother took on the care of the son that was born but when my grandmother married my grandfather, the child was given back into her care. Imagine a young husband who unwittingly was marrying someone who was already a mother. Not a good start to a marriage. They went on to produce eight children which was a huge burden for her.

Knowing this made a big difference to how I saw my grandmother, but with the further insights gleaned from the history book, I find that she came from a wealthy and highly respectable family. Committing the sin of becoming pregnant at fifteen caused her to be rejected from a family that could have sustained her. I also have to realise that the high intellect found in several of her children, including my mother, would have come from her side of the family and not my grandfather, yet there was no hint of this in the grandmother that we knew and it is no wonder. I cried when I saw a photo in the book of her as a young girl. She looks so stately and unlike the bowed down, nasty woman we knew. My heart aches for her and also for my mother who I know suffered badly from generational trauma, which in turn was passed down to us.

It is so easy to make judgements about others when we have no idea what lies behind some of the actions we find hard to fathom. I long for a world when we can accept each other. I have certainly been misrepresented at times and this is a lesson to me to gain more understanding. That is why I want to learn more about generational trauma so I can help my clients – as well as myself.

“All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into little jagged pieces, beyond repair.”

I read these words in a beautiful book written by Mitch Albion, the acclaimed author of “Tuesdays with Morrie”. This book is called “The Five People You Meet in Heaven.”

I had been searching for a particular book to give a friend for his birthday and the young girl serving me pointed to the two books written by Mitch, this one and its sequel. With tears in her eyes she told me that these two books moved her more than any others that she had read. I am not sure what stirred me most. I didn’t feel that they were for my crusty ex journalist friend, but for some reason I felt that I must purchase them for my granddaughter.

The result was that I read them through myself and they are now neatly packaged as a Christmas present for my lovely granddaughter. I wonder how she will receive them. Something tells me that she will be moved in a similar way to me.

When I read the paragraph above, I had to concede that there was truth there. I began motherhood at the ripe age of twenty, desperately wanting to give my child a better life than mine. I loved her, and the two brothers that followed, with a passion that I had never previously experienced. I was determined to be the best mother ever and I even smugly convinced myself that I was – until I had to face the fact that I wasn’t. Yes, I had done the best I knew how to do but it took quite a few years and tears to accept the fact that I had inadvertently damaged them in some way. I hope just smudged but I suspect a few cracks along the way.

During my years of teaching I came across children who were smudged and working with them was comparatively easy. There were many who were cracked and much harder to break through but often they just needed to be recognised and given some guidance. Sadly, there were a few that appeared to be shattered into jagged pieces but I never wanted to see them beyond repair. My own childhood probably left me cracked, although there were times that I felt shattered, as many of us do.

I grew past feeling bitter about my childhood when I learned about my own parents’ childhood experiences, which led me to dig deeper and recognise that they did the best that they knew how to do. I thank them now for all of the experiences I have had, all of which have helped me in the work I now do.

For some reason I felt to attach the graphic that was going to be used for the cover of a book never completed. Ande and I certainly navigated some rocky roads as we worked together, but were able to celebrate that we did indeed get up again.

Recently I sat in circle with much younger people and was quite chuffed when they saw me as a wise elder. I hope I earn that title. I know that without life’s tough challenges – the school of hard knocks – I certainly could not have gained the wisdom – and there is still more to be gained.

This Christmas we will have a rare opportunity to all be together, apart from my grandson and family who live in Cairns. I am not sure that my family see me as a wise elder, having seen some less than wise behaviour over the years, but I know that I am loved and that is the most precious gift they can give me.

I’m on fire today!  I must confess that wasn’t the case a few weeks ago when my birthday did its usual annual thing by appearing on the calendar and instead of congratulating myself on surviving yet another year, I momentarily turned to despair. Where had all those years gone? What had I achieved in all of those many years? It was not helping that my daughter-in-law was enduring the exercise of working in an aged care facility and there were a number of people younger than I in various stages of decay. Some of her stories were challenging and I began to wonder what my future looked like. I hadn’t done that before.

