Honesty

How many people do you know that are truly honest?

In my experience, most people don't tell the full truth.  Perhaps they're too afraid that they will be ostracised (after all, humans crave a sense of belonging and will do almost anything to avoid being singled out).  As a result, life is full of half-truths and mostly lies.

To be able to get through the day without losing our place in society we lie all the time.  Big lies and small lies.  For example, your boss does something you don't agree with and know is not the right thing to do but rather than say your peace you let it slide because they are in a position of power and you know you will be overruled anyway.  As such, you forgo telling the truth in order to retain a 'good working relationship'.  I have watched people seethe with frustration while others higher up the corporate ladder make poor decisions that they are unqualified to make.

Staying honest is a rare and wonderful thing. There are very few people that can be honest and maintain social connection. Our societal niceties go against telling the truth. People resort to flattery and vagaries to prevent them from having to tell the truth. Others lie to try to retain what they have or to retain others in their clutches. Some lie to cover up for something they feel ashamed about.  It can be a tiring process to attempt to separate the truths out from all the other crap that we say to each other.  As a result, we miss out on the opportunity to create real connections with the people in our lives.  Our relationships with our partners, friends, families and work colleagues suffer as a result of the little (and big) lies we spill on a daily basis.

I know I am a terrible liar.  I could never play poker.  People can see right through me when I don't tell the truth.  Yet the words spill out anyway; a conditioned response.  I say what I am expected to say but it's rarely what I actually mean.  As a result of the fact that people know that I am not telling the truth they begin not to trust me.  Or perhaps they doubt my motives.  I don't know for sure.  That's mainly because others don't tell me the truth either.

I often wonder what a world would be without lies.  I am reminded of Jim Carey in Liar Liar but I do think it's possible to maintain honesty and not hurt others.  It's harder and you need to be more selective with what you say, but it is possible.  However, as a society we generally choose the path of least resistance and elect to lie rather than find a way to tell the truth.  And do it in such a way that we don't crush others (because Jewel is right).

I have seen the fallout from dishonesty.  I have seen what can happen when people lie consistently to each other.  It's not pretty. 

Lately I have been very careful to not say things I don't truly mean.  Sometimes that means I avoid answering questions and, by default, give my position away.  Sadly this is because I have buried the truth so deep that I honestly don't know what it is anymore. 

I have come to the realisation that without honesty I am a mere shell of the person I once was.  I remember the me I used to be and want to get back to her.  I like who I used to be - someone full of fun, adventure and cheekiness; a stubborn but honest, firm but kind; daring but responsible, truly happy person.  It's been a slow and painful process to accept that I need to change the way I live my life in order to find happiness.  And peace.

This is a rock

I studied Forestry at uni.  We were a small group with each entry year limited to 30 students.  In addition, we were posted in a small rural town for two years of the four year degree.  As a result of interacting with each other on a frequent basis we were fortunate enough to build close friendships.  

Being an 'old' course (Forestry started in 1910), there were many traditions handed down over the years.   One such tradition was Christmas in July with Kris Kringle.  In our second year one of the guys gave a girl a river rock with a note attached stating "This is a rock.  Perhaps some of its warmth and charm will rub off on you".

Admittedly the recipient could be somewhat cold-hearted and callous but, to be fair, she was struggling through a difficult time in her life with her parents arguing a lot and on the brink of divorce; she was infavourably compared to her siblings and she was living out of home for the first time and had unrealistic expectations of her housemates.  In retrospect, I would also suggest she had an undiagnosed mental illness that affected her ability to interact with others in a socially acceptable way.  However, at the time I was not as aware of mental illness as I am now and thusly less tolerant that I perhaps should have been.

Furthermore, the giver was somewhat burnt by her teasing behaviour that probably left him feeling rejected and hard done by.

Despite the circumstances around the particular individuals involved, the gesture has stuck with me over the years and resonates strongly with me at certain times.

I like to think the best of people.  I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.  I like to forgive and forget.  Admittedly, there have been times in my life where people have overstepped boundaries and I have been unable to do any of these things and I have had to reluctantly walk away.

There was an instance recently where I really wanted to give out a rock with a similar attached message out, though.  Sometimes people just don't think about the things they say and the affect they can have.

I think our society is such that consequences for actions don't necessarily reach their natural end.  In small communities, when people are mean-spirited they are found out and generally meet with loneliness.  As such, they are forced to recognise their failings.  With the way our society works people can treat others inappropriately and there's a big enough pool of other people out there for them to be able to move on without modifying their behaviour.

Furthermore, the corporate structure means that those in power can overstep the mark and are not reprimanded for their mistreatment.  The anti-bullying policy introduced in 2009 are a step in the right direction to remedy this but cultural change always lags behind policy and it will take some time for these principals to be applied in full.

Walk it off

Somewhere in my history I was told that the solution to a problem was to "walk it off or rub some dirt on it".  I have no recollection of where that saying comes from.  I am guessing my early childhood as it has been with me for as long as I can remember.

I have always found solace and peace in walking.  It's a mundane activity that requires very little mental input and so my mind can wander and find it's place in my troubles then work through them as I plod along while "left-foot-right-foot" plays on repeat.  

I often use walking as a means for ridding myself of stress and tension; letting frustrations disappear as I pound the pavement.  I believe the reason walking is so effective is two-fold: firstly I get the time and space to look at what's bothering me and think it through and, secondly, I am blessed with an endorphin rush that makes the world look like a better place to be.

It was only recently, though, that I truly realised what the "rub dirt in it" part meant.  I had always taken the phrase to mean that you needed to toughen up; likening it to rubbing dirt into a wound and forging forward (perhaps risking infection along the way).  However, I have recently acknowledged that it's much more likely to be a reference to the benefit of reconnecting to earth.   

I have known for years about the therapeutic benefits of gardening (and have attended formal courses on the same). I am well aware of the importance of "green space" for positive mental health.  I marvel at the fact that the mental health benefits of the green space increases with increasing  biodiversity and know that's the reason people are attracted to rainforests and coral reefs.  

There's something pure and honest about digging into the earth, planting a seed and watching it grow.  The forced delayed gratification is an important component of this, I believe.  Generally speaking, with gardening you see the fruits of your labours long after you have put in the effort.  In the time between effort and reward there's generally maintenance required - weeding, watering, fertilising - but the benefits outweigh the hard work required (which is probably why the Royal Horticultural Society of Victoria lists 420 clubs in metropolitan Melbourne).  

