Amber is the colour of the sun

 My spiritual journey started very young - my first memories start in primary school.  When I was nine years old to be exact.  We had just moved to Somerset, a small town in Tasmania's North West.  I distinctly remember having 'scripture classes' with an older man who talked a lot about 'sin' and 'hell'.  This would have put a lot of children off, but it fascinated me.  I liked the idea of people being punished for hurting me, or those I loved.  I used to pray to this God every time someone wronged me.  I would also often then feel guilty and tell God to cancel that prayer. Although I didn't know it at the time my favourite books - the Narnia series - were also deeply Christian.  I loved the lion Aslan who was both strong and loving.  When I realized that he was supposed to be a Christlike figure I felt confused.  I was strongly drawn to Aslan but I also had very negative views of what adults called 'organised religion'.  I oft...

 I would never wish my mental illness on my worst enemy.  It's the hardest thing that I have ever dealt with.  In fact there have been many times when I haven't wanted to be alive.  As well as this sometimes I have been incredibly self-destructive, hysterical and aggressive when in the acute stage of my illness.  And, even though mental illness has made me a better person, I would still rather be a bad person with good mental health than the other way around.  I'm just saying that there is a silver lining.  Well maybe not exactly silver.  Maybe a black canvas with speckles of white. Although I have struggled with depression since I was in my teens I was able to function normally.  I got good marks at school and University, had a wide range of friends and acquaintances and participated in a wide range of hobbies, with writing being my favourite hobby.  I wrote almost every day during my youth and young adulthood, and it brought me much jo...

Throughout my troubled years my Nanna, Bronwen Meredith, was both a soul mate and a mentor.   But it didn’t start like that.   Like olives my Nanna was an acquired taste. As a child I just thought she was weird.   Everyone else’s grandmothers were busy baking cookies and wearing pearls.   Mine went in protest marches.   In fact, she even spoke at the marches. She also wore terrible, boring clothes which, she told me proudly, she got from an op shop.   I did not want op shop clothes.   I wanted brightly coloured, brand new, feminine dresses that I could spin around in.   She had travelled the world feeding the hungry and giving justice to the oppressed.   I had no interest in any of that.   I just resented the fact that she wouldn’t supply me with chocolate, the way everyone else’s grandmother did. Eventually we found common ground in children’s books.   I loved reading and she knew lots about books.   She had been a schoo...