So, it was time to take stock. My time left in this mortal existence is surely diminishing but I still have plenty of get up and go. My kids tease me when I forget things but I now know that is not because there is a loss of brain cells – my brain has been going flat out for many years and it is just getting very full.

Yes, sometimes I ache in the mornings but that soon goes as I move about. I’m back at Yoga after a long break, and although I am not going to graduate to the advanced class any time soon, I am quite surprised at how flexible I am becoming. I’ve learnt to accept that with some poses there tends to be more emissions of air that I don’t bother to apologise for anymore, but on the whole, I am feeling much better.

I love my early practice of sitting up in bed and being grateful for the trees outside and the birds paying their early morning visit. All in all, I am grateful for my Pollyanna approach to life. I know that optimists drive pessimists mad, but I would rather look on the bright side than be miserable every day. I rather agree with that old philosopher Seneca who stated, “If it is not in your control, why worry? We suffer more from imagination than reality.”

The best thing of all about age is that you come to realise that along with all the rotten things that happen in life, there will always be splendiferous, amazing things that can happen if we allow them to. Maybe some people are more comfortable being miserable. I believe it is a choice.

Anyway, when I rid myself from my unaccustomed feelings of despair, magical things began to happen. I met with gorgeous Gwen who is keen to help me organise a book launch in a lovely café. I am going to Tenterfield next week to work out a book launch there following a recent, great article about the book in the Tenterfield Star.

I love being creative and am embracing an opportunity to put together some children’s environmental books using my friend Garry’s beautiful bird paintings. We plan to do other creative works together which will express who we truly are. I have spent much of my life caring too much about what others think of me, but in the past few years I have come to realise that there are those who disapprove of me and it won’t matter a jot if I create something that might seriously shock them.

Yesterday I met with women who have absolutely set me on fire. Mandy Nolan is a woman I admire so much. She has the courage to put herself out there in a manner that some would find shocking. She has the comedic gift to present raw truths in a way that makes us laugh. Christa Hughes is a singer who is also someone who dares to be out there. I went to a concert in Melbourne some years ago where she performed with her father Dick Hughes, a noted jazz musician and loved her work. These women have big hearts, loads of talent and are not afraid to accept that there will be some who are shocked by what they do. When I spoke to them about what I intend to do in the coming year, they informed me that this is now my time to let go any concern of what anyone will think. They are incredibly supportive and gave me lots of ideas which will be very helpful. My plan will unveil over the coming year and I’m so excited. I’m assuring my beautiful daughter in law that I will not be joining any of her tribe at the nursing home any time soon.

Recently I have heard people, whom I admire, confess that they were suffering from “The Imposter Syndrome”. Maybe it is the time of the year when we pause to reflect. I’ve certainly had many times when this self-defeating syndrome has crept up on me and impeded my ability to move forward. “One day they are going to find out that I am not really who they think I am.” “It is a fluke that this book has been a success’ … and on and on. Sadly, there are many reasons why we are programmed to think these thoughts. Not everybody is going to like what we do and it takes courage to face the world with our true beliefs and intuitive actions. It has taken many years and experiences to find it okay to love myself and accept what I have to offer.  I can now stop asking for the acceptance of others and know that what I do will touch the people it is supposed to touch.

A few days ago, I received a post on Face Book from a special young woman, Nellie Fox, I had known as a child when I lived in Port Douglas in the eighties. She sent me the attached picture and thanked me for the inspiration I was to her so many years ago. She told me that she was doing the exciting work she is doing today with her company, Missie B Event Management, because of her family and me. I was incredibly touched. I had no idea and had almost forgotten the experience. I was asked to write a pantomime about a local animal. I chose the orange legged fowl – whose true name was Megapodius Reinwardt. It was at the time of Christopher Skase, whose ‘invasion’ changed Port Douglas forever.

Recently I have heard people, whom I admire, confess that they were suffering from “The Imposter Syndrome”. Maybe it is the time of the year when we pause to reflect. I’ve certainly had many times when this self-defeating syndrome has crept up on me and impeded my ability to move forward. “One day they are going to find out that I am not really who they think I am.” “It is a fluke that this book has been a success’ … and on and on.