Furthermore, there's a responsibility to care for plants if you want them to grow well, especially when working with non-indigenous varieties as is generally the case in many gardens.  This creates a connection between gardener and garden akin to owner and pet.  I believe it's this connection that provides therapy.  Knowing something else is relying on you makes you feel important and needed and gives a sense of responsibility.  I believe human nature makes us desire a sense of belonging and encourages us to form connections.  In doing so, our own problems seem less significant and more easily surmountable.

Awesome

I had the pleasure of spending the afternoon with the Gentleman Builder, Young Padawan and Little Miss at the beach over the weekend.  It was a glorious winter afternoon.  The sun was shining, there was no wind and the air had the first hints of spring.  It was purely awesome.

There are few things in life that take my breath away but the ocean is one.  There's something awe inspiring about the expanse of space and the consistency of the waves.  I love the beach in winter for the space and the lack of crowds. 

A starry night involkes similar feelings of awe for me as does a forest.  In fact, a view across a forest overlooking the ocean is the pinacle of awesomeness for me. 

This had me thinking about the effect of moment of awe on my perspective of life.  Everything feels better and looks brighter after an experience like this.  It would appear that I am not the only one - a little research shows that moments of awe actually have the effect of time slowing down and alters people's mental state.  I guess that's why people flock to the beach and why real estate is more expensive when equipped with an ocean view.

Mirror mirror

I've spent much time recently pondering the vagaries of self image and the connection between self image and self worth. In our body-obsessed culture, it is hard to escape the media attention placed on the perfect body.  Despite the fact that few people are genetically blessed to have the capacity to achieve what our society defines as a "perfect" body; those of us that hold a full time job simply don't have the time to hone our outer vessels into something society accepts as perfect.

In fact, the preferred body shape for women has not always been slim and big breasted.  The ideal women in the 1800s was fuller figured while in the 1920s women bound their breasts to achieve what I can only term a boyish figure.

Personally, I have struggled to obtain a 'perfect' body since my early teens.  I have been known to skip dessert, whine over my muffin top and refuse to wear a two-piece in summer.  I frequently feel inferior around my fellow women who always appear to me as skinnier, more toned, less hairy and generally better looking than I could ever dream to be.   However, I consider myself lucky to not have succumbed to the pressure to achieve such an elusive goal through eating disorders or obsessive exercise (perhaps I lack the necessary dedication to the cause or perhaps I just like food too much and am not willing to give up chocolate pudding in order to have a flat stomach).

Styling advice abounds on how to dress according to your body shape.  Some people, like the infamous Trinny and Susannah, have made this pursuit their profession and have made shapewear a household term.  I recall one bridesmaid experience where a member of the bridal party was aghast that I would attend the wedding day without tummy trimming underwear, especially when I had carried two children.  Amazed by this, I did a quick survey of the rest of the bridal party and some of the guests at the wedding and found that I truly was a freak.  So much for donning sexy lacy underwear for a special occasion!  I was shocked that these women, almost all of whom were younger than me and not mothers would feel the need to squeeze themselves into uncomfortable, restrictive and, to my mind, unflattering underwear in order to look a little more toned in their frock.

It's possibly no surprise to hear my reaction to a sub-30 year old friend who recently had botox on her forehead and dermal filler for her lips.  I was floored.  Not only did it look like she had been subjected to an encounter with a hive of angry bees, she'd paid $700 for the privilege of spending a weekend with an ice pack on her lips.  To top it off, she's now committed to going every quarter for repeat treatments.  I look at that and equate the money she's spending to have a smooth forehead and fuller lips with an annual holiday and I know which one I would choose!

But on a grander scale, I am saddened to think that a woman in her 20s is so upset with the way she looks (and how she is perceived by those around her) that she willingly injects neurotoxins into her body.  And she's not the only one.  Botox is increasingly popular with 1.5 million injections delivered to Australians in 2010.  We spend billions every year on treatments to seemingly halt the aging process.  It's the plastic fantastic phase.

I am relieved to know that there is an upsurgence against the body obsession with some governments banning advertising (and airbrushing) that portrays unhealthy bodies and rare journalists reporting on the perceived strength of media to manipulate women and the torture they put their bodies under. 

I have, over the last few decades, come to realise how much more important my actions are than how I look.  I like the reflection in the mirror more on the days where I have done something for myself or for someone I love, regardless of the wrinkles and imperfections.  My children care not for my orange peel thighs but love that I will play with them on the swings or attempt to amuse them with handstands and failed attempts at round-offs.  My friends don't know if I move from a size 8 to a size 10 but appear to like that I deliver dessert when I visit.  And I am guessing my husband prefers black lace over nude shapewear too, even if there is bulging of skin here and there.

I feel better on the days where I exercise.  The endorphins help me ward of stress from work and living away from my family during the week and I get some fresh air and outdoor time which I love.  Ideally my exercise would be in the sunshine but even a walk in the rain in the dark of pre-dawn sets me up for a happier day than I would have ordinarily had.

For me, it has taken a long time to get to this point.  I have put in a lot of work to be able to turn against the media pressure to look a certain way.  Some days I still fail. 

Perhaps I am a freak but I like to think that women are smarter than society gives them credit for.  I'd like to think that women would make a conscious decision to live a healthy life, an authentic life.  One where they are comfortable in their own skin.  A life where they eat food, mostly plants, not too much (Michael Pollan); exercise and get enough rest.  But, to butcher the lyrics of Carly Rae Jepson, call me crazy.

Natural building products

I've mentioned this before but it continually amazes me how hard it is to source natural building products.  The latest is natural paint.  We have tried making our own casein paint with limited success.  The volumes needed, however, have forced us to seek alternatives.

It's relatively easy to find truly natural, zero VOC (volatile organic compound) paint in the UK.  There's  Earth Born, Bioshield and Ecotec Natural Paint.  But we struggled to find suppliers of these paints in Australia and the weight (and wait) involved in shipping from Europe made them an inviable option.

There's the less natural option of  Volvox that is available in Oz but we were firm on the need for paint with no VOCs so kept looking.

There is method behind the madness.  The high vapor pressure of volatile organic compounds (VOCs) is caused by a low boiling point, which means that large numbers of molecules evaporate and are discharged into the air at ordinary room temperatures.  One VOC in paint is formaldehyde which is colourless but has a pungent, irritating odour and is a known carcinogen (i.e. it causes cancer).  Now, I am not one to look kindly on deliberately installing products in my home that are likely to cause my family ill health.  Ergo, the need to find paint with no VOCs.

So, we continued on our quest and eventually contacted the lovely staff, Hartmut and Elke, from the Natural Paint Company, based in Port Macquarie New South Wales, and managed to purchase some brilliant natural paint and vega primer from them.

