Tag: love

Reflections After Four Years of Marriage

All of the thinking I have done on the subject of this marriage, and happiness in general brings me back to one fundamental fact.

Love YOURSELF. The rest of the good shit sorta stems from this, and I never really got to experience any of that until I fell in Love with me. Which required a lot of alone time, some seriously shitty dating stories, and isolation for days, and at one point weeks at a time. But I fucking got there. And I want all the women of the world to embark on the same and most important love story of their lives. And it starts with YOU goddess…

So let me take you on one of my typically meandering journeys as we embark on our fourth year of wedded bliss.

Four years of marriage have wafted by.

Since I realized it was our anniversary yesterday, it seems I can’t stop thinking about the absolute clusterfuck my nervous system and survival instincts were in when we started dating.

Me and my namesake Goddess Dianna at the V&A? Maybe...

Chasing and placating people who clearly fucking hated me was how I rolled for a very long time. Not an uncommon trauma response considering the shit storm of a childhood and early adult life I trawled through. Unsafe people, trauma bonds, a total lack of self-preservation, and no desire or capacity to have or observe my own or others’ boundaries made the first 40 years of life pretty-fucking interesting.

Beautiful at times.

And absolutely exhausting.

It is an incomprehensible miracle I survived some of the very bad decisions unhealed me made. But I also got shit done. Fuck did I what. Unstoppable and without an off-switch for decades.

Cringe.

So. Some number of years after Steve and I split, I found myself pursued by plenty of suitors across the planet. I tended to fawn over the broken, beastly, mad-bad-and-dangerous-to-know types. Stable, suitable and sensible people generally didn’t last long on my dance card.

Then… There was Damon.

Damon made no secret of his intent or interest. He had been waiting in the wings nursing the wounds inflicted by his own catalogue of slings and arrows.

This blue-eyed beauty arrived with his own battle scars and PTSD from parenting, relationships and life.

And he implored me not to hurt him.

The dance of settling down and nervous systems synching was swift but undeniably bumpy in our first year or two together.

Thankfully, at some point, we kinda just became obsessed and content with each other.

And from that point, we have absolutely soared.

Somehow, we have built businesses, circled the globe, navigated the last throws of parenting prior to the much-anticipated empty nest phase. And there is nobody and nothing on the planet we crave or enjoy more than being in each other’s company. Regardless of where we are or what we are doing.

This anniversary Damon chopped wood.

He fields countless calls from contractors and choreographs work across our three properties/projects. We had his two sons on site at the retreat helping so I made them vegan bolognaise. While he kept his many plates spinning as he does nearly every single day, I ran errands. Had a flying but deeply satisfying visit with my friend Vanessa. Also had to bring our sick cat to and then from the vet after he likely ingested some poisoned rodent while skulking around the property. $980 vet bill, but it is the first time in 7 years this particular three-legged cat has needed a vet aside from his vaccines. We are so pleased he is on the mend.

So yeah, our life and romance is rather full of chaos and deadlines. But so much progress and creativity as well.

The seven children are all growing into very solid and interesting adults. Watching our ducklings fly the nest one by one has however absolutely not been the source of any great sadness. They are blossoming into beautifully complicated, generally funny, and genuinely decent human beings. They’re all in their own ways vastly superior to their parents in how they see and manage the world. Not a single one of them (not even YOU if you are reading this Stephanie) have their shit together, but they are all having a far superior journey through their teens and 20’s than I remember having. They know they are loved. That’s something that is not negotiable and I likely annoy my kids at least with reminding them just how proud and impressed I am by them.

Sometimes they struggle. Sometimes they soar. But, generally, they seem to appreciate us. They even jump at opportunities to spend time with us when the opportunity presents itself.

But oh my, we enjoy the gaps in our calendar that do not include ANY of the children in our orbit. They carry on with their lives and we check in digitally from time to time, but it is so nice to spend some stretches of time and space sans children.