 I lived next to where the Mirage was built and as the lovely forest was demolished for this edifice, these little creatures became displaced, causing huge repercussions. They were flying into trees, being hit by cars and invading people’s gardens. I found it very distressing and was quite amused when the Mirage was built and the golf course constructed, these clever little things re-established themselves in the cultivated gardens and were often seen strolling around the golf course as if they had designed it for themselves.

I called the pantomime, “Megapodius Undaunted”. It was a bit of a metaphor of my own life at the time. I was supported by an amazing bunch of people and although there were those who went out of their way to criticise, it touched the people it was meant to touch. Nellie was the magic fairy pictured, and her mother Jill, made the most incredible costumes which I think were world standard. Two of the stars have since passed on but how grateful I was for their enthusiastic participation.

I was then encouraged to write a book about it and was keen to use a real background with my little cartoon figures superimposed. I did send it to publishers and there was some interest but in those days the project would have been too expensive to produce. One publisher mentioned that it was a bit too didactic and had to look up the meaning. Since then I have had to concede that seems to have become the genre that I always seem to engage in. I hope it is not because my father was a preacher- heaven forbid!  I’d love to write the racy novel – and still hope I will.  However, I seem to find myself forever engaged in wanting to change the world and it is always gratifying to get this positive feedback from people like Nellie. The racy novel will just have to wait.

I hated every day of my school life. Was that enough reason for me to take up teaching as a career? In my own mind I believed I could give kids a better time at school and yes, the students in my classes did indeed have a ‘good’ time. My only hope was that the ‘good’ time would allow them to learn in a stress-free, stimulating environment. Mostly it worked but there were those days that could have been better.

Years later I was fortunate to be given an extra year at university to study special education. This was so exciting as it gave me the opportunity to explore extra strategies. I had been a child who did not fit into the school system and as a specialist teacher I was passionate about finding pathways for students who were deemed failures at school. In most of these cases I found that they displayed intelligence in other areas so I was thrilled to come across Howard Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences. It struck a real chord with me as we began looking at ‘How are you smart’ rather than ‘How smart are you.’

At the same time Edward De Bono’s notion of thinking outside the square really piqued my interest and I was fortunate to have the opportunity to use some of his methods while developing my own. I went on to write a series of books called ‘Thinking Sideways’ published by Oxford University Press, which incorporated opportunities for students to think differently. I now believe that this was a precursor to the methods used in some schools today when introducing philosophy to young children. I am excited about this as the skills developed by introducing philosophy at an early age, are skills that are vital in today’s world, where there is a need for creativity and innovation. There are many benefits not found in standardised testing. These include critical thinking, learning to understand other people’s view points among other skills.

I left education feeling rather disillusioned, and moved into the corporate space, never dreaming that I would be wooed back to the educational domain. Yet here I am. I still love working with adults and will do so until I die, but I would never give up the chance to do something that I feel may be of benefit to children. Thus, I have spent a number of years working on an online language program and then recently I was asked to write a children’s book incorporating the alphabet and rhyme. So, Ants in Pants and Bees in Trees was born. Alphonso Ant’s journey to find a way to stop his ants from fighting, lends itself to good philosophical discussions which encourage children to be curious and seek their own answers to questions they might have. I have provided some suggestions as to how to start the process and hope they may inspire teachers and parents to use the book to stimulate children. It is full of mystery and intrigue and children can come up with their own solutions. I hope it will provide lots of discussion and fun.

Ants in Pants and Bees in Trees is available at Amazon and other outlets as well as my website www.traillblaze.com.

Life is such an adventure and we never stop learning. Sometimes the lessons are tough but always they can help us grow stronger.

I have spoken about the books I have been writing and my desire to help people become their best selves. My clients are my gift as I gain so much when I see them grow and discover life through a new lens.