The paint that we purchased is casein marble paint, such as was used by the ancient Egyptians in 1300BC.

The vega undercoat dries clear.

The casein marble paint goes on clear

and dries white.

Best of all, there is no smell. 

The paint comes in powder form and is mixed with a drill bit attachment.  The best bit about the paint is that we made an oil-based version for use in the bathroom and on the roof in the kitchen as it is much more water resistant.  To ensure the paint is still white once the oil has been added (we used tung oil but for a cheaper option safflower oil can be used) we purchased some titanium white pigment to include in the oil paint.  For the walls and roof in the bathroom we used about 30% oil.  We plan to make a richer oil-based paint for the windows.

Busyness

I've already spoken of switched on living and reflective practices that, I believe, are fundamental to living a full life.  I've touched on authenticity and living organically; true to yourself and your ideals.  An overlay on all of this is the pressure to be busy.  I see so many people that have back-to-back activites - Monday is netball, on Tuesday there's gym, Wednesday is social night, Thursday partner night and Friday the kids get taken to McDonalds and the weekend in punctuated with appointments and gatherings.  I see people rushing through life - doing what I can only describe as "stuff".  The time they spend bustling around in the morning and evening after work does not seem to generate anything.  It's just activity (see the eloquent writing of Tim Kreider). 

There are so many people rushing around all the time .  And, most of the time, I am one of them.  My days in Melbourne are punctuated with long hours in the office, catch ups with much-neglected friends and desperate attempts to squeeze in some form of physical activity.  In amongst all that I try to make meals for the family for the following week, plan further education for myself and the kids and collect supplies for the build.  Weekends are spent building the house, catching up on washing and cleaning at home, paying bills and caring for children. 

I can cope with this current level of busyness as, I hope, it's a short-term gig for us.  I took a job in Melbourne to pay for the build; so I can see The Gentleman Builder's childhood dream come true; so I can provide a better life for my gorgeous children and so I can spend some time with my terminally ill father, my family and my friends that I haven't spent much time with since moving to Gippsland 5 years ago.  I have a brilliant job that I really love and get to work with some exceptionally talented, interesting and stimulating people.

But I freely admit this is not the end for me.  My plans do not live a life where I am away from my family.  My goal is to settle into country living.  Not the idealised country life where everything is scones and leisurely walks (though I do plan to include those things in abundance) but the reality of country life; where I will get stuck into the seasonality of life.  A life where we will fertilise and plant furiously in the spring to be able to harvest in the autumn.  Where activity comes in bursts interspersed with moments, days I hope, of nothingness.  Where, should the weather be fine and the wind be weak, I could choose a good book from the shelf and settle into the hammock to soak up some vitamin D and get lost in another world.  I dream of a life where I could decide to pick up the camera and take photos all day.  I envisage our block set up with sheep, goats, pigs, chooks, geese and ducks; where the flowers grow in abundace and I spend many long hours enjoying the view.  I hope for a life that is reflective, honest and peaceful.  A life that is overflowing with fresh organic produce for long lunches and dinners with friends that feed both the stomach and the soul. 

I dream of, even crave, times of hard work - I am not averse to work; even in abundance.  But I believe work should be followed by rest.  Time to relect on life.  Time to share thoughts and ideas with others; time to soak up sunshine; time to let the wind blow through your hair and take your troubles away; time to just be.

Authenticity

Call it confirmational bias but I keep coming across authenticity lately and so feel compelled to write about it too.  To me, being authentic is the truthfulness and sincerity in the way you live life.  Authenticity involves following your heart, acknowledging the way you feel about things and acting in accordance with that despite the cultural norms.  

Authenticity is the alignment of head, mouth, heart, and feet - thinking, saying, feeling, and doing the same thing - consistently. 

I recently saw the 2009 Bruce Willis movie Surrogates.  I am not sure how this movie skipped under my radar when it was released but seeing it got me thinking; not only about how willing so many people would be to actually take up the option of having a surrogate live their life but also about the 'face' we present to the world.  I find most people have a game face that they display to all but a select few.

I believe that living authentically is the first step towards self-acceptance.  Internal struggles are usual for me. I seem to constantly toggle between options, evaluating my choices against my beliefs and values.  When I make a decision that is against my better judgement I always come to regret it.  Living authentically leads to less anger and frustration.  

Authenticity is no longer just the realm of those living against societal norms; it seems plenty of people are jumping on the bandwagon. There are even IT think tanks joining in the chorus and developing applications to allow companies to recognise that employees need to live authentically in the workplace.  Of course, the organisation is set to benefit from embracing this by getting a bigger slice of their employees' time but most people would like to know their entire skill set is appreciated.

To live authentically you need firstly to know what it is you value, what you need, what you are passionate about,  what your strengths are and what you want to achieve.  To me, living authentically involves:

• Valuing people over possessions
• Caring for others (not only in the direct sense but also giving myself permission to think and care about other people and what is happening in their life)
• Expressing genuine interest in others rather than merely adhering social niceties
• Being involved in the lives of the ones I love
• Making time to play (this includes playing with my children and other children but also finding time to have do photography, cooking and sewing )
• Seeking inspiration -  spending time with friends and family
• Fulfilling life-long dreams
• Limiting, as much as possible, negative self-talk

My ability to live authentically is compromised when I am tired, overworked or feeling pressured (which is pretty often at the moment).  There are plenty of external pressures that affect my ability to live authentically and have me questioning my values.  However, I try to have checks in place to make sure I am operating in a manner that I am happy with.  For me, the biggest checkpoint is when I lie in bed at night.  In the quiet time between wakefulness and sleep I can gauge very easily whether I have made the right choices during the day.  For me, peace comes when I have been true to myself and, in doing so, done no harm to others.

Lance Secretan

Living mortgage free

I have received a number of requests to wirte a post about life without a mortgage.  So, for those who asked - here we are.

We have not always been mortgage free.  When we purchased a house in Melbourne, we had a significant mortgage.  I was on less than graduate salary and the Gentleman Builder was on a stipend while studying his Masters.  Things were tight.  Very tight.  We made the decision, however, to pay more than the minimum repayments (by about double)  to get ahead on the mortgage in preparation for having children.  We had always planned on moving to the country and having a sustainable farm and the house in Melbourne was a stepping stone for us.  The plan was to work in the city and earn enough to buy a block and build a house without a mortgage.  The plan was going according to plan when we were approached by an investment firm to purchase our house when I was pregnant with Little Miss.  The timing was a bit off so I managed to negotiate a long settlement so I could see out the pregnancy in Melbourne.  We moved to Gippsland when Little Miss was 4.5 months old.

