Yesterday I took myself off to the cinema to see Mrs Carey's Concert www.mrscareysconcert.com
The reviews didn't exaggerate. This Aussie documentary engaged me 110% from the opening moments till the very end, as truly good filmmaking does. And for the second time in recent months I realised just how rich the cinema experience is compared with DVD or TV. Or worse still, downloaded on a computer.
In the dark, with a big screen and surround sound, the guffaws, gasps and groans of other audience members heighten the pleasure. Yesterday, walking out into the bright sunshine and sharing my enjoyment with a complete stranger, a young musician, put the icing on the cake.
Months ago The King's Speech www.thekingsspeech.com affected me the same way. Even though I knew it would be available on DVD in the not too distant future, I chose to see it in the cinema.
To quote Lord David Puttnam's 2010 SPAA Conference address, “The unique cinema experience works on a multiplicity of levels.” www.spaa.org.au for his full transcript.
It was such a joy to sit in a crowded theatre and laugh along at the unexpected humour. And what filmmaking The King's Speech is. It's rare when absolutely everything works - screenplay, casting, directing, acting, music, editing, cinematography...
What made the experience even better was that my sister-in-law, Beth, accompanied me and we could share our enjoyment on the drive home, a rare occurrence in our busy lives.
I love a good story, one that nourishes the soul, and both films certainly do that.
As as aspiring filmmaker I rate both films 10 out of 10. My wish is that Suz and I produce features and docos as good as these through Murubakgira Productions. If that seems a bit cheeky, that's okay. Long ago I learnt a basic principle of Olympic Games target archery. If you aim high, you shoot high. If you aim low, you shoot low. I'm sure Mrs Carey would agree. And, whatever else you do, remember the 10s, the perfect scores.
So do yourself a favour, go to the nearest cinema and enjoy Mrs Carey's Concert before it's too late.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
To car or not to car, that is the question.
Santa brought me a car. And I am very grateful.
Ever since my ageing Suzuki died nine years ago I have, out of necessity, used public transport. I figured it was time to walk my talk and have as light a carbon footprint as possible, but what I hadn't bargained for was that using public transport was sheer hard work. Except in Sydney, where trains leave Kings Cross station every 10 minutes, so I could travel around with ease. On the Sunshine Coast there were no buses to my destination after 7pm, a factor which was extremely limiting to a vibrant social life.
Now I don't have my head in the sand. I do make the connection that there's a 95%+ chance that droughts, floods and extreme weather events like cyclone Yasi are the result of global warming as a result of humanity's lifestyle choices. Clearing tree cover, coal fired electricity, emissions from cars are just some of the causes. Water temperatures in the Coral Sea in 2010/2011 are something like 20 higher than in previous decades. Result. A very wet east Australian east coast. A flood and cyclone ravaged Queensland, my home state.
Now I am contributing to global warming simply by driving my own car. Yikes! Not a comforting thought. But driving makes my life so much easier and I can be more effective. So how am I going to minimise my car carbon footprint?
Firstly, I am committed to following the Permaculture principle that everything I undertake must have three uses. So every journey must have at least three uses. A wee bit of strategic planning is required. I'll simply have to think of it as a game. The footprint game.
Secondly, I need to take responsibility for finding ways to offset my footprint. I know that by simply taking responsibility all my needs will be met, as if by magic. Eat your heart out Harry Potter!
Thirdly, because I am committed to having a super business head, I need to make each dollar go further.
As a treehugger, my initial response was to donate to enable the planting of trees. Just as I was pondering this option I met up with my friend Shivanii Cameron again at Bunya Dreaming. Shivanii, a talented filmmaker, is responsible for a project in India, an orphanage for “untouchable” children, a school educating 300 children and a micro finance project enabling the purchase of organic seeds. The village is poor, but has an amazing headman, Tinku, who has teamed with Shivani to enable sustainable change. And the Hinterland community of Maleny, where Shivani lives, has embraced the cause. For more check out Prabhat Alloi Facebook page
I sensed a huge connection here. Alleviating third world poverty reduces harmful emissions. It's a no brainer. So my $50 donation went to Prabhat Alloi Foundation. This way, as well as offsetting my carbon footprint, the money is enabling Shivanii to pursue her life purpose and benefiting an entire village in a third world country.
