Resto Emerald Park

Or Chez Brown, whatever you want to call it!

Yep, each and every morning, my wife and I open our home restaurant to our three hungry and often temperamental patrons. Why do I call it that? Well, we like to give them choices. So they wander downstairs, or in the case of babi get carried, and sit in their usual seats at the table. The ipads - all fully charged - are there waiting for them. We do limit screen time, but in the mornings it's a nice little diversion for them while they eat their breakfast.

With babi, he usually likes some milk or juice in a bottle. Cups during the rest of the day, but a bottle is safer in the morning as it takes him a while to wake up properly and not spill everything. Then he'll often ask for a chocolate sammich, which is just bread and Nutella or some breakfast bickies. The little bugger doesn't eat the crusts either. So for a while we started chopping them off, but found he still left the outer part behind, as if a crust was still there. So less bread was wasted if we just left the crusts behind to begin with.

With Bdoi, well he usually prefers a juice or a Milo box if we've got them. For him it's almost always breakfast bickies as first option. Interestingly, we used to buy the actual "breakfast biscuits", which claimed to be nutritious etc, but found that compared to the very simple local biscuits, they had far more sugar. So we switched, and everyone seems to like these better anyway. Bdoi often wakes like a bear with a sore head, but with some loving he can frequently be calmed down. I think babi wakes him up most days which doesn't go down well. This morning he was lying in bed with a scowl, so I sat with him and talked about some interesting things, and within a minute or two he was ok.

Lala is the odd one out. Her tastes go from yoghurt to egg soup (half cooked eggs in a bowl with soy and white pepper, yum!), scrambled eggs, strawberry sammich, you name it. She is almost always in good spirits in the morning, bless her.

The reason the whole restaurant theme comes into it is that none of them are ever satisfied with just one course. My wife and I pretty much spend an hour flitting around in the kitchen, chopping fruit, making more sandwiches, cooking eggs, making noodles, you name it. And we serve them all at the table. Sometimes it can be a drag, but I actually enjoy it. It's great to see them all eating a hearty and healthy breakfast, in preparation for their day ahead.

Oh and there's always babi's catch-cry echoing throughout the house at this time of day (frankly all day half the time) - "I want something else!"

The Other Side

So over the last few months, my wife has been exploring her spiritual side, in an effort to grow and find out more about just who we are and why we're here. It has been an interesting journey for her.

For me, whilst I acknowledge that almost certainly, we have a soul and there is something beyond this physical realm, I have no idea what that is, and frankly, it's not my focus at this point. I am more interested in where we have come from than where we are going. That may sound odd, but the undiscovered past of human history has always fascinated me. History tells us that ~10,000BC was when human civilisation began, but given homo sapiens have been around for about 250,000 years, I always found it hard to believe. And when you start digging, the truth is certainly far more interesting than the history books.

Anyway, that's a topic for another day or two. We're talking spirituality here. And what I believe. As I said I don't know much, but I have had a handful of experiences in my life that have made me go WTF! There may have been others, but these are the few that have stuck in my mind.

The first one occurred back in the early 2000's, probably 2000 or 2001, when I was working in Leonora in Western Australia. As is the case now, back then I was struggling with being overweight, so in an effort to boost fitness, my friend Luke and I would go for walks in the evening. The outback in WA is amazing, particularly when you get out of the town lights. The skies seem to go on forever and the sheer quantity of stars is simply mind-blowing. So for something different, one evening after dark, we decided to walk down the 5km road from the edge of town to the airport. It was a straight road and had no streetlights, as the airport only operated during daylight hours.

We were about 1km or so down the road. It was pitch darkness and so incredibly quiet. We were chatting to each other about various things, when suddenly we both stopped talking. There was no sound, no movement, nothing. Nothing that is, except a feeling. We kept walking for another 20m or so, but the feeling just grew and grew. It's almost impossible to describe, but it was almost like a physical barrier in front of us. A psychological barrier anyway. The air became so heavy and the feeling of sheer dread I had was horrifying. It happened so quickly! I knew it wasn't just me, because Luke and I turned to look at each other at the same time, and from the look on his face I knew he was feeling it too. That shared look shattered the silence and we both turned and ran, as fast as we could, until we got back to the first streetlight at the edge of town.

I know sometimes after experiencing something that doesn't seem quite real, it can be easy to shake it off and put it down to imagination. But we were both quite shaken after this experience. It was like we encountered a place where something did not want us to be. Later walks were restricted to doing laps of the town instead!

But I was curious. I was living in Leonora at the time, and having weekends off there. So the following weekend (Luke was FIFO so at the office) I repeated the walk by myself. I was reasonably sure of how far we got, so paced my way down the airport road to the same spot, wondering if anything would be present during the day. It wasn't. I walked up and down a few hundred meters from that spot, but felt nothing. So I went off to the roadside and looked into the surrounding scrub. About 20m off the left-hand side of the road, right in the spot where we encountered the barrier, I could see something. So I stepped into the brush and ventured across to it. I was amazed with what I found. There, off to the side of the road and not visible from the road itself, was a tiny, unmarked cemetery. There were about 6 headstones, and may have been more in the past. These kind of pioneer cemeteries are common in the outback, but when they are known, they are usually fenced off to preserve them. So I can only think that this one was unknown. Most of the headstones were very worn, but on one of them I could make out a date of passing in the 1870's, from a mining accident. There were numerous 1800's mines in the area, and on those days, it was very risky business, with many people losing their lives chasing gold. I know people usually say that graveyards are not the places that spirits frequent, but who knows, maybe the cemetery was sited there because it was where these people died. And perhaps one of them still lingers, still staking and defending his claim...

