Category Archives: Wellbeing

September 28, 2013

Incidental travel

By the dragonfly

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Health and wellbeing articles are always banging on about getting incidental exercise – like taking the stairs, gardening, getting off the bus one stop earlier, or sending your document to the work printer on the other side of the building so you have to walk to get it.

Then there are those pelvic floor exercises you’re supposed to do while you iron (who does that? Ironing, I mean).

If incidental means ‘accompanying but not a major part of something’, then incidental travel is the trip you have when you’re not really travelling.

For me, it’s sitting on the beach looking out to sea when suddenly a hump back whale cracks through the surface and tosses itself into the air over and over again.

It’s walking along a familiar bush track when a koala, completely zoned-out on eucalyptus juice, comes toddling towards you. It senses you (or hears your dog panting and drooling) and stares myopically in your general direction before taking to the nearest tree,  climbing a metre up and hiding its face. A bit like a two year old kid thinking if they cover their eyes you won’t see them.

It’s those snatches of conversation you hear that transport you back to favourite places, like the tres chic french woman and her elderly mother chatting over coffee. Or make you laugh hysterically (on the inside) like the loud mobile phone conversation on the bus that finally ends with: “Well, I haven’t got time to sit around drinking tai chi all day you know”.

It’s when that huge golden moon hangs close to the horizon, or you just happen to wake in the middle of the night to see Orion perfectly framed in your bedroom window…

It’s not always possible to head off to another part of the world, even when you’re busting to. Which makes incidental travel a bit of a sanity saver.

Marcel Proust puts it best: The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.

There’s a lot to be said for fresh eyes…

1 Comment   |  tags: , , , , | posted in short breaks, Travel, Uncategorized, Wellbeing

June 11, 2013

coastal life + city fix

By the dragonfly

There is an ideal view of the world. From our office window in Pottsville – and in our heads. But reality bites…

view from the loft

A few months ago, we followed our hearts and moved down to Pottsville, a small coastal town in the Northern Rivers region of NSW.

Now, hanging out in the Douglas Albert in a caravan park just outside Brisbane’s CBD, we can’t help laughing at ourselves (a little hysterically). What were we thinking?

With both of our businesses based in Brisbane, we thought things would bubble along as usual, meeting with clients a couple of days a week and working from our ‘loft’ overlooking the ocean the rest of the time.

Instead, we leave home on a Monday morning at 3.45 to miss the traffic, set ourselves up in the ‘trailer park’, work with our clients for the week, then head home after 7pm on Thursday to miss the ‘car park’ on the M1.

C’est la vie. What’s not to like about a life in motion?

It requires being more organised than usual (did I mention I hate packing) and a lot of adjusting.

But we’re discovering new parts of a city we thought was beyond familiar and we seem to have more time to enjoy it. After all, playing house in a motorhome isn’t exactly a lot of work.

And driving back to the coast at the end of every week just feels right. Not quite home yet, but that shift in energy as the ocean comes into view is an amazing feeling.

Recently, rolling back into Brisbane as dawn bathed the city in hazy gold, we realised how much we loved this coastal life + city fix. Not forever, but for now…

We can feel that subtle shift as ‘the end’ of our comfort zone moves further away. Which just goes to show that change isn’t only good, it’s revitalizing.

There’s another upside. We’re now prepped and ready for those grey nomad wanderings in the DA. And it could happen sooner rather than later now.

This lifestyle is addictive…

2 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in Australia, Packing light..., Wellbeing

March 30, 2013

The dolphin, the whale and the manta ray…

By the dragonfly

Pottsville is a quiet coastal town in the northern rivers region of New South Wales, Australia. It may be somewhere families return to year after year for their camping holidays, but it remains a sleepy outpost that hasn’t quite achieved the stunning growth predicted a decade ago. This is our new home but, as so many people ask us (ex) inner-city dwellers, why Pottsville?

Four years ago, EB and I were sitting on the beach at Kingscliff, not far from Pottsville. I know, sitting. It doesn’t happen very often.

We’d been looking for property in the area and were talking about where we’d really like to live. Was it here?

Gazing out to sea in a rare deeply-zen moment, I said I’d like to live on the coast surrounded by bushland and wildlife. We both laughed. Now that would stretch the limits of our bank’s generosity.

In front of us, people were doing their beach thing. Glistening bodies catching rays, watchful parents making doomed sandcastles with sun-protected toddlers at the water’s edge, kids giggling and squealing as they took on the fiesty waves, surfers waiting for the next perfect set.

Suddenly, out of the deep blue, three dolphins powered towards the shore where we were sitting. At the last moment they turned and, leaping over some kids who’d managed to catch a wave, disappeared back out to sea.

We were stunned, but not nearly as much as a little boy who had no idea what the huge thing was that just leapt over him. I think he’ll be scarred for life.