If I am honest in the appraisal of our finances, we would have been quite comfortable on one salary had I not been ill in 2009/2010 (and the start of 2011).  That little furore cost us nigh on $100K in out of pocket expenses and lost income due to me not working.  Like Pumbaa (from the Lion King) says "You got to put your behind in your past".  Despite how guilty I feel about the costs associated with my illness, what's done is done and there's nothing anybody can do about it.

In a nutshell we live a peasant, no... wait, what I mean is we live a p-l-easant life.  We have enough to get by on and don't miss out on too much.  We have chosen, consciously, not to enter into debt.  The way we achieve living mortgage free is to spend less:

• Our kids live in hand-me-down clothes (which actually sits well with me considering how much waste there is in the world)
• We have a very dubious car 
• I am not an average woman. - I spend less on beauty products in a year than most women would spend on shampoo alone.  I don't do pretty and I have never been a fashionista (lucky, really, because if I was not already that way, I would have been forced down that path (or the wheels would have fallen off somewhere along said path)).
• We rely on birthdays and Christmas to stock us up on new clothes
• As things have broken (like the microwave) we have not replaced them but made do without (part of this has been preparation for the fact that we will have less power at the block and therefore any electrical items we can live without we do).  
• We don't spend money on entertainment (the only exception in the last few years has been Rock the Ballet but I also consider that educational so it is easier to justify)
• There are no meals at restaurants
• We don't buy magazines and rely on the library for books and DVDs
• We don't have the latest gadgets (no iPhone,  iPad or XBOX60 in sight)
• Until I started work in Melbourne we shared a mobile phone
• We repair things as many times as we possibly can
• The kids' art collection is mainly recycled food boxes with some staples

Seriously though, it can be tough.  I work full time in paid employment while the Gentleman Builder homeschools the kids, looks after the farm, builds the house and keeps up with the standard household chores of cooking, cleaning and washing.  on weekends, after a full week of work I come home to work on the building.  To help out the Gentleman Builder and allow him to spend as much time as possible to build I make and freeze meals for the family for the next week. 

I don't make a spectacular wage, a little above the Victorian state average of  $60K.  With that I support our family of four and fund the build.  I'm not going to mince words; we live pretty close to the wire.  We have no spare money for holidays and there is no fat if something goes wrong. If I were to lose my job, we'd last about a fortnight.  That's not a pretty place to be with two dependent children and is a cause of stress for me at times.  Knowing that we have taken this path by choice helps me to move through the stress and see how I am helping set us up for the future.

We have deliberately chosen not to take a mortgage out for the build.  There are a number of reasons for this:

1. I believe the economic climate we live in is precarious at best at the moment
2. We don't want any financial institution to have any whiff of a right to come and repossess our residence if the economy falls flat.  
3. I like the fact that we actually own the things we have.  While we don't have much, what we do have is all ours.
4. Debt worries the Gentleman Builder and I don't like for him to be stressed

And we're not the only ones that have downsized and are living mortgage free. There are many out there doing the very same.  There are plenty of sites offering advice on how to get to the point where you no longer have a mortgage.

To be honest, life would be much easier if we took out a loan.  We would be able to get all the things we want for the shouse.  Not having a mortgage and paying for things in cash makes us seriously contemplate every choice that we make.  A side-effect is that living without a mortgage has made us make more sustainable choices too, which I am very happy about.  I am being true to myself and the things I believe in and I like that sense of authenticity.  We have used many recycled materials in our build which we possibly would not have done if we had money available for other options.  I am honestly very grateful for that.  Money can, on occasion, cloud judgement.  Not having money forces you to make choices about everything.  

And we are actually not 100% debt free.  My parents have also helped us (thanks be to the Bank of Mum) out with a small, no interest loan so we could buy a stainless steel tank (which would have been out of reach with our budget).  The plan is that once we are living on site and the building is complete we should be able to save the money we owe and pay it back within a few months.

However, there is a cost associated with not having a bank mortgage - an extended build time.   Because we don't buy in labour the build is slow  (which is not surprising considering the Gentleman Builder educates the kids; feeds and waters the livestock and maintains the home we live in).  The building process is unrelenting with single tasks dragging out for weeks or months making progress on the build doggedly slow.  At times I find it infuriating.  Some days I am so sick of working on the shouse (and I just want it to be finished so we can live there) that I question our choices and worry that we have made a terrible mistake.  If the kids were in school the Gentleman Builder would have 6 uninterrupted hours a day, five days a week to build.  Additionally he would not have to rush around organising curriculum and planning lessons.  He would not have to dedicate hours to learning new skills (like copperplate and German) to be able to pass this on to our children.  However, when I catch a glimpse of the kids running around or feeding the pigs or chatting to the steer, or I see the joy and pride on the Gentleman Builder's face as the kids read I know that we have done the right thing.  For us.

Jack (or Jill) of all trades

Little Miss loves ballet.  When I heard that Rasta Thomas' Rock the Ballet was coming to Melbourne, I bought tickets.  We went to the matinee show on Sunday and Little Miss loved it.  Padawan wasn't that keen to begin with but the acrobatics and music won him over in the end.

Watching the exceptionally talented, fit and flexible dancers made me feel totally unqualified to be human.  I can't do a backflip.  Or put my foot behind my ear while standing on one foot.  I can't do the splits or pirouette.  I doubt I can even do a forward roll any more.   To add insult to injury, I cannot sing.  Or act.  Or talk in a foreign accent.  I am not known for my mathematical genius.  Or any other kind of genius, for that matter.  I don't have any exceptional human talents.

I understand that I am not "one in 6 billion" that has a special talent.  I can, however, do most things to some degree of competence.  I am not an expert on anything in particular but more a Jack (or perhaps Jill) of all trades.  I believe that the majority of people in the world are, too.  I think that by experimenting in different things we become more adaptable and therefore more competent in each of the things we try.  I think the ability to do multiple things competently stems from the fact that every experience can provide the opportunity for transferable skills.  As humans, we have the ability to draw on previous learnings when presented with a unique experience. We are also capable of doing a very broad range of tasks.

Now, while I am not a "one in 6 billion" I can sew (not straight or fast), bake, swing a hammer, paint, add (and subtract!), organise things according to priorities, use power tools, give a manicure, make jam, write lists, use a chainsaw, split wood and do yoga (albeit not well or with finesse).  I can even dance.  And while I will never be a ballerina, I get great joy from dancing.  And, for me, that's enough.

One Love

Something the gentleman builder said to me this evening set me thinking.  He said "you continue to amaze me, even after all these years".  After the warm and fuzzy feeling had died down, I began thinking about that and how, to me, that's one of the things that keeps love alive.  That, regardless of how much time you spend with someone, you find out more about them or look at them in a different light and fall in love all over again.

