Road Kill?

Margo, don’t read this post.

I am still processing and assimilating the changes and shifts from my Uluru Wellness Adventure. Insights will start to come through over the next couple of days, I am sure.

However, after we left Barcaldine on Sunday, we realized we needed to go back to get some petrol. It is funny the way events become connected throughout our lives. A Sliding Doors moment; if we had risked it and kept moving forward, this would not have impacted our lives. It was the only sour moment of the entire trip.

As we left Barcaldine for the second time, an oncoming vehicle hit a kangaroo and left it lying, anguished, in the middle of the lane.

We are animal lovers. Our animals are worshipped like gods and spoiled rotten. This scenario was only a notch down from us hitting the roo ourselves; the only aspect to reduce the trauma we both felt.

We stopped. We leapt from the car. Two city girls with no idea what to do, but with an urgency to do something for this defeated animal.

I instantly put my hands up, sending energy, speaking in soothing tones, as I approached slowly. Blood was pooling in the roo’s mouth and dripping from the side, its left leg immobile under a shaking body. Margo was shielding the roo from potential oncoming traffic.

We knew we needed to move the roo from the road. In truth, we knew we needed to euthanize the roo; a kangaroo with a broken leg cannot survive the pecking crows and vulturistic hawks always lying in wait of road kill.

Thankfully, a car with P plates pulled over. The young girl asked me the condition of the roo and then told her male friend to get his knife.

My heart stopped: would I be able to witness this. Did I love animals sincerely enough to be able to put one out of its torment and honour its life with a humane death?

The young male pulled the roo, by the tail, from the road, out of the path of oncoming traffic and a sure squashing. Another car pulled up and looked at the roo, he told us there was no hope of survival and it was kinder to kill it. At this point, I thought that was under control. He left.

The girl was pregnant, and decided she could not slit its throats in case the roo attacked her. Their attacks can be lethal, this much I know. Her friend said he had never used a knife and didn’t feel confident that he could do it without causing more pain and anguish.

I could not do it because I did not know how. I also could not wring its neck because I did not know how. I have been carrying guilt about not being able to euthanize the roo.

I have focused on the benefits and drawbacks for every aspect of this situation, and have been dissolving the charge as much as I can. Quite clinically, I have appraised what was realistic and what was not. I feel that I am mostly at peace with it.

Road kill is inevitable in the outback. I was surprised that with over 7000 kilometers travelled in a Hyundai i30 we did not come close to hitting an animal. This was the closest.

I have always said a ‘prayer’ for the souls of road kill that I have seen on the side of the road; in the last two weeks I think I have said more prayers than I ever thought would be possible. Seeing an animal in their last moments of life on the side of the road humanises the experience to a much deeper level.

It really forces you to confront who you are.

It would have been hard to watch the roo die, but I think it was harder to leave it partially alive. I sent it healing until I felt it had passed. It took about twenty five minutes, maybe a bit longer. My energy and my mind were with it. I thought helping Harry was hard; this was next level.

When you see so much road kill, it is easy to become desensitized. But, what I know for sure, is that every being deserves to live and die humanely, being honoured for their service during this lifetime, and nobody deserves to die alone.

I still feel a little guilt. I wish I had known how to humanely kill the roo. But I didn’t know how. The drawback to trying would be the infliction of more trauma. Epiphany. Just now.

Last year, when the investigation was finally over, an early investigator wrote in their report that I was “self-serving”. This has stayed with me. Self-serving strongly suggests to me that I gave no thought to the implications of my actions for others, and this was so not true. I think I became paralyzed because I was thinking of others.

This was my test. This was my chance to dissolve that charge. Self-serving, in this case, would have been to try to kill the roo so that I could assuage my guilt. Thinking logically, this would have caused more trauma to the roo.

There are times when I am self-serving. That’s not a bad thing. There are times when it is vital to be self-serving, and there is nothing wrong with that. This was not one of those times, and the action that resulted in the investigation was also not one of those times.

I was not self-serving. I was terrified.

But, I have grown and I have learned since then.

I was calm in the face of this situation. I did what I could do. And, that’s enough.

I am no longer the abused child living from a place of fear. I am a strong woman living from a place of love.

I am grateful and I am blessed.

Dissolving Charges

I am in the process of learning a new method (for me) for balancing emotions, and empowering the mind, body and spirit to return to balance. Interestingly, ironically, or whatever it is, I was practising the method with Margo (frustratingly for her I’m sure) in the car before we met Harry.