Over a year ago, I was given a strong message that I must write a book about grief. The feeling was so strong and I set about writing from my heart and from my own experience. Soon it became clear that there were so many kinds of grief and I am so grateful for those who trusted me enough to include their stories. So, “Rainbows through Cobwebs Finding your ‘Fabulous’ again…and again.” was born. I have much gratitude for the cover my friend Theo Gard allowed me to use. I had wanted to include the grief he shared with me on losing his beloved dogs. It was a lengthy interview and so much more transpired which is in the book. Following our interview, Theo was inspired to paint what is now the cover, with his title ‘Rainbows through Cobwebs’. This really stirred my heart as I have been watching his rainbow becoming clearer through the cobwebs of his life.

The story about Kerri, “From despair back to dancing queen” is inspiring as are the stories of so many others. Matt, finding his tribe after grief; Donna overcoming grief to build a school against all odds; Josephine creating miracles in Indigenous communities after many setbacks;  Suzette losing so much through polio and abuse; Shirley shining through the grief of identity and inspiring her son who became a quadriplegic through a football accident and many other vignettes from special people who have helped me work through grief and PTSD in a way I never imagined. One of my favourite stories was written by Tatia Power who struggled to find her identity causing her to suffer a grief that is common to so many people.

Each of the people written about in the book are continually finding their own fabulous and have risen above their grief.

On my vision board I wrote that I was going to become a Hay House writer and speaker. I felt I had ben given some indications of the possibility of this happening. I have had thirty books published by Longman, Oxford University Press and Cambridge University Press – but I had a dream to become a Hay House author and set about doing everything possible to make it so. In the past my vision board has become a reality. Answers were given but not always in the way I had envisioned. This is happening again. Yes – I was listening to a promise that was never made, and I have felt so let down and rather betrayed. However, I know that my vision will still take place in another form which is already beginning to reveal itself.

I am now setting about improving my website and making it easier for people to buy my books and interact with me.  I also had a children’s book published at the same time as Rainbows. I’ll write about that in the next blog.

Below is an excerpt from a press release put out by the publisher:                                                                                            Grief is no stranger to many people. Lyn Traill’s new self-help book, “Rainbows through Cobwebs: Finding Your ‘Fabulous’ again…and again”, challenges people to find that they can rise again, even from the depths of their despair.

“Rainbows through Cobwebs” is not just about how to deal with grief. It discusses how people can move past all forms of grief and the things they’ve done that they’re not proud of. Traill wants to inspire readers to reach deep down into their soul to find that beautiful something that will ignite the best of them so they can truly find their “fabulous.” The end of each chapter presents “healing toolboxes” for additional encouragement.

At last my book is ready to edit. Before I send it to my lovely editor, I wanted to share the preface and Theo Gard’s painting which I found inspiring. Hopefully the book will be out in the New Year.

We are all ‘fabulous’. The dictionary definitions vary but all use the word extraordinary – ‘so great we can barely believe it’. I have written on mywebsite that It’s never too late to find your ‘fabulous’. Even better if we can acknowledge that we have already found it, because we are already extraordinary beings. I have never met anyone who is not extraordinary, but sadly, I have also met many of us who cannot see the‘fabulous’ within ourselves. I have certainly been in that position and it is now my passion to assist people to uncover, or rediscover that extraordinary being lurking within all of us.  We all face challenges in our lives that threaten to undermine us and force us to claw our way back. Each time we do this this we become so much stronger and even more ‘fabulous’, again… and again… and again!

Grief is no stranger to most people. To some degree we each experience its dark tentacles reaching into our soul and each of us handles it differently. It is a common saying that each of us grieves in our own way and at our own pace. There are also many circumstances and experiences that cause our grief. I felt moved to write a book that encourages people to know that even in the depths of despair we can rise again.

How fortunate I have been to have had the opportunity to understand what has been going on for me following my experience of profound grief. I have learnt so much about opening my heart and embracing my feelings. It didn’t happen overnight. In fact, had I died at the age my mother did, I would have missed out on learning it at all.

