this above all: to thine own self be true. ~ Shakespeare
Embedded Files
words . film . art . photography . dance . play
Bird was born from a continued ritual that started many seasons ago. i can track it first in play as a child, in art and drawing, in dance, and in the form of writing journals. it came to me a few days ago, from i don't even know where, in a sunshower, to start a journal to share online. it sparked an exciting feeling in me. without knowing exactly what it was, it moved me to feel ready and inspired to share things in a way i don't normally share - something about being in communion and in service to the mystery of the creative message and to follow its evolving journey while stripping away all the trappings... in an offering to whoever might stumble across it... now i know why i'm here ~ to be devoted to the practice of staying close to Myself.
Wednesday.mercredi.szerda~ 17/9/26
entry #29
It was very cold today. a blustering wind has been galavanting through town. a young horse frisking about behind the herd. i didn't walk, and i didn't take any photos. i went into the sound studio and made a GREAT deal of progress on my film, The Message. and then i came home to a clean house and i felt so chuffed with myself.
Tuesday.mardi.kedd ~ 15/9/26
entry #28
I found a family of herons, parents with two young ones. again on my way to the coffee god. it was the white covering of poop on the footpath that made me look up. the two babies were just sitting in the sun, perched there happy enough not to have to do anything else. what clever parents. what an achievement. what angel beings in the form of heron birds.
Monday.lundi.hétfő ~ 14/9/26
entry #27
Trees above me,
on my walk to the god called coffee,
dripping sweet nectar on my skin
(i licked it)
that the parrots must have missed
in their morning raucous celebrations
due to spring.
Wednesday.mercredi.szerda~ 26/8/26
entry #26
Who can i rejoice with,
if i cannot rejoice with you?
who can i dance with,
if i cannot dance with you?
who can i laugh with,
if i cannot laugh with you?
who can i sing with,
if i cannot sing with you?
Thursday.jeudi.csütörtök ~ 20/8/26
entry #25
I am allowed to be full of wild contradictions
from one moment to the next
in my mission to be steadfast
and devoted to my source
Thursday.jeudi.csütörtök ~ 13/8/26
entry #24
Coming back Home... playing with my inner child and the sun and birthday flowers... accepting that i have a body, a life vessel, an avatar, a muse, and a creature, to collaborate with whenever a thought hits me... where we move through gatesways of the self to arrive at more gateways to the self... while i know i'm still a baby
and there's a new eclips moon in leo... just saying
Wednesday.mercredi.szerda~ 12/8/26
entry #23
I am the
FIRE under
the WATER
Tuesday.mardi.kedd ~ 11/8/26
entry #22
I have new springy ideas and projects arising in me... you wanna know what they are ??
Monday.lundi.hétfő ~ 10/8/26
entry #21
I am sitting at the window at the cafe that will close (forever)
with my coffee
it is winter
and wonderfully so
i am cosy and it is cold outside, all kinds of clouds dark blue grey and white moving fast like a high tide on a stormy sea-swell with windows of sun struck ripples showing crystal blue
people are on their way to work
hétfő reggel van
and i sit here with my coffee at the window
i wanted to come here this morning because it will most likely be the last time. and i have sat here many, many times over the many years. this is where i'd sit and journal and dream and try to untie young struggles through words on a page and coffee on my tounge. and i was young. full of unresolved passions. young dreams blooming like a wild field of daisies in the wind.
this view.
the old blossom tree, i 'm not sure what kind exactly, but it has white blossoms in the spring. friend of the old theatre (i wonder what their age difference is) now repurposed and covered in graffiti, i still see you, and you make me dream, you give silent reason for hope by just being there.
the way the wind travels through the leaves on that blossom tree makes them shiver and shake like a mass of green, red and brown dangling decorations... and at the top she's dusted in white. sensing spring, she's willing to touch the sky early... and a pelican on the wind lit on one side by sun flies through the blue corner of the window. gone out of sight, but i saw you.