Microsoft clipartLater that evening, walking along the beach, out of the corner of my eye I saw something that looked like a big sack being tossed up in the air. Impossible.

As we peered out to sea in the dusky light, there it was again. “OMG!” I tugged at EB’s shirt, “It’s a manta ray!”

Who knew manta rays could leap like that? Apparently they do because there it was again, leaping out of the water beyond the last break.

But wait, there’s more. In the morning, we woke early, as you do when you’re camping.

The sun was just creeping over the horizon, turning the sea to liquid gold. And there, close to shore, was a humpback whale breaching, waving its fins and slapping its tail on the water.

Our jaws, quite literally, dropped.

That afternoon we heard about an environmental estate on the outskirts of the township of Pottsville, two minutes from the beach, and we thought… hey, what have we got to lose?

Today, moving into the house we bought back then, felt like coming home.

It’s taken us a while to make the move, but it’s not like you can argue with a dolphin, a whale and a manta ray…

1 Comment   |  tags: | posted in Australia, Wellbeing, Wildlife

March 1, 2013

A different journey

By the dragonfly
My only fridge magnet...

My only fridge magnet…

When you’re planning your next trip, you usually start with your beginning and end dates.

You hope for adventures and experiences to write home about; to be inspired, surprised and challenged.

But you know it’s a finite thing, and you’ll be back home to the familiar – back to the comfort zone, the stress zone or a bit of both and trying to hold onto that holiday feeling.

What you hope for is a different perspective and life changing experiences…

Moving house, from inner city living to a small coastal town as we’ll be doing next month, is a different journey.

And (to really mix my metaphors) even if it is a taste test rather than the place we intend to put down permanent roots, there’s that same breathtaking moment you get when any journey begins and you don’t really know what’s ahead.

One thing we know is that we’re not going to be in our comfort zone any time soon, and we’re unlikely to return to this city we’ve called home for 30 years – except to visit our kids, grandies and friends, and to work.

Among the new experiences will be the one and a half hour commute to meet with our city clients, instead of being there in the usual five minutes. But we’re thinking that arriving home at the beach after work will be incentive enough…

Like any journey, it’s overwhelming and exciting at the same time. We know the path won’t all be easy and smooth – if it was there’d be no stories to tell.

And stories, as some wise person said, are the difference between being a tourist and a traveller.

2 Comments   |  tags: , , | posted in Australia, Packing light..., Travel, Uncategorized, Wellbeing

February 22, 2013

Another Byron Bay sunrise…

By the dragonfly

When our weeks are so jam-packed that the fast-lane looks like easy street, there’s nothing better than jumping in the DA and heading off for some chill time in Byron Bay.

We arrive late afternoon Friday and, as always, head straight to the beach.

In January, ex-tropical cyclone Oswald cut a devastating path through Queensland and hammered northern New South Wales on its way to rain on Sydney’s parade.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Ex-tropical cyclone Oswald leaves its mark on Byron Bay’s pristine shoreline.

The evidence of Oswald’s passing hits us immediately.

The sand has been effortlessly carved away, the beach is re-configured, swaths of coastal vegetation are gone.

But today, it’s calm and raining gently – and the insanity of city life and relentless storms has slipped away.

It’s one of those rare moments you just want to hang onto, when even the grey skies and persistent drizzle can’t dampen our spirits.

If I was any more relaxed, I think I’d fall over backwards.

Of course, the serenity can’t last.

EB is already nudging me to get my runners on so we can do the lighthouse circuit before the light fades.

Step aside Oswald… EB is a force to be reckoned with.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

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December 26, 2012

Bistaarai, bistaarai – slowly, slowly

By the dragonfly
Copyright: Louise Ralph

Along the Annapurna trail…

When EB and I were trekking in Nepal in 2008, our group hit some tough spots. But our sherpas would just smile and say ‘bistaarai, bistaarai‘ – go slowly and carefully.

That’s not bad advice as we all charge headlong into another year, armed with resolutions that usually involve losing x kilograms, spending more time with people we love, and doing more meaningful stuff with our lives (more travel springs to mind).

Bistaarai, bistaarai… go slowly, or you’ll be dumping resolutions as quickly as you made them.

Look at the losing weight scenario. It might have taken me ten years to gain those (undisclosed!) extra kilos, but I want them off in ten weeks. Talk about setting myself up for being a loser – and not in the intended way.

Long term weight loss takes time…and so does changing those stressed-out habits. It’s also pretty impossible to fit in time to hang out with the people you love, get more exercise, chill out, and get away more often, without making some space in your diary.

It’s a lot easier when you remember who controls your diary (um, you do).

Here’s some quick tips to help you slow down to an easy pace, work smarter – and have more time to keep those easy-to-make, easy-to-break New Year’s Resolutions.