When I wrote my last book, Sizzling at Seventy, Victim to Victorious, I was transparent about my struggle to find my true self. Some criticised that transparency as airing my dirty linen, but many identified with my journey and were grateful. At the end of the book I was certainly feeling that I had found my ‘fabulous’ and made a rather arrogant statement that I felt that now I couldcope with anything that life threw at me. I will never again make such a statement because life did throw me the biggest curve ball of all and I struggled again to once more gain that confidence. I had come so far and had spoken about the strategies that had helped me, yet here I was stripped bare again. Thankfully this time I had more strategies and eventually climbed out of my hole. As I shared my early journey, I feel moved to share the sequel which has been a profound experience for me and one that has brought a great deal of learning.

Experiencing deep grief gave me the opportunity to understand the mood that comes with griefand some accompanying emotions such as denial, shock, guilt, anger. I also found that we tend to look at what we could have done better. My concerns were many. Did I show enough love when he was suffering? Did I give him the best of me at a time when there was tension in the air? I can now honour the process of grieving and all the learning that comes with it. I learnt that there is no quick fix, no band aid to put over the gaping wound that is the loss we have experienced. I now understand that the sadness we feel over a loss may never go away and can creep up unawares when a particular song is played, or a thought may be triggered by an event. The notion that time heals I see as erroneous.

The biggest learning for me has been about how to be with others who are in their experience of grief. I valued those who didn’t shy away from my grief and were able to talk to me openly about what I was going through. I certainly learnt that there are many who find this difficult and I hope those who do may find some encouragement from what I have written in this book. It is hard to be told that you must just get over it and move on and I recognise that even people close to me found it hard to cope with my grief. I think what matters most is that you feel you are understood.

Most of all I have learnt to move past my initial stages of grief and look for a higher purpose, when often I just longed to join my love. I have learnt that between the spaces of heart ache there can be incredibly vivid moments of joy. I have learnt that I can open my heart now in a way I never had before and sincerely encourage others to become their most fabulous selves.

So rather than this book being all about grief in all its various forms, I wanted to embrace the possibility that in spite of experiencing grief, in spite of anything we have done that we are not proud of, we can still reach deep down into our souls and find that beautiful something that will ignite the best in us so we can truly find our ‘fabulous’.

“The measure of our greatness is in how we stand up after we fall.”

I really believe that it is never too late to find your ‘fabulous’. So here I am on a rainy Saturday reflecting on the experience that was part of my quest to find my ‘fabulous’. I am on my trusty computer reflecting greatly on what steps I made within my recent time in Thailand. I really had no expectations and allowed what needed to happen just happen.

The detox

I joined in with the theme as a guest of Phuket Cleanse. This meant no coffee, no alcohol, a plant-based diet, lots of exercise, meditation and breathing. I feel I live a pretty healthy existence, therefore I certainly did not expect to experience the onslaught of a deep detox. Becoming fabulous does not include giving a talk in the middle of a detox. It also doesn’t mean that you become invincible! Not only was I detoxing, I threw myself into as many activities as possible during the day. This included an early morning walk to watch the sun rise. I was by far the oldest and dare I say it, the least fit. A beautiful young thing, oozing fitness and vitality, helped me down the rugged track. Then I realised that I would have to make my way up again – thus I made a decision. About ¾ of the way I told her I couldn’t keep helping her like this, so would make my own way back as she pressed on.

The talk

Following a day of activities, I hurriedly showered and got ready for my talk. As a result of my frenetic day, the image in the mirror showed a swollen blotched face and severely blood shot eyes. As a consequence there are no photos or video of the talk. I was not my best self and felt quite ill. It was gratifying to be received by an enthusiastic audience of mainly young people who I felt were already ‘fabulous’ but assured me that theywanted to become even more ‘fabulous’. Hence I have been asked back and will ensure that I don’t make the same mistake again.  It was a great experience because I was able to open up and speak from my heart.

The experience

As a consequence of my experience at Phuket Cleanse, another piece of my puzzle was put in place. I learnt something new every day. The icing on the cake was experiencing two re-birthing sessions with the very talented Della. A remarkable procedure found me completely eradicating the programming of ‘not good enough’ that was implanted in me from a young age. I am writing the experience in full detail in my book. I know the lessons I am learning so late in life are helping me to help others in a more productive way. As a result of  experiencing things that I may once have found hard to understand, I am reaping the benefits.  Because I have opened myself up to a different way of being, I am approached by people I have never met and feel so privileged to successfully work with them. If I want to help others to find their ‘fabulous’, I first have to find my own.

