Blog Post Title One

Rewind …. To when I was pregnant with my daughter. Her father left me for a soul searching adventure , & I , with a blooming belly dreamed of a home to raise a little wild heart . I watched many tiny home videos and began opening myself up to different ways to make an income to bring this dream alive.

There was no way this was not going to happen . I had never been so incredibly focused and in my knowing . She did that for me . Before then I was happily ( well , you know ) floating around from dwelling to dwelling . Living in tents , tree house , a van & studio’s for very cheap rent . Travelling when ever I wanted to and coming back to live in another affordable abode .

But , as mother . I wanted a home on some land with a community of humans , who loved their own space and also loved to come together to create & make stuff happen . I wanted a space that was affordable for me to live off my art as a single Mama . I wanted her , to have a home . I wanted it to ooze character and charm , with colour and art . And I wanted to create an indoor/outdoor living environment, because that is how I feel the most me .

Peeing under the stars , outdoor bath , riding down to the dam to jump in and then home to a warm fire with the kettle perched on top & fresh mint leaves from the garden , a pottery studio /sun room . Alba running to her community Aunties home to do some yoga or go and feed the horses . Cooking meals on the outside fire and tending to the land with others .

There were moments earlier on in Albas life , when I was healing my abandonment when i spiralled in to how would I do this . You know , the sleepless nights with a bubba (a very determined ultra sensitive child) they got me some days . But , I didn’t stay in it for very long . I’m ok with hard , it’s a big part of this ol life .

It was in these days where I was transitioning my heartbreak in to a new relationship with Albas father . He came back from his pilgrimage , sheepish , in a hooded grey jacket . And I beaming with new life , he had not seen my ripe belly , he had not seen me at all for almost 7 months . Any time I tried to talk about the human growing inside of me , the one who I intuitively knew was a girl and already had her name chosen , he was not able to hear me . I gave up trying , & instead began to connect with him in ways where he could hear . Like sending a new song for him to listen too on his journey . The spaces in which I called him , grew wider .

I wasn’t able to discuss how I wanted my birth, money , home , or any of the other things that would allow me to feel secure during this time . Instead I leaned on my mother and she held me , she gave her life force in times she had non for herself . Both of us feeling weary of being strong independent women .

There was a big part of me that was holding on to hope . That, he would not only be ready for his child , but ready for me /us . Turned out , I had more to learn and embody (in other ways ) before I was in that season .

So, he slept on the kitchen floor of my studio in his swag . And he showed me , how he was available to support me . We created a co-parent relationship that I had never seen happen before and I began to fall in love with our version of family . He lived there on the kitchen floor for the first 3 months . Cooking , cleaning , singing her to sleep, tending to us .

.We laughed and I cried . A whirlwind of tenderness and rawness . We did elimination communication and caught Albas poo and wee in a yoghurt bucket and THAT was one of the best things we chose for us as a family . It bonded us together , more than any personal development coach or psych would have been able to . It was our way .

is here , in this part of the story that I want to add in my brother . We didn’t know where he was during this time . He was living on the streets as an undiagnosed schizophrenic, over east . Now , I want to be very tender sharing anything about my brother . There are many layers to his story . Layers that I do not have the permission to write about . Stories that I wish to one day sit with him for days on end gathering , songs I want to sing . I want to listen and cry and hold the earth with two hands as the tears drop slowly . When the time is right and the healing is called forth from the gods .

For now I will share a very short segment . We were fearing his death during this time . And we received 2 updates within a couple of months ( the timing is a blur ) one - sent from his mate of a famous fisherman with a massive online following who saw my brother living on the street and handed him $1000 . And then the other, shared by my cousin of a Facebook post from a “camping around Australia” site , a photo of him walking from the bottom of Australia to Western Australia in his double pluggers . When asked what he was up to by passerby’s , he replied “I’m going to see my sister , she just had a baby” .

I was able to let go of my worry for him around this time . Firstly , because I was now mother and secondly , I had proof he was absolutely looked after . His role in the whole game of life - on a soul level (as my brother) , was loud and clear .

He did not make it to WA to visit me after I had Alba . The next time I had word of someone who heard where he was , he had got in a truck that headed to Darwin . He did however , eventually make it here.

After Alba turned 1.5 , I began dreaming up our own home . I began researching all the different ways . Writing , drawing , singing .

I went to the bank to see if I could get a loan for a tiny home . And there was not one part of me that fit into a loan box.

My parents were out of the question to ask for a loan . The family lineage money story is my responsibility to crack in this lifetime . They would do anything else they could for me and they were on par as my number one cheerleaders (love them)

It makes me giggle , thinking back to this time and how naive I was . Life / Universe / The great mystery/ God …(whatever you want to call it , I don’t care ) , had the plans . I had no idea what I was doing , I was just trying all the things in the beginning until it looked and felt clearer to me .

I tried the online business thing , saying yes to something that wasn’t really me but at that point I felt I had to throw all that out the window and try different ways . I didn’t have the physical space to get back in to my art yet .

Not until Alba was 2 and she began to have one night sleep overs at her Dads place . I feel like that could be a whole story in itself … the journey of letting go as a co-parent .

It was then , my old studio (where I left my old love kiln ) opened back up for me . And I was able to get back in to making with my hands again . This time , my self worth and bountiful boundaries had transformed through the experience I had during pregnancy and early motherhood . I did not hold back , I knew what I wanted and I knew what to charge for my work .

Every spare cent I made , went towards my goal of a home . I had made many connections with Mamas and others online , so I felt immense support stepping in to my art in this season of life .

(Part 2 in next blog post )