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autumn woman
In the spirit of lush Liz's fantasy tea dates, I hereby invoke my dreamtime dangerous tea ensembleI would invite SARK, Julia Cameron, Jewel, Linda Goodman, Sarah ban Breathnach, Lynn Andrews, Fiona Horne, a dreadlocked yogi goddess, my dearest friends from around Australia, Ruth Ostrow, Jennifer Louden, an empathic chimpanzee, Toni Childs, Amelie, some delicious bloggerettes from around the globe, Sally Morgan, Anais Nin, Brooke Medicine Eagle, Doris Day and Janeane Garafalo.My token male would be Roald Dahl, who I regard as a dear uncle to me.We would meet at a place named Hotel Divine. There would be delectable orange and poppyseed muffins with too cute glace orange slices quivering on the white puffy icing. There would be the World's Most Extensive Range of Herbal Teas (possibly handcrafted by my friend the Wild Shaky Mountain Herbal Medicine Woman). There would be piling steams of pancakes with thirty varieties of toppings. There would be vintage photobooths that you slot your own camera into, with a variety of themed backgrounds you could choose from.There would be booths and a checkered floor. And we would know the name and intimate details of every waiter and waitress who greeted us as "dahhhhlinks." Sometimes our waiter would be David Hasselhoff, just for shits and giggles.I would wear fabulous "fru fru" skirts (named by me and Lile after floaty long skirts) in all shades of magenta and turquoise. And a blue Bonds singlet with a fabulous shawl wrapped around me. Preferably barefoot, or sandles. And I would have a fiery sparkly halo that fizzled in all colours of sherbet.I would take with me bare hands for holding, a watercolour paper journal for dreaming in and my dear Canon. Most of the times I only take photos of napkins though, as what happens at Hotel Divine stays at Hotel Divine.It would be dreamy divine hilarious raucous illuminating naughty blessed delicious wide open wonderful...And just personally, I think it would be dangerous, in a tilt-the-world-changing kinda way.You can play the Dream Tea game at Liz's little room of delights.
Cupcake out, honeys
Leonie
dear leonie,i am writing you this so you may remember.
i want you to know what it was like to go to your first shamanic drumming circle.
it was raining, a dark may night.
we turn up early ~ an hour early, i'd gotten the time wrong,
so we strolled up and down the street, us and chris and his mum,
talking of this and that, sticking our heads into the remaining open shops that smelled of patchouli, plastic tubs of turkey feathers on the shelf.
i want you to remember how we at last entered the circle, smelling strongly of grandfather sage. a man with blue eyes and black boots is the guide.
the circle begins to fill with men and women,
black leggings, eyebrow rings, frog shirts, smiling eyes.
the guide walks around the circle, introducing himself, hugging each of us,
and slowly the circle walks around inside itself,
saying our names, hugging each other hello.
i decide there that it is the best way to meet someone:
to embrace them, to say "lovely to meet you" and to mean it as your heart is pressed against theirs.
then there is talking, and you find yourself thinking:
enough with the talking of doing, let's just do
and you grin at your own impatience,
staring at the monstrous drum in the middle of the circle
meditating out and into your own core
the sage smoke takes you there.
we are smudged with a huge wing of eagle
and inside my cells i know
i am being changed.
the drum begins
and a journey into the heart
it is heady and hot and smoky
and without words.
it feels like every part of my body is being smoked out.
and then we all begin drumming
on that huge deerskin drum
a flute is played around us
and i move back from the circle.
the guide plays a didjeridoo, and i close my eyes,
and he begins to play it over my chest.
my heart begins to beat with the didj music,
the layers of pain strip away
and there flighting, flying, dancing in my centre
is joy
and i begin laughing.
there is my joy core. i had been looking for it, wondering where it lived and how it felt since my dear friend D saw it one magical night as we held a rose quartz crystal ball together. there is my joy core.
i lay on the floor afterwards, soaking in the beating of the drum,
the sage of past lives,
the sacred sounds of a life unravelling
to who i wanted to be.
i write you this so you may know it, hear it, feel it again,
maybe in twenty years.
i don't know where you'll be
but i know it will be fucking magnificent.
i love you older self,
24 year old leonie
It's true - in a round-a-bout-six-degrees-of-separation kind of way. I am possibly even closer to Paul Simon than I am to my (almost) bestie MacGyver.Let me explain this miracle, and other miracles.Yesterday me, my love and my love's mum went out to the Spirit of the Forest Festival on my beautiful friend Gini's property. I wore my turquoise cowgirl hat, a sure sign an adventure will come about. The afternoon was filled with drinking chai, planting trees to honour our Tree grandmothers, watching a horse~whisperer, hanging out by the tipi, listening to talks. 
Once the sun dropped behind the mountains, everyone gathered into the round building that once was a cattle feeding shed. The shadows were dreamy against the brick-hewn wall.
And the dance began. Led by Prince Mama Kiama, an Unahi tribe chief from the Phillipines, a group of men dressed in loincloths began to dance. They leapt through the air, beating on drums, running like warriors. Women dressed in long skirts sashayed around the edges with arms like gentle eagles.
I want to tell you how that felt, how my heart beat quickened and breath shortened as they danced. That somehow, seeing that Prince and those mostly white boys in loincloths dancing, made a primal owl in me screech into the night. I want to tell you how I had tears in my eyes and a snake uncoiling in my belly, wanting that initiation for every man, for these ceremonies to be a part of every one's life, for dance and movement and spirit to be the way we celebrate each and every sunset. And mostly, for some inexplicable reason, I want to bring loincloths and long skirts back. They call in me some ancient memory that is deep and instinctual, as though they are how things should be.
my love at night.
The drums kept drumming into that night. The musical instruments came out, and songs were sung. A melting pot of traditions, wisdoms, songs and open hearts. I just kept feeling incredibly blessed to witness it all.
The entirely beautiful Prince Mama.
His Earthmamadrummingloving wife Lisa.
The quietly compelling Craig Six Bears playing a Native American flute.
And then, a man by the name of Trevor Knight joined the stage. And he and Prince Mama sang John Denver songs together, as brothers. Trevor told us that in the 1960's he played the folk circuit in England, and often played shows with an upstart short dude named Paul Simon, who later went back to America to play with his mate Art Garfunkel. Yep, THE Paul Simon, one of my biggest music idols and on my Top 5 to see live list (along with James Taylor and the five member version of Fleetwood Mac).
So last night, in an old cattle feeding shed, I tucked my djembe under my arm, and I drummed along with a Philipino tribal chief and a dude who had played with Paul Simon. I drummed like there was nothing else to do but echo the heartbeat, nothing to do but herald a miracle.
I danced with that drum like a woman possessed by the earth, the music and the moon~drenched air.
All my life I have been waiting to be this woman.
Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West of Proserpine, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads
(Lyrics by John Denver, as sung by Leonie Allan)
"There are two laws we have. To translate them, it means Love and also Peace."
~ Prince Mama Kiama
I will meet you in the dancing circle,
Leonie