Phew! That's the Permaculture three taken care of. For January and February that is.
Ever since my ageing Suzuki died nine years ago I have, out of necessity, used public transport. I figured it was time to walk my talk and have as light a carbon footprint as possible, but what I hadn't bargained for was that using public transport was sheer hard work. Except in Sydney, where trains leave Kings Cross station every 10 minutes, so I could travel around with ease. On the Sunshine Coast there were no buses to my destination after 7pm, a factor which was extremely limiting to a vibrant social life.
Now I don't have my head in the sand. I do make the connection that there's a 95%+ chance that droughts, floods and extreme weather events like cyclone Yasi are the result of global warming as a result of humanity's lifestyle choices. Clearing tree cover, coal fired electricity, emissions from cars are just some of the causes. Water temperatures in the Coral Sea in 2010/2011 are something like 20 higher than in previous decades. Result. A very wet east Australian east coast. A flood and cyclone ravaged Queensland, my home state.
Now I am contributing to global warming simply by driving my own car. Yikes! Not a comforting thought. But driving makes my life so much easier and I can be more effective. So how am I going to minimise my car carbon footprint?
Firstly, I am committed to following the Permaculture principle that everything I undertake must have three uses. So every journey must have at least three uses. A wee bit of strategic planning is required. I'll simply have to think of it as a game. The footprint game.
Secondly, I need to take responsibility for finding ways to offset my footprint. I know that by simply taking responsibility all my needs will be met, as if by magic. Eat your heart out Harry Potter!
Thirdly, because I am committed to having a super business head, I need to make each dollar go further.
As a treehugger, my initial response was to donate to enable the planting of trees. Just as I was pondering this option I met up with my friend Shivanii Cameron again at Bunya Dreaming. Shivanii, a talented filmmaker, is responsible for a project in India, an orphanage for “untouchable” children, a school educating 300 children and a micro finance project enabling the purchase of organic seeds. The village is poor, but has an amazing headman, Tinku, who has teamed with Shivani to enable sustainable change. And the Hinterland community of Maleny, where Shivani lives, has embraced the cause. For more check out Prabhat Alloi Facebook page
I sensed a huge connection here. Alleviating third world poverty reduces harmful emissions. It's a no brainer. So my $50 donation went to Prabhat Alloi Foundation. This way, as well as offsetting my carbon footprint, the money is enabling Shivanii to pursue her life purpose and benefiting an entire village in a third world country.
Phew! That's the Permaculture three taken care of. For January and February that is.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Christmas Revisited
Dear Santa
Thank you so much for the car which arrived on New Year's Eve! Wow! Having a hotline to the North Pole is really great. Imagine being given a car! (And no, it's not the car in the photo. that's number one daughter's Smart car which I lust after.)
In January I used my “not very pretty” Laser to visit family and friends, have fantastic “wimmin's space” with some like minded women, attend the doco GasLand with business colleagues intent on developing and marketing clean, green energy, and drive some friends to the Bunya Dreaming to enjoy our local Indigenous culture and be reminded of all things sustainable.
And it was all just so easy. No more tedious hours spent on 2 or 3 buses, to arrive at a destination less than 30 minutes away.
Still to figure out the most effective way to offset my car carbon footprint, but I'm getting there.
So thank you again Santa for my not very pretty car. I know a swan when I see one.
Love and laughter
Barbara
Thank you so much for the car which arrived on New Year's Eve! Wow! Having a hotline to the North Pole is really great. Imagine being given a car! (And no, it's not the car in the photo. that's number one daughter's Smart car which I lust after.)
In January I used my “not very pretty” Laser to visit family and friends, have fantastic “wimmin's space” with some like minded women, attend the doco GasLand with business colleagues intent on developing and marketing clean, green energy, and drive some friends to the Bunya Dreaming to enjoy our local Indigenous culture and be reminded of all things sustainable.
And it was all just so easy. No more tedious hours spent on 2 or 3 buses, to arrive at a destination less than 30 minutes away.