Now, it's "too late, tonight, to drag the past out into the light.  We're one but we're not the same; we get to carry each other" through life.  I believe that part of being human is sharing our lives with other people.  There are not true hermits.  I think that, intrinsic to being human is supporting each other and helping each other through the tough times.  Let's face it, no one goes through life without acquiring emotional baggage.  What's important is that those we love and those that love us are there not only for the good times but through the darkest times in our lives.  And they love us just the same.

This set me on another train of thought, as U2 filled the car with one of my all time favourite songs, One, about the types of love there are in the world.  Most of societies marketing is aimed at romantic love but I believe there are other types of love that can be almost as powerful, namely:

• parent love - there's nothing like the love I feel when I look the eyes of my children, hold them in my arms and soak up their individuality (freaking out knowing that I am responsible for their sanity and will be the source of much of their baggage as they grow up)
• sibling love - regardless of the amount of crap times I endured growing up, I'll always love my sister and, thankfully, the love I have for her continues to grow as we get older
• child love - the love I have for my parents and my innate desire to please them drives me to be a better version of myself
• family love - the love I have for my aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews overflows at times
• friend love - the love I feel for my close friends is just as strong as the love I feel for my family.  I am indebted to so many of my friends for the memories and the camaraderie we share

Metallica seem to hit the spot when they wrote the lyrics "Forever trusting who we are and nothing else matters... Life is ours, we live it our way".  No one goes through life without making mistakes, without regrets and without experiencing pain.  Thankfully, most of us get to sprinkle our lives with happiness and moments of pure joy.   Love, in all its forms, is a way of learning more about ourselves.  It's about finding our place in the world.  Love is rarely a smooth journey but even if love ends, it is possible to look back and find the moments of joy shared between two hearts. 

Like Rebecca Ferguson says "nothing's real but the love.  No money, no house, no car, can beat the love".  And turning the tables on one of Adele's most popular song - sometimes it hurts in love, but sometimes it lasts instead.

Oh, the humanity

The origins of the expression "Oh, the humanity" date back to the Hindenburg disaster in the 1930s.  But it has been playing on my mind frequently lately.  My father is ill.  He has had emphysema for many years.  He has had a number of heart attacks.  He has been diagnosed with kidney cancer and is currently in hospital receiving palliative care for end stage chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD).  

Dad recently contracted a cold which turned very quickly into bronchitis and an acute hospital admission.  Dad has been told by his lung specialist that he is no longer  ridding his lungs of carbon dioxide effectively.  This is creating an acid environment in his blood and his, already stressed, kidneys are working hard to rectify the situation.  As a result of the emphysema, he experiences shortness of breath all day, every day.  For my Dad, it is painful to breathe and it is no longer possible to exhale in one breath.

The problem is, there are no guarantees with end stage COPD.  It is a particularly difficult disease to track or predict.  As such, the medical professionals cannot give any indications for the expected progress of Dad's condition.

Dad has expressed his wishes since his first heart attack over 3 years ago.  He does not want to live artificially and has a do not resuscitate (DNR) order.  Recently, a family meeting was called at the hospital where Dad made his wishes known to myself, my sister and my Mum.  I see this as an informal advanced care plan.

I am all for conscious living.  I like being around people that think about the choices they make in life rather than following the pack blindly, never considering whether the decisions they make are right for them.  For this reason, I respect my father's wishes and will do the best I can to support him.

One of the comments Dad made during the family meeting was that, as a society, we would not expect an animal other than a human to live like he is at the moment; in constant pain, with a terminal illness that no one has any chance of curing.  Euthanasia literally means "good death" in Ancient Greek.   


Dad's comment made me think about all the situations in which vets will euthanase animals.  Race horses are often put down after an accident.  Cows are terminated with severe infections.  There are instances where domestic pets are given a lethal injection because their owners cannot afford the surgery that would save their life and it is more humane to terminate the life of the animal than let the suffer as, without treatment, they would die.

Then, I came to think about how I feel about that.  While I believe firmly in saving lives wherever possible (and have been known to feed calves with a dropper in the hope that they will pull through scours), Dad's comment had me pondering at what point it is more humane to terminate a life than to progress with trying to keep it alive.  

The problem is that emotion gets in the way of a logical decision.  With livestock, pets and more so people, our ability to show true compassion is clouded by the fact that we have an attachment to the animal/human and we find it hard to let go.  Grief is one of the least commonly explored and discussed emotion.  I believe our society hides grief away.  Many people try to "protect" children in times of extreme sadness by keeping them out of the loop.  As such, we are not exposed to grief and the grieving process until later in life.  As a result, I believe that we are ill-equipped to deal with death.

Now, I concede that there are plenty of people out there studying the ethics of euthanasia and that I know relatively little about the intricacies of such things.  Admittedly, I am not keen to learn the details of something that my father would deem to be 'morbid'.  But I began to wonder what was done in "traditional" societies in instances where someone had a terminal disease.  So I turned to the tool that everyone trusts.  I did a Google search.

It turns out that it's not easy to find such information.  The only reference I found was that the Inuits would transport invalids to a sacred place, remove their clothing and expose them to the elements which would result in voluntary death by exposure.

To be honest, I have not come to any conclusion about euthanasia.  For humans or other animals.   I do believe in the first rule of medicine, however, being "Primum non nocere" or "first do no harm".  I wonder what this means in the case of the medical care for my father.  I question whether, with all the medications that Dad is on (and where he takes medications to deal with the side effects of other medications), his team of experts truly are doing no harm.

I just want less stuff

We live in a society that places a great deal of emphasis on material possessions.  To maintain the economic growth of the last few decades, our society has become focused on the things that others own and structuring advertising to ensure that we "keep up with the Joneses". 

"When you look at the buying habits that have taken hold in our culture over the past 30 years or so, you can see that we made the decision somewhere along the line to work longer hours so we could acquire more things.  We've exchanged our leisure time for stuff" ~ Elaine St James.  This works because there is a pleasure component to buying things (ergo shopping addictions).

I wonder how many people look at an item and decide whether the possession they are seeking is what they really want in life.  I have been caught in the "stuff" trap; I have iPhone envy; I crave gorgeous clothes and, as Radiohead proclaim, "I want a perfect body.  I want a perfect soul".  But I am able, most days, to take a step back and realise that the stuff I have does not define the person I am.  I am not worth more if I wear Prada than if I wear something from Target.  My worth, in my opinion, is in the way I treat people and the things that I do, not the clothes that I wear or the type of phone I use to I keep in contact with people.


