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Svasti: A Journey From Assault To Wholeness

~ Recovery from PTSD & depression + yoga, silliness & poetry…

Svasti: A Journey From Assault To Wholeness

Tag Archives: Prayers

Send Sweet Mango your love

21 Sunday Nov 2010

Posted by Svasti in Life

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Healing, Miracle, Prayers, Sweet Mango

Some of Sweet Mango's art

So many things are making me cry today. Like this story of animal cruelty.

And Sweet Mango’s current situation.

I read a lot of blogs, many of which I comment on. But there’s plenty I read that I enjoy and don’t interact with. Don’t ask me why: it just is how it is.

One of the ones I read but don’t often comment on is Sweet Mango. She’s a wonderful artist and poet. Her musings are always intuitive and beautiful.

But right now she needs your help. Actually, she needs a miracle.

Her beloved partner was in a car accident yesterday and he’s in a very serious condition in hospital. He might not make it. To complicate things, her partner’s father is now in hospital too.

Hold them in your prayers, thoughts and good wishes. And ask the universe for a miracle for these people.

And send them your love. Lots of love.

~Svasti xxx

-37.814251 144.963169

Sometimes…

16 Tuesday Jun 2009

Posted by Svasti in Learnings, Yoga

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

Dhanvantri, empowerment, Fear, Ganesha, Healing, malarkey, Prayers, Recovery, Sanskrit, Spirituality, Surrender, Transformation, Yoga, Yoga teacher

I think I’m just afraid of who I might actually be, when I’m finally done with all this being afraid malarkey.

When I allow all the knowledge I’ve learned (and continue to learn), to be grafted to the very marrow of my being.

When I’ve practiced to perfection the incredible meditations and other teachings I’ve been given. When they’re as natural as breathing – so much a part of me I don’t need to think about it.

I’m afraid of that person I’ll become.

And sometimes I think… it’s the one significant thing causing most of the pain in my life.

Even while writing this, I’m avoiding doing something else right this very moment. Something I should’ve done already and that other people are waiting for. Something that’d be good for me to do. And I will eventually, just not before I’ve put it off time and again.

Til I can’t stand it any more.

At least this time though, the distraction is much more honest, less convoluted.

I want to scream, and I want to cry and grieve. For the time I’ve spent veiling my awesome, powerful, motivated and very real Self away, and letting the freaked out junior would-be super hero run the show instead.

All so I don’t have to give up my excuses.

Of course, like that smoker who knows they need to stop, I’m not ready to give my excuses up yet. Just because I can see them for what they are, doesn’t mean I’m stopping.

I’m still enjoying the whole experience too much. It mightn’t be good for me, but it’s comfortable. And it’s what I know.

Its life-changing stuff y’know, getting the things you want most for yourself, instead of sacrificing and sabotaging your own life. At least, that’s the realisation I’m coming to.

Sunday, I was at my yoga school doing my remaining cleaning hours for the week (still need the money til I get paid the week after this one). As I cleaned, and when I wasn’t chanting various Sanskrit mantras to myself, my teacher’s recent words filled the empty room.

You see, I only signed up to do the Hatha yoga practitioner certificate this year, not the first year teacher training. Mostly because I didn’t feel like I was ready. Which, as it turns out, is just more hiding and excuses, really.

As we discussed various maintenance tasks, she turns to me and says I think you should do the teacher training. I want you to teach here and help with future teacher trainings. You’re way ahead of the others on philosophy and related topics and I think you’ve got things you can teach them.

Just like that. And yes, it’s something I want. Plus, I know I’m ready now…

There alone, sweeping the floors, I thought about standing at the front of that room and… I laughed, while I coincidentally sang the invocation to Ganesha, remover of obstacles…

Om Gananam tva / ganapating havamahe / kavinkavinam upamashravastamam / jyeshtharajam brahmanam brahmanaspata a nah / shrinvan nutibhih sida sadanam…

Yes, it’s what I want. But to get there… I’m gonna have to give up a few things I’m pretty sure I know as ‘fact’ about myself. But guess what? Apparently, all I have to do is keep going towards what I want.

The transformation will occur in the doing, not the wanting of the doing… this was the message/realisation I recieved while sweeping, singing and laughing.

