Millet Meditation

'They could make a meditation class out of this' I thought to myself as I wielded the sickle in my hand. I grabbed the millet with my left hand and sliced it clear with the sickle in my right. Very Zen. I tossed the millet head into the basket and glanced over at the grandmother standing next to me. She was repeating my action with increased skill and speed. She was a good foot shorter than me, which makes her the ideal height for harvesting millet, unlike myself. I stood stooped with my knees slightly bent and my back hunched to just reach the millet heads. I was contemplating if kneeling would be a better idea.
Grandma gave me a kind smile for my harvesting attempts. She was swathed in clothes but looked so small and fragile underneath. She had a large cloth wrap around her head, which held her hair up and trailed down her back. She wore a fake North Face fleece jumper, traditional printed skirt, trekking socks that were at least 5 sizes too big for her and a very worn pair of pink crocs. Her face and hands were dark leather from 50 years of hard work in the sun. The only lines imprinted on her face were from smiling and as she caught my gaze she showed how they had come to be with a gentle grin. Her hands continued to slice through the millet stems as though they had eyes themselves. Her decorative, oversized nose ring jangled and swung as she worked. It was a symbol of her marriage although her husband had died 26 years ago.
We worked in silent unison, swapping places occasionally so she could clear the stalks from where I had collected the millet. I would be so happy to do this all day, however my back began to say otherwise. I loved the simplicity, the fact that the food that grows is the food we eat, that no capitalist business venture is sought, no fat cats or middle management bullshit. We plant the millet, then when it grows, we harvest it, then we plant oats, then we harvest it and so the cycle goes.
The family's chickens ran around us, keen to steal a piece of millet from our basket. Grandma shoed them off and gently scolded them. Local villagers walked past and we greeted them while continuing our work. Each commented on the white girl "Mya" who was helping in the field. The unanimous verdict was that I looked quite hilarious.
The sun dipped beneath the hill and dusk was upon us. The fading light meant it was quitting time. Grandma stood up, said something in Nepali to me and smiled. I must have looked blank as she tried again, simpler sentences this time, "Dhanyabad.... Chia?" I smiled and followed her inside, nothing is started or finished in Nepal without tea. 

Divorce Porn

The divorce porn industry is lucrative and growing... No, not that type.. I'm talking about the hoards of memoirs, novels and articles giving gritty details of the final stages of a relationship breakdown and what happens next. 
Elizabeth Gilberts "Eat pray love" is a key example and testament to just how lucrative an industry it is.
Why?
Because everyone loves to find out what happened between two people that made them stop loving each other or caused them to simply throw their hands up in the air and say it's all too hard. Often after a breakup even random acquaintances will ask what happened and probe for gory details of the relationship aftermath.
"Were other people involved, do you think he's lying, did you ever love them, did you see the signs?"
Or add very unhelpful, uneducated analysis, such as 'I bet they never loved you' or 'You could have fixed it if you'd really wanted too' or my favourite 'I bet he was fucking that slut the whole time.' Did I mention these are not helpful remarks? 


But who can blame us? Our eyes cannot help but linger a little longer on breakup speculations splashed across the covers of glossy mags, our tongues cannot help but ask strangers how their marriage dissolved and we cannot help but analyse and speculate. Why do we do this? Perhaps we think there might be a thread of truth somewhere in the post mortem that gives us insight into our own relationship. A warning sign, a green light or a key learning that we should take away. Something that will prevent the pain next time or maybe give us an indicator that our plane is in a downward spiral and to "BRACE, BRACE, BRACE!"


As for my breakup, and I know those who haven't asked are dying too, it was all quite uneventful. No gory scenes, no blood splattered walls, no lawyers, not even phone calls in the night. Sorry. 