As the Irish philosopher Charles Handy once said, "We can manage our time.  We can say no.  We can give less priority, or more, to homework or to paid work.  Money is essential but more money is not always essential.  Enough can be enough".

I love this concept as it can be so easy to get to decide on a certain milestone (I want to go on a holiday) and get carried away (I want an overseas holiday flying business class and staying in 5 star hotels).  The point here is that what you may really need is a break, some time out from the mundane reality of life and what eventuates is a burden of costs and expectations that are hard to meet.

Recently there was an ad for a credit card which ended with the line "I just want... more... stuff".  (Don't get me started on advertising and it's effects on spending habits).  Ever since the credit card ad aired, coupled with the fact that we face the prospect of moving the contents from our current home to the shouse (at about half the size of our current living space), the Gentleman Builder and I will pack things to donate and chant "I just want... less... stuff".

With each iteration of clearing out in preparation for the move to the shouse I realise how much we have accumulated over the years that we don't need and probably never did.

Thankfully, decluttering is the buzz-word of the minute among housey people and zen interiors are popular.

We have adopted three criteria for deciding whether to keep something we are undecided about:

1. Does it serve a purpose?
2. Is it of sentimental value?
3. Is it pretty?

If the answer to all three questions is 'No' the item is donated or thrown away, depending on its condition.  If any of the questions result in a 'Yes', the item is put to the side for another time.

Each time I go this process it gets easier.  I make decisions faster and don't fret about the choice I make.

For me, throwing out an item that might one day have a purpose has always been difficult.  For this reason, I have accumulated a whole room full of stuff that sits there and makes the room unusable.  I am finding it difficult but I am getting better at not accepting new stuff and not buying things that don't have an immediate need.  I have found that I am getting better at not taking things into the home that I will eventually have to throw out.

Furthermore, I now have a better filtering mechanism when buying things. I acknowledge that I used to buy things I didn't even need.  It would appear that some people go even further and buy things they don't want.  Now, I actually contemplate the purchases I make.  Part of the reason for doing so is financial.  Another is space limitation (I don't want to end up having to throw it away because it will not fit in the shouse).  Furthermore, I refuse to pay for storage for my stuff.

I find I can get away with much less. As the 90s ad campaign goes; reduce, reuse, recycle!

Reflections of a double life

I recently took a job in Melbourne.  Before applying for jobs in Melbourne, I weighed up the pros and cons.  The biggest downside is that I am not with my husband and children during the week.  However, there are positives.  I get to spend  precious time with my family in Melbourne; catch up with friends I have ignored while we have been building plus I really like the work I am doing. 

One of the unexpected up sides is the reflective time I have in the car.  Without traffic the drive from home to work is about 2.5 hours.  Add in Melbourne's horrendous peak hour traffic (which is not helped by the lack of public transport from the outer eastern "suburbs") and the drive quickly escalates to nearly 4 hours.   

The long drive twice a week has given me the opportunity to assess my life, the interactions I have with people and the way I feel about these things. 

I was introduced to the formal term for this kind of thinking, reflective practice, while working in youth and family services.  Prior to that, for me the process was merely contemplation.

Reflective practice involves evaluating your own values through a process of continuous learning.  The Japanese refer to continuous improvement as kaizen and define it as 'change for the better'. Argyrius and Schon (1978) defined the process of double loop learning (where you subject your actions to cricial scrutiny involving the identification and correction of errors and then modify the way you respond when a similar situation arises).  Kolb (1984) converted this theory into to a reflective practice flow chart.

The time in the car has given me a new-found appreciation for the importance of assessing the decisions I make and responses I have to things people say and do.  I have found that this has led to increased creativity and the formation of new ideas.  I find that I am more analytical in my approach to life and am less reactive in the things that I do.  

I am more able to utilise Suzy Welch's 10-10-10 rule where you base decision-making for large choices on the impact the decision will have for you in 10 minutes, 10 months and 10 years.   Separating the benefits into short and long term makes the decision easier to make.  If the benefits are short-lived only, the decision is possibly not the right choice.  However, a short term sacrafice that leads to large long term gains might be worthwhile.

As a result of time to reflect on life, I (generally speaking) have a calmer demeanor.   I have much greater observation skills (each time I notice something I would have missed previously, it makes me think of Ursula from the little mermaid swinging her hips and saying "And don't underestimate the importance of body language").  I also tend to have better insight into how people are feeling and the affect my actions have on them.  I am better able to dedicate time to the kids and I feel like I am more nourished.

I believe that our busy lives mean that we have less time for reflective practice and our lives are very reactive as a result.  I think that in time when the majority lived as subsistence farmers doing manual work they would have had time to mull things over while they toiled at repetitive tasks.  I wonder how society would change if more people had time to think things through and took advantage of that time to analyse their actions.  I imagine, if that were the case, there would be a lot less tension and anger.  

Switched on living

Mobile communications and ready access to internet on the suite of avaiable devices (smart phones, iPads, iPods) means that people are always "switched on".  There's less downtime now than there was in previous generations and even when on holidays you don't escape contact from others.  This means, generally speaking, that there is less time for contemplation and a reduced ability to make conscious decisions.  People are cramming more into their already busy days.  There's no time for slow cooking, whole foods or smelling the roses. 

Being back in the city has made me aware of how plugged in everyone is.  Recently a news article featured footage of a man walking towards a black bear while texting. 

On public transport there's no eye contact, no turning of newspaper pages, no conversation.  Instead there's the flurried sweeping of hands across sensory glass screens as people text or flick through tunes to select the song to blare direct into their ears or catch up on e-mail before getting to the office.   What would our grandparents say?  Would they see the folly of our actions and warn us against online networks in favour of interactions with real people? Would they reminisce about the old days when it took 2 weeks to get a letter to a friend in London and another 2 to get a reply?  Would they tell cautionary tales of thinking things through before instantly sending a witty retort that could be incorrectly construed as an insult because in text there is no ability to judge tone?

The recent (admittedly hilarious) viral e-mails about autocorrection fails highlight to me that people aren't even taking the time to proofread their truncated texts before they press the send button.  My mum recently sent me a text telling me that my cousing was "really looking forward to sodding time with me".  Apple clearly has a way to go when they convert spending to sodding.  I don't want to sod time with anyone, thank you!  I get enough sod at the block on weekends.

And don't even get me started on "textese".

People are now experiencing mobile phone addiction (which is surely more of an issue than with televisions and computers as most people don't slip a TV or PC into their bra when they go out for a night with the girls) and there's even a defined mental health condition Facebook addiction disorder. 