  • Exercise. The first thing you put in your diary every week is when you’ll exercise. Because exercise gives you the energy and a sense of wellbeing that helps you deal with everything else.
  • Be realistic. Put six things (max!) a day on your to-do list. Get done what you can do, and the things you can’t get to either don’t matter enough, or go to the top of the next day’s list.
  • Start the day right…with a decent breakfast and at least 15 minutes ‘chill’ time. That might mean sitting doing nothing, reading, wandering through your garden – or someone else’s (slightly more tricky). The important thing is to allow yourself to do nothing – which is the tough bit.
  • Back to the diary… schedule in blocks of ‘project work’ time where you don’t answer phones or emails. And when someone says they want to meet with you, give them two or three options, not ‘whenever it suits you’ (aka valuing your time and you).
  • Say no to 24:7 availability. That means not always having your techie things in your hip pocket, checking and answering emails as soon as they arrive, or having your office door/space ‘open’. People can and will wait. Really. Which leads to…
  • Stop driving the emergency response vehicle. Let others take some responsibility for their own stuff. If you’re always rushing to meet their needs or taking up the slack, you’re teaching them to be dependant and incapable. Remember this one? Lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine…
  • Handle stuff once… from paperwork to emails. Process, file, chuck/delete. That’s it. It will unclutter your desk, your inbox, your house and your mind.
  • Delegate. You don’t have to be the master of everything. If you’ve got the resources, use them. If you haven’t, get them.
  • Breathe. No, it’s not an optional extra and we do forget to do it. You can usually tell you’re not breathing properly when your shoulders are creeping up around your ears (blue lips are also a sign). When the stress gets to you, stop, drop your shoulders and take a deep, deep breath…then let it out slowly, slowly.

Whisper it, shout it, but say it over and over: Bistaarai, bistaarai. Slowly, slowly…

Namaste

First published on my Dragonfly Ink blog  in January 2009

1 Comment   |  tags: , , , | posted in Nepal, Travel, Uncategorized, Wellbeing

November 13, 2012

Everything is possible: holiday resolutions

By the dragonfly

You know the drill. You’re on holidays and the stress has melted away, leaving you feeling like anything is possible.

You’ll get back home and do those things you’ve been putting off forever.

You’ll change your life, or at least your attitude to it.

You won’t be sucked back into the stress zone. And those end of the day ‘power wine-downs’ will be a thing of the past.

You can almost hear your liver whispering ‘thank you’.

Yep, anything is possible.

Fast forward a few weeks and it’s easy to forget you’ve ever been away. The relentless pace of life sucks you in – and under.

Almost.

The other day, I found myself grabbing lunch and taking it back to my desk. I stopped mid-stride.

‘I reckon you wouldn’t find a single French person eating lunch at their desk,’ I thought.

And I went back outside to find a place in the sun…

My friend posted this Seth Godin quote on faffbook recently, and it’s worth repeating (even if we are planning our next getaway!):

Maybe it’s not about big changes and Humpty-Dumpty resolutions. Maybe hanging onto that ‘holiday spirit’ is about the little things that build momentum in your life and eventually add up to the way you live.

And where you eat lunch.

 

4 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in Australia, France, Wellbeing

October 10, 2012

Faces of Beaune…

By the dragonfly

Copyright: Louise RalphIt’s Tuesday in downtown Beaune, which is pronounced like an Inspector Clouseau version of ‘bone’.

EB has gone for a massage and acupuncture for a cracked rib (long story, but I didn’t do it, I swear).

And I have two hours to shop, sans bloke. Sounds like a plan.

Except…

This is not something I do well at the best of times, even if I do want to take a bag full of cute French stuff back for my family.

And…

It’s drizzly weather, and just hitting midday.

Shopping? Mais non. The two-hour lunch break has begun. The shops have closed, but the cafés are buzzing. Merde.

Time to visit the local Salon de thé and watch the world go by.

Stray or con-artist? Je ne sais pas…

So there I am, drinking verte de menthe (peppermint tea) and eating végétarien quiche, in the company of a cute taupe poodle – who may be a stray or just a con-artist.

We both sneak a look around, before I feed him the bits of jambon (ham) from my quiche. The French have an interesting interpretation of vegetarian, I’ve discovered.

Suddenly he scoots away, as two German tourists loom above me. Okay, the German tourist thing isn’t immediately apparent.

There are empty tables all around us, but it seems mine is in the preferred location.

Pardon. You want to sit…here? Ah, oui, bien sur, feel free. Move my bags? Par de problème. Pile your stuff in front of me? Pourquoi pas.

I sit, half-listening, to their vigorous conversation of which monument to visit next. The other part of me debates our cultural differences – or perhaps the fact that I resent feeling awkward. It’s all so un-Zen.

Tiring of my out-of-body experience, I stand up. Au revoir, they say. Au revoir, I reply. Smiling.