I could talk ad nauseum about how divinely dedicated Damon is every fucking day. He stops to admire my face and stares with moist eyes at me every single morning. Several times a week he asks things like: “How can I show up more for you?” or “Well, will that make you happy?” and any number varieties of check ins to ensure he is being the best wife and lover on the planet for me. I only hope I show him how much I appreciate his incredible leadership skills, exacting standards, hopeless romanticism, and generally impressive capacity to be a good cunt.

But somehow, I think I want to talk about how none of us ought to settle for anything less than being safe, seen and happy in a relationship.

Women were conditioned for centuries to swallow cups of cold sick in our relationships with men and meekly ask for more.

None of that.

Get a pet, plant a garden and find a fantastic vibrator before you settle for or stay in any romantic situation where you are not adored for the goddess you are.

I guess the same stands true for men settling for unsupportive women – but that’s not really my field of work.

No relationship will be flawless. No pairing will be perfectly matched. No romance will be without sailing sluggishly through some doldrums, regardless of how fast and exhilarating the brisk sessions of movement may be.

But it ought not always be fucking hard.

If you do not feel seen, respected, or safe, you deserve more.

And perfectly lovely individuals can be with the wrong partner and become emotional brutes or the worst version of themselves, just because the chemistry is off, the timing is wrong, or it simply isn’t meant to be. There’s a point when we all know if things aren’t working, and that’s the point we owe it to ourselves, our partners, our dependents and the people who look to us for inspiration or guidance to call time on toxic, no matter how long you’ve been together or how good things once were.

While I can’t currently imagine the interdependent bubble of bliss bursting between Damon and I, our story only continues so long as Love, grace, joy, adventure, and respect is getting served and consumed in both directions.

And for that recipe to continue to successfully see us through, we sometimes need to disappear completely together.

So we have to jealously guard some serious Deemon time together. Being absolutely lost anywhere together without a soul who know us or a single solitary meeting or engagement on the agenda for a few days, well, that keeps us deeply attached, if not, continually obsessed with each other. It is our formula, and was also the formula that found me falling in Love with MY OWN DAMNED self several years ago. Being isolated in magical solitude is a powerful magic that works for me. I know that the idea of rattling around the globe without much of a plan would not appeal to everyone. Some would find it a vile and unfun option indeed.

But I guess that’s a good part of the puzzle. Fall in Love with you and allow the appropriate person with equal parts of adoration for your fine self, and similar interests and a capacity to enjoy the same shenanigans that support your happiness.

Yup.

That’s the magic right there.

First and absolutely non-negotiable.

Love you. Fall madly and deeply in Love with you so anyone who does not understand what a complete delight you are can FUCK OFF.

This is the only way to make yourself or someone else comfortable and complete in a coupled situation.

Once you’ve accomplished this, and either played the field or found yourself through sufficient meditation, abstinence, gardening, travel, or whatever you need to figure out that you are a complete and total delight. ONLY THEN can you partner with someone that Loves you too, and will enjoy doing the things you love to do.

Thank you for being wonderful Damon.

And thank you for reading if you’re still with me beloved observer!

XXOO

Struggling to Embrace Change

Writing is therapy for me.

I take the time to weave words and tell stories, tapping out tirades and taking the reader on a journey of authenticity that starts in my brain and ends here on the screen.

Today I have been trying to fashion a clear and cohesive plan for our myriad of projects, travels, and businesses.

Orchard and duck enclosure

Over on another channel I allowed the included AI facility to fashion a blog about regenerative mindset. It’s strange and when I read it felt somehow unhinged and detached. I posted it anyway, more as an experiment than anything.

Here’s the thing.

Everyone but me seems to be embracing this revolution. AI makes creating content, pulling together ideas, and shaping brands a much easier and clearly more voluminous prospect.

I fucking don’t trust it.

And…

Do not even get me started on Data centres. What kind of cretan thinks precious life-giving fresh water is better served cooling circuitry at a data farm that is moving us further toward the singularity or some post-apocolyptic matrix nightmare.