There's also the cost associated with mobile phone use.  With mobile phone users spending on average $140 per month they're racking up over $1600 a year in bills.  Alternatively, this is a new (small) car or a 5% deposit for a home in a decade.

Don't get me wrong, I think social media has it's place and serves to connect people that are geographically isolated.  I am on Facebook and LinkedIn and love to hear what my friends and colleagues are up to.  I love the instant sharing of information, the ease of communicating with people on the other side of the world and the feeling of connectedness that comes with sharing your life with others.

I see kids texting on their way to the station in the morning and during the day on the school holidays.  I happened to chat to a teenage girl recently while waiting at a level crossing and asked her who she was texting so furiously with her fingers flying over the screen of her iPhone, she didn't look up but pointed at the girl next to her and said "her".  When I responded in dismay, "why don't you just talk to her?" the exasperated reply was "I get free text on my plan".  And there you have it; the exact reason I question the mobile life is the apparent rejection of actual interaction with an actual person that you are actually with in favour for communicating via a device that may or may not contribute to brain tumours and comes at a huge cost to individuals and the planet in terms of resources.

As my grandmother would say "What has the world come to?"

Self-sufficiency as a protection mechanism

In reading about recent company closures,  personal bankruptcy and multiple  companies reducing staff numbers, I have been thinking about the role self-sufficiency plays in recession-proofing individuals against the failing economy.

I am well aware of the risks posed to Australia as a society with regards to the looming GFC2.  Hell, when Goldman Sachs are slashing remuneration for senior execs, that's a sure-fire sign that the economic world is going down.

However, I wonder how many have considered the possibility of a perfect storm event.  As witnessed in 2008, the global financial situation has an effect  on the Australian job market, housing affordability and food prices.  Add into the equation climate change, global warming and peak oil and then consider the effects of population growth; what are the ramifications for individuals?  Australians  scraped through the 2008 economic crisis due to the booming resource industry and the fact that China was still manufacturing at full speed when America hit the wall as a result of overextended mortgages.

My take on the 2012 situation is that America is still in the doldrums, Europe is slowly spiralling downwards (Greece avoided defaulting in debt in March by sheer technicality, Italy's debt is on the rise  and Spain is the latest to go down in the government debt crisis).  Furthermore, China has reported plans to reduce manufacturing to meet energy reduction targets and stated a reduced reliance on mineral imports in general.  Add to this that Saudi Arabia has cut oil production (which, to me, screams "we can't increase oil production") and I am seriously worried about the future of the world economy.

I worry that these events are building to a perfect storm where peak oil will hit at the same time as countries increase inflation rates in an attempt to address spiraling debt.  The result, I fear, will be further job losses, loan foreclosures and increased poverty.  Governments that currently offer welfare may well reconsider the amount they provide or the criteria around provision.  This will increase reliance on aid from independent organisations.

The gentleman builder and I have been gearing for such events since 2000 when we wed and honeymooned in the Maldives.  On the plane back, my ever optimistic husband said he was glad we had spent such an exorbitant amount of money on our honeymoon to visit a destination he predicted would not be there in 2100.  Now, his cynicism may be a little depressing but it got me thinking and we started making a plan.

We planned to buy a block large enough to run a farm that would see us self-sufficient in terms of food.  The aim was to buy and build a home without a mortgage to ensure the ownership of the property should the economy fail and we risk losing our security blanket to increased interest rates or loss of a job.

In 2006 we purchased the block 220m above sea level in cool temperate Gippsland assuming that sea level rises and global warming predictions (not taking into account recent calculations that have made vastly less appealing predictions about such things taking into account various tipping points but that's a different story) would see us safe on top of our hill.  (On the up side, we imagine that being closer to the sea will mean that we get to enjoy (pedal-powered) summer retreats to the beach on a more frequent basis than we would otherwise).

We chose a block specifically that faced north, has river frontage and is undulating.  The late Ron Hateley would attest to the value of microclimates in germination and survival of plants and I tend to think that with the less predictable weather cycles that are coming our way, we will need all the help we can get.

I believe that every household should be taking steps towards self sufficiency.  While I cannot see the majority of people will be keen on having sheep instead of lawn mowers; I believe a vegetable garden, rainwater tank, solar panel and a couple of chooks should be staple for every suburban home.  Those in apartments need not miss out - a herb garden or veggies in pots is a good idea.  In fact, companies like the Little Veggie Patch Co. are making millions out of container gardens.  Not only will proponents  get the benefit of eating fresh organic produce and will reduce food miles they will be building skills that will come in handy should things turn pear-shaped.

I have already touted the benefits of seed saving and planting heritage varieties.  I believe that composting and soil conservation is an extension of that principal which will become increasingly important as fertiliser costs continue to rise.

I also think there is a real opportunity to make use of produce that would ordinarily go to waste and maximising the fruit and vegetable growing power of small communities.  Many people that have their own vegetable patch will share excess produce with friends and families and informal food coops and food swaps are being established around the country.  A community group in Western Australia have even run a Crop, Swap and Share where members of the community share excess produce followed by a sausage sizzle.

For those without land to grow vegetables community gardens are increasingly popular.  Furthermore, countries are returning to practices employed during World War II (such as the Dig for Victory campaign in the UK) to .

In addition the slow food movement is gaining momentum and jamming, preserving and stewing fruits is coming back into vogue.

I believe, the uncertainties of the future will lead to stronger community connections and informal arrangements between neighbours, families and friends to ensure adequate, nutritious food supply. 

The glories of autumn

I've always been a summer girl - the heat, the long hours of daylight, sunshine, sandals, skirts and trips to the beach are all very appealing to me.  Some of my favourite childhood memories centre around summer holidays with my family.  We'd spend way too much time at the beach in the sun, get sand everywhere and be burnt to a crisp at night but we always had fun.  I spent many happy hours exploring the rock pools with Dad looking for all manner of interesting things in the sun-warmed water. 

However, in the last few years (possibly because summer has been somewhat of a flop), my appreciation for autumn is growing.  The days can still be warm but the nights are cool (so it's easier to get the kids to sleep), there's less risk of bushfires, the grass is green (so the cows are full), the tanks are less likely to run dry (so longer showers are a possibility again), the Gentleman Builder is not zonked out with heat exhaustion and the dogs still get a good amount of run time (so they are pretty settled).  Plus, the washing will still dry within one day if hung outside.

