Namaste

Dear hearts,

Miss Mich sits here typing away with the most beautiful posture. Courtesy of the lovely Nuri, Miss Mich's serene and elegant yoga Guru. Nuri looks like a ballet dancer with limbs that extend and flow beyond that of mere mortals such as myself. The sweet little studio welcomes all with calm breaths of clove and musk and the soft whisper of candle light.

Yoga is one path to enlightenment. Miss Mich likes to balance this with her other most favourite path, that of the Tantra. For the hour and a half of the class Miss Mich enjoys the luxury of lengthening her muscles, breathing into the yoga poses and reflecting on all of the other lovely poses shared with The Libertine.

Yoga should be on everyone's Top Ten. Promise me Dear hearts, you will try a class at least once. Even Miss Mich's legal eagle has attempted. Perhaps he should take it to his colourful clients. There may end up peace on the streets and a feeling of well being and brotherhood between the “tribes”. This maybe a little naive, but such is the optimism that a good session imparts.

The class moves through its paces like a Sadhu on a pilgrimage. Concentrated, focused and meditative. The Warrior pose is most definitely one of Miss Mich's favourites. Leaning into the lunge, back straight, strong belly and legs, the only thing missing for MM is a spear. She will remember and use this pose going forward into the curly times ahead.

Miss Mich loves the contrast of stretching the muscle and then contracting the muscle. That lovely balance of Yin and Yang. The pose of the child gives rest to the muscles and allows one to curl up into oneself and retreat, if just for a moment.

The more classes Miss Mich has, the more she wants. This sounds like Piglet, I know, but in Yoga’s case, all is forgiven. Whilst perfecting the discipline of holding each pose, breathing into the stretch and having the time to think and reflect whilst one engages in this, a feeling of both accomplishment and serenity flow through me. It is as seductive as the thought of private time with The Libertine and is almost as rewarding.

Historically, Yoga is more aligned with Hinduism and the Bhagvad Gita, and if you follow the path through the chapters of the Bhagavad-Gita you will understand that Yoga is the science of the individual consciousness attaining communion with the Ultimate Consciousness. There are three paths Dear hearts, that of perfect actions, perfect devotion and perfect knowledge. Perfect!

Miss Mich loves the feeling of grounding herself and her sitting bones, of aligning her Chakra’s and quieting her centre. If this all sounds a bit new age, I suppose it is. But the bottom line is, Dear hearts, it works.

Miss Christine made the point recently that she needed to centre her sphincter and after much giggling about the possible ways to achieve this, Miss Mich suggested Adho Mukha Svansana or Downdward-facing Dog pose. That way any passing devotees or Dobermans could stop, have a sniff and help centre that lowest of the Chakra’s - the Root Chakra. Rather fitting really.

All jokes aside, Miss Mich can’t imagine not having at least two or three downward facing dogs in her classes, needs the Warrior pose to strengthen her resolve and looks inward for respite with the pose of the Child. The hour and a half flys by. Miss Mich slows her mind, deepens her breath and closes her eyes, letting her body take charge, her muscles speak for her.

With the generous spirit of Nuri having guided her through, Miss Mich floats out into the weekend stretched, relaxed and just that little bit more flexible, something both the Libertine and MM herself will use to gain enlightenment in the temple that is the Cottage Boudoir.

Enjoy the Prana of the Mid-week.

With love
Miss Mich

Pretty as a Picture

Dear hearts,

Ms LA has a wicked sense of humour. One of the reasons I love her so. Quite apart from her considerable skills as Aide de Camp to both the Big Kahuna and Churchill of the pen world and yours truly. She can whip up quotes, contracts and specifications quicker than press send...

What has Miss Mich giggling about here and now, is the challenge Ms LA has set me. A dissertation on the use, appropriateness and effectiveness of that controversial little word that is Cunt. The last time I can remember a public comment on the little darling is a particular episode of Sex and The City. The girls went to an art exhibition and if I remember correctly, there was Charlotte's in all it's oily, acrylic glory. The word was spoken freely in this ep with Samantha quite chuffed at the detail and prominence given to Charlotte's, well, ...cunt.