A new project

My belief in my abilities has changed and as a result, I am now going to be working with a huge project that I could not have foreseen six months ago. I am to work closely with two remarkable women, Josephine Cashman and Marcia Langton and their team of directors on the Big River Foundation project. These incredibly brilliant women are opening my eyes to  knowledge not always available. Consequently I have a better understanding of concepts such as lateral violence and how it impacts on those who are working their guts out to make a difference.

I am so excited to be partnering in some components of this project. Whilst I have worked on Indigenous projects before, the scope of this one is so mind boggling and the implications so significant, it has been a challenge to get my head around it all. We have no illusions that it is going to be a walk in the park. For this reason I need to garner my inner strength because I know I am stepping more and more into my purpose. At last I am finding my ‘fabulous’ and as a result more able to be more productive for others.

My acupuncturist asked me recently to recall the happiest time of my life and when I insisted that I had never been as happy as I am right now, he looked quite amazed and asked me why. I replied that it has taken a huge amount of work and self-realisation to totally believe in myself and now I wake up every morning full of joy. I used not to understand what joy really felt like. I’d certainly known happy times but the ability to actually define the word joy always eluded me. Of course, there are still things that make me sad, but now I can set the intention to experience joy, I am able to cope with all sorts of emotions.

Robin admitted that as the first son of a Chinese family, he was always made to feel special, so it hasn’t been easy for him to understand the Lyn he has been treating for about ten years now. He has helped me overcome sciatica, nerve pain, torn tendons and when Mick died, he even tenderly treated my grief. Yet he could never really get to the bottom of why I closed my heart off so much. I will always be grateful for the help he has given me over the years and hopefully, now that the new Lyn has emerged, he may understand what has been holding me back.

I’ve mentioned before that last year was a watershed moment for me when I had the choice of really giving up or making a last dash to the post. My kids found it amusing when one night in the midst of a great deal of pain, I said to myself, “I think I will die tonight.” I really thought that it might be the right time. But then I remembered that my bathroom was a bit of a mess and there was lots of unfinished business, so I decided that maybe I wouldn’t die tonight. I can laugh now but it didn’t feel funny at the time.

Then it was time for me to make up my mind about my future. I could never be one to sit in a rocking chair and knit socks. Sometimes I wish I was, but I have always known I must fulfil my reason for being here. So, in my meditations, I began asking for more guidance. I asked for people to come into my life who could point me in the right direction. Suddenly and unexpectedly, the right people were there before me and it has been so amazing. I was introduced to Mardy Penrose through David Laws the Flower Man. Neither of us at that moment were aware of where this journey would take us. Mardy has a special, and very unique gift of drawing from people an understanding about themselves and what steps they have to take to fulfil their purpose.

It has been an amazing journey coupled with Michelle Gratton’s journey through ‘The Soul’s Apprenticeship’. I cannot believe that I feel I have been set free from the chains that have bound me all my life. It is a familiar story for so many. We have traced my life long habit of ‘playing small’ back to my childhood when I was taught not to think too highly of myself. This was always my fear and when my first book was published in 1998, my father said to me, “I bask in your reflected glory, but don’t show your sisters as it might make them feel inferior.” I will be writing more about the huge transition that has set me free. There will be no more playing small, I know what I have to offer and there will be nothing holding me back. I now completely understand the words in Marianne Williamson’s inspired poem:

“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.”

August 2018 is a month I won’t forget in a hurry. It has been a real transition for my family and I. There has been a trifecta as three of us have broken up with our lovely partners and there is much sadness around that. Whilst the partings have been sad, mainly through differing expectations and circumstances, the love and friendship still remains. It doesn’t matter about age, it is never an easy transition.

For me it is a time of regrouping and doing everything I can to make the rest of my days as productive as possible. I have always found that when one door closes another inevitably opens if we allow it. The door that has opened for me has been the opportunity of some unexpected professional development which has ben profound and some personal development which is reminding me that we can always learn and grow. I keep my mantra in my head, “It is never too late to find your ‘fabulous’.”