Interestingly etc, because I then applied the method, as I currently understand it, to Harry’s death and the grief I felt. I’m going to try to explain it here. It’s a valuable one if you are over the drama of life and just want peace. It’s a method devised by John DeMartini from years of study and research. I have gained this basic, yet very powerful, understanding from Peter Bliss and Mai Mai Lin. I will be doing more work in this area.

The basic premise is that we are human. We will feel intense emotions. That’s okay. However, so many of us hold onto those emotions so tightly that we move away from homeostasis (balance). Those emotions, and our refusal or inability to dissolve the charge (neutralize them), creates unnecessary drama and unhelpful patterns in our lives.

I’m going to use Harry as a basic example. Anyone who knows me, pretty much knows that I have a very idealistic view of animals; it is irrational in this scientific and logical world, but it is who I choose to be with no desire to change it. As a result, holding Harry (naming a wild thing only proves my initial point lol – remember, Holly Golightly refused to name Cat because of the inevitable attachment that would form) inspired a deep soul connection for me.

Upon receiving the news that he was not going to make it (euphemism after euphemism here – the power of language), I felt grief struck. I cried and carried it with me for a couple of hours whilst my brain processed the events. Then, I tried to dissolve the grief.

I focused on the gratitude for the experience and what I had learned. When people or creatures die, we idealize them a little, focusing on the good and ignoring their very real flaws. I did the same with Harry; he was a wild creature we were going to save.

But, Harry was also a silly hawk. Harry flew near a 4WD on a major highway when he had miles and miles of other land to fly in. Harry also died a humane and dignified death, receiving reiki for his pain and not being pecked at by crows on the side of the road (like too many others). I learned from my connection to this wild thing and I humbly received the message from the universe that his entry into my life signified.

As a result, I have let Harry go in love. I have dissolved the charge of the grief, neutralized it. It does not lessen the impact of his life nor does it mean I didn’t care. Simply put, I don’t feel guilt or loss, I feel calm and balanced. The grief is not internalized, but neutralised.

It is very empowering.

Like I said, this is a simple example of my understanding of the method. And, I can’t wait to learn more.

RIP My Friend Harry

I am still very much processing the retreat and the impact it has made on my life; I am changed.

However, that is not what this post is about because today, my friend Harry died.

I met Harry at Erlunda Roadhouse this morning. Margo and I were getting petrol and a girl was walking around asking if people were heading to Alice Springs.

We were.

She asked if we could take an injured hawk to a vet there. They had been driving from Uluru towards Coober Pedy and Harry flew into the edge of the car, clipping his wing. Coober Pedy was five hours away; Alice was only two and a bit. Getting to Alice was his best bet.

Wrapped in a blue towel, it was touch and go already for Harry. His little brown eye looking at us wondering what on earth had happened.

An indigenous woman walked over to us as we were lying him in a box for safety for the road ahead. The crows were ravenously circling. She looked at him. She said we should put him out of his misery. I told her there was no way I could do it.

The crows, her, I knew he wasn’t going to make it, and I said as much to the people who gave him to us, “The crows are circling, they smell death.” I don’t even know how I knew this, but sometimes I go into that place where I just know (remember) things.

Still, into the car he came. I held onto his box tightly whilst Margo clutched the wheel just as tightly, hoping that with a bit of speed we could save him.

He moved and spoke a couple of times, squawking loudly and beating his wing. I bent my head down, and reassured him that he was safe, putting my hand over his lungs and willing him to keep breathing. His chest moved under my hand as he calmed down, reiki energy diffusing the pain that he must have been enduring.

He fell asleep.

After a while, I couldn’t feel his breathing, and scared, I gripped the box tighter.

We made it to Alice. I took him in to the nurse, “I’m too scared to check if he is alive.”

She opened the towel and reassured me that he was alive. She informed me that the vet would check him over, and if the damage wasn’t bad, he would be looked after and freed eventually. However, if it was bad, they would need to euthanize him.

I expressed my connection to him and asked if I could call later to check in. She said, “Of course. But if we have to put him down, don’t yell at me.”

Shocked, she explained that people do. I said I wouldn’t. I understood that his best interests overrode my interests.

The vet checked him and informed me that with a broken leg and a broken wing, there was no possibility of rehabilitation. I said thank you and walked out to Margo, crying.

Poor Harry (why the fuck do I name wild animals???).

I am grateful he was spared from the crows. I am grateful that his last hours were spent being loved and held. I am grateful that he passed humanely.

Rest In Peace my beautiful friend. I know that we will meet again. Soar high.


Food, Glorious Food …

Well. I love food. Not in a maniacal way, but if something tastes nice I fully appreciate it. Sometimes, too much.