To quote myself,  "I'm of the belief that relationship success is not dependant on how it ends...A relationship that is/was happy, filled with treasured memories and learnings is a successful one. If it ends because it had stopped fitting that criteria, despite all attempts, then kudos to you for being honest. If you managed to get through the breakup without throwing objects at each other or hiring a lawyer and you still remain friends, even greater kudos to both of you!"
(http://cosrandom.blogspot.com/2011/08/seagulls-and-relationship-success.html 2011)


We haven't thrown objects or involved lawyers and frankly I'm of the belief that distance and no communication is best for all concerned. I always liken it to cutting an arm off, would you rather do it quickly or have it hanging there half severed for a few days/weeks/months, slowly going septic? And you wouldn't carry it around with you after you hacked it off would you? Well maybe you would if you were still trying to stick it back on.. But after you knew it was dead you'd probably let it go..  Gory I know, but it makes sense to me. 
But despite our machete end, Adam and I did make many treasured memories in our time together....
http://cosrandom.blogspot.com/2011/11/titanic-without-bad-ending.html 
http://cosrandom.blogspot.com/2011/07/surfing-santa-teresa-costa-rica.html
http://cosrandom.blogspot.com/2011/07/full-moon-party-koh-phanang.html
http://cosrandom.blogspot.com/2011/07/waikiki-dreaming.html
So I think we deserve some kudos.




I'm off to clean the blood from my machete but don't worry, I won't leave you without some divorce porn cause I know you need your fix. Here are a few pieces of constructive criticism that  I have received over many years of dating from the most honest source of feedback, ex-boyfriends! When collaborated they really are a wonderful source of information.. Enjoy.

• Women aren't supposed to be engineers, they aren't as good at that stuff as men 
• I love that you earn a good wage
• I hate that you earn more than me
• I love that you surf, we can spend time together this way
• You shouldn't surf, it's not feminine
• You shouldn't call your stomach your guts, it's not feminine
• Your arse is too big, you should work on that and get the meat off
• Your arse is too small, you should work on that and put some meat on
• You should wear nice clothes to work, not king gees, maybe a dress?
• You shouldn't burp, it's not feminine
• You should wear clothes more often
• You should sleep naked more often
• I like how confident you are
• I wish you were less outgoing
• Dresses suit you better than pants
• Pants suit you better than dresses
• You should wear heels all the time, they're so feminine
• You shouldn't wear heels, you're too tall, it's not feminine
• I liked you better when you didn't like me, you should go back to not liking me 
• Maybe you should clean your car, or at least remove the old McDonalds rubbish
• Your jiggly bits jiggle
• You should learn how to cook so you don't poison us again

Learning priceless lessons

"I rinse my face in the cold mountain water and as the cold burns my skin I look up to the snow covered peaks. A light cloud wafts pasts, hanging around the cliffs as if they too want to be closer to it. The sun peirces through and illuminates the east side of the all three peaks.
I straighten my back and feel the tight muscles complain. I can't decide if it's from the last week of heavy labour or the hard wooden bed I slept on. A massage and some yoga would do wonders today, I thought to myself, neither of which was an option. And yet, as I stood massaging the small of my back, gazing across the valley at one of the most inspirational views I've ever seen, I felt strong. Strong enough to trek back up the hill, pick up my shovel and keep building the school."


As the experience of Nepal sinks in my feelings are starting to organise themselves. Tears no longer spring to my eyes when I think about it and the big glob of emotion that choked my throat has settled like a layer of caramel in my stomach.
So what do I feel now?
A big part of it is pride. I built a school in rural Nepal. The more I say that the more it sinks in. I actually went to Nepal and built a school for impoverished children to become educated and get that step closer to making their dreams come true. Wow! If little old me can do that, the possibilities of what we can do together are endless! We really can change the world.
But if I'm honest, most of the pride isn't from me building a school, it's because of the people I've met while doing so. The amazing Edge of Seven people and the fantastic volunteers who make the world a better place just by being the type of people that they are. They all make me feel better about the world just by existing.
But I am most proud to know people like Khadga, Don Kumar, Dawa, Ram, Karma, the teachers of Phuleli and all the inspirational women of that small village. These people whose stamina, strength and ability to carry on through hardships where most westerners would crumple and fail makes me unbelievably proud to know them and count them as friends. The men and women of Phuleli will forever be my Dai's and Didi's. 