Okay… so, I kept singing, this time Sri Dhanvantri’s (the lord of Ayurveda/healing) prayer. It’s my very favourite thing to chant because it resonates best I find, when you’re singing from the heart.

Om sankham chakram jaloukaam dadhad amruta gatam chaaru dorbhis chaturbhih / sookashma svachchhaati hridyaam sukha pari vilasan moulim amboja netram //

kaala ambha uda ujjjvalaangam kati tata vilasad chaaru peetaambaraadhyam / vande Dhanvantarim tam nikhila gada vana prouda daavaagni leelam //

I still have my excuses and I’m holding on tight. For now anyway. I’m not even going to attempt to break them down just yet. As long as I keep moving in the right direction, then I reckon… its all good.

~Svasti

Yoga, Awards & Bushfires

11 Wednesday Feb 2009

Posted by Svasti in Awards, Life

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

blog award, bush fires, CFA, Ganesha, Hatha yoga, Nataraj, Prayers, Yoga

Yoga…

So, last night I went to my first class at the yoga school where I’ll be studying this year.

Lovely school, got to meet the principal and one of the yoga teachers who’ll be around for parts of the training. Her class was a lovely mix of Vinyasa, Hatha and Iyengar styles and very enjoyable.

There’s beautiful art on the walls – a painted Nataraj here, a Ganesha there, a Kali yantra over the other side… books that I recognise and rate line the hallway, too.

There’s an orientation on 21st Feb, and then we commence the following Saturday. Yay! 🙂

Bloggy award goodness

Okay, so the other day, Holly from Earth to Holly gave me a blog award, which I’ve duly posted on my awards page (things were getting a little cluttered in the side bar).

As I mentioned to Holly, I’ve got a kinda ‘hybrid’ approach to these things.

Don’t wanna offend those doing the offering (so I say thanks and accept them, coz its lovely!), but also get a bit exhausted thinking of blogs I haven’t passed an award on to. Stopped doing so after my second or third one I think! So, if I’m feeling inspired I’ll give them out as and when…

Victoria’s bushfires

Last, but definitely far from least – I wanted to mention the horribleness that are the bushfires Australia is currently experiencing. Most of them are occuring in the state of Victoria (where I live) and so far, they’ve claimed at least 183 lives.

I am safe – don’t live anywhere near the regions they are occuring in. And unlike the fires that encircled Sydney some years ago, from Melbourne we can’t even smell the smoke, the sky above us isn’t red and there’s nothing other than the dreadful photos to show us how bad it really is.

Sadly, it seems that a number of fires were started by people. Deliberately lit. Then with the 46C day we had last Saturday with hellish winds, there’s so many people who just never stood a chance.

There’s an incredibly vivid piece of journalism in The Australian (a rather decent newspaper here) – written by a journalist who actually fought for his house and the lives of his family. Worth a read.

Of those who survived the fire, so many families have lost everything. These fires have wiped out whole towns in country Victoria.

If you’ve got a spare coin or two, there’s plenty of ways you can donate – such as the Australian Red Cross or the Salvation Army.

But if you can’t afford to send money, spread the word to those who can and also send your thoughts and prayers. Anything is good at a time like this.

**UPDATE** Check out these pictures, which show in graphic detail the nastiness of the fires…

~Svasti

People watching, Chapter 2

11 Tuesday Nov 2008

Posted by Svasti in Learnings

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Bali, Bali Bombers, Bigotry, Compassion, Death penality, Execution, Minority groups, People watching, Prayers, Racism, Xenophobia

So… several weeks ago I get in a cab when the bus system’s let me down once again. That’ll be a $20 trip thanks very much!

I tell the very dark-skinned, heavily accented Indian driver where I’m going.

Seriously and without a trace of irony he says: Oh that’s a very dangerous part of town, there are a lot of black people there!

Really, I say looking him squarely in his deep brown eyes, I don’t see that as a problem.

He looks surprised, waits a beat, then asks me where my husband is. What husband, I say. He starts flirting with me.

*****

Today I jump on the train. The first seat I sit in is opposite a scruffy looking man, who looks terribly excited that I’m about to sit next to him. A nanosecond of deliberation later and I decide to sit there anyway. That’s until I realise I’m surrounded by a reasonable collection of half-empty food containers he’s sprawled everywhere. Sorry mate…

Looking for an empty seat I move to the next carriage. My brief but peaceful reverie is interrupted as I listen to a deaf man abusing an impeccably dressed Sikh. Apparently he was ‘looking at him funny’ – who knows if that’s the case? The deaf man mumbles his enraged insults whilst the Sikh silently watches, waiting for his tormentor to get off the train.

