Bending with the wind

22 03 2013

Exactly why I chose Bamboo as the symbol of my business. I also love Willows – such beautiful, delicate trees.

Success Recipes For Female Solo Entrepreneurs

Here is this week’s inspirational message:  “Notice that the stiffest tree is most easily cracked, while the bamboo or willow survives by bending with the wind.” By Bruce Lee. Seems a great quote about being flexible in business and not resisting change?!

Tree bamboo willow

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I wish I were…

30 10 2012

Today’s WordPress Weekly Writing Challenge is to finish the sentence “I wish I were…”.

I wish I were a time traveller.

My ancestors were a real mixture – English, Irish, Scottish, German, Swedish and Chinese; and they all arrived in Australia in the last 50 years of the 19th Century.  To me, this is fascinating.  What brought them here?  What drove them to leave everything they knew, to take the long and arduous sea journey to come to a vast new country that was still finding its own way?  And they all came to Queensland.  I wish I could go back to ask them why, to experience their lives as pioneers (starting from scratch, (for some) learning a new language, getting to know all of the other migrants).

For most of them, the abundance of cheap farming land was the main attraction.  Times were tough, particularly in the United Kingdom, with widespread poverty;  huge families crammed into tiny houses (if they were lucky).  It was cold, damp, and polluted.  Australia must have seemed like a paradise, with all that sunshine, fresh air, wide open spaces…and opportunity.

The two fellows who I am particularly interested in are two of my great-great-grandfathers on my mother’s side of the family.

John Johnson – born in Sweden in 1830, married twice (to Irish women), fathered 13 children (the last of whom was my great-grandmother), and who I recently discovered was once the publican at the Cleveland Hotel in Brisbane.  Yes (for those familiar with the Ancestry.com TV advertisement) there’s a pub in my family!

William Ng Puie – born in Guangzhou, China in 1853.  Only part Chinese, the Puies were a family of touring pugilists (boxers) who were quite well known in Australia (so I’m told).  I’ve seen photos (a long time ago) but don’t have the research done by my mother’s cousins to complete this branch of my family tree.  I would actually like to go back a little further to meet his grandmother – a full-blooded Chinese woman.  Was it love that saw her marry that Irishman?

There are so many more reasons that I wish I were a time traveller – to revisit my childhood, to get my own corset and crinolines (I was definitely born in the wrong century), to see how they really built the pyramids, and to talk to my Dad again.

I’m not interested in changing the past – it is what it is and I am the person I am today because of it – I just want to get a better picture of who I am by getting to know these people who are each a small part of me.





Is the negativity really necessary?

26 10 2012

Apparently, it is.

This week, I experienced the good and the bad of print media.  The week began with a good news story – an upcoming event at work that we were really excited about.  Photos were taken, all smiling and happy (with balloons!).

The local rag put us on the front page with all the good news and appropriate promotion of the event.  Kudos to them.  The metro paper from up the road put us on page 3 (not too shabby), with a big photo (Wow! That’s great!), but took the story in a different direction.  A headline dripping with sarcasm, the bulk of the story a (slightly whiny) criticism of our State government, with an inconsequential mention of the event at the very end.

Really!?!

My workmates have taken the “It’s not that bad” attitude, and that’s okay I guess, but for some reason it just annoyed me.  Sure, it got a message across (that we don’t get enough of what we need), but that wasn’t the message that we were trying to deliver.

We’re told that bad news sells, and – based on the statistics – it appears that this is true; bad news stories do get more hits.  I can accept that, and I don’t want all of my news sugar-coated, but isn’t there enough bad news?  Do we really need to take good news and find a scandalous or negative angle to justify printing it?

Ah, well…the event is tomorrow, and I will not allow the unfortunate attitude of one journalist to dampen my own enthusiasm and positivity.





Weekly Photo Challenge: Mine

2 10 2012

Note:  For those who follow my business blog, this is a rare personal post.  Some might question the wisdom of mixing business and pleasure, but I believe that being authentic and open – being me – is essential to building trust with potential clients, who are (hopefully) out there reading my blog.  So, here goes…

The first thing that came to mind when I thought of this week’s photo challenge theme was a bowl that I bought for myself.  We had just purchased large, plain, white, boring, but functional bowls to suit the rest of the family and I saw this bowl (the last one on the shelf) and instantly fell in love with it.  Whether it was because it looked lonely (can you take pity on an inanimate object?) or just because it was pretty, I’m not sure.  I just knew it had to be mine.

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Then, I realised that the bowl isn’t really mine…occasionally, my youngest son uses it when he’s too lazy to wash one of the boring, but functional, family bowls.

My husband tells me that “everything” in the house is mine, but they’re just things that can be shared, and (let’s face it) will, at some point, cease to be mine.  So, what is mine, and will always be mine; what can’t be inherited or used by someone else…that can be photographed?

And then it dawned on me…of course!!  My tattoos.  Each one is truly mine.  My design, my body, my decision, for my reasons…mine.

No. 1 – A dragon.  Because I love dragons and they represent strength and grace.

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No. 2 – The Tree of Life. To remind me to stay grounded while I reach for the stars.

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No. 3 – A Kingfisher.  For my Dad, who inspired my love of birds and was a great fisherman – and who I miss every day.

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