The next encounter I had was a lot more benign, although the circumstances were anything but. After a year long battle with a very nasty cancer, my father died. I took virtually the whole year off work to be there and support my mother. Luckily I had a very understanding and supportive boss. Dick Yates was his name. I haven't seen him in years, and frankly he wasn't the boss I connected with the most. But he believed in me, and gave me the space I needed. Thank-you Dick.

Anyway, the end was particularly tragic and traumatic. I will discuss it here briefly, because it does have spiritual connotations as well. When your body is ravaged by cancer and starts to shut down, it's like a fucking horror movie. The only thing about it that is even slightly merciful is that my dad was virtually in a coma for the last 48 hours of his life. The night before he died was the worst experience I have ever had. He was coughing up blood frequently and we were all there to help sit him up to do so. We were all awake all night long. It was simply awful. My poor, poor dad. He wasn't perfect, but he was the man of greatest integrity that I have ever met, and he loved his family. He particularly had undying love for his wife, my mother. So much so, that even when in a coma, even when on the verge of death, when my mum broke down, he responded. He was lying there, coughing up blood, unable to move. But when my mum started crying you could see him muster every available bit of energy and will he had remaining in an attempt to move to comfort her. It was so tragic and heartbreaking, yet so beautiful at the same time. Eventually, in the early hours of the morning, the nurse came. She made a call to a doctor, then administered some more morphine. She informed us that my dad had only an hour or two left.

So my mum sat with him and called us four kids into the room one by one. She told us what we each meant to our father, and asked us to hold his hand, tell him how we felt, and encourage him to move on and let go. We all did so. He had suffered enough. I didn't want to lose him, but it was time. I won't go into the detail of what I said to him, but I was so glad that he had got to see me grow up and become an engineer. I know he was proud of what I achieved. My only regret is that when I was a young, dumb 20 something I didn't put more importance in my family. I was out there in the wild west living life to the full. You only live once and you only get one set of parents. Make the most of the relationships you have.

Ok, so the other thing that had happened those last few days was that my brother and I had built a pergola in the backyard, to provide some shade and give mum somewhere to hang the washing. Unlike my dad we were not hugely skilled with our hands and certainly didn't have the eye for detail that he did. So we banged and crashed and swore our way through the job, but we did it. It actually looked pretty good too, as long as you didn't look too close! Before Dad fell into his coma, he was asking about the noise and Mum told him what we were doing. He wanted to come see, but simply couldn't get out of bed anymore. So when I was there with him at the end, I said to him, Dad, on your way out, go have a look at the pergola we built for you.

It was my niece that found him passed away. We had only left the room a moment before, and she went in to pay her respects. Seconds later she came back out and said she didn't think he was breathing. Mum and I rushed in and realised that he had waited until he was alone before calling it quits. Rest in Peace dear Dad.

People were already arriving at the time, but I wanted to be alone. So I went out the back by myself. As soon as I sat down I realised something. I was not alone. I could feel very strongly a presence with me. I couldn't see nor hear anything, it was just a feeling. I had not gone out there looking for it, was not even thinking about what I had said to Dad, but it was there nonetheless. Permeating, warming, encompassing. After a few moments I realised that I had asked Dad to come have a look at the pergola on his way out. So I started to show it to him. I pointed out what we had done, even asking him to not look too closely at the poor workmanship. At one point I was even laughing with him, because it really was a circus with my brother and I there. I probably spent five minutes going through it with him.

At that point I had to tell my mum. So I ran inside and asked her to come out. But as soon as we walked through the door I realised the feeling had gone. Dad had come to see, but he had places to be, and it had been time for him to move on. I am not sure if anyone else believed me, but I know Mum did. Because she has felt him on many occasions, and they still meet in her dreams even now. So does what happened qualify as a supernatural experience? I guess it does. And I don't doubt what happened. I will never forget that feeling. It was as strong as the feeling on the road to the airport at Leonora, but instead of foreboding it was welcoming. It was my dad.

The last experience has actually happened to me three times, but it's the second one I am going to talk about. For my whole life I have been subtly afraid of the dark, of the supernatural, of forces unseen. That is, until I became a dad myself. There is nothing I would not do to protect my family, and especially my children. There was a time when I was working away in Indonesia, on a six week stint that my little girl (1-2yo at the time) started seeing what she called bubbles. They did not scare her, she welcomed them. My wife could not see them, yet when she took photos of the places where my daughter was pointing, the bubbles could be seen, or perhaps orbs, I don't know. My wife took several photos and the one below shows a bubble pretty clearly.