*****

Don’t you love it when a member of one minority group gives hell to another?

At what point does xenophobia become dangerous?

*****

Speaking of minority groups, around 200 people (80-odd Australians) were killed and around 200 injured in the 2002 Bali Bombings. Five years later, and I am sickened all over again when the perpetually unrepentant bombers are executed.

Australians have reacted with typically mixed emotions – some celebrated, others think it makes no difference. No one can judge the reactions of another. There have been suggestions that somehow the deaths of the bombers will be a deterrent to others considering similar heinous acts. Um… tell that to a suicide bomber already.

Perhaps its controversial, but I’m opposed to the death penalty no matter who we’re killing…

My heart bled and still bleeds for all those who were killed and injured in that horrible event. I feel the pain of the beautiful Balinese people, as they had kin who were taken and have suffered financially for many years from the resulting downturn in tourism. And my heart bleeds also for those who planned this act of hatred against other human beings.

And so when I learned the news of their deaths, I prayed.

  • For those taken, for those left behind. Those who have suffered from this incident. For them I wish for closure and healing.
  • For the families of the bombers, may they not feel the need to seek revenge.
  • And for the executed men, that their energy bodies are purified in the after-death state. That they finally understand they are no different from those they have killed. That they release hatred and fear. And that they take a better re-birth, free from the samskaras that plauged them in this lifetime.

Om Tryambakam Yajamahe
Sugandhim Pushtivardhanam
Urvarukamiva Bandhanan
Mrityor Mukshiya Maamritat
Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti

(We Meditate on the Three-eyed reality
Which permeates and nourishes all like a fragrance
May we be liberated from death for the sake of immortality
Even as the cucumber is severed from bondage to the creeper
Om, Peace, Peace, Peace)
~Mahamrityunjaya Mantra

~Svasti

Dear Andre

28 Sunday Sep 2008

Posted by Svasti in The Aftermath, Unspoken Conversations

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Anger, Assault, Letter, Prayers, Revenge, Revenge Girl, Suffering, Violence

Since you were in my life, much has changed. Have you? Do you still hit women when you lose control? Did you ever acknowledge to yourself that you have a problem with your anger? How have you reconciled your actions with the fact that you have children – daughters? Would you hit them? What would you do if someone else hit them?

Are you sorry for what you did? You have no way of knowing, ofcourse, just how far reaching the effects were. Do you even remember what happened or have you conveniently ‘forgotten’?

If I ever saw you again, I’d be split neatly in two.

There’s a part of me that hopes I’d have an iron bar handy. I’d crash it down hard over your head before you had the chance to see me. Then I’d look at you, lying on the ground bleeding and I wouldn’t feel sorry at all. I’d smile, and I’d say – I finally got you back, you complete bastard. I hope you have long term damage that makes you remember this day for the rest of your life. I hope you suffer. I hope it really hurts. Then I’d kick you in the balls and I’d leave.

Down, Revenge Girl, down!

The other part of me would probably avoid you. Stand in the shadows so you couldn’t see me and observe. You’d probably look all happy go-lucky and chilled out. You’d probably be trying to scam charm someone out of something. There would be no signs of the ugly beast I met that night. Because that’s what you look like when you’re out of control and you don’t like anyone to see that… I’d feel weird, perhaps sick. But I’d breathe, I’d scan myself to see how I was feeling and I probably wouldn’t know til much later.

If I was confronted with you face-to-face… I’d want to be all yogic and compassionate and non-reactive. But I don’t know for sure that I could. I’d probably push past you. I wouldn’t want to talk to you. Revenge Girl would still want to hit you with something. Or tell people – hey, this guy beats up women. Just so you’d know that other people know of your shame.

You never knew it, but Revenge Girl had the chance to do a couple of things at the time you hit me.

Your ex-partner and the one before that? They knew what you did because I told them. Your ex put me in touch with the ex before her, too. I spoke to them both and suggested they reconsider access rights to their kids. I don’t know if they did, but at least they know how dangerous you are. Your ex-partner definitely restricted access for a little while, I know that much.