No fucking thank you. And what the actual fuck.

But what can I do? I am just one rage filled woman who dragged myself through the ashes of my own fucking personal hell. Only to rise like the divine, chubby, curious and creative creature I am and phoenix into a fucking beautiful existence where nearly nobody is ever allowed near me.

While that’s pretty cool, and I am eternally proud of my plucky little self, I am not in the habit of joining forces with too many other humans or collaborating these days.

So.

Clearly, I’m smart enough to know that anything and everything about me that has been posted on the Internet is somehow the property of the machine that is AI. I do not live in a cognitive dissonant world where I assume privacy or protection of any kind from the digital monster and the menagarei of megalomaniacal men encouraging the tsunami of shortcuts and simplifications.

But I don’t fucking like it.

How do I navigate this?

We are building a very low tech experience. We have to use social media and promote ourselves digitally, and of course AI is ensconced in many if not all of the digital tools we use, from booking platforms to editing software.

My darling children never spare my feelings and point out daily that I am actually a cunty hypocrite. They also admit that I do try to not be a cunty hypocrite, and actively stand my ground as a thinking, feeling human being in very strange and divisive times.

Lemme give you an example of not being cunty but still kinda being a cheeky cunt, which I must say I love about me.

Because we live in the CBD and travel a lot, we eat out a lot. When you eat out in 2026, you are often (or always) asked if you have any allergies or dietary requirements.

I do not have any religious or dietary requirements.

However.

Nearly every time I am asked this I volunteer this piece of personal infromation:

“I am deeply and importantly allergic to fascism.”

My 12 year old son, bless his earnest and lovely little socks, will volunteer that information if ever I forget.

This sentence has earned me several high fives. My first high five was actually at the Savoy in London at breakfast where the lovely and talented waitress did a double take. Paused. And said with a broad smile:

“Same actually.” And a magical high five moment was burned into my memory.

I am not particularly brave or well organised. Probably safer to describe my activism as slackdivism or paltry attempts to assuage my white-middle-class-privileged-guilt.

I do not brand myself as a change maker or disruptor or infuencer. Simply a tired, peri-menopausal witch trying to stay safe, sane and sleep well at night by not being too terrible.

A mini-messiah complex and the conviction that it was my job to help every person who crossed my path sent me to the funny farm back in 2018 so now my peace and mental hygiene are paramount, and anyone who threatens to disrupt these things will not be tolerated. Not that I’m particularly mean to anyone, I just don’t and won’t a lot more than I can or will.

So here is what we are trying to achieve.

A place where people feel safe. Genuinely enjoyable offline and off-grid experiences and robust options for curbing digital addictions. Opportunities to be a part of mindful and regenerative practices with like-minded people who are equally keen to belong to a counter-culture of kindness and inclusive community.

Rather interestingly though, I don’t really participate in any of these things very often. Life has left me seriously cynical and it is safe to say I am pretty angry about injustice and fuckery in general. I do not people much these days. Even lovely humans drain my batteries and take my spoons. I don’t start most days with many spoons and those I have get handed to strangers more than people I know. The few friends I have may not hear from me for days, months or even years as I navigate the gauntlets of life with my wife and cat being the only constant companions. The kids too, but being delightfully divorced means I get at least half of my life sans children should I choose to be somewhere they are not.

But I’ll be good god-damned if I am not keen as fuck to create a safe place I did not have access to when I was falling apart. People get bitter or better, and I want to be a better person. Truly I do. But… I also want to be left the fuck alone most of the time.

So, with the passionate and impressive skills of my beautiful wife Damon, we are attempting to put together a suite of services and situations to encourage kindness, creativity, and a welcome an enriching escape from the digital age.

As it is an incredibly complicated and multi-faceted system, I will bullet point and abridge a version of the plans because people are always a bit stunned and confused when we try and fail to elevator-pitch our plans.

