~ namaste ~

In India, when you meet someone, you say Namaste. When you say goodbye, farewell, enjoy your journey, you say Namaste. When you want to honour someone, when you want to say: From the God in Me, I see the God in You, you say Namaste.

I have been on a great, wonderous and wild journey in India. I've seen, felt, heard and experienced so many things that I am saturated with them. It is bigger, more bodacious and more fantastical than words, images, stories could possibly contain. If you wish to know what India is like, go. India is too dear to me, too crazy, too boundless and too wild for me to write one post about. I would love to one day share my Book of India with you.

It has been a spirit trip for me, and I have been blessed to learn under India, Great Teacher. This past year has been for me a search for authenticity - how can I more live my life in connection with Spirit? India reinforced this for me, and gave me the space to be who I am by rivers, in cities, searching for tigers, resting in forts on mountaintops. India gave me so much - I gave myself so much.

The day after I left, leonielife.com decided to take its own retreat as well. When I dialled in from Agra to find a blank screen, all I felt was a great sense of freedom. Finally - I felt as if I could truly live India for me. I didn't need to try and document it for anyone else. I didn't need to make it look beautiful or make it make sense. I just needed to be there, for me. After three years of documenting by blog my life to some extent for others, I could live my own precious, wild, strong-medicine life in the present and wholly for myself.

That felt good, and that felt true.
That felt like what I needed to do.

Even when I arrived home, my webby website would not come out of its cave. It grew fur like a mama bear, and growled softly:
Not until you hear my lesson.
She took me into her cave that smelled of earth and moss and breath, and she gave me a gift - her gift: the medicine of introspection. Of being inward-facing. Of finding true centre, true home, true north, in my own heart.
I set up gypsy camp in her cave for a while, fossicking through my jumbled bag of belongings, actions, habits. I picked up each piece, turning it over and over, whispering to it: Do you serve me? and pressing my ear against it to hear the answer. I had to empty my bag to make room for more dreams.

And so, with breath, and heartfulness, ~ I say Namaste to blogging as a form of communication for right now. I have a bigger dream of how I can share and express in this world, and more importantly, I have a bigger dream of how I wish to be.

I give thanks for all blogging has given me these past few years - for all the ways it has helped me develop as an artist and soul, the connections and inspirations it has cultivated and the possibilities this blog has dreamed awake. Now it's time for me to live those awakened dreams.

There are books to be written and retreats to be created and art to be made and sacred space to be given in to. And most importantly, there is my own sacred, precious, beautiful life to be lived.

From time to time I will release a joy e-letter with dreams, art and happenings ~ if you would like to be on the mailing list, please email leonie (at) gmail (dot) com. I would love to see you at the retreats I will be holding, and share with you through art, books and stories of miracles come true.

Leonielife.com still points to my website, but I welcome a new domain name as my main focus - GoddessLeonie.com. For me, this feels like a small but significant shift. This isn't about everyday leonie life now. This is about being the Goddess Leonie who I know lives inside me.

I say Namaste to each and every one of you ~ and to your own sacred, precious, beautiful life. I wish to thank you deeply for sharing in this journey, for your encouragement and inspiration. If you'd like to connect, you can reach me at the above email address.

May your life always bloom in new rainbow-light, spirit-loving and authentic-true ways.

With love of spirit and life,
Leonie

Wild Fairie Adventure Picnic

While I was in Brisbane a few weeks ago, I wanted to connect with some of the goddesses in my life that I have met from so many parts of my journey: high school dearhearts, internet un-met lovelies, womens circle sisters. Instead of meeting each of them for different cups of tea, I decided to Create an Event. Something a little bit wild, a little bit delicious, gentle but surprising. I considered having a Turkish banquet: too boring. A midnight rendezvous on a mountain: adventurous, but I'm more awake during the sunshine hours. A wild fairie adventure picnic: just perfect.



Now, I only needed to find a place for it!
I woke on the day of the picnic just as the sun was rising, my two sisters still slumbering. I slung on a long green skirt emblazoned with elephants, and a black singlet, and out into the morning I walked. I journeyed north, and found a park: it was bare, with small trees and traffic on all four sides. I journeyed on. I wanted to find the river, but didn't know where it was. I followed no map but the gentle pulling of my innards over sloping hills made of crumbling concrete and tropical jungle.