Working five days with Michael Grinder was a real gift. He ‘is a master of, and world renown expert in, the power of influence – the science of non-verbal communication, non-verbal leadership, group dynamics, advanced relationship building skills and presentation skills.’ (From his biography.) I found him to be much more than this and will always be grateful that he has so much faith in what I still have to offer. I mean to make sure that his faith in me is justified. There are plans in place to ensure this happens. I am also appreciating that I am supported by two gifted and insightful coaches, Mardy Penrose and Catherine Palin Brinkworth, who are keeping me on track with goals and changes in the way I do things. When the student is ready the masters appear and if I am going to be of value for others, I must keep working on myself.

We are reminded so often by so many wise and inspired people about the validity of the ‘law of attraction’, and I absolutely know that where we focus our words, thoughts and energy is where our life goes. I have previously mentioned that last year I began to feel my body failing and at times I was unable to walk. I recognised it as a mind body malady as I had gone through a very disappointing breakdown in a work situation that affected me deeply and I had a sense of betrayal. I thought it was all over for me. My shaman son Matt was really tough on me and kept on me about my language, “I can’t walk.” “I am in so much pain.” “I think my working life is over.” I wanted to get a walking stick, but he would not allow this. He felt I was giving up. I thought he was being cruel but oh how grateful I am that he persevered as I feel I have absolutely proven that it is possible to regenerate. I am continually working at getting stronger and with the help of a personal trainer and change of language and energy, I feel stronger and more able than I have in years.

It has been important to recognise that there have been some instances that happened because I did not listen to my intuition and the consequences have given me a clear message. Recently my intuition led me to take up an offer to fulfil a journey with Michelle Gratton from “The soul’s connection”. I resisted at first, but I am certainly gaining an understanding of why I must take this journey. I will write about this in my next blog. There is so much to be excited about including an overseas speaking engagement. It’s never too late to find your ‘fabulous’.

When did that moment happen? When had I become the child while my children took on the role of becoming my parents? It happened very subtly, and I didn’t see it coming. It seems such a short time ago that I was cradling them in my arms and comforting them with assurances that everything was going to be alright.

Matt, my youngest, suffered a horrific brain injury, losing half of his skull in an accident so many years ago. He has made a miraculous recovery and has worked hard to ensure that his brain has regenerated. Whilst things looked grim for quite a while, the dire predictions of his future were not realised, and he amazes me with his continual growth.

A few months ago, he suffered a nasty ankle injury, completely crushing one bone and breaking other bones and capillaries. Once again, we were given some dire consequences and whilst there is still a way to go, he is dealing positively with his recovery. So, it was his turn to nurture his mother. I lay on the bed beside him in a vulnerable moment. I was recounting that last year was one of those years that I would like to take off the record. Matt took the opportunity to remind me that everything that happened was a learning opportunity – Yes Dad!  He also reminded me about my use of language. During the year I had experienced significant pain which affected my mobility. I have always been so active, so I found this frustrating.

Among other things, I had taken on two projects, both time consuming and very challenging. I almost gave up on both but, in my eyes, a commitment is a commitment and I hung in there. One has now been completed and the other was not meant to be. My biggest lesson, according to St Matt – and I reluctantly agree – is to not jump in and do things without some consideration. The biggest take out for me is to set up the scope of intended projects with a clear contract so that everyone knows exactly what is expected. You would think I would know better as I had actually taught project management within a Diploma of Business course. How come I hadn’t applied what I knew to my own projects? I have always tended to make decisions on the spur of a moment – sometimes this has been to my advantage but not always. Now I have learnt that something can feel so right yet still need to be considered and negotiated, especially when there are other personalities involved. I’ve made a few snap decisions in the past few years that on the surface have not been to my advantage and my self-appointed ‘parents’ remind me that it is about time I learnt from these lessons.