And the heavens open.

So do the shops. France is full of tiny miracles…

Copyright: Louise Ralph

One of the local door-dogs.

Fast-forward to dinner in a delightful back-street restaurant. EB and I sit down, trying not to make too much noise in this monastically-silent place.

You can hear a pin drop. Or, at least, my umbrella.

We peruse the menu, whispering interpretations to each other. It seems that quite a few other tourists have found their way here. Some are busily consulting their French phrasebook.

The waitress arrives at our table and grunts out avez-vous choisi?

Quel est vollaille fermière à la crème d’èspoisses? I ask (with abysmal pronunciation, I admit).

CHICKEN, she pretty-much shouts, shattering the silence. Now you can hear a pin drop.

EB and I burst out laughing, which is clearly not the appropriate response.

The food is some of the best I’ve had in France, but the frosty waitress is just too much hard work. C’est la vie.

That was yesterday. Today, we reach a milestone in our French adventure, swapping la voiture for le vèlo.

We are a little sad, but looking forward to a few days cycling through Burgundy (remind me I said this when my croissant-butt is in agony tomorrow…)

The first part of our cycling trip is rather mild. Dining at the Abbaye de Maizières.

It’s a little hard to find the entrance, until we see some people opening what appears to be a window, at waist-level, in the stone wall.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

C’est ne pas un moine (monk). C’est EB dans l’Abbaye de Maizieres – consulting the wine list, of course.

We follow them through and down some stone stairs into the most amazing ancient cave (cellar), with its low dramatically-buttressed ceilings, coated in centuries of mould.

Monks used to store their wine barrels here and make the wine in the adjacent room. No wonder this place has good energy.

Praying leads to wine-tasting, apparently.

We are greeted by the delightful host who treats us like royalty, even with our vaguely outdoor-recreation couture.

The food is great, the wine is superb, and the friendly service is refreshing.

And we have to admit, it’s not a bad way to begin a cycling adventure…

Perhaps the sun will shine on us tomorrow, after all?

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October 8, 2012

Water of life

By the dragonfly

Copyright: Louise RalphIn Roman times, water was wealth. Running water in the city was one thing, but having it in your house instantly put you a cut above the rest.

Enter Pont du Gard. At an impressive 48.77 metres, it was the highest aqueduct bridge in the Roman world.

This is the best-preserved section of an incredible aqueduct system that carried about 20,000 cubic metres of fresh spring water a day, over and around hills and across gullies and rivers, from an aquifer near Uzès to the then-Roman city of Nîmes. Did someone say ‘water restrictions’?

The aqueduct itself is a real feat of engineering, with a fall of only 17 metres across its entire 50-kilometre length.

And looking up at those arches, it’s hard not to be overwhelmed by the huge stones cut and placed with such precision that they could outlast civilisations. Even ours…

Going through the museum at the Pont du Gard site and seeing how it was done ‘back in the day’ is a head-spin (not to mention the museum itself).

Today, Pont du Gard stands as a testament to the legendary Roman determination and ingenuity. It also shows the value they put on having access to fresh water. And a lot of it.

While the average Roman living in the city relied on the many fountains spilling out fresh water, the wealthy had fresh water ‘on tap’ at home – water for drinking, cooking, bathing, flushing, washing, and even for fountains.

Clearly, they were big on wellbeing and a bit partial to the tinkle of water…

And I can’t argue with that.

Comments Off on Water of life   |  tags: , , | posted in France, Travel, Wellbeing

September 6, 2012

Meditation in flight…

By the dragonfly

September 4: Finally, we’re on the plane, in the air, on the way…

Flights are a bit like meditation. The seat isn’t exactly a cushion on a wooden floor, but after an hour it’s just as uncomfortable. The thoughts come into your head and, according to Zen-lore, you’re not supposed to follow them…

Okay, I can do that… can’t I?

Whoosh – work floats in, huffs and puffs, then departs. I’m trying not to follow the train of thought. The express train. Not follow, not follow. Then the next one arrives – all mother-love and sooky stuff. It’s an all-stops. Stand clear, all doors are closing. Whoosh.

So here I am, thousands of feet up in the air, and still at the mental workstation or dealing with separation anxiety… Sheesh.

Distraction is required. My exclusive veggo meal arrives on cue. When did vegetarian equal gluten free, flavor free, chocolate free?

So EB eats vegetarian pizza (I kid you not, vegetarian…) and fresh fruit and chocolate. And I eat some strange cauliflower cous-cous conglomeration and a chemical-infused blueberry muffin which I suspect would survive a plane crash, along with the black box.  Perhaps they should coat planes in muffin batter?

I have a couple of vino chasers to eliminate the after-burn…and the journey continues.

2 Comments | posted in Uncategorized, Wellbeing