Still to figure out the most effective way to offset my car carbon footprint, but I'm getting there.
So thank you again Santa for my not very pretty car. I know a swan when I see one.
Love and laughter
Barbara
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Not All Muslims Are Terrorists
Last October I awoke to a freezing cold Sat morning. It had snowed on the Blue Mountains the previous night and the gale force winds had closed all but one runway at Sydney airport. Undaunted, I ventured out in the chilly wind to my favourite curio shop in Woolloomooloo, in search of a present for Number One Daughter.
Initially I was disappointed. The terrace house had been sold and Somi, the delightful store owner, was downsizing. Though I couldn't see a potential present among the remaining bric a brac, a pair of pine trestles definitely winked at me. I was seriously in love. I'd wanted a trestle table for years, but an eco chic one, something sustainable, recycled rather than Ikea.
Somi agreed to sell the trestles, as long as he could use them for two more Saturdays for his moving sale. He was highly amused, wondering how on earth I was going to transport them back to Queensland. After all, they weren't exactly carry on luggage, though they would fit behind the surfboard in Sam's apartment until I could find a solution.
Later that morning I asked myself, “What's the easiest and cheapest way to get the trestles back to Queensland?” To my surprise the answer came immediately. “Go on www.gumtree.com.au and find someone who'd appreciate some petrol money when driving to Queensland.”
And so it was that just before Christmas the trestles were delivered by Imran Khan, a young man from Pakistan. To my surprise and absolute delight, he refused my offer of petrol money. “I am Muslim,” he said. I nodded. I'd already figured that much. “My wish is to show Westerners that not all Muslims are terrorists.” His kindness and intention radiated from him. Here was a true Muslim.
I told Imran I had studied philosophy and comparative religion on and off since my teens and been reading about Islam for many years. I was definitely on his wavelength, in absolute awe at the power of intention. His and mine.
After all, in 2010 my favourite book was the inspiring Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Promote Peace One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. Check out www.threecupsoftea.com
Now every time I look at the trestles I grin, thinking of Somi and Imran, two delightful young men who have enriched my journey in different ways, and I am reminded of peace and sustainability, for without these the human race will not survive.
So the elders tell me and I believe them.
Barbara Carseldine
10th January 2011
watertools@gmail.com
Initially I was disappointed. The terrace house had been sold and Somi, the delightful store owner, was downsizing. Though I couldn't see a potential present among the remaining bric a brac, a pair of pine trestles definitely winked at me. I was seriously in love. I'd wanted a trestle table for years, but an eco chic one, something sustainable, recycled rather than Ikea.
Somi agreed to sell the trestles, as long as he could use them for two more Saturdays for his moving sale. He was highly amused, wondering how on earth I was going to transport them back to Queensland. After all, they weren't exactly carry on luggage, though they would fit behind the surfboard in Sam's apartment until I could find a solution.
Later that morning I asked myself, “What's the easiest and cheapest way to get the trestles back to Queensland?” To my surprise the answer came immediately. “Go on www.gumtree.com.au and find someone who'd appreciate some petrol money when driving to Queensland.”
And so it was that just before Christmas the trestles were delivered by Imran Khan, a young man from Pakistan. To my surprise and absolute delight, he refused my offer of petrol money. “I am Muslim,” he said. I nodded. I'd already figured that much. “My wish is to show Westerners that not all Muslims are terrorists.” His kindness and intention radiated from him. Here was a true Muslim.
I told Imran I had studied philosophy and comparative religion on and off since my teens and been reading about Islam for many years. I was definitely on his wavelength, in absolute awe at the power of intention. His and mine.
After all, in 2010 my favourite book was the inspiring Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Promote Peace One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. Check out www.threecupsoftea.com
Now every time I look at the trestles I grin, thinking of Somi and Imran, two delightful young men who have enriched my journey in different ways, and I am reminded of peace and sustainability, for without these the human race will not survive.
So the elders tell me and I believe them.
Barbara Carseldine
10th January 2011
watertools@gmail.com
Monday, December 20, 2010
A CHRISTMAS LETTER
Dear Santa
Save me from your followers. Puleese. That's all I ask.