Back to the language lesson. Whilst I was recovering from whatever was happening to my body, Matt often reminded me that I used the words, “I Can’t”. I thought he was being a bit harsh but I began consciously to change my language to “Yes I CAN” … and guess what, it is working. I am so excited to find that most of my “I Can’ts” have been turned around and I have found myself doing things I thought I can no longer do. I have proved to myself that our bodies can regenerate, and we can do far more than we think we ever could. I find this terribly exciting and have now forgiven Matt for being so firm with me.

My response to recent events is to get myself a personal trainer, change my diet and begin to take the dancing out of my head and onto the floor. So, kids, I am about to reclaim my power, put all that behind me and bearing in mind all that I have learnt, prepare myself for the next exciting adventure.

Let’s start a CAN DO movement.

Lots of things keep happening to alert me to things I have been so passionate about in the past and need to revisit.

Seeing this photo from The Sydney Morning Herald taken two days before the 1967 referendum, brought back some special memories of experiences I had when I was a special education teacher, flying around North Queensland with Distance Education in the 1980s.

A companion and I had visited Old Mapoon, where in 1963 the government, together with Comalco, evicted the residents off the mission. They were forcibly moved by the Queensland police from Old Mapoon to New Mapoon. The closing of the Mission was explained as being a measure to ‘rationalise services’ for the Cape Indigenous people. In 1974, several families returned to ‘Old Mapoon’ and by the time of my visit in 1986, there was quite a group of Aboriginal and Islander people working together to establish a community. There are many stories to be told of our experiences there.

Those few families that could afford to access distance educational services were struggling, but at least were having some educational assistance. For others there was nothing available until ‘Debra’, a beautiful young member of the community, took it upon herself to do what she could to provide some form of education for those that were missing out. Despite her having no teacher qualifications, we were really impressed with her efforts and gave her as much help as we could. We left Old Mapoon with mixed feelings, but the story I want to tell occurred several months later.

My companion and I were aboard a three-seater plane filled to the brim with educational materials as we travelled to a property at the top end of Cape York to what appeared to be a dry forsaken place in the middle of a desert. We were going to run a mini school for children gathered from a number of properties within hundreds of miles. It was our first visit and so we were unable to help the pilot as he searched for a place to land. He spied a large shed glinting in the distance and thought this might be it. I could see no sign of a landing strip, but down we went and as we hit the ground, contents of our boxes were dislodged, and paints seemed to fly everywhere.

As we bumped along I couldn’t help wondering where we were, but as the plane came to a full stop, a band of children came running to greet us. I felt emotional as we were greeted so enthusiastically by the excited group. One boy attached himself to me and as he shepherded me across the dry grass to the farm house, he told me that he had lived here all his life but the so and so’ Abbos’ were trying to take his land.  It was early Mabo days and my heart sank. It was obvious that this young boy had heard some biased information. With my limited knowledge, I tried to explain that nothing was going to take them from this land, but its traditional owners just wanted recognition. My explanation was clumsy, but It seemed sad that this young lad was so filled with negative feelings toward Indigenous people. I was determined to address this as best I could throughout the week, but the next day something happened that negated my need to set things right.

We had stopped for morning tea when we saw a cloud of dust moving along the track to the house and as it drew near, we saw a weather-beaten car packed to the brim with Aboriginal children. Courageous ‘Debra’, had driven hundreds of miles to bring some children to our school. There was great excitement as the children tumbled out of the car, but I noticed that the young boy, who had shared his concerns with me, had hung back.

The week went well with lots of laughter and great exuberance. Each night when we finally had the last child settled for the night, the amazing women from neighbouring farms, made ‘Debra’ welcome as we sat around a large table consuming a rather dubious home brew and listening as they shared their stories. I felt so privileged to be there.

The week came swiftly to an end and as we gathered up our gear and Debra rounded up her mob, I fought hard to stop another flow of tears as I saw two little boys tearfully hugging each other. The young boy who had shown such anger towards Aboriginal people, had become firm friends with a lively young boy from Old Mapoon, and they were having great difficulty in saying goodbye.

We had endeavoured to make learning fun for them in this week, but I couldn’t help thinking that the best educational outcome came from Debra providing the opportunity for two cultures to gain more understanding of each other.