Down past a large white house, I found the river: wide and rumbling with skiers, hedged with mangroves. I clambered into the mangroves, and cried for a while. The distance of weeks since has blurred my memory of what pushed the tears forth. It could have been tears of joy at finding the river, and gratitude of being guided there. It could have been tears of gentle sadness at feeling all the emotions of a human with a fractured, precious heart. It could have been all of these. I only know is I cried with gratitude and honouring of the tears. And then I looked up, and the mangrove leaves were shaped like hearts. I smeared mangrove mud on my legs. I walked on.



I spoke to the fairies as I walked:

Dear Fairies,
I would like to find a pretty-ish bit of wildnerness* to co-create a magical event with. I would so love to create a space for goddesses to connect with mama earth and each other. If you could please help me find this place, I would be so grateful.
(P&P reference, for those of you playing at home)





As I gave my request, I decided that in return, I would do something for the fairies to thank them, and to make it a true energy exchange. After reading Doreen Virtue's "Healing with the Fairies", I know that fairies are custodians of the natural world, and need help in nourishing and protecting the earth.





A few minutes later, I looked down into the mangroves and saw an abandoned shopping trolley stuck halfway in the mud of the river. I looked back up the steep rocky incline to the road. Not an easy hike. I decided that a wild adventure fairie picnic is worth fighting for, so I hitched my skirt up and made my way down to the mangroves and mud. I hauled that shopping trolley inch by inch up the rocks, giggling away to myself, reminding myself all the way "I'm doing this for the fairies... doing it for the fairies..." Once up on the road again, I fixed the shopping trolley to a handrail, and high-fived myself.



I walked on. And on. And on.
Past pandanas trees and kayakers and large green leaves piled in gutters. Past huge sporting ovals and cute cottages. And then, just over a tiny creek, I found a little green space between the houses. I couldn't see where it ended, so I walked in. Past purple jacaranda trees and green jungles. Golden flowers sang and butterflies danced. I swore I saw fairies.



Past a well loved basketball hoop and a handmade pizza oven. Past voluptuous trees, into a clearing that was hemmed by a river and jungle. There were lizards and blue kingfisher birds and brown wild turkeys. It was a piece of wilderness in the suburbs, a well-loved but unowned slice of magic. Someone had mowed the clearing in a circle, forming a beautiful spiral in the grass. I had found it. The place. The one I trusted existed, even if I didn't know its name. Even though it wasn't on the maps. I had found it using my heart, and it was just what I wanted it to be.





So I sent out the call, giving wild and elaborate directions for a place that didn't exist. I wonder even if it would be there if I went to look again, or if it existed only for that short space of time, like the secret garden, or the place behind the grandfather clock.





That afternoon, we gathered there. Women and children and a tiny puppy named Bella. Goddesses of all different flavours, all stunningly beautiful in their own ways. Friends of friends meeting friends. Women finding each other and sharing. Eating and laughing and speaking. Soaking in the fairie magic. Painting wildly. Throwing the canvas as far as we could across the spiral oval. Getting hands and feet and noses and faces glistening with rainbow paint. Wearing paper tiaras. Being just as we are.





I don't know how to express just how much sacred and sublime gatherings fill me up now. Just how much I have learned that when you take the path less travelled, adventure and magic flow in as easily as breath. I see the glistening, shimmering beauty in every soul I meet. I feel blessed beyond belief. And onwards I walk, knowing there is more work to be done, more life to be lived, more joyous celebrating to be had.






Onwards I walk, to a new place, and to a new self.
I journey onwards now, to India, to dreams come true, to lotus flowers and Kali Ma.
I kiss the palm of all I meet, and hold my own.



I am off on a journey ~~~
I return in a month.





Until then, may your journey be blessed with light.
May you have magical, sublime, sweet times.



May your eyes fill up with goodness.
May you dare to be your own wild adventure fairie.

Namaste,
Leonie

P.S. Remember: Magic can happen anywhere at any time. Ya just gotta give it the space to enter.

i love you anyway

today

i was walking along

like a fresh blessing

in the morning.



i love the city in the morning:

the quiet way the breeze places,

through green leaves and blackbirds.

it's like all our mistakes and humanness are wiped clean

and only promise and possibility awaits.



i walk along

with honeysuckle flowers in my curling hair.

mr paris led me and my love to a honeysuckle climber this morning,

saying: "we only live once"

his grief emblazoned on a red rose on his backpack.



he shows us how

to bite off the ends and draw in the honeysuckle nectar,

telling me:

"leonie, i know of no other flower than the honeysuckle that is so similar to your essence."