I must take the stand right here and now and say unequivocally that I love the word. It sits in my Top Ten, without doubt. Top Five...

Because, Dear hearts, think about what the word represents. For me, my own personal favourite body part. And possibly The Libertine's now that I think of it. I can speak for him confidently when I share with you that he himself uses the word with such love and sincerity it makes me go weak at the, ...well, I think you know where I'm going...Having said that, he can use the versatile little noun and make Miss Mich, in turn, a little wild and crazy...perhaps that is when he pronounces it with a capital K instead of a capital C....Hmmm. I like it. I like it a lot.

It is such a pretty thing. Did you know Dear hearts, there are inny's and outy's just like belly buttons! I know, cracks me up....Just so you know, Miss Mich has an inny. Very pretty according to The Libertine, and I do know that the mirror, in this case, does not lie. As for the camera...

Of course, it doesn't matter what one has. How lucky are we girls to have what the boys all want. As Miss Mich's legal eagle says “With one of those, you can have as many of these (read cock for the slow..)as you like” Having said that, the point must be made for the young Dear hearts reading, to strive for quality over quantity. But that is another tete et tete to come...

What really gets up my....nose...is the use of the word in a derogatory sense. I will not have it. For some of the male gender, it is the deepest insult they will trade. The strongest descriptor intended for vilification of their most lowly opponent. Poor competitors these, Dear hearts. Misogynists and clearly poorly educated. Shall we just refer to them as cockheads ever more?...No. Because cock is another of my Top Ten favourite words. And rightly so.

Here in The Cottage, the charming word that is Cunt will only ever be used with the utmost love and respect, and lets face it, Dear hearts, it's a far better word than vagina...

I think Miss Mich has said all she needs to on the matter. My case is clear. We are talking about such a pretty word that represents such a pretty thing. If you say the word Dear hearts, say it with love and like you mean it. Be confident that there is no finer compliment to bestow than “My, what a pretty cunt you have”

Enjoy the word of the Day.

With love
Miss Mich

The Windmills of MM's Mind....

Dear hearts,

Standing firm. Strength and Resolution. These are the topics floating around Miss Mich’s pea this lovely tropical afternoon.

Integrity. Just flew in. Purpose and Commitment. Checked their coats at the door. It’s getting very full in here. I may need to open the doors onto the terrace of Miss Mich’s mind..

Miss Mich has been dealing with a few curly issues as a working class woman. A certain chicken and the question of those very aforementioned attributes, presently making themselves cocktails at the bar in Miss Mich’s mind.

If one takes the spirit of the Buddha, everything should be very simple. And honest. Used as a starting point, along with love, one would assume, you couldn’t go wrong. I guess it depends at what rung one finds themselves positioned on the spiritual evolutionary ladder.

Miss Mich is taking her usual circuitous and meandering path to her point, which Dear hearts, I’m sure, you are becoming accustomed to. It’s all about the journey don’t forget. Enjoy the analogy, the metaphor, the cocktails, the alliteration and the artistic license when MM takes things that little too far…Be generous in your reading and kind in your critique. My heart is in the right place. And always remember, Dear hearts, Miss Mich has your best interests at her heart.

Enough of the justification for the readers validation..(good alliteration nest pas?)

What I’m really getting at, is Disappointment. I hate to give it a Capital letter, but it has made its way past the bouncer, the door bitch and through the door of Miss Mich’s mind. With fake ID, the promise of the cheque being in the mail and the promise not to come in your mouth, Disappointment has made its face known. Like that of a shonky used car salesman, con man and unscrupulous cad that it truly is.

Disappointment’s nemesis is arguably Honesty and Integrity. And probably a whole bunch of other good capital letter worthy concepts. I won’t go on, just use the two already mentioned as a snapshot to illustrate my point. A good friend of Miss Mich’s from her former life shared her philosophy in respect to how we treat each other. She says, and so does her very Irish mother, she would rather a thief than a liar. Miss Mich concurs. Absolutement. With a thief, all you have to do, is put a lock on the cocktail cabinet and hide away all temptation. A liar has too many faces and too many changing stories to know what to lock up and what to hide away.