I was just walking to our next session, after a predominantly processing day, and realised how heavy I feel today. I haven’t overeaten. Eggs and bread with fruit for breakfast, and a creamy mushroom fettuccine for lunch. A little while ago I had an orange. That’s it.

And, I feel heavy.

It’s the carbs. I’m convinced.

At home I have banned pasta. Here, unfortunately, as a vegetarian, I am at the mercy of others 😉. I have had a fair few meals with pasta. They have been nice tasting, but I have felt that my nutritional needs were not fully being met.

Courageously, yesterday, at lunch after another bowl of pasta, I asked what had been planned for dinner for the vegetarians. I was informed that it was a creamy mushroom pasta. I asked if it would be possible to ask the chef to make something vegetable based with protein. Yes.

Dinner was gorgeous. A roasted half capsicum filled with beans and quinoa on a bed of vegetables.

Best. Meal. Ever.

My body started to feel nourished and alive as the food and its nutrients were absorbed.

I went to the chef and thanked him with extreme gratitude.

What did I learn?

I am worth asking for what I need. I am worthy of nutritional foods. I am worthy …


Uluru. No words. Needs to be experienced by the heart. No words, no photographs, no videos will do it justice.

Walking today and three spots really drew my attention.

1. Sacred Women’s Spot. A request for no photographs to be taken in that area. I lay my hands on the rock. Instantly a vibration, a deep murmuring was felt through my hands. The rock was cold; it’s pulse was strong. An Aboriginal woman appeared to me. Bare chested, large, round face, red skirt, grey hair, laughing eyes. Beautiful in ritual and authenticity. I came back here to write.

2. Men’s Cooking Space. A low cave entrance, fire darkness across its roof. A young Aboriginal boy, possibly fifteen or sixteen, curly black hair, observing us all with a smile. He carried a spear. His face was painted. He, too, wore red.

3. Kantju Gorge. Still. Very still. Quiet. Reverent. Austere. Peaceful. I came back here to write. My new friend was there already. I offered her a sound session with the forks. I felt called to use them in this space. She said that she saw young Aboriginal children playing. The forks silenced the tourists. Power.

Three short pieces (not very good; words do no justice to the moments).


A mother’s heartbeat

pulsing through my outstretched fingers.

Life force:

Breathing for me

Breathing as me

feeling the power.

Release –

Coughs echo and bound through my chest,

releasing all that has been caught,

feeling all that can be felt –




Sacred women’s space.


A lowly cave entrance



by two trees

reaching away

to beckon all within.

Mysteries to share

and secrets to tell

the ancient winds divulge all.

Close your eyes.

Still your heart.

Listen …

The winds carry ancient songs

calls of love

and calls of worship

for all that lies here

today, yesterday, tomorrow.

All time is one.

As your foot treads,

so does another’s,


in unison,



Darkness …

of the mind, the soul, the cave.

Deep breaths …

transcending the core,

and lighting the way.

Flickers of sun

glance off fire marked walls,

hands are held,

hearts beat as one:

Ceremony. Ritual. Celebration.

Toes sink into red sand

covering nails and sticking to beds.

Dark eyes smile.

Cool earth, cool walls, cool rock.

Sacred space.

Sacred lives.

Sacred dreams.

Day Two: To Coober Pedy

We left Broken Hill after an amazing but short sleep. It was 5:40am. It was still dark. It was cool. Thank god for seat warmers lol.

The full moon lit the sky in pink and blue hues in front of us, lighting our path. Behind us, an incredible orange sunrise. Wide, open roads, not many on the road with us, natural environment, and you have to ask if life can get any better.

Yes, it can.

The day was up; moon had gone and sun risen. We pulled over for some photos and to stretch the legs. A train was coming and I took a video. Beautiful. I walked back to Margo. I was taking some more photos, just of bush and plants like I do. Looking at the photo there was magick happening …

Explain that one sceptics lol. There was nothing there to cause this. Well, nothing on this plane or in this realm. Margo then found some rocks. Crystals. Ice cold to the touch. I’m not sure if it is quartz or feldspar, but we will find out. A magickal stop that Margo was called to make. Transformations and shifts starting.

Our next stop was for the Giant Gum Tree. Giant? Okay, why can’t we see it towering over the town? We were sceptical, very sceptical. A village in the middle of nowhere with this it’s claim to fame.

Out of the warm car into a bitter cold to see, as Margo puts it, a fat Gum Tree. Worth it. Over 500 years old, and emanating a vibration of strength and resilience. Awe inspiring.