And the job you used to have drumming at the club we met at? If you’re wondering why they never hired you again, it’s because I contacted them. I gave them pictures of my face and my door and the AVO I took out to keep you away from me. It was me – I took that job away from you. I knew it would hurt you financially.

I’m not sorry for doing those things. It doesn’t go anywhere towards healing what I’ve been through but it satisfies a small part of me that wants you to suffer.

If you do ever see me in the street, you probably won’t recognise me. The weight of what happened has altered the way I look. But if you do know it’s me, then just stay away. There’s nothing you could tell me that would make it alright.

I do pray though. For both of us.

I pray that you attain some humility to counter your egoity. I pray that you learn to self-nurture so you don’t feel the need to strike out. I pray that you learn what its like to feel afraid – not so that you suffer, but that you learn what it is to be terrified all day, every day.

Most of all, I pray you never hit anyone ever again. And that your life remains completely separate and apart from mine.

And for myself I pray that one day, your name is no more than a wispy ghostly memory, that night remembered in wisdom and learnings, but not in terror. And your eyes – that I never see them again.

~Svasti

The pain, the pain

24 Wednesday Sep 2008

Posted by Svasti in Spirituality

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Bangkok, Brahma, Broken bones, Erawin Shrine, Ganesha, Incense, Ink, Loei, Mantra, Offerings, Pain, Pappy Ganet, Prayers, Puja, red eye, Senses, Sukhumvit, Tattoo, Thai tattoo

En-masse, the people of this world have an aversion to pain. Its part of the survival mechanism, is it not?

From my experience I think physical pain is easier to deal with than mental pain. That’s possibly influenced by the five times in my life where I’ve broken bones (eight in total). Plus the multiple sports injuries and operations (too many to count). Not to mention a bone graft. I feel like I can get to know physical pain. I understand what makes it better or worse. I can see when I’m getting better. Compared to years of depression and trauma, physical injuries are a cake walk.

Yet it’s amusing to think that I was afraid of getting a tattoo for years because I thought it would hurt.

Though perhaps, I was just waiting for the right one. I never wanted a rose or some arbitrary design I’d eventually grow to dislike. I hadn’t seen anything that got my attention until my Guru took his shirt off on our 2007 retreat in the US.

He had a huge Thai Singha Lion in the middle of his back and I was very attracted to the design, the style and energy of it. Very. Like, purrrr… over a tattoo.

At this year’s retreat word went ’round: we had a chance to go and see the man (Arjan Tong) who’d done my Guru’s ink after retreat. WOW!

There was a lot of interest but my Guru didn’t want all and sundry going, especially if it added to anyone’s idea of themselves as “spiritual”.

He surveyed those who put their hands up, asked questions where he thought people were kidding themselves.

I thought you already had a tattoo, he says. I say nope! He nods. That was the extent of his questions for me.

In the end there were two groups of five to go on different days.

It was important to bring offerings, not just money. In fact, we’d been asked not to pay more than 500 baht ($17AUD) so as not to risk insulting him even though it wasn’t a lot to us. But if we brought rice, flowers, fruit, sweets – that would be respectful and well received.

We took a Thai “red eye” bus overnight from Loei to Bangkok. Not recommended. There was scant time or room for sleep as we poured into a friend’s tiny unit to shower and change. And a little meditation and prayer. Aum namah sivaya.

Somehow we flagged a cab in peak hour on Sukhumvit and we were off to the outskirts of Bangkok. Somewhere!

An hour later (thanks Bangkok traffic) and a few wrong turns, we’d arrived. We wouldn’t have known we were there except for a tiny Thai lady who walked up to our cab and almost dragged us out, beckoning us down an ordinary looking lane way. Left turn into a two-man aisle.

Walking past the backs of people’s places, or was that the front? At the end of the lane was a red gate with a red embossed trishul.

Through the door, past people waiting, a sharp right turn and up rickety stairs.

Whoah! The room is alive. Its clear puja (ceremony) has just been completed with the offerings and incense spread under the wall to ceiling altar.

Puja offerings at the altar

In fact the whole room is an altar. My heart is running a mile a minute, the back of my skull feeling like it’s been removed and is expanding dramatically. Wait, I know this feeling from my meditation practices…

We’re sitting on the floor, remembering to take everything they offer us (water, food) as we wait, so as not to be rude. All looking at each other, knowing eyes: This place is off the hook.