Matakana Retreat

Around 50 acres of topographically challenging, biologically significant and genuinely magical surrounds.

This patch of paradise is located about 10 minutes away from Matakana village along a dirt road. We will never be interested in providing access to huge numbers of humans, this is a boutique offering that will always give a serene sense of solitude and access to getting off-grid and off-line.

We’ve had guests ask for us to provide a secure safe to store devices during visits. Essentially an opportunity to grab devices (a-la White Lotus) and hide them away to allow families to digitally detox together.

We host guests on this property across three self-contained and character-packed private vacation rentals. One rather spiffy ec-chic lodge that can comforably host up to 8 people.

A safari tent that we have decided to shut down over winter because it does get a bit cold and not everyone loves the idea of snuggling in bed with an electric blanket and you simply cannot keep a tent toasty in the winter time. It is a tent.

And the newest member of the retreat family is the work-in-progress that is our airstream caravan site. It is much warmer in the winter, and has a cedar hot tub, but to be absolutely honest we have tweaking to do. It just doesn’t quite flow or feel as private as the other options. We are working on that and it is still a very cosy and well-reviewed spot.

Along with these three options, we are spending this winter (2026) upgrading and improving the paths, planting and introducing a comprehensive wellness suite.

That’s probably enough information to whet some appetites on the retreat portion of our priorities at present.

City Surrounds (Persephone’s Palace)

This is where we live most of the time we are in Aotearoa, as the retreat is booked out and providing resource to pour back into the other projects.

The building is in midtown. It is four full stories of fucking whatever. This whatever needs a new roof, new elevator, new just about everything.

I suspect that most sane human beings would not be even remotely interested in living in the building while imminent and comprehensive renovations were on the cards.

Luckily, I almost always find other people’s idea of sanity and sane behaviour (as in where to live, and what to do with resources) rather boring. Doing shit that other people think can’t be done is my idea of fun. And the kids have found that they are quite content to be along for this particular ride.

Our adult and older teenage kids have their own apartments in this building. My youngest who is 12 has a room in our penthouse apartment and his 16 year old brother can come and go as he pleases.

The ground floor and first floor are being gutted and moved around to provide a flexible third space for creative cohorts to find community and pay fair and reasonable prices for state of the art premises.

Well… maybe. It is all evolving.

What was a restaurant will be gutted and turned into a flexible third space for events and banquets. The banquets and regular community-centric gatherings (mocktail and menopause Mondays, live music, poetry nights, open mics… so many options!) will be able to showcase the produce we grow ethically at the farm.

Regenerative Farm (Persephone’s Paddocks)

The incredible response we have had to the retreat had left us running out of room to process resources (mainly lumbar) and diversify our project.

So we found a well-maintained finishing block 15 minutes from our Matakana farm.

This is all new to us and we are very grateful to have a brilliant farm manager and clearly engaged agricultural consultant helping us ease into the scene.

Swales and continuously regenerating forestry projects will set the stage for a multi-generational and protected in perpetuity project.

We will be building a barn, and inviting animals to live long, healthy and happy lives as friends not food.

We will also be nourishing beef cattle who have fantastic and free-range days of comfort and happiness until they get too heavy for the land to comfortably carry. Then they will be moved on to the next finishing block or off to have one final bad day after what we hope are many happy ones.

The ethicality of this is something I am struggling with. I adore animals, but I also eat meat. While most of my diet is vegetarian as a result of my personal opinions and particular tastes, I would much rather raise happy healthy bovines who are calm and loved for their time here.

Food security is something a lot of us have to come to terms with.

Finding Persephone Projects

This is the core of where my passion comes together.

So I had hoped to never own/manage a registered charity after volunteering and establishing more than I can count.

Experience had me incredulous to the concept of charities. I’d seen too many strange and less than transparent shitty shenanigans happen as a volunteer, and watched a couple of situations I’d kicked off fall into the hands of actual assholes who did not carry on in the spirit of the work I’d done.