i was nineteen here, i was all my twenties, and in my thirties i came and went... this place, like a haven, like a rock, constant, and unchanging in its essence. i wondered who i was here, and what love had done and undone to me. and mostly, i wondered and wanted to know my path... i came here to wonder that... maybe it is time to go now. even though what it takes away is a future continued, a past continued, a present moment offered over again. for others this won't be here. for me this won't be here. we will all have to find something else. and fear the replacement. the "evil developers", the rent gougers, the uglifiers, the decimators of beauty. the ones who don't love or see, and who have so much say over what we love and see. we fear loss and we get angry and we feel pain. and yet, we find somewhere else. and we transform. what we fear is only here because of us. we make it beautiful and they come hungry. keep creating from the source, and making the art and the gardens and the honest work and the love. it's bigger than anything.
i'm crying at the window, two splashes on the table.
oh my gosh, i have to tidy this up now.
the wind is running down the street with everything we left scattered.
spring is coming.
Saturday.samedi.szombat ~ 8/8/26
entry #20
I was born on a saturday. maybe that's why today feels like coming home. i feel my period ready to come. all is welcome.
home coming sun. daughter of my source.
brilliance. burning. white gold.
in blue forever.
this was taken by photographer Tess Lehman
Sunday.dimanche.vasárnap ~ 2/8/26
entry #19
Diary of a girl who quit her job #part.3 yesterday i spent the majority of it with The Message. and i found so much joy in rediscovering it. i'm back fiddling with another edit - which my team are going to hate and which is going to cost me more time and money, but it's making more sense to me, it's flowing and i think i'm getting so much closer to what this film actually is, than i have before... it's in there, i've just got to chip away all the things it's not, and then it can live in its own world.
found 'em from 2020
A self
discovery
an ongoing
body
of work
Saturday.samedi.szombat ~ 1/8/26
entry #18
Diary of a girl who quit her job. #part.2 it has been 2 weeks that i would otherwise have been at work. my days are mine. like they always were. but they feel more mine now. i've set myself a new beginning, and there's no way of getting out of it, or of knowing what exactly will become of this, or what it will look like. i just had to listen, and fully give my attention to something that had been going on and on inside me for a long time...
i walked to this cafe this morning. mill's, new in our neighbourhood, which is a treat and exciting for me:) and i love it already. early morning rain made everything cold and wet. and i took photos of the trees - bare crape myrtles lining the streets in winter have a quality that can't be rivaled by their summer garments. they inspire delicate and pristine lines. black ink against a watery sky decorated by dotted black seedpods. also i'm really attached to my digital camera at the moment, and like to take it with me for morning walks. i love what i find walking the neighbourhood streets. personalities that live near me i was otherwise unaware of. people make little gardens in corners, then struggle to find the time to upkeep them. though it is winter. and some they keep trees in their yards growing wild and huge, where native birds nest and feed. the view from alleyways into backyards are such curious windows into the lives being lived around me. and my connection to this place becomes more valued, more empathetic. i love anything that reminds me of its country quality too, even the neglected and ugly aspects tell a story about the people that live here. i wish front yard fences weren't a thing. i supposed if you have dogs. but i love seeing the lawn run from a front step to the curb of the road, especially with native plants, flower gardens, vegie patches, that hug the house and offer its own boundary. perhaps its more vulnerable, but it asks the passer by to be more kind, sensitive and open to friendship. to knowing someone else. fences and leggo homes are an assault on the spirit i think.
i saw an old familiar face at the cafe, a family friend from my childhood. she sent flowers to me back stage at my last show. she said, 'you have to free fall for a bit, it's good to do that.'
i'll come back to you now - film of my black desires - my mission for the day is to re-meet my film, the message. i had to put it to the side while i worked on the libertine. but now, its time again, and im apprehensive. i don't want to hate it. but i'm dedicating myself again to this. i know it's part of the way out and to the next thing, and i owe every part of myself to it.
another part of this process that isn't lost on me, is that i will change.