so i walk

the city morning

with love, friendship, grief and life in my hair.



i walk beside men and women:

a woman dressed like a man, smoking furtively.

instead of screwing my eyes up in judgement,

i whisper to her:

i love you anyway.



a thin man walks quickly, as though harried and fearful

about being late, about being lost, about being wrong,

and i whisper to him:

i love you anyway.



every man and woman i walk beside,

i watch them silently,

taking in all their parts,

and i want to love them with all of myself.

i want to bless them, i want them to know they are not alone,

i want them to have a good day.



and the thought strikes me,

as i walk like a miandering honeysuckled hair angel in the city morning,

following others and showering them with love,

that maybe, just maybe, just definitely,

that there were angels following me whispering:

i love you anyway. you are good. you are loved. i see you.

Holy Mothership Miracle!

Sometimes miracles are waiting just behind you...
Me in the sculpture garden, photograph by JourneyMan


This is a story of serendipity, circumstance and miracle.

This is my story of today.

Yesterday my JourneyMan thought he'd have a look at the National Gallery of Australia website - not really a usual thing for him as we don't get there often. We are more into the National Library for their art exhibitions, funnily enough. He happened upon a new exhibition opening there - Culture Warriors - and thought he might like to go sometime.

Last night I had a night of photographic inspiration, so this morning when I loaded up my handbag, I included my big Canon 30D - not a usual thing at all.

We went to our usual Saturday morning haunts this morning and finished early, so JourneyMan decided to take me to the exhibition. We arrived and it hadn't opened yet, so we roamed around the Sculpture Garden instead, photographing, kissing, exploring, playing with the spring time floss, scoping out the beautiful landscape for future photoshoots. We had so much fun we didn't get into the gallery until half hour after it opened.

As we moved up the escalators, we spotted a group of Aboriginal artists waiting at the front of the gallery. We looked at each other with wide eyes and big grins - "Honey, I think something is happening today."

Then over the loudspeakers, the Gallery tells us that the Culture Warriors exhibition was open, and in five minutes the Aboriginal artists from the exhibition will be speaking on all their paintings.

JourneyMan and I have a deep interest in the Aboriginal culture and artwork. I feel we have so much to learn from them on so many levels, and honour how deeply they love the spirit of this land and Earth.

We walked down to exhibition, and there is a large gathering with a number of TV cameras. A Ngunnawal woman welcomed us and the artists from around Australia to her ancestor's land. At this point, my tears began to flow. I felt so deeply touched by her speaking of her ancestors and her land, and so honoured to be there to hear it.

And then the Aboriginal artists began to speak, sharing their stories about their artworks.

Can you say dream come true?

We moved from room to room. I have been changed by every artist's story.

The old man with his grandson sharing the story of the flying fox.

A younger woman, not much older than JourneyMan, part of the Stolen Generation, and now reclaiming and preserving her culture through art.

The man who began to cry as he spoke about not knowing his language.

So many stories to share. So much healing to take place. So much cultural beauty and spirit to celebrate.

And then, as we moved in a large group into the next gallery room, my eyes glassed over with joy and I lost my ability to speak. There, in front of an incredible portrait of an Aboriginal warrior maiden, was my favourite Australian artist of all time: Julie Dowling.

I actually wrote about Julie on my blog three years ago, and not long after, I got an email from her and her twin sister Carol who had read it. At the time I was blow-my-mind-excited from the email. Can you imagine me today, getting to actually hear her speak? She was candid, warm, articulate and precious. She spoke about finding peace in herself as she grew older, and introduced me to a scientific term that I am already a spiritual believer of.

Ethnobotany is the concept that the more we disconnect from our land, the more unhealthy we become. In other words, touch Mama Earth everyday, and eat from Her bounty.

So by now my head was officially blown off, and was shooting festoons of glitter into the air at random intervals. When the crowd moved into the next room, I took a deep breath and introduced myself to Carol and Julie. THE Carol and Julie. Artists, writers, world-changers and goddesses. And they remembered me! Holy freaking mother miracle! I told them just how much I honoured their work and appreciated what they did. They told me they liked my blog. (Dude! Can you say best day EVER?)

I think I walked away from that on clouds. I met two of my heroes.

We walked into the next room to listen to the next artist, JourneyMan grinning as I made silent joy-shrieks in his shoulder. And then... the thought struck me. I really want to photograph the twins. The vision of the photograph comes to me, and I become obsessed by it. "I need to photograph them" I whisper to JourneyMan. For me, to photograph someone has become to honour them, document their soul beauty and truly see them as they are. It has become a spirit journey, a visual exploration of the divine.