Whatever it was, it was clearly not malevolent. We even consulted with my friend Darcel, who is a white witch and very well versed on the other side. She even has her own website now, check it out.

www.hypnoenergetics5d.com.au

Darcel didn't seem to think it was anything to worry about, probably just a family member who had passed on coming to visit. What was interesting is that it wasn't until years later (recently in fact) that my wife came up with the idea that the bubble was actually me. I was lonely and sad and stressed to be away from my family, especially with a new-born in the equation. And with the consideration of quantum physics, that you can be in two places at once, who knows, maybe it's possible. Because when I came home, and I have never been away for such a period since, the bubbles vanished, never to return.

That is a big diversion from my third experience, but I mentioned it, because I think it is a valid point to consider regarding my third experience. When we were living in Damansara Heights in KL, in a wonderful big house, something scared the kids, and I felt it too. There was a presence. I had also felt a presence in a couple of other places. The night in question at Damansara, the kids were scared of downstairs, our basement playroom. They were telling me about it at bedtime - well Lala was, the only one who could speak properly at that point. I could feel something too. So I did something that before kids I would never even consider doing. I walked from upstairs down the two flights to the basement, completely in the dark. Once there, I quietly, but firmly told whatever it was that they were scaring my children, that this was our house, not theirs, and politely, but firmly asked them to leave and not return.

And you know what? It worked. The presence was not felt again, and the kids did not complain about being scared anymore.

It didn't occur to me the first time, nor that time, being the second. It was the third and most recent time that I had to do that, in our house here in Kupang, that something interesting occurred to me. I am powerful. I can tell the other side what to do. Within reason of course. The reason for that power? Well, I think it is the most powerful force in the universe, which is why it is now present in me more than ever. It is love. Whatever it was that visited us, I could almost physically feel the power in my words and feelings in telling it to leave. I always do so politely, but always very firmly too. I know it probably sounds like nonsense, but these were all very real experiences to me.

So that's it really. There is not a lot more to tell. I do believe in ghosts, spirits or whatever you want to call them. Not so sure about the hauntings that you read about or see in movies and videos, but who knows? There is definitely something out there. Mostly benign, but perhaps not always. We must be vigilant, be strong and believe in ourselves. Mostly though, we must love.

Hot & Bothered

That's how I have been the last few days.

The atmosphere doesn't help. I mean the physical atmosphere. The locals told me it just gets hotter and hotter here until the wet season arrives. So the air is getting heavier and heavier and even in the previously cool mornings now, I'm drenched in sweat at the drop of a hat. I have always struggled a bit with that. Being hot and bothered makes my fuse a bit short.

The atmosphere doesn't help. I mean the work atmosphere. We have no idea what's going on at the moment other than we are running out of money. I was told when I joined this fucking company that we were fully funded. Pig's fucking arse we were. Sure there were deals in place, but the cunt who is holding all the aces likes nothing more than playing games and dragging everything out. I suspect it's some sort of sneaky takeover bid. I am told things are happening and maybe even today it's going to sort itself out. But the fact of the matter is this project has been mismanaged for years - we're more than halfway through construction and yet don't have final drawings. How the fuck does this happen to a public company? Who are the fucking retards in charge who have allowed this to happen? And how the absolute fuck am I in this position again where my fucking job is hanging by a thread. Texas, ASN, and now this. Fuck my brown dog, am I just the stupidest fuck in the whole world picking all these fucking losers and listening to all their bullshit stories, or am I just plain unlucky?

Footnote: I tried to put "Hell on Earth" as the location tag for my post, but Blogger couldn't find that. However, apparently the closest thing to it is 135 Greeves St, Fitzroy in Melbourne. Those poor bastards. I thought Fitzroy was a decent place these days? Who would have thought. Vindictive fucking Blogger. Back to my rant.

The atmosphere doesn't help. That's the atmosphere in my head. Sure the kids must be affected by both the draining and oppressive heat, and sure they must be affected by my stress, but it's still not easy to deal with screaming insubordination and people saying "no" to every damn thing. I have to be a strong parent, and sometimes that means yelling. Sometimes it means brandishing the wooden spoon. My little girl is the coolest head among us all though. I need to learn from her. Sure she borrowed my dictionary last night and drew frigging sketches in it, which caused me to snarl at her. But overall she's the best, most loving and protective one of us all. My wife is the voice of reason and logic. She gets mad too, but nobody gets volcanic mad like me. Like my father before me, it only lasts a minute and I'm over it, but I know I'm one big scary fucker when I get mad, especially to a little kid. I guess they are all stubborn like my wife and I, and they are not robots. They're wonderful, lovely, loving and independent children. I just need to do better in terms of reasoning with them and disciplining them.

Fuck, ok I have cooled down a bit now. I know I'm only human, and not the best example of the species at that. But I can do better. I must do better. I feel nothing but love for my family, and I need to be the rock of stability, not the rock sitting under an erupting volcano. I hope things will improve. I hope the rain comes soon. I hope we get this damn project financed soon. I hope I can take a deep breath and put myself in other people's shoes and be a better parent soon. I have to. I will.