Peace and joy,
Barbara
PS. On second thoughts, perhaps you could bring me more dragonflies to eat the sandflies which arrived last weekend after the recent rain. Dragonflies are my totem you know, so my Indigenous friends tell me. “Aunty” Kathy Murphy and the beautiful Suzanne Thompson of Gin~Murun~Gari taught me the dragonfly dance when we camped in the bush a few years ago. Don't suppose there are dragonflies at the North Pole, too cold.
Save me from your followers. Puleese. That's all I ask.
Peace and joy,
Barbara
PS. On second thoughts, perhaps you could bring me more dragonflies to eat the sandflies which arrived last weekend after the recent rain. Dragonflies are my totem you know, so my Indigenous friends tell me. “Aunty” Kathy Murphy and the beautiful Suzanne Thompson of Gin~Murun~Gari taught me the dragonfly dance when we camped in the bush a few years ago. Don't suppose there are dragonflies at the North Pole, too cold.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
The Power of One
Andrew Forrest is a West Australian mining magnate who grew up in the bush. He was mentored by a Indigenous stockman and values their culture and wisdom. As a result in 2010 the Australian Employment Covenant (AEC) was formed. Www.fiftythousandjobs.com.au is an initiative aimed at securing 50,000 sustainable jobs for Indigenous Australians. It works along side Generation One to end disparity between Indigenous and non Indigenous Australians in one generation. Www.GenerationOne.org.au Andrew Forrest is making a difference.
My friend Shivanii Cameron is not a magnate, mining or otherwise. A documentary maker and teacher, she operates on a shoestring budget. Yet I consider her one of the richest women I know. About the same time as Andrew Forrest formed AEC, Shivani said “Yes” to starting an orphanage for 7 “Untouchable” children in India. Months later there is an orphanage, a school for 300 and teachers, a microfinance system for farmers wishing to buy seed to grow organic food and a village pump. That was the last time I checked. Like Andrew Forrest, Shivanii saw a weakness and looked for a solution.
Shivanii let her network of friends know she was helping to set up an orphanage and it snowballed from there. The fundraising efforts in and around the Sunshine Coast hinterland community of Maleny have put the fun into fundraising for the Prabhat Alloi Foundation. Check the latest on http://prabhatalloi.blogspot.com
Bicycles for Humanity is another great story of what can be achieved. For poverty stricken AIDS workers in Africa a bicycle can make a huge difference. And there are so many unused bicycles in wealthy countries around the world. Someone somewhere made the connection. Check out www.bicycles-for-humanity.org It is also another example of, “Just begin and the ways will open up.”
And then there is my sister-in-law Beth, who read about a Brisbane grandmother, mother and daughter who were homeless. They found assistance through 139 Club in Fortitude Valley. Beth visited the welfare centre for the homeless and learnt what they needed most were winter slippers and pyjamas for children. She emailed her friends who contributed enough to cover both winter and summer needs for the children catered to by 139 Club.
There are so many good power of one stories out there. I just wanted to share these that are particularly close to my heart right now.
Barbara Carseldine
watertools@gmail.com
www.knowingwater.com
10th November 2010
My friend Shivanii Cameron is not a magnate, mining or otherwise. A documentary maker and teacher, she operates on a shoestring budget. Yet I consider her one of the richest women I know. About the same time as Andrew Forrest formed AEC, Shivani said “Yes” to starting an orphanage for 7 “Untouchable” children in India. Months later there is an orphanage, a school for 300 and teachers, a microfinance system for farmers wishing to buy seed to grow organic food and a village pump. That was the last time I checked. Like Andrew Forrest, Shivanii saw a weakness and looked for a solution.
Shivanii let her network of friends know she was helping to set up an orphanage and it snowballed from there. The fundraising efforts in and around the Sunshine Coast hinterland community of Maleny have put the fun into fundraising for the Prabhat Alloi Foundation. Check the latest on http://prabhatalloi.blogspot.com
Bicycles for Humanity is another great story of what can be achieved. For poverty stricken AIDS workers in Africa a bicycle can make a huge difference. And there are so many unused bicycles in wealthy countries around the world. Someone somewhere made the connection. Check out www.bicycles-for-humanity.org It is also another example of, “Just begin and the ways will open up.”