The idea of a social enterprise seemed somewhat more transparent. But the fact is, there is a need for the mechanism of giving with both hands. There is a function in society that lifts and asks nothing but allows people to reciprocate and contribute when and how they can. And there is a rigorous level of checks and balances in managing a charity that I hope to not only uphold but smash out of the park with integrity and clarity.

I adore women.

I’ve watched our ideas and efforts be stolen in real time and at every angle by misogynistic men who have been handed what women have worked for.

This is the essence of Persephone.

In Greek myth she was the daughter of deities (Zeus and Demeter) who was kidnapped by her uncle (Zeus’s brother Hades) and taken to the underworld.

What absolute fuckery.

Demeter so loved her daughter and missed her so much that she bargained with the bullshit men to have her back and as the Queen of agriculture and the harvest her daughter became the feminine deity associated with Spring.

I hate everything about this story,

I hate the male dipshits that stole and bargained for the beautiful, autonomous, magical being that is Persephone. I hate trauma bonds. I hate the concept of kidnapping being considered okay if she gets to be queen… but FUCK ME DAYS I do adore a woman who just takes what she has been dealt and fucking rises.

Persephone is my greek mythological perception of Leonard Cohen’s sentence:

“There is a crack, a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in”

Well circumstance certainly cracked Persephone.

And, in my imagining, she became a loving and gentle advocate for every creature who has their time in the underworld. And we all have and will experience our own and others’ deaths. Plants, animals, fungus… even light must expire. And she is uniquely qualified to understand that without death and decay there is no birth or growth.

I want to see women thrive. And I want them to encourage others to do the same. I want our broken to become our beautiful and I want to be vulnerable together.

Thanks for reading.

If Pain is a Gift, Today I am Blessed

On Friday last week I stayed in bed most of the day after my social battery went totally flat after we attended a beautiful send off for Damon’s uncle David at the glorious goddess Auntie Ingrid’s home.  I am a big fan of Auntie Ingrid and had a lovely time laughing with Damon’s niece, his delightful dad, and some friends and neighbours as well.  Also got to catch up with Cousin Emma who is here from Boston, and of course my irrepressible and decidedly delightful mother in law Pamela.  Her brother David completely changed the face of the music and broadcasting industries in Aotearoa, and he was much loved and well-respected pain in the ass according to the speeches and songs shared in his honour.  A giant of a man in stature, charisma, and his indominable legacy.  

So my beautiful wife Damon and I snuggled in and had a quiet day on Friday.  I decided at some point to make myself some baked beans with melted cheese on top.  A fateful decision that would have deep and disastrous consequences.

Those scolding hot beans and the molten cheese attached themselves to the roof of my mouth and seared and sizzled and burned and bubbled.  I knew I’d fucked up immediately.  Burns are an insidious suffering and the echo of thousands of heat-related injuries flooded through my accident prone body and nervous system in a flash while this latest dipshittery occurred.

It is now a week later.  I am unable to talk or eat without pain.  A trip to the dentist confirmed the extreme nature of my injury and sprays, gargles and pain killers are keeping the pain dull enough that I can read my wonderful Barbara Kingsolver novel “Unsheltered” and pause now to write this quickfire blog. 

My life is certainly not terrible.  

When shit goes wrong, as it sometimes (often) does, I am reminded just how not terrible things are as terrible things kinda waft through my consciousness and concrete reality.  

Consciousness and concrete reality are really such small parts of the magic that is existence, but we place a great deal of focus on them.  Most states pass.  Joy and euphoria come and go, as do grief and despair, pain and pleasure.  It all wafts through and it is such a fucking incredible gift to experience it from a place where I know there is hope – after living a powerless and hopeless existence for such an incredibly long time. 

I am not powerless.  I am filled with hope.  Even bad days feel like a gift as somehow, now, that I have called back my life and my boundaries to my own self.  Lately, I am good even when things are not going great.