It has been MMs unfortunate experience to live with the latter. Twice, no doubt. Miss Mich is self effacing enough to draw her attention, and yours Dear hearts, to the classic country ballad concept of (and I quote) “First time shame on you. Second time, shame on me”. And I’m not just talking about retro 80’s shoulder pads. Yes, they are back as we speak…

So the upshot is, the chicken disappointed the hen. What can you do? Certainly not lower your standards. And certainly not lose heart. It will never come to pass that Miss Mich loses her sense of optimism. There are too many examples, every day, if you look for them, to hearten one.

There is opportunity in every change of circumstance. For growth Dear hearts. Let’s hope that the chicken moves on to find whatever that may be. For Miss Mich, she is confident that this is the universe about to offer Miss Mich the next interesting challenge.

Enjoy Saturday.

With true love
Miss Mich

Gen Why?

Dear hearts,

It often seems that after discussion with The Libertine, Miss Mich is compelled to share some little morsels with you. Suffice to say, he makes her think. Among other things..

We were discussing family. Tricky business that's for sure. We all know Miss Mich is well across the comings and goings of the Bright Young Things. There is a closeness and understanding that extends beyond that of mother and child. For this Miss Mich is extremely grateful.

Moving up the generational ladder, things are not so easy. There has been an estrangement between Miss Mich and her mother for shall we say, 16 years. Yes. Quite the period of silence. This being the Year of the Tiger, Miss Mich decided to take that tiger by the tail and phoned her mother to wish her a happy birthday. Apart from the fact that Miss Mich's mother sounds spookily like Katherine Hepburn, the call although formal, went as well as could be expected.

It made Miss Mich acutely conscious of the vast difference between the two relationships. And the difference between parenting styles. In such a short time, one generation, the dynamics of parent/child interaction have changed so dramatically.

Growing up in the lovley harbourside suburb that is Mosman, Miss Mich visited both sets of grandparents almost every weekend. Miss Mich's father rowed at Mosman, her mother took MM to kindy in North Sydney and Balmoral Beach provided the entertainment for Miss Mich and her cousins, uncles and aunts. All of this in a three kilometer radius. Then Miss Mich grew up and flew the nest. The world became Miss Mich's entertainment and the beaches of choice extended from Thailand to the Med.

Culturally, this could not compare to the experience of Miss Mich's parents or her Grandparents.

The Bright Young Things on the other hand have all traveled extensively and rate along with Miss Mich the beaches in Monte Carlo (such as they are), the beaches in Tunisia and the summers spent in both the northern and southern hemispheres. Miss Mich has no doubt that her chicks will fly the nest and embrace their right to live anywhere in this global village. As well they should. And it certainly will not be onerous to stay in touch. Technology will see to that. Already Miss Mich and the Songbird speak via Skype. Facebook dishes the dirt on the baby and my darling boy sends his phonetically spelt text messages that sometimes take quite the time to decipher.

My point here, Dear hearts, is that we, in this generation, have the opportunity to stay relevant to our children. To stay connected in a way that will ensure we are a meaningful part of their lives.

After 16 years silence, and only four minutes of conversation on the phone, Miss Mich had run out of things to say to her mother. The distance had become too great. The gulf of respective experience seemed like two people speaking two languages to each other, that the other sadly could not understand. The silence was awkward, prompting Miss Mich's mother to say “I really don't know what to say”. And that kind of said it all.

The Bright Young Things on the other hand chatter away and say whatever it may be that comes into their sweet heads. We laugh, we tease, we challenge and we talk. About everything. It is an egalitarian rabble at the dinner table or wherever we may be. Yet, the silences that are also shared are never awkward, just comforting. And that kind of says it all as well.

Enjoy Sunday and conversation.

With love
Miss Mich

One Man's Folly is Another Man's Vision

Dear hearts,

I have always wanted to live in a chateau. Doesn’t everyone? All of those beautiful windows, those beautiful garden mazes. Miss Mich has fond memories of chasing the children (elegantly obvi..) around the gardens of Fountainbleu in the summer. This is not to say Miss Mich has slummed it in terms of accommodation. Certainly not. (Apart from Pandora’s Box upon which we will not dwell) In her former life there were several grand country homes, one in fact, with its own sunken rose maze complete with enormous ornate urns at either end so that one always had one’s bearings. There was the house on the top of beautiful Bellevue Hill overlooking Miss Mich’s eastern suburbs world – Bondi, Rose Bay to Watson’s Bay and finally across the harbour to the pier at Manly. The town house in Chelsea and the stunning mansion flat at 66 Eaton Place SW1. Is it churlish of me to hanker for more?