And then there is my sister-in-law Beth, who read about a Brisbane grandmother, mother and daughter who were homeless. They found assistance through 139 Club in Fortitude Valley. Beth visited the welfare centre for the homeless and learnt what they needed most were winter slippers and pyjamas for children. She emailed her friends who contributed enough to cover both winter and summer needs for the children catered to by 139 Club.
There are so many good power of one stories out there. I just wanted to share these that are particularly close to my heart right now.
Barbara Carseldine
watertools@gmail.com
www.knowingwater.com
10th November 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
It's All In A Name
I have spent the day phoning around to find an adventurous soul to Executive Produce the film. The EP is the one who opens the doors for the money to flow, so they are very important cogs in the risky business of filmmaking. I am constantly amazed and delighted by how accessible and generous film people are.
After a fruitful and exciting day I need to wind down, not that it was particularly stressful as days go. Have you ever seen the Foxtel show Relocation, Relocation? That's the story of my life today. Having psyched myself up to leave the delights of sleepy Golden Beach and relocate down here, I find myself following my intuition and saying yes to moving to Brisbane next week instead, both for family and film reasons. Adapt, adapt, adapt.
So I take myself across the road to the Fountain Cafe. Sam's side of the road is upmarket Elizabeth Bay. The other side is Kings Cross. Instead of my daily walk, I will sit and enjoy the El Alamein Fountain. I'm hooked on all things water, as you may have noticed.
This is daylight saving at its best. I remember to breathe and slowly sip a chilled white wine and watch the passing parade. In the last month I have eaten at least two distinctly trendy cafes buzzing with life and beautiful people. Enough to know the customers here are not the trendy type. Rather they are simply locals enjoying a fine evening outdoors.
As we walked past the fountain recently, Sam reminded me of some family history I'd conveniently forgotten. Miss Four was seriously miffed because we adults did not take any notice when she likened the iconic fountain to a dandylion. And that is exactly what it looks like. A dandylion. A beautiful, watery dandylion.
The fountain was built to commemorate the battle of El Alamein in the Middle East in World War II. Pa, Sam's delightful grandfather, fought at El Alamein, and tonight he unexpectedly feels very close. He would be chuffed with today's decision. My father-in-law and I were great mates. As we worked outdoors on the farm he would tell me stories about the Middle East, before he met and married the beautiful Joan. He confided about war in the Western Desert, both the ugly and the funny, and his love life in occupied Syria. “Don't tell your mother,” he'd conclude. And I never did.
Does it ever strike you as odd that there are few monuments to our equally brave Aboriginees who were massacred by the European boat people? This is a sore point with some of my Indigenous acquaintances, and who can blame them.
Since my last visit I have read the hilarious Aunts Up The Cross by Robyn Dalton. Before her decrepit family home was demolished sometime after WW II, it stood on the very spot where the fountain is today. When my friends heard how much I enjoyed her book, they lent me Angel Puss by Colleen McCulloch, another good read about life here.
As I took a short cut along Kellett Street a couple of weeks ago I witnessed a very well dressed, forty-something man on his mobile phone, “If you don't pay me by tonight you will be in hospital tomorrow, with so many breaks in both your arms and legs you'd wish you were dead.” And he wasn't kidding. Needless to say I tried to make myself instantly invisible. Phew! I don't do Kellett Street any more.
Though it's obvious that the area has all been gentrified since Sam was a four year old, there's still enough local colour to show its underbelly occasionally.
Last Saturday the farmers' market took place beside the fountain in gale force, freezing winds which whipped little bits of “hair” of the huge old trees. The air was full of it. Personal experience has taught me that if you get ones of these little suckers in your throat it causes choking, like a severe asthma attack. Not pleasant. Much to my amusement, an enterprising young man from the local pharmacy was doing a roaring trade selling disposable face masks. So people went about their regular weekend activities adorned with masks. Strangely un-Australian it looked too.
This magnificent evening I enjoy the sense of place and nibble my way through a plate of nachos. The unexpectedly Asian take on the dish tickles my sense of humour. All the staff are of Asian cultural heritage which probably explains the lack of Mexican-ness. I wonder what their pizzas taste like.