It’s so fucking weird and awesome.  

As is customary, Damon and I have been continuing to toil away at things we both Love, and also… manage to keep our shit together (just) when dealing with truly vile and disgusting people.  These vile creatures serve very little purpose on this planet, aside from reminding sensible/kind/curious/creative people how not to be boring, cowardly and disappointing cunts.  

The world needs these horid, boring, angry, annoying people.  The deepest frustration I have observed with them, however, is that they claw and con their way to positions of some level of power despite generally never having done anything interesting or useful.  This old boys club continues to be filled with cowards and cretins and it continues to protect itself despite clearly competent aspects of society (women, minorities, thinkers, creatives, truly competent and charismatic leaders, and even kindness in general) proving to be far better and more fun for everyone and everything involved.

Days like today remind me just how glad I am to have picked a side and sticking to it though.  I choose the planet, nature, community, tolerance, creativity, art, hope, and magic.  I do not choose, seek or condone ignorance, hate, greed, fascism or privilege.  All that nasty shit is just getting way too mainstream for my liking these days, and I will stay in my lane and actively condemn it until the last breath leaves my beautiful little body.

So, having inflicted a reasonably serious injury on myself, I just have to calmly manage the pain and let it heal.  I was not stressed out, or under the influence of any drugs or alcohol, or in any sort of hurry at all.  I just made a really poor decision and a week later I am rendered rather helpless.  Still able to function, more-or-less.  Had a typically perfect catch up with my darling low-drama-llama goddess Mel and her sparkling beam of light daughter.  And have had some b’ness meetings and strategy sessions and done a wee whisp of creative work this week as well.  But through it all there is a pain that ranges from dull and controlled by the codeine to seering and excruciating.

I don’t hate it.

Suspect that the reason why I do not hate it, despite pain being genuinely unfun, there’s a comfort associated with a small but notable injury.  This that goes beyond the fact I know it will heal and I will relish feeling fit and healthy even more after going through the motions of this recovery.  I feel grateful it was not a bigger or different injury and am more grateful for the bits of me that are working and the vessel that carries me being in reasonable order most of the time.

When I was young and living through a traumatic and hellish childhood/puberty there was plenty of self-harm and poor decisions leading to injury.  Now that I am safe and removed from toxic and abusive people… well, most of them… Even pain is not what it was when things were the way they were before.  Now I’ve successfully built boundaries and started to design a safe, private, simple and very satisfying life.  I have nothing to prove and don’t need anything from any fucker these days.  

Still, I relish honest and creative collaboration and connection with a community.  I thrive in situations with perfectly imperfect people doing their best and giving an actual authentic fuck about themselves and making the world bearable for themselves and others.  Community and connection for creation not self-interest. It’s its own kind of magic.

My friends have checked in and chided at me for what is clearly on brand – if something is worth doing it is worth OVER-doing.  My beautiful wife Damon has carried on important work at the farm and rushed home to nurse me in my invalid state.  Not that he can do much.  Poor thing.  He wants so much to be helpful.  I can’t eat and talking is a chore too, so he feels a bit helpless, but his presence is calming and there’s a tenderness that is so incredibly pure when one of a couple of lovebirds is injured or unwell.  

Nurse pickles (we are dog sitting) is very concerned and helpful during my recovery ❤️‍🩹

I guess, all I am saying, is that I feel awful, and that’s somehow making me feel decidedly blessed and it is wonderful.

My mouth will heal.  My friends are divine.  My kids are all on different and fascinating paths right now and I am so stressed out by and utterly proud of each and every one of them.  And I am safe.  I am safe from gaslighting, cruelty, or scary social climbing con-artists.  I am surrounded by people who are their authentic selves and perfectly imperfect in safe and interesting ways.  Feeling shitty never felt so good.

Have a great long weekend everyone.  

Much Love and thank you for reading.

My Happiness

It is the last day of 2023 and it has me feeling all grateful, nostalgic and shit.