The altar is made up of statues and pictures, carvings and images. So many. Members of the tattoo lineage Arjan is a part of. We wait in near silence.

The monks arrive, giving us incense to make offerings. Pray to your god, they say. Everyone who comes in does this too, and soon there’s twenty or more sticks burning at the same time.

Our eyes burn as the incense is pumped around the room by a fan turned on to combat the extreme heat of the day. These are only minor distractions though.

One of Arjan’s students – a Thai man named David – speaks to us, helps us prepare. His English is excellent and he also talks to us about his own meditation practice.

An hour later Arjan himself appears. There’s no rushing this. His eyes light up when he sees our offerings, particularly the rice. He takes his snuff, makes his preparations. This is a ritual folks!

We all jostle nervously – most of us want to go first, deferring to each other. The order changed again. We are all a little bit afraid, but it was something we want regardless. I’ve been told it’s gonna hurt like crazy but I don’t care.

My eyes feel as large as saucers, the back of my head and my spine are expanding. No longer limited to what I generally consider the bounds of my body.

I end up going third. I kneel, placing my money in the polystyrene offering plate decorated with orchids. David and I talk about what I want – not that its necessarily what you’ll get! David translates Arjan’s words back to me – we’ll give you a lovely figure design, everyone will love you. No, I want to have love for all beings, I protest. Well, when you love everyone, then everyone loves you.

I lean forward and hug my knees to my chest. I have to stay as covered as possible. Three men stretch my skin, pulling it taut like a canvass. Arjan draws freehand to guide his work. Then takes the long old fashioned spear and dips it in ink. I relax. He starts and I think – this isn’t any worse than pricking your finger when sewing. And I’d done plenty of that!

This wasn’t pain, not really. But even when it felt a little sharp at times, through breathing it was possible to relax that and remain in the moment. Guruji had spoken to us about zoning out, and I didn’t want to do that.

Smelling the incense, feeling hands and the spear on me, seeing nothing externally as I closed my eyes and meditated, hearing Thai conversations of Arjan with the men around me and the whisperings of my fellow yogis. Tasting the sweat rolling down my face.

David is instructed to give me a mantra to repeat silently until Arjan is finished. When he’s done Arjan prays over his work, tangibly putting some serious energy into it. I turn and bow. I’m given another mantra that I now must do before each meal, three times a day. Every day. Good thing I like ritual!

The remaining two people in our party have their tattoos done as well. We’re all ecstatic!

We bow our thanks when the last of us is done, and farewell the now very crowded room. This time we get a cab to the closest BTS station and train it back to central Bangkok, which is much faster.

I can feel my tattoo. It doesn’t hurt and it barely bleeds, unlike western ones. But it pulses warmth and energy. It radiates and opens. There’s a sense of bliss. We go and visit Erawin Shrine (the wish fulfilling Brahma) and the Pappy Ganet (Ganesha) shrine before finding our hotels for the night.

I know some of my friends had the same experience as me – that it wasn’t painful at all. But others (including the guys) found it almost unbearable.

And I wonder. What is this thing called pain? Why does the same experience cause different levels of suffering for different people?

Is it just that some people have had more dealings with pain, and therefore their tolerance increases? Is it transferrable? Because I’ve had so much physical AND mental pain, does that mean that things phase me less and less? I don’t think I’m less sensitive, in fact I think I’m very sensitive. But perhaps I am less-so in some ways?

Does it also mean its harder for someone to reach in and really touch my heart?

~Svasti

-37.814251 144.963169

Did you hear that?

03 Wednesday Sep 2008

Posted by Svasti in Spirituality

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Jobs, Moving, Pray, Prayers, Psychic, Universe, Voices

On a blog where I’m being very open about my struggles with mental stability, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to talk about the little voices I hear in my head. But what the heck!

I’m not talking about the kind of inner voice we all possess. You know – damn I’m hungry…. wow he’s cute!…. stupid itchy ear…. shit, I have to get some toilet paper at the supermarket….

And so on. No, not that voice.