Back on the road. Next stop, amazing salt lakes. The Stuart Highway is signposted for photo opportunities. If you ever drive along it, keep time to stop. You will not be disappointed. These photos do the lakes no justice. Combined stops.

Woomera. Detention centre for refugees. Missile launches. Defence Force base. Hard to know how to start this. Curious, we took a slight detour and decided to check it out. As we drove in, we both felt the energy change. There was like a death pall over this community. There were cars in driveways but it felt like a ghost town, like everyone had died and the place had just stayed as it was.

Even the tourist areas had an intensely dark energy. I took photos for one of my friends and before we left, cleansed the car and is with the tuning forks. We then headed down a road that took us to the detention centre. We turned around and continued up the Stuart Highway.

Not good. Sadness, stagnation, death. Will not go again.

More salt lakes, and onto Coober Pedy.

Coober Pedy. Pictures cannot prepare you. Words cannot prepare you. It is small. It is dusty. It is a mining town. It takes five minutes to explore by car. We found our accommodation and before checking in, went to the supermarket to buy some food.

I was excited to stay in underground accommodation. We booked based on reviews. We did not see the magick that is Coober Pedy.

Margo was hesitant about the accommodation. I don’t blame her. It looked dodgy as; definitely not the phenomenon that the reviews had portrayed it as. We paid. I walked through. We debated. We left.

Onward to Uluru.

And, oh my lord, what an adventure our introduction to the Northern Territory turned out to be.

Darkness. Stillness. Maybe five cars in like six hours. Lots of kangaroos. Some cows. Not many stops. In South Australia, there are service centres of some description every two hundred or so kilometres. Not so much in the Territory. Well, not open anyway.

We had 50 or so kilometres of petrol left when we arrived at Erlunda, a petrol and accommodation stop. It was just after ten. No lights. No signs. Closed. Camping Ground locked.

You have to laugh. We rang Desert Gardens at Uluru to let them know we weren’t going to make it; our 2am arrival was off the cards. They said they would ring us back after they spoke to their security team who may be able to assist. We were two hundred kilometres away. This was service. Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, they could not help us. We were resigned to sleeping in the car until the service station opened at 7.

Thank god the toilets were open.

Margo had reception. We googled other places. We rang the closest. He was closed. He didn’t want to give us petrol. He wanted us to stay where we were. He finally acquiesced and said that we could try to get there – 52 kilometres away at Mt Ebenezer. Margo was convinced that if we drove slowly, we would make it.

And, we did.

The man was happy enough to give us petrol, but was unhappy that we were driving alone at night on these roads. Apparently they are dangerous at night: kangaroos, aboriginals on ice, and cows, in that order.

How were we to know. The guidebooks didn’t say this. We won’t do it again. Even though we saw many kangaroos, a handful of cows and no iced up Aboriginals, we may have just been lucky.

What an adventure.

I slept for about an hour and a half in grabs. Margo did not sleep, thankfully, she was driving. My eyes just became so heavy they had to close; I had no control.

We reached Yulara and Desert Gardens at 3:20 this morning. Our temporary accommodation was reinstated. We slept until a 7:20am burst from the phone. Margo fell back to sleep. I haven’t.

We have a late check out from this room: noon. The retreat starts today. We meet at 3:15 at reception. I’m a little nervous. I always get this way before these things. We’ve had a great trip thus far. Hoping it continues. Excited to see Uluru later tonight.

Broken Hill Part 2 😉

So, I was asleep by like 9.45 last night and slept through until 3.30 this morning; better than the night before’s effort. I’ve been lying here for the last half hour trying to get back to sleep; life without alarms creates a better environment for sleep lol.

For me, the only part of travelling I do not like is leaving my kids (pets) at home. As soon as the suitcase came out, Max became clingy and silly. Sammy has no idea and Molly slept on the case, refusing to move, so that I couldn’t pack. Leaving them is the only part I struggle with.

As I said last night, Margo arrived at 2.20 yesterday morning to pick me up. We loaded my stuff into the car (I have NEVER packed this much stuff, not even when I went to Europe for three months during winter). I repacked my case last night and, yes, my worst fears were confirmed: I have brought with me a lot that I won’t use. At least though, I have choices.

Margo and I are both control freaks. I think of my closest friends and with a few exceptions, we all are, or can be, or are trying not to be. We ‘get’ one another lol. I think this is why we get on so well – there is a deep understanding of the way the other works. We are also very generous and very compassionate people, usually for others rather than ourselves, but we are also cynical about humans. Interesting – I’ve never really realised these similarities before.