Friday.vendredi.péntek ~ 24/7/26
entry #17
Diary of a girl who quit her job #part.1 a week of morning nature walks, and reacquainting myself with my digital camera
monday.lundi.hétfő
friday.vendredi.péntek
thursday.jeudi.csütörtök
(this one on my phone coz i forgot my camera)
wednesday.mercredi.szerda
tuesday.mardi.kedd
Wednesday.mercredi.szerda ~ 22/7/26
entry #16
I sat on the beach and looked out across the flat blue rivers of wind pathways my soul yearned to run on in search of the missing friend the secret song the severed flame
there's no answer to its calling
it echoes across the sea and comes back eternally to itself
such a simple naive thing
it's already gone, how long will it take for it to understand?
ghost lights dancing in the mist are not real are they? and my deranged soul is cursed wandering the earth in love
playing hide and seek with one she thought she knew
what a silly little soul
it's time to light the candle and get back to it...
Thursday.jeudi.csütörtök ~ 4/6/26
entry #15
Scraps...
someone spoke in words and it had the power to dissolve all magical feeling and thinking
so that all the stardust that lived on high light and air in me became condensed into a logical rock that fell from their mouth onto the floor between our feet.
an ending. what could i do?
stay away next time.
...
i have a sickness, a problem with a constant urge for escape and freedom, in a world where there's nothing stopping me.
like a silent song that was born lifetimes ago and in my bloodlines has found roots, and continues to call for itself into the future where i cannot go... out into the universe of dreams in lives beyond the body i live in.
i've listened to wise people, they say, remember to be grateful.
i agree.
and yet i can't rid myself of the feeling.
sometimes it's quiet and obedient, but more so, painfully urgent.
...
i feel my soul, like a young child pulling me by the arm trying to get me to end a conversation with adults to come follow it into the land of ..
Monday.lundi.hétfő ~ 27/4/26
entry #14
Pictures from a trip to the centre where i leant something about the catapillar dreaming...
Monday.lundi.hétfő ~ 16/3/26
entry #14
Little star fellow
boldog születésnapot
Sunday.dimanche.vasárnap ~ 15/3/26
entry #13
An autumn hymn, whispered between objects. i think still things receive knowledge first. the knowing devotion to beauty and the body and the changing of seasons. and a still thing is never really still. in its silence it speaks a different kind of language, and in its stillness it dances between light and shadow.
and i just wanted to come here to be still too. while the sun is setting and the evening is still warm, and i can keep the front door wide open.
Saturday.samedi.szombat ~ 6/3/2026
entry #12
Tiny Grief.mp4'Tiny Grief'.
it's nothing.
just a warm up
a waking
in the body and bones
a stretching in the house
of the soul.
it's really nothing.
song: Tiny Grief Song by Sinéad O'Connor, from the album 'Universal Mother'
and maybe something comes from this tiny stage. maybe this is the first of my 'tiny stage series'. ha, that could be fun! and maybe it's not, and this is the only time i play here.
Thursday.jeudi.csütörtök ~ 29/1/26
entry #11
I could murder this film. i could dig a grave and bury it in rich black soil, pack it with compost and put a head stone above that reads, may you figure it out in the next life and become everything i imagined you would be and more. i'm not an editor but i edit all my work. partly because i've never had a definitive script when i go to shoot, or if i think i do, we end up shooting scenes and locations i hadn't planned, and then in the edit i end up with all the possibilities this story could go. it looks magical, more evocative and stunning than i could have ever imagined. but i'm caught in a loop not yet at the end - still not at the end - it's a tangle and i haven't found the thread out of here... its the love story of a love story that had no ending, maybe that's why...