So. Gratitude.

I am married to a font of joy and childlike enthusiasm.  Damon can be heard singing every day.  He could be in the shower or pottering around.  He sings the wrong lyrics to existing tunes or makes up songs that are heavily punctuated with my name: “Dianna, we know she can-a do ANYTHING!  And she’s so pretty and sexy toooooo” is just one example of the many bangers that come wafting from the kitchen or shower as my beloved goes about his day

He’s also got a cute little interpretive dance improvisation situation he busts out while driving or if he’s got his music on while he flits like a wood nymph around the farm.  

He has off days and gets in a huff sometimes, but generally and on average I suspect he might be one of the happiest people walking the planet right now.  

I wish MOST people could be as content as my zesty, tidy, hard-working and super sweet silver fox.  Maybe I even wish everyone could be that happy.  The world would suck less if people were less angry and more inclined to sing and dance and feel free, complete, and blessed.  If humans were generally less power and money hungry and more willing to sing in the shower and stay too long in bed snuggling someone they adore, maybe we’d all be okay, and there wouldn’t be so many angry violent assholes raging around destroying things.

Tangent.  Sorry.  I try not to fixate on the wars and weary world we all collectively continue to damage and destroy… I save those conversations for IRL talks with trusted friends.  I know where I stand on the divisive conversations and situations unfolding around me, and I do not have the strength or inclination to fight those causes on a digital front.  But writing this is a reminder we are overdue a contribution to one or more of the trusted relief agencies we support.

Tangent over.  Back to my train of thought about Damon.

Nostalgia.

When we first started dating he was not the happiest or most childlike person you’d happen upon.  He was more like a kicked puppy than the free styling, shower-singing, dad-joking, happy farming fella his is now. And I was a complete self-loathing hot mess who was convinced that I was far too much for any one human to Love or handle.  I trusted too easily, took far too many stupid risks and had no sense of safety, boundaries or self-worth.  Shortly after we started seeing each other, he was left to sweep the shards of me up off the floor after my second nervous breakdown in as many years.  Thankless, terrifying work for an already exhausted human who had his heart and mind mangled by his own trials, changes and choices.

Nobody (including me) would have bet on us making it out of the gate as a couple. Yet, here we are five years later, building a narrative that is actually evolving into a meaningful little legacy of regeneration, biodiversity, community, kindness, empowerment and plenty of messy mistakes that we get to turn into learning opportunities.

It actually took the entire universe conspiring to keep me from lighting a match and burning our chances to the ground as I was accustomed to doing for so long.  I was not quite convinced of the concept of one true Love forever and Damon was undeniably terrified of what might happen if he made himself available to hot mess me.

So the world shut down and we were locked up on the farm for weeks and weeks.  And it was easy, and it was pleasant and it was wonderful.  There was no way for the outside world to enter our idyllic bubble, and Damon had to drive down to the end of the road and sit isolated in the car all day to continue his duties as CEO at the environmental trust he was managing.  He’d get home and any access to the outside world was again severed and we’d frolic (often naked as the day we were born) in our private little wilderness.  We’d thrash through gorse and pampas and plant perfect little veggie baby seeds and plan improvements on our piece of paradise.  Our only visitors/neighbours were the Kereru, Tui, Waxeyes, Ruru, Piwakawaka, Tuna, Kura and skinks.  

I had no idea how important those weeks offline and immersed in nature would set the tone for one of the most epic tours of self-discovery and complete re-shuffling of goals and priorities.

We are doing our best to parent 7 amazing kids.  We are trying to be kind, fair, clear, inspiring, and generous to our team and contractors.  We have THE most incredible friends and there’s never enough time to catch up with everyone we Love and admire.  Yet, when we do, it is always incredible.  