Anyway, as a result, Margo and I can spend hours with one another in a car without issue. We drove from Thirlmere past Berrima down towards Yass, where at 4am we had breakfast at McDonalds. We then drove to Hay for petrol and a toilet stop. There are not McDonalds’ everywhere, contrary to urban folklore. At this point, our first doses of hysteria onset by tiredness started.

“Where are we, Margo?”


For hours, this continued. And we would both dissolve into maniacal giggles. Hours.

We stopped on the side of the road, outside Hay, because there were beautiful wildflowers in vivid colours, carpeting the verge. I took photos. Tranquility. Hippie. Meh. What can you do. Need to be authentic.

We proceeded to have conversations about God, existence, the spirit world … the lighter side of life lol. The road continued. Straight and flat roads, one after the other, all the way to Broken Hill. We left NSW to eat Maccas for lunch in Mildura – everyone was SO nice. It is jarring after being in a more urban environment. I don’t think we realise how hard we become in the city.

Through private property, thirty kilometres of goat farm, and then a petrol stop at Coomba. A road stop is all that exists here (that we could see). A beautiful soul works there and she and I exchanged conversation about the local area – definitely not shy anymore.

Making great time, we entered Broken Hill at 3.15 or so. Margo had to meet with a client and I perused the Art Gallery. From there we drove to The Living Desert and stone sculptures. I grew so excited, a kid at Christmas, as memories of the connection I felt to the Grand Canyon flooded back. I always feel so connected and grounded in the natural world; my soul resonates at its highest vibration here.

Becoming very fatigued, we checked in to our motor inn, went and bought dinner, watched The Block, and I came back to my room and slept.

I am now sitting on the toilet, still tired, but ready to start our ten hour drive to Coober Pedy along roads I have never been before ( or can’t remember). Today, Coober Pedy; tomorrow, Uluru.

Oh, and the Universe never lets us down, it will always provide what we need: lesson learned.

Day One: to Broken Hill

This will be short. I’m exhausted. Very happy. Feeling very grateful for my life and for being able to live in this incredibly beautiful and textured country.

Margo picked me up this morning and we were on the road by 2.30am. It was a great trip. I will post tomorrow. We leave for Coober Pedy at 5.30am. I need sleep.

A Little Downward Turn

This time tomorrow I will be on the road to Uluru with my friend.

But, this morning I have woken a little bit down. I’m not surprised. The signs have been coming; I’ve been up for quite a while. I have had a massive ten months of growth through exploration. I have trusted that everything will be okay. I have had faith that I am on the right path.

So today, well, it frustrates me. I am so blessed in my life. The universe has had people send me lovely messages in the last twenty four hours, sensing that my energy was low. And, beyond that, I know how blessed I am. How many people take a year just to see what else there is. How many people grow a successful tutoring business in just six months. How many people are surrounded by such love and constant admiration.

Yet, here I am, feeling down, frustrated because I can’t shift this mood and just don’t want to experience it. Knowing that I have to because there is more growth coming, quickly. And, sometimes we don’t get to control things around us or really, even within us. I guess it’s a guilt in some way of the life I am living, and a frustration adjusting to an irregular income, and the fear and anxiety that comes with that.

I am tired too. I was sick and keep relapsing. I am working a lot of hours with minimal financial gain (hello, bills). I love my work, but struggle to disconnect from school’s and the lure of ‘enough’ money. I do trust that the universe will provide, but the fear is overriding it.

Such a first world problem. Adds to the frustration lol.

However, it all still exists, even when you know you are blessed, have more than most, and that this down is temporary (probably shifting before lunch). It’s still real now.

I feel another big shift coming. Today, I am taking steps to minimise the financial strain. I am empowering myself and taking control of the reins. I am forcing the shift, in a sense, by focusing on what I can control. I know what changes need to be made moving forward into next year, and I know that I will still feel self-doubt.

I am happiest and most fulfilled in my business. And when I travel, when I’m learning and when I’m writing. Only one of the four has been a reality in my life in the last two weeks. And that isn’t good for my mental health, or my diet, or my attitude. Only I can change that.

As I have said before, some lessons take me a while to figure out and make real. I’m also only human and need to remember to be kind to myself. I think until I disconnect from traditional education though, these downs will continue to manifest in small ways, like this morning.

Eventually I will eradicate the fear and step, wholeheartedly, into my new life, my authentic life. Today, I’m just being real and true to where I am. And, hoping that forcing myself to get up and prepare for tomorrow’s early start will shift this temporary madness.

Much love … oh, and truly am grateful L, D and J for your very kind words.

PS. It’s 10:07 and my house is clean. I feel better. Not perfect, but better.