I love that the dryer does not need to be employed (as long as you are willing to stockpile washing on the wet days) as I love the smell of washing that has be dried on the line.  Drying washing outside is the original use of solar power.   In fact, one of my favourite Aussie inventions is the Hills hoist.  Not only will it hold a number of full loads of washing; it spins in the wind to optimise drying and is perfect for chin ups (especially if you are like me and can only do half a dozen).  Plus, the kids love to hang from it and be spun around.  Exposing the washing to the sunshine means that the UV light kills any nasties that are living in the fabric and helps to bleach any of the stains I have missed with the sard wonder soap (another brilliant Aussie product).

However, I seem to have an overwhelming urge on sunny autumn days to find a hammock in the sun then lie in it.  And then stay there all day.  I think it's an innate desire to soak up the last of the sun and build up vitamin D stores before winter hits.  I am a firm believer that, if left to its own devices, the human body knows what it needs (and when it comes to lazing in the sunshine on a warm autumn day, I am happy to follow my body's lead). 

Bacon in the makin'

The gentleman builder, padawan and little miss all love bacon.  With our budget restricted due to the costs involved with building a house without a mortgage, bacon is a novelty rather than a standard in our shopping trolley.  The gentleman builder's response to this was to grow his own.  The eventual plan for the block is to be self-sufficient.  We have a small vegetable patch there which provides the majority of our lunch on a daily basis.  We have Bessie, our house cow, who we plan to put in calf in 2013 and will provide our milk and enough to make cheese and butter.

In the last few weeks, the gentleman builder has been reading some of Michael Pollan's works.  In The Omnivore's Dilemma, Pollan talks of going out hunting and eating wild pig.  This spurred the gentleman builder on to some research into the benefits of grass fed, free range, organic produce (you are what you eat eats, after all).  As a result we now have two piglets - a gilt and a boar - at the block.  The plan is that we will grow the gilt and breed from her.  The boar will be grown until about October 2012 (they were born in late March) when he will be slaughtered.  The gentleman builder has grand plans of again making home-made pork sausages.  The kids remember his home-made sausages fondly and all three are convinced that a grass fed, free range version will be even tastier.  The gentleman builder is also looking forward to the chops, salami and bacon that the gilt will provide.

 

For the moment, we have the pigs contained by a two wire electric fence within the dog pen (which is a mesh enclosure with a wooden bottom board.  The pigs have a shelter, made from recycled treated pine frame and tin.  The floor is untreated pine boards leftover from the floor in the attic.

The pigs are rooting around and we have grand hopes for them reducing our blackberry load on the property.  We feed them our green waste from the kitchen and crushed barley.  

Once again we are disappointed at the lack of options available in Australia.  We have only found one supplier of organic stock feed in Australia and they are located near Brisbane, more than 1800km from us in South Gippsland.  The freight required to get the organic grain to us just seems like  a backward step in the plight for fresh produce.  It's not a sustainable option so we have decided to trial the pigs on the feed that we can give them and hope that we can grow enough organic feed behind them to keep them going. 

We will also keep an eye out for seasonal organic produce (i.e. apples) that we can feed to the pigs at little to no cost to us.  Sadly, it is the end of apple season at the moment so we will be waiting patiently until next summer to collect apples for the pigs.

Family love

Recently, little miss and padawan spent a day with their Gran and Grandpa.  During that time, little miss found some photos of the gentleman builder and Gran.  As a result, she decided she would like a set of photos of out family where the gentleman builder and I were holding little miss and padawan.

So, we had our sister-in-law take some family photos recently.  We were all dressed up for a family baptism so it was the opportune time to take some photos.

 I love the look on the kids' faces in the photo below.  They didn't believe that I would actually jump into the gentleman builder's arms.

The benefits of La Nina

Wild weather in November

coupled with a wet summer, has meant that our tank is overflowing

The joys of a custom build

There are many people that visit us at the block and they are almost always surprised at the quality of the workmanship.  The gentleman builder and I are amateurs when it comes to building.  I was lucky enough to have a very talented father who endured my 'help' on many home DIY projects over the years.  Being a very patient man, the gentleman builder, like my father before him, endures my 'help' on building the shouse too.
The gentleman builder spends many frustrated hours fixing the 'work' I have done with the best of intentions but that does not come up to his exacting standards.  While I have the enthusiasm, I lack in technique.  I love building and find it very rewarding but I am, alas, not as skilled as my husband or my father.  I have a mean hammer arm and I can render with the best of them but there are many things that I am not so skilled at (skew-nailing and accurate saw work are the first two things come to mind).
Nevertheless, my husband has persevered (perhaps as I work to fund the project; or is that too cynical?) and he has created an incredible purpose-built space that is morphing into a home on an almost daily basis now.
While over Christmas we were dreaming of moving in over Easter, that has not eventuated and there is still a long list of things to do before we can get the building inspector in to sign off on "our" build.
One of the joys of building something yourself, that you have designed and laboured over, is that it becomes an extension of your belief system and values.  As a family, we firmly believe in sustainability.  We love our children and spend a great deal of time with them.  We take pride in the work that we do and make conscious decisions when it comes to things we consider important. 
I love to watch padawan and little miss explore our block and take great pride in the things that they do.  Recently, we rendered the second coat on the south wall and, as a result the tarps on that side of the house came down.  This revealed the view to Corner Inlet from the south-facing window.  The children loved it and asked me to move the table and chairs so they could make use of the wide sills and take in the views.

Also, insects love to be on our house.  We regularly find stick insects on the north wall, sunning themselves and generally being happy.  Last week, I found a grasshopper inside.  Taking time out from the heat, no doubt as it was a particularly warm autumn day.

 To me, this indicates that the house is truly non-toxic.  Insects would not ordinarily choose to make home in something that would cause them damage.  I like that we will be living in a home that is safe.  That will not be off-gassing noxious crap to infect our lungs and cause us distress.  I hope that I will have fewer migraines when we are living in the shouse as I am sure that the fumes from the paint that we used in the house that we are in currently contribute to that particular ailment.

We have one structural and one non-structural wall in the shouse as well as the roof downstairs and in the attic that will be painted.  We have been experimenting with natural casein paints as we cannot afford to buy low VOC paints that are commercially available.

We trialled a number of options, from left to right:

1. Straight lime putty which has been rejected because it imparts a powdery residue when you rub it
2. Lime putty with PVA which performed really well but has been rejected because of the smell
3. Lime putty with PVA and pigment (which we made from crushing some rocks from the driveway) - also rejected due to the smell
4. Casein paint - recipe needs refining as the batch we made on the test strip below was too watery
5. Casein paint with pigment - again, the recipe we used for the test strip was too runny

I like the colour of the lime putty and PVA mix but the smell is too offensive in our very inert home.  We're in the process now of trying to perfect a casein paint.