I mean the type of voice that doesn’t appear to belong to me; it’s more like a wise old friend who knows WAY more than I ever will. But ofcourse, it probably is my voice after all. I think it’s my intuition actually. Kind of like an expanded version of the ‘gut feel’ many people will intermittently pay attention to.

Except that when you start to pay attention to that feeling more regularly, it gets louder. It says more – with words, not just a feeling. Possibly the next phase in developing one’s intuition is being able to call on that voice whenever you need it. But for now, its still hit and miss. I don’t always hear it clearly, and it’s not always there when I need it.

It is much easier to ‘hear’ when I’m in calm, non-stressful situations. Mostly anyway. Or perhaps just when I’m more open. Less closed.

And I think this voice is a part of the ‘kind-of’ psychic abilities I mentioned in a previous post.

I realise this can all sound kind of weird… but actually my whole blog is weird, right? I mean, it’s not exactly your feel good laugh-a-minute epistle, is it?? The readers of these posts are free to be with me on this or think I’m nuts on anything I write. I don’t care. But this is how it is for me.

And, also because I think tonight I’ve managed to pluck a couple of cohesive messages out, even though I am living somewhat under duress at present (no job, no home, living with the parents etc).

And the message received is part of the answer to my recent prayers around – what the hell are my next steps anyway?

Whilst I was in Thailand, I felt all empowered by my stance of quitting my job, packing my things into storage and buggering off to follow my spiritual pursuits.

Interestingly, I seemed to be asked the same kinds of question over and over again by my friends/fellow yogis:

So what are you going to do next?

Are you going to move?

Why don’t you move back to Sydney?

Why don’t you move to San Fran?

Hey, you could move to Thailand for a while and work here!

To summarise, the general theory seemed to be: M O V E!!!

Everyone seemed to have suggestions for me, ideas on what I could do with myself. Perhaps it was this that precipitated a minor meltdown when I realised the gravity of what I’d done – pretty much erased all the structures in my life.

And not in my early 20’s, but mid 30’s – a time when most ‘sensible’ people are thinking of settling down. Buying that house. Having those kids. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

All of my yogi friends were super-pleased for me ofcourse. It’s great to retain flexibility of mind throughout your life and show detachment from material things. Other friends and family have had mixed reactions (horror, concern, happiness) which I’ve done my best to ignore.

So I prayed a lot. Right here, actually… at our Bodhi tree (the land came with a fully grown tree).

Our Bhodhi tree with traditional Thai spirit house

I still do. Prayer isn’t some sort of trademark of the mainstream religions. Prayer is conversing with… well, whatever you want to call it. God, your higher self, your guardian angel. I prayed and prayed, and haven’t gotten all the answers yet. I’m waiting on a sign, or signs.

I’m waiting to feel it in my bones before I know what I’m doing.

I guess the real issue for me is that I don’t have a clue. I have no answer on what I want to do next. The extent of my plans on returning to Australia included getting a job and getting some money together so I could once again have my own place.

But I knew, and I still know deep down inside, that change is not done with me yet. And it seems that even the simple plans I’ve had can’t go ahead with the assumptions I’ve been holding onto…

So back to what the voice said tonight.

It kind of went like this, although this isn’t a literal translation:

You can’t just pick up where you left off. Sure, get a job, but you can’t see it as permanent. Don’t go setting down roots here again. Perhaps you won’t have your own apartment again. Perhaps you need to consider sharing a place with someone. Don’t try to settle down.

Something like that.

See, I moved back to Melbourne (my home town) almost four years ago now. But it never really took. I love this city. It’s very liveable, very civilised and European in the inner city lifestyle. But it’s never felt like home since I got back here…

It doesn’t make much sense. I was born here and my family is here. In fact, the reason I moved back after living away for 12 years was family – my sister deciding to have kids actually.

But I still really, really get the sense of not belonging here. I’ve found it hard creating a new circle of friends again from scratch. I was assaulted. I broke my toe. Basically, except for the bit about spending more time with my family and baby niece, moving back to Melbourne has sucked dogs balls.

So whilst I was in Thailand, being confronted by the message of M O V E, I had no idea what that meant. Where I’m meant to move to. I still don’t. And as I’ve written before, I hate packing and moving in the worst possible way.

However, it seems I now know that I can’t think any sort of long term here in Melbourne. That much is clear.

So now, universe? Now, I know this…. can I have a fucking job please??

~Svasti

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