The thought of photographing them struck me as too wild, too deep, too crazy an idea. I couldn't possibly ask them. And we walked out.

And that's where the story ends.

Then I opened a book in the gift store, and there were six photographs of the twins. And I realised that I couldn't let it be where the story ends. I couldn't spend my life wondering - what if? I learned in that moment that I could live with whatever the answer would be, I just couldn't live with not asking the question. I walked back in, still full of fear, humanness and feelings of impossibility. I told my angels - "Please be with me. I am okay if this doesn't happen. But if you put the twins in front of me, I will ask the question."

We walked back, and there in front of me was Carol, with her smiling face.
I said "I have a crazy and wild question for you. It's okay to say no, but I need to ask: May I photograph you and Julie?"

She said yes.

And I had my camera on me.
And I knew where in the Sculpture Garden I could photograph them.

And I was there. And they were there.
And we were willing.

It feels like every perfect part of life lined up today, for a huge mothership miracle dream of mine to come true... the camera, the question, the being there at the perfect time.

I couldn't have planned it better. And maybe that's the point: that the Universe is the Master of Creating Your Dreams for you. Just dream it, and follow your nose. And have little adventures for fun. They may just make your life path blossom with exquisite flowers.

Believe, Believe, Believe.
When you least expect it, your life will change.

Miracles are waiting to enter the wings,
Leonie

(photographs to come)

Dear One

this came out just after i wrote this...


Dear Clinty,

I've been dreaming about you lately.

You've been in my dreams and close to my skin, and when I awake I find you're not just around me but inside me now.

I think, "you are my biggest brother" - not only my oldest, but the biggest - the man who is bigger than the stars and clusters of planets and a field lying yellow in the summer. You are bigger than exquisite possibilities and truth and body, and you teach us that.

A few weeks ago, a boy I knew when I was a teenager died. And he made me think of you. He would have been nearly the same age as you when you died. I turn your eternal age of 25 in a few short weeks. I used to think you were old enough to die - that 25 years is a good go at life. And yet, here I am on the birthing precipice of that age, and there is still so much to do. So much to live and feel and experience and know and do.

I dreamed that you died again, and I began to wail that I was losing you all over again. And the stars came out, and I stopped wailing, and I realised I knew how to grieve now.

My grieving made me yearn to dance, my bare feet thrashing the gravel, my sweat becoming stars, my heart pumping long, loving bursts of blood through me. I wanted to dance you into heaven, I wanted to celebrate you in the ways I now know how to.

I didn't want everyone to go home, to sit in our silent rooms on our own and cry, to not know what to say, to feel that the experience was too uncomfortable to sit with. So I gathered our family and friends together in a big circle near the shed. And we drummed, we sang, we danced, we prayed, we spoke, guiding you home to Great Spirit.

I danced you into me, in that dream.

I danced until my arms were a-swirl and every precious possibility, every piece of love, every dream, every promise, every lifetime was awake.

Today, I wake up and you are with me.

Today, I wake up and something I want falls through, but I feel you beside me, smiling down a thousand lifetimes on me, telling me that everything is sacred, everything is real, everything is new, and everything will happen.

I want to photograph you today. I will photograph the stars and the grass and the great looming trees instead. You are in them.

All My Love,

Bony


And then the sun came out and glowed through the rain
and the whole world looked like a miracle...

Partying on at the Portrait Palace

I had the joy of doing a portrait party with Gail last month.

I regard Gail as being the Queen of Grace ~ she walks her path with tender awareness, a gentle heart, a listening soul, a compassionate mind. I learn from reading her. I expand from hearing her story. The maths equation is simple: Gail = Precious.



Gail collaborated with her gorgeous daughter Kristiana for this portrait of me.
When I opened it up, I had the most star-filled smile on my face... it evokes for me so much beauty and innocence, a mermaid maiden in love with the stars and flowers.

There is so much joy and spirit in this game...
in this honouring of each other, and sharing our truest visions of each other.

May your day be filled with smiles like shooting stars,
Leonie

Meow

Two years ago we took these photos, on a roadtrip with our womenfolk.
She was lithe with dark curls, a dreaming maiden from Brazil.
Yesterday, standing in the hallway of our town's apothecary and bookstore, I hear a "meow" behind me. It is her pet~calling for me.