One should always be aspirational. I think it’s good for you. Please understand the difference between aspirational and consumerist. You may think wishing for a chateau somewhat consumerist or avaricious, but let’s be practical here, and honest, where am I going to actually find a chateau in the far far north? …Hmmm?

So we shall call this what it is. A folly. And I do love a good folly. I actually love the word itself. From the French folie – foolishness. I love what the English did with it architecturally in the 18th century, when landscape design was dominated by the tenets of Romanticism. English Lords had the big name architects of the day beetling around the back paddock designing whatever took their fancy; classical ruins, a medieval tower, bridge over the river Kwai…the big pineapple…

Miss Mich is realistic when it comes to what is truly achievable. And taking into consideration the aspect of The Cottage, the fact that it is home to not only herself and the Baby, but those lovely wobbalies, and the dear sweet couple of Bush fowl, various reptiles and bright young things who tear down the drive in their P plated utes and hatch backs, it seems to me scale is the thing to be considered here. It is with this in mind that Miss Mich has decided to create the Chateau of her dreams, to construct, with the able bodied help of The Libertine, the perfect doll house sized folly. To sit on the lawn and entertain the Ulysses butterflies. Miss Mich will make teeny tiny cutouts of herself and the lovely Libertine and live herself vicariously as Josephine to L’s Napoleon. A little Versailles in the heart of the Northern beaches. How much fun will that be?

As it is the baby laughs when she sees what constitutes the decoration of The Cottage now. Not the French antiques of our former life, the fine English porcelain and the Persian rugs. No, Dear hearts, now we have what she affectionately refers to as Miss Mich’s “woven shit”. The cane furniture, the baskets from New Guinea and the art of the Torres Strait. The shells collected like treasure and displayed with the reverence as jewels of the sea, which they are.

As she totters out for a night in town, she looks over her shoulder to say “Bon Nuit…and what is this gypsy incense wafting all over me?”

I remind her of her Mother’s folly. To create as serene a space as is possible. To bring the world and all the experiences to date, here, in this cottage that we call home. Miss Mich must confess to a hankering not only for a pint sized Chateau, but also the need to nest. To create a space that will welcome the future and the addition…

of more woven shit…

Enjoy nesting and Saturday.

With love
Miss Mich

Bodhisattva All

Dear hearts,

We can never really know what is going to be our future, our fate or our lot in life. I am still constantly amazed by the experiences I have, the people I meet and the net affect all of this has in shaping us, or me, as the case may be. Our evolution, our personal development and ultimately our success or otherwise, is all dependant on how we interpret this collective experience.

What am I really talking about I hear you ask...

I suppose it is the stopping for a moment, the pausing where one looks at where one is and where one has come from. I promise you Dear hearts, sometimes this just sneaks up on me and I find myself staring in the mirror saying to myself…well; how did that happen?

Here is Miss Mich, a working class woman, sharing the pen love, with two birds out of the nest and the other as successful a WCW as her mother. The Baby herself soon to fly, choices littered at her feet. Who would have thought in Miss Mich’s former life that any of this would ever have been possible. And this is not even taking into account the Charms, Miss Mich’s considerable bag of tricks and the fact that she may have fallen in love.

Spooky…

Back to the reflection..The Libertine has acquired an interest in Buddhism and sends Miss Mich words of wisdom from the man himself. Miss Mich herself has spent some time pondering the ways of the Buddha. A year in SE Asia, India and Nepal. Many chillums, temples and epiphanies let me tell you. A Buddhist ceremony to complement the official business of marrying the Sperm Donor was in no way a small affair. The birth times and dates of both parties scrutinized by the Monks in the know at the Golden Temple in Bangkok to determine the most auspicious date of ceremony and number of monks required to officiate the whole she bang. Seven monks later, a holy couple, one of whom was visited by the spirits when sharing a moment with yours truly. Speaking in tongues Dear hearts, holding Miss Mich in a certain way as to render MM immovable and keep her “safe” was quite the privilege (according to those in the know) and disconcerting at the same time. Sadly all of this was not enough to save the children’s’ father from himself and Miss Mich the same fate.