Friday.vendredi.péntek ~ 23/1/26
entry #10
We have made it into another glorious beginning. like a snake eating its tail we've come back around. we think it's new, and it is, and we can't go back. but the same animal sits in front of us with a laugh in its belly and a smile on its lips. there's a horse charging towards us whether we like it or not. full of fire full of grace full chaos full on the sun it just ate for breakfast - will it hit me, knock me in its wake, and will i sink into the ground under hoof in its stampede? you know, it's on its way to the golden land of the next thing we only dream about, and its meeting time is now. or will i catch its mane hair whipping in my face, breathless with the wind to fly with muscle and grip on its back holding on till it takes me to the next land? the next kingdom of sun drenched dusty roads above lakes that glitter in the sun. sun. sun.?
and then i was reminded to ask the question,
and who is the horse?
because no one notices
she is standing very still
in that sun field
waiting
Thursday.jeudi.csütörtök ~ 25/12/25
entry #9
I haven't been here for a while, haven't found the time to sit still, in the whirlwind of family and friend gatherings and present giving and magic making for the children.
i am there, and i am here, both present, and disconnected.
if only for a scrap of time before bed, before the day breaks early tomorrow and we’re all swept off into the morning of campsite-setups.
the baby’s crying, crying
- "it's late, they should be in bed, too much excitement...”
i’m missing [something] underneath it. no one in the world would suspect it. no one except my heart, my bird, who sees it as clear as day and hears every unheard heartbeat yearning. it talks to me about it when no one else can. ‘so what are you going to do? what really is the worst that could happen? what could you break through in trying?
i don’t know, all i know is that i have a love still. unchanged. and it lives and moves, like a baby in my belly, growing i suppose, and when it shifts, pushing at my rib cage, heels and knees against my insides, i feel the ache and the pull. reminding me it has not gone away, it lives still, full and pregnant. just unseen. what does this matter if i can't find a way to give birth? like Gaia, eternally pregnant with her children…
what will i create?
when will the answer come?
how do you know when a time is right?
when does the heart and head let go of each other? in order to give life to the unknown?
when will the universe answer my inpatient soul who has been respectful in patiently waiting?
i will wait, gộd, if you tell me to, even when my heart is breaking, i will wait if you tell me to.
Tuesday.mardi.kedd ~ 23/12/25
entry #8
I got a roll developed! photos back from my time in Ireland, july 2025. i followed a heart calling and met a land that spoke the languages of child and elder, one that offered an ancient innocence and took me by the hand. ran to dancing. walked me by the heather. showed me stones and songs. sat me in the grass, where wind, ocean rock and sky revealed a secret about coming home.
Friday.venredi.péntek ~ 19/12/2025
entry #7
I 've only just started vaguely to explore substack. my resistance to it is only that it's 'just another thing' to have to navigate, wade through with the fear of getting lost for hours. from what i've skirted around when attempting to give it my attention, i've found a feed offering another forever-list of distractions. 'you might like this, you might like this, you might like this' however, more dedicated and meaningful than the gram. but still, too busy for me right now to want to hang out there and do the deep dive into any one in particular. when i sprouted this idea for Bird, it made me look into those platforms, (briefly) such as Substack, Patreon, our old friend Tumblr, and i know that there's a good chance, when i get to really know and understand the landscape, i may choose to jump over and join. however, as it is, i want to be away from anything that i'm not looking specifically for. (so many contradictions here, since being a curious human wanting to absorb interesting, fascinating perspectives and stories i want to stay awake to it all) yet i don't want to be in constant streams of beautiful snippets. too much of that that does not help me slow down. that i can sit with and truly digest to its fullest. for now its why i like coming to this page to share, because there are no other distractions. it isn't surrounded by anything else.
i cannot wait for my film to be developed.
Sunday.dimanche.vasárnap ~ 30/11/2025
entry #6
A time of great confusion...
hate to read that poem, that makes sense in the day and not in the night.
i wish i could understand everything. that is, i wish the pain residue on the bottom of the river would go away. i want it all to make sense and to flow. for me to be able to step through glassy waters on clear stones. as clear as crystal daybreak. what i don’t know i don’t know.
i want to make art that i can understand, that flows, but i come to making it, to write down the story that started shooting stars in me, and it all gets tangled on the page. i don’t know how to do it right. i don’t know how the plot works or what i'm really trying to say. what's the throughline what's the real message - and then i remember or realise - oh shit, i'm not a writer, i don't have the knowedge or skills to know what the fuck i'm doing here. all i know is that i was hit by something and i want to make it into a film/i need to get it out of me.