We still have to navigate an immense amount of stress and BS that is beyond our control.  We (mostly Damon) have some more grueling months or years ahead where we have to deal with people who we do not like or respect and who live in a world of priorities that we find dull, basic and actually quite unpleasant.  But we stand firm in the power we do have and we are consistent and clear on our own vision and strategy.  I am pretty sure the happiness and completely peripheral success we enjoy far FAR away from their world irks them.  Their measures of success is power-hungry patriarchy bullshit we don’t have time to be impressed by EVER.  I’ve never seen that formula work for anyone. The people who play in that sandpit are usually lonely, arrogant, sad and more often than not insufferable to genuine and authentic people. But they can go ahead and fill their expensive designer boots with their posturing and pathetic game playing.  We will be well shed of it all at some point and they’ll never cross our minds or paths again.  Whew.  That’ll be a good fucking day.

So any given day, while mean greedy people are busy doing mean greedy things somewhere that we definitely are not… Damon spends the morning wrapped in my arms for long lazy moments pontificating at length about how precious, smart, kind and beautiful I am to him.  I do not feel beautiful as I have packed on more than a few happy pounds, but with him I feel safe and complete and I do not for a second have any reason to doubt his devotion.  He’s an awe inspiring human inside and out and he’s too fucking good for me in any measurable sense I can think of, but here we are… and for that I am so consistently and overwhelmingly grateful.

I spent years making countless futile attempts to do anything to feel worthy and be Loved.  I was ALWAYS in places and spaces where I was not welcome or appreciated.  Many people were kind and encouraging, but too often they were opportunistic, mean, cruel, dishonest or just awful.  Don’t get me wrong, I was a big part of the problem back then too, as I managed to scare off or freak out good people who meant well by being an inconsistent, self-destructive, impossible fucking mess. But the rub on this and the message I am trying to share is that back then, the people who really ought to have been protecting and respecting me and were the closest to me, were actually putting in effort to disempower, humiliate and destroy me. Not. Great.

So yup, I was looking for purpose in the wrong places, faces and pursuits.  Nothing I did, regardless of the results, was ever good enough for the people closest to me back then, and it probably looked from the sidelines like things were kinda okay.  I’m especially grateful to the handful of people who watched and waited for me to get my shit together and can have a safe and rewarding relationship.  I am way better regulated since hooking up with and marrying my happiness.  

So.  What I wanted to say was:

If you are going through hell, keep going.  Find help and remove yourself from toxic people, places and patterns and start a life that is safe and gentle and may look absolutely NOTHING like the life you have known.  Give away the things that do not serve you and know that you are worthy of honesty, respect, joy, safety and Love.  We all are.  If you’re made to feel you are not, you are in the wrong place and trust me we are better off alone than surrounded by people that destroy our peace or actively derail us.

The person you choose to spend the most time with sets the whole tone for your life.  The things you enjoy doing and the people that feel safe and welcome in the culture that you create and nurture is incredibly influenced by the person you choose as your emergency contact/partner.  

If you are still reading, can I also suggest this year that you try to nurture the friendships and pursuits that are rewarding, good, fun, and on balance make you and those involved better for the effort.  HOWEVER… Do NOT expect or demand perfection from yourself or others.  That’s just not even a thing.  Do have firm and well communicated boundaries and stand firm and fair concerning them as you navigate.  But do not waste what precious time you have being gaslit, ignored, abused or underestimated.  Vibe high and your people will find you.

Reasons and seasons and lifetimes your angels and advocates will find you, and false friends and problematic or opportunistic people will test your boundaries at times too.  Don’t give up on people but make it clear what you will and will not tolerate and when your trust or boundaries are broken let go and get on with your beautiful magical life.  And do it without any hate or bitterness in your heart.  We are all fighting a hard battle.  And we are all at different stages of our journey and evolution.

So that’s my soppy message for the last day of 2023.  If you are going through hell, keep going.  If you are feeling safe and blessed and growing, keep going!  You deserve peace and joy and magic.  

I wish you good health, and more belly laughs than heaving sobs, but enough of every emotion to keep you humble, brave, and connected to the things you Love in the year ahead.