But then so many things in Kings Cross are a little on the weird side. This is not good for real estate values it seems. From a real estate point of view it doesn't exist. The apartments for sale are in Potts Point, not Kings Cross, even though my Sydney guide book says Kings Cross and the railway station says Kings Cross.
It's all in a name.
Barbara Carseldine
watertools@gmail.com
www.knowingwater.com
After a fruitful and exciting day I need to wind down, not that it was particularly stressful as days go. Have you ever seen the Foxtel show Relocation, Relocation? That's the story of my life today. Having psyched myself up to leave the delights of sleepy Golden Beach and relocate down here, I find myself following my intuition and saying yes to moving to Brisbane next week instead, both for family and film reasons. Adapt, adapt, adapt.
So I take myself across the road to the Fountain Cafe. Sam's side of the road is upmarket Elizabeth Bay. The other side is Kings Cross. Instead of my daily walk, I will sit and enjoy the El Alamein Fountain. I'm hooked on all things water, as you may have noticed.
This is daylight saving at its best. I remember to breathe and slowly sip a chilled white wine and watch the passing parade. In the last month I have eaten at least two distinctly trendy cafes buzzing with life and beautiful people. Enough to know the customers here are not the trendy type. Rather they are simply locals enjoying a fine evening outdoors.
As we walked past the fountain recently, Sam reminded me of some family history I'd conveniently forgotten. Miss Four was seriously miffed because we adults did not take any notice when she likened the iconic fountain to a dandylion. And that is exactly what it looks like. A dandylion. A beautiful, watery dandylion.
The fountain was built to commemorate the battle of El Alamein in the Middle East in World War II. Pa, Sam's delightful grandfather, fought at El Alamein, and tonight he unexpectedly feels very close. He would be chuffed with today's decision. My father-in-law and I were great mates. As we worked outdoors on the farm he would tell me stories about the Middle East, before he met and married the beautiful Joan. He confided about war in the Western Desert, both the ugly and the funny, and his love life in occupied Syria. “Don't tell your mother,” he'd conclude. And I never did.
Does it ever strike you as odd that there are few monuments to our equally brave Aboriginees who were massacred by the European boat people? This is a sore point with some of my Indigenous acquaintances, and who can blame them.
Since my last visit I have read the hilarious Aunts Up The Cross by Robyn Dalton. Before her decrepit family home was demolished sometime after WW II, it stood on the very spot where the fountain is today. When my friends heard how much I enjoyed her book, they lent me Angel Puss by Colleen McCulloch, another good read about life here.
As I took a short cut along Kellett Street a couple of weeks ago I witnessed a very well dressed, forty-something man on his mobile phone, “If you don't pay me by tonight you will be in hospital tomorrow, with so many breaks in both your arms and legs you'd wish you were dead.” And he wasn't kidding. Needless to say I tried to make myself instantly invisible. Phew! I don't do Kellett Street any more.
Though it's obvious that the area has all been gentrified since Sam was a four year old, there's still enough local colour to show its underbelly occasionally.
Last Saturday the farmers' market took place beside the fountain in gale force, freezing winds which whipped little bits of “hair” of the huge old trees. The air was full of it. Personal experience has taught me that if you get ones of these little suckers in your throat it causes choking, like a severe asthma attack. Not pleasant. Much to my amusement, an enterprising young man from the local pharmacy was doing a roaring trade selling disposable face masks. So people went about their regular weekend activities adorned with masks. Strangely un-Australian it looked too.
This magnificent evening I enjoy the sense of place and nibble my way through a plate of nachos. The unexpectedly Asian take on the dish tickles my sense of humour. All the staff are of Asian cultural heritage which probably explains the lack of Mexican-ness. I wonder what their pizzas taste like.
But then so many things in Kings Cross are a little on the weird side. This is not good for real estate values it seems. From a real estate point of view it doesn't exist. The apartments for sale are in Potts Point, not Kings Cross, even though my Sydney guide book says Kings Cross and the railway station says Kings Cross.
It's all in a name.
Barbara Carseldine
watertools@gmail.com
www.knowingwater.com
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