The Life of a Dead Kitten

On our second day as illegal Indonesian immigrants (Sunday), we found a kitten.A kitten so small it's eyes hadn't opened yet- meuwing helplessly under a tree - squirming at the pain caused by the puncture wounds in it's neck and the ants biting their way into it's flesh. Next to it lay its dead brother.

We just stood and starred. And eventually James bent down, picked it up and stroked the ants off it's trembling body. The silence was deafening, there were big decisions to make here: We could put it back down and walk away like nothing had happened. We could try find someone else to take it in. We could help it find rest faster. Or we could get completely involved and do what we could to nurse it into catfulness.

The silence shattered as our footsteps wondered off in search of milk. "Can we call her Ninja?" I asked "because Ninjas never die." And that's how "Ninja Taracat" came into our lives.

She had a 50/50 chance of survival.

I sat on the roof of the yacht that evening pondering life (and stitching curtains). Nobody has a clue how long they have on the planet - it could be 20 years - it could be 120 - either way, life is flipping short.

Mine flashed before my eyes as I listened to the shrieks from below as James washed the maggots from the wounds.  I contemplated the things I'd done with my life: childhood tree climbings, flying lessons, those awkward high school years, uni, the spectrum of bizarre jobs I'd acquired over the years, people I'd met, places I'd traveled.

The crash helmet indicates that I may have been accident prone from an early age!

I don't know why I thought this picture appropriate.

 I remembered small accomplishments:

And bigger ones:

17000 km in a little car that never should have made the drive to Mongolia

I started jotting down a list of random life memories.... then I tried to squat a mosquito and threw my pen over board and went to get a new one.

Down below, Ninja TC had stopped crying and started taking in milk.At last!

Coated in deet infused mosquito repelant and with a brand new pen, I continued my list and thought long and hard about what I'd be doing with my life if I'd taken a career seriously or if I'd never caught the travel bug or if I'd settled down and bought a goat or... I suddenly remembered what we all know but seldom remember: It doesn't matter who we are, what we do, where we do it, it doesn't matter what our past has held - it's up to us to be make sure we make the most of every second of the now for however long we have to live it.

Solomon, allegedly the wisest man to ever have lived, once said [probably in Greek or Hebrew, but I don't speak either so you get English]:

"Young man, it's wonderful to be young! Enjoy every minute of it. Do everything you want to do. Take it all in. But remember you must give an account to God for everything that you do."

Ecclesiasties 11:9

And whether you're religious or not I think it's an important thing to grab onto. The only person you can blame for a life filled with regrets is you.

James stayed up all night nursing Ninja. In the early hours of the morning she died. At least we knew that everything that could be done for her was. She may not have lived very long and I was too scared to get to know her well, I didn't want to have to say goodbye, but she made an impact on my life all the same.

You only die once. Make sure your life ends doing something you love. Make sure you die happy. But please don't die any time soon!

Life's a Journey

They say life’s a journey.

And so far it’s been quite a trip – learning to crawl becomes learning to walk, learning to walk becomes learning to do so without being hit by traffic or roaming elephants or falling off a cliff. You progress and learn how to use a toilet and read and write (assuming of course that by reading this you’re all literate… if anyone actually reads this trash). You progress through school and learn the basics of physics and math and languages and geography and history and art and begin to develop a personality and you learn how to trust and make friends and how to love and hate.

When the foundation’s been set, you learn how to make difficult choices like what and where to study or whether or not to grow up. Some get married straight away and sprout a family, a white picket fence and some llamas. Others start climbing a corporate ladder and some try and produce an empire or become dictators or assassinate [or lick] royals. Some become doctors and lawyers and actuaries and psychiatrists while others become toilet cleaners and Celine Dions and gypsies.    

Last night a friend said to me:

“Can I ask a slightly random question? And slightly existential:

are you searching for something?”

And I had to think about that for a while. What was I searching for…

For those who go through 300 years of med school, have you arrived when you’ve finally graduated? Or is it only when you become specialized? Or is it only when you’ve become the best?

For those who have families, have you arrived on your wedding day? Or at your first house owning? Or at the birth of your first child? Or is it only when they’re potty trained or graduated or sprouting grandchildren?

Do celebrities ever arrive? Or dictators ever conquer enough? Do archeologists only find success in uncovering mammoth ancient ruins? Do cleaners ever get things clean enough? Do travelers ever see enough of the world or endure enough adventures?

Can you ever have enough friends? Earn enough money? Find enough time? Sproot enough offspring? Get enough ticked off your bucket list (http://barefootedgypsy.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html)? Find enough happiness?

A couple of weeks ago I found myself being potty trained all over again – learning how to use a pump toilet. Then I found myself learning to walk again – it’s a different kind of ground on board a sailboat. I had to learn again how to keep meals down while the boat bounces about on rolling waves and every time I go ashore it begins again because the land seems to constantly shift beneath my feet. I’ve gone from pretend-to-be grown up to an infant in days. 

I’ve thought about it a lot over the years – but last night’s question really made me ponder. I know I’m definitely not just gypsying about to escape real life or run away from responsibilities, but what is it I’m searching for? It’s like I’m chasing something that doesn’t even exist.

This is probably far far and further too deep for a Monday morning in the office/ on the commute/ in a space station/ lazing in bed or on a beach/ wherever you may be… but I really am curious how anyone ever really knows that they’ve arrived? While I’m still frivolously happy plottering about this incredible world – meeting amazing people, seeing incredible beautifulnesses, sampling foreign cuisines, learning new skills and licking foreign artifacts – but where and when does it all end? How do you know it’s time to end one and begin a new chapter?  

Life’s a journey all right, but where does it end?

.... THE END.

The World by Toilets : Melbourne

It may be unfair to judge a city purely by its toilets – but for some – with all the crap they have going on in them – the toilets really are just about the best thing they have! 

Melbourne’s toilets alone were almost enough to get me to “settle down”, find a job and become a real person... almost... My first night out in the city led me to some remarkable findings:

And if the artsy toilets weren't enough to sway me, the community syringe disposal units that even family friendly bathrooms possessed ensured that I knew it was an exciting city full of colourful people!

Combing the toilets with the architecture, the music scene, the nightlife, the buskers, the cafe's and the friendly hobos, I really can recommend a visit, a live, and definitely a wee or two... If I wasn't a full blown gypsy I might well be there still! The world is full of crappy cities - Melbourne is not one of them!

Nowhere : The Trees of Tincurrin

Ever wonder how to possibly survive six weeks in the middle of nowhere??
*Nowhere* being 58km from the nearest shop and a little over 15km from the nearest pub... a town with a population of 7.5 humans, 300 odd kangaroos, about a billion mosquitoes and a trillion trees??

...This is Tincurrin for you... this is how you plant 196 503 trees... and this is how you survive the in-between times with only a 7 year old's bicycle and an array of bizarre backpackers to keep you company...

... This is Nowhere....