My life coach in London said she feels as though she should do some volunteering, that as a good person she should go build a school in Nepal too, not necessarily that she wants too. If you're sitting there thinking I should do some volunteering, don't think that you will be doing an amazing thing that no one else can do and receiving nothing in return. Anyone can go do it but only some very special people actually do. Those that make the effort will also receive in return a much bigger gift than a just a school.
Your eyes will be opened.
You don't need money, possessions, hot running water or to even be pain free to be happy. No words really describe the lesson learnt, you have to experience it for yourself. It will show you what is important in life - what really matters. And that alone is priceless.

"The plane took off from the little runway in Paplu as I struggled to breathe. I watched the wheels bump over the gravel until the ground give way to a steep cliff but that wasn't the trouble. I was leaving Solukhumbu. I didn't know if or when I would see my friends, the people of Phuleli, again. I tired to breath out but the big glob of emotion in my throat only allowed for a strangled cough. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay with these people, to stay as part of the village, to live in the hills and harvest millet and raise a family here. I wanted to shout to stop the plane, to let me off, that I didn't care about my life back in Australia that I wanted to stay here, where life is simple, where hardship makes every smile richer and where I felt at home. I was dirty, exhausted, hungry and cold but this is where I wanted to be more than anything. Tears streamed out from beneath my sunglasses. My world had been turned upside down."

2012: What do I do now?

In the last week I have returned home to Australia and my life has taken an unexpected turn. Subsequently most of my future plans have a giant question mark over them and I am now faced with endless possibilities.

Every situation you find yourself in can either be positive or negative dependant on your perspective. It's a tempting safe and easy option to decide to stay in bed for a week (or a month) or blame everyone else, but that's not me. Some of my strongest qualities (in my opinion) is my unwavering naive optimism and my stubborn determination. Unfortunately, this coupled with a innate trust in my fellow man that often leaves me with deep scars, but better to trust and be hurt than to not trust anyone.. Theoretically.

So here I am.
I am young and healthy with cash in the bank, no where to be and no one to answer too. It is a difficult but enviable situation to be in.
I appreciate how lucky I am to be in this privileged situation where I have choices, BUT.... What do I do next? Where do I go? What will happen to me? Will I be OK? Am I able to deal with whatever comes my way?
My choices and options are only limited by my imagination, capabilities and guts to see it through, which (fingers crossed) isn't much of a limit.

Here are a few of my thoughts and options, feel free to vote.

• Work in the Northern Rivers as a reliability engineer and live at the beach
• Move back to Newcastle to work
• Become a full time uni student at Tweed Heads
• Migrate to Canada with a 2 year visa and go skiing everyday
• Sign up for Medecins Sans Frontieres and go work in a war zone for a year
• Become a maintenance consultant in Sydney
• Buy a van and travel around Aus
• Go work in the middle of nowhere (mining towns) earning big bucks
• Work with indigenous communities in rural Australia
• Save up a house deposit and buy a house to renovate
• Join the Army (combat engineer)
• Work as a farm hand sheering sheep
• Fall in love with the next guy who asks me out (probable)
• Become a lesbian hippy in a commune in Byron Bay
• Become a monk/nun and move to Asia
• Walk/hitch from the East coast of Aus to the West coast
• Go back to Nepal and live in the hills
• Pack my backpack and hop back on a plane

When I look at my options I'm overwhelmed. I can't help but want to go back to the original plan, the only one that is unavailable. My life so far has been sculptured by random off the cuff suggestions combined with a hint of opportunity and I have no doubt that the next steps will be by this method also. I just have no idea what that may be...