... i want the painful pause to be lifted and i want it to be... it's a constant pain, more painful because there's a disappearence of a life force... left me burning alone in the quiet...
Sunday.dimanche.vasárnap ~ 23/11/2025
entry #5
I found you. i went for a bike ride unsure of where i was going, which isn't usual you know. my only prayer for the day was that i might find a jacaranda tree still flowering. then to have the will to get off my bike and take its picture. especially to try and capture it on my film camera if it worked. to stay with the tree and the flowers long enough, not to let the time go without us knowing eachother a little... i know they're on their way out - the purple glow against dark-blue storm clouds in this humid air, won't last much longer.
it was such a relief and thrill to find you. bobbing above some stone monument at a crossroads in a tiny park. i saw your purple and brown discarded on the pavement. we swayed and nodded to eachother on the wind.
when i get the film developed i hope i'll have more to share - infinitely more beautiful, more exciting, more to tell, something closer to the truth.
(i never found the roll of film. none of the rolls i developed came back with this days photos... and i know thy were going to be so beautiful... mysterious and sad.. i have been using slightly broken cameras, maybe that's why...)
Friday.venredi.péntek ~ 14/11/2025
entry #4
The Message is a short film i'm making. the writing started maybe 3-5 years ago, and we shot it in January/February this year over 8 summer nights. i'm now working on the edit with Andy one evening a week, between our day jobs and his beautiful dad life. we are in November now, and we have a 12 minute edit - with half still to go - it's ok that it's slow. i don't mind. from the misty land of ideas, to the flitting story on the page, to the meeting of brave companion souls, to the hard labour of shooting, to the unknown of the edit, and the magic in sound design still to come - each of these stages reveal another secret to me, new voices speak that weren't there before. and i understand more... anyway, why i started this post was because i wanted to share my recent poster designs i've been making for the film. just because i have so much fun doing it. i expect i'll continue to have fun and maybe get better and come up with more...
Tuesday.mardi.kedd ~ 11/11/2025
entry #3
This was our edit night on 11/11. - supposedly this date is a powerfully important portal they say, an opportunity not to be missed - messages from the feed. 'don't miss this opportunity to reclaim, rebirth, shed, cut old ties' etc. bla. it was a hot day. i was up at dawn to get to work. a rare early morning NAIDOC ceremony. honouring the morning star with the children and school. it was a long day. i had no capacity to stop for self-reflective manifestation. (isn't that what we were doing collectively in ceremony?) only my actions, i thought, throughout the day could speak to the stars. be true in them. that night our co-producer, came to see the first edit. she cried as she watched it, because she felt moved by what we were creating. we reached our crowdfunding goal 20 days early that night too... the exhaustion i felt at the end of a late night didn't take away my elation. i feel it after every edit. and on my drive home, the window open, my spirit soars.
Saturday.samedi.szombat ~ 8/11/2025
entry #2
once i used to write something every night before falling asleep. i had to grasp something from the day before i fell to dreaming, a word at the very least. sometimes it was an effort, sometimes it was ready and waiting on my pillow. still, i wrote 8 small notebooks... they began one birthday on the 8th August, with a little bird on my shoulder.
there is a seed that is germinating. the warm wet wisper of spring has got the storm clouds cracking up at dawn, over winter's sorrow.
Monday.lundi.hétfő ~ 25/8/2025
entry #1
The sun had my back all the way, and like a gentle mother's hand, held the singing bird - i was the bird and the broken heart and the mother and the sun. the tears we wept soaked the earth.
the winds blew strong in august. high sunlit purple clouds peraded by in proud fleets throwing us storms to test our spirits.
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