Having been through all this, Miss Mich maintains a fondness and affinity with the ways of The Buddha.

What Miss Mich loves about the whole concept is that of Self-Redemption. We all have the opportunity and ability to change our lives. Ourselves.

We have the choice to grow. Or not.

To love. Or not.

To share. Or Not.

To learn. Or not.

You get my drift. I think I might be a Zen Buddist. I like the idea of spontaneous enlightenment. Independent of concepts, rituals or techniques. I like the idea of finding your own way, your own path. Who knows what or whom, you may find along the way. That’s how Miss Mich found the Libertine. Just like that. Surprise! Or not. Perhaps it was meant to be. Perhaps the string that connects all things was just pulling both this way and that, drawing the energy to the point of meeting.

Enjoy Sunday and choice.

With love
Miss Mich

How Do I say This...

Dear hearts,

Facebook. I want to give it a stand alone par, but I can't. It doesn't deserve it. Call me old fashioned, but social networking sites will never take the place of real hand to hand combat in the traditional social interactive arenas.

For example, I'm off to the monthly Chamber of Commerce lunch in the next short while. I love it. I get to catch up with the local movers and shakers of the far far north, have a glass of lunch time wine and listen to inspirational speakers. My favourite time of the whole affair, is the half hour of drinks before the action begins. When the punters get to size each other up, jostling for position to catch the eye of the social pages photographer, or that little informal chat to our fair Mayor. For Miss Mich, she has her faithful Thai waiter on hand, giving him the nod to trot out extra glasses of bubbles as we exchange stories of Buddhas and the temples of the far far East.

What we are really talking about here, Dear hearts, is Communication. That's right. Capital letter. Capital idea.

The songbird and I were just discussing the very same this evening. In the last few days before she wings her way south to Melbourne, university and the local inner city music scene, she has sent the Italian artisan of the car panel a package. One of songs written because of, and for, his sweet self. Art and words and feelings and the viscera of her emotion. Laid bare. With passion. For him. Lucky boy.

My advice to her is that no matter what, the grand sweeping gesture of what she has sent him will stay with him and mark her apart from all others. It will mark him as well. It is not often we are the recipients of such romantic expressions. There ought to be more of it. It harks back to my list for 2010. Say what you mean and mean what you say. The songbird always has the last word...that is her nature.

So many ways to communicate, so little time. Miss Mich finds herself, sometimes calling the baby in the next room...calling on her mobile...God forbid she should get out of bed.

Post Secret. Miss Mich has shared this with you. I would like to open the forum here, invite you, Dear hearts, to share your secrets with me. Safe and sound. Send me your naughty thoughts. I am happy to get the ball rolling if it helps. But you must promise to play with me. How much fun will it be. Anonymous of course. You need not give your name. Those of you who send me comments can stay safe and sound and unknown except for said naughty thoughts.

Miss Mich's grandmother still sends letters. In the post. How quaint nest pas? On flowery stationery in a slow cursive hand that is so familiar and takes Miss Mich back to the verandah of the grand white house in Mosman overlooking Balmoral Beach. Memories of swimming with Weedy Seadragons and eating passionfruit ice cream. Playing in the shallows at the beach and watching Grandfather mow down the lines of daffodils on the terraces of the lawn. Understanding much later that he was mowing his regret at the memory of the gardener leaving him...

All communicating emotion, memories and experience.

Miss Mich is big on communication, obvi..And sharing. By sharing our experiences we realise we are not alone. We are not like that song of being slobs on a bus trying to find our way home...well we are in a sense, but No...The camaraderie of the human condition is that we are able to share. The good and the bad. Even if it is on Facebook.

Miss Mich leaves you with her naughty thought...She is pretty much up for anything the Libertine has in mind. Especially if it is in public. Especially if it involves her arse...

Enjoy and share your naughty thoughts.

With love
Miss Mich