She is blooming into mamahood now, lifting her black and white cheques to reveal her round belly. Her love is here, and she is moving to our quiet suburb laden with mountains. She is still dreaming, birthing herself into Mother.

Looking through these old photographs today made me smile ~
of who we once were, and who we will be.
And of the photographs that will be in the future...
of a belly that grows even bigger with another soul,
of love unfolding,
of a family growing,
of a medicine woman learning,
of a woman's journey.

Life. Pretty much the best thing ever.

The Perfect Tea

May today gift you a moment of pure bliss.

Some link love for a Thursday night ~
* Christine Kane is an eloquent blog writer on spirit, creating
* I just fell upon the gorgeous website of photographer Gwyneth Colleen today. She is all kinds of unique and spunky.
* I think Suzi Blu's art vlogs are pretty much the coolest shanizzle for the soul since 1997 (when my high schol art teacher wore rainbow pattern jeans).
* For some reason, I really dig John Huck's photography series on people and their breakfast.
* If you haven't listened to the Andi and George band, you are missing out on MAGIC, babycakes.

Water Womyn

Water Womyn:
She who comes to me
when I am in the Room of Cleansing, the Room of Bathing.

She is strong, that Water Womyn,
sister to Changing Womyn,
floating me in the liquid arms,
mermaid hair unfurling,
comforting me with her eerie song
that speaks of the old places:
Atlantis, Avalon, Tipi in the Sky.

Some nights, the Water Womyn
teaches me through visions.
Some nights, she stands to the left and centre of me,
whispering in my ear
who I am and why I am here.

May your day be blessed with light,
Leonie

~ More Turquoise Journey here.
~ More Self Portrait Challenges here.

Sacred Sounds

Saturday afternoon was birthed clear and blue, shining and new.
What to create on a day such as this?

Dream this:

Souls driving out of the city
and into the southern alpine fields that kiss the feet of tender purple mountains.

A Sacred Sounds Concert on a healing retreat ~
friends, lovers, families, dear ones to celebrate sacred sounds.

Imagine making music because that's what calls you,
that's what frees you, that's what makes community.
There are no mistakes, there is only sound, and there is only laughter,
as you make music together.



Imagine a circle of souls:
of healers, children, teachers, musicians, shamans, filipino tribal chiefs, artists, fairies and farmers
holding hands in one circle, in oneness,
in an old circlular cow shed
singing ohm together
until the sacred sound swirls around them
and dances up through the roof
making spirits creak and souls soar.



Imagine dancing like an eagle,
in a circle of dancing eagles,
with a goddess child in your arms.



Imagine a couple who love each other
tenderly, honestly and genuinely.
Who love this Earth and its people so much that they open their hearts and their land
to make a healing retreat and hold gatherings to come home to.



the entirely beautiful peter and gini



Imagine an incredible band who don't make just music:
they make spirit and magic and dreams play harmony in the air.


Gorgeous George and their sublime drummer

Imagine the Andi and George band that make music that is your soul home.
Imagine them and then buy every single album they own,
because they deserve it and you deserve them.
You deserve their tilting, dancing, miraculous ocean music beauty in your heart.


Goddess Andi

Imagine bare feet
aching to tell
their story
in movement.



Imagine your friends, your circle sisters
swirling together into light and song and dance
there in the cow shed with you.


Angel and Freya


Goddess Kaylia

Imagine a gathering of souls and music
where dogs are just as much a part of the gathering
as anybody else.



Imagine a beautiful man who loves you
so deeply, unconditionally and acceptingly,
always gently watching from the corner,
always watching you fly.

Imagine a man who is a lake of reflection,
soaking it all into his depths,
letting the singing bowl and the didjeridoo
make their music inside him.



Imagine walking by the lake,
coming home to yourself and to the Earth,
strung in a necklace of Goddesses
who have become your tribe.



Imagine finding a woman who is like a twin to you.
Imagine her. She is coming. She has arrived.



Imagine reclaiming the Dance:
the Dance of Freedom, the Dance that makes you Glad,
the Dance your body longs to dance.
Imagine the Dance that isn't about judgements or others,
it is the Dance of Being Alive and Barefoot and Grateful.

All I need to dance now
is hands beating drums
and the dirt floor of a cow shed.



All I need to dance now
is Mother Earth
kissing my bare feet



and Father Sun's light
kissing my bare face and arms



and the sacred sound of our own hearts beating.




All we need is the sacred sound of our own hearts beating.




Imagine it... so it may be...

In brilliance,
Leonie