A Recipe for Life
The event was my youngest daughter’s 16th birthday celebrations, and I was once again challenged to find suitable food to serve to hungry teenagers.  This group is quite an eclectic mix of cultures and life choices. 
Out of respect for one group I could not serve anything with pork in it and another, nothing with meat. So I chose homemade vegetarian pizzas, which guaranteed that both preferences were honoured. Plus, homemade is so much more personal. 
To finish the meal I decided that a Pavlova with melted chocolate fudge, cream and berries would make a delicious ending to a special celebratory meal.
As I searched through my recipe books for a pavlova recipe, I looked at the well worn pages indicating the recipes that I made quite frequently; an obvious contrast to the clean neat unused pages of my books.  Some books were not used at all and yet they had adorned my shelves for years.
I stopped and pondered this enigma and thought to myself, 'why do I continue to keep recipe books that I never use?'
A reply came back to me 'because you think you may need them one day, and that day has not come yet.' 
The voice then continued, 'Perhaps it is a sign that you are stuck in your ways.  Why do you stick to the same recipes all the time when you have a library of others to choose from?'
'Convenience', my thoughts replied.  'Habit' I heard myself say.  'I can't be bothered to try any of the others because it takes effort and I don't have the time or the energy.'

I had considered for some time cooking my way through the contents of a recipe book to see what I would discover, much like the movie Julie and Julia.  That would give me a new look at food and at life too as I searched for ingredients and ways to prepare them. I could also choose to share the experience with friends as well. But it came to nothing.

After all that thinking I felt exhausted and went back to making the Pavlova. The last time I made one was...... I don't remember when.
It was messy and fun. When the ingredients had reached the stage where it needed placing on the cooking tray I sampled the sweet, sticky, white mixture. It was good enough to eat without cooking. I plastered it carefully onto the tray and then stood back with pride. Watching all those cooking programmes had been worth it, I thought to myself as I viewed my creation.
Then into the oven to slow cook on a low heat until it was ready for the next stage in its newly created life as a Pavlova.

Life is like a recipe book.  It is full of experiences waiting to happen.  Ideas burgeoning to come to life.  Some will be pleasing to the palate and others will leave a sour taste in the mouth. Unless we are prepared to cease resorting to the same old tried and tested dishes and broaden our taste buds, we will continue to eat the same fare day after day.

When we are feeling stuck it is because we are doing the same old things expecting different results.

'Insanity.....doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.' - Einstein
​Instead of doing the same old thing day after day, find some new life recipes and try them out. Cook up a storm, invite friends over, go on a picnic. Do whatever you have to do to taste life's culinary delights.
Go well and Bon appetite!
Until next time I Write From My Heart
Olwynne

It's official!

After 55 years of telling people that I am not Welsh, in reply to their query about the origins of my name - Olwynne, I can now say, with great pride - Yes! I am Welsh.
So how did this come about and how did I not know this important piece of information for 55 years? All I can say to that is life is a journey of unfolding mysteries.
Like all good journeys there are many paths that were travelled to reach this point, with twists and turns along the way.
Let me explain....
Throughout this lifetime I have felt different - I didn't fit in with the norm.
One of my many conscious thoughts about not fitting in, was that I had a funny name, which people couldn't and in some cases still can't, pronounce and spell.
Not only was it a difficult name to spell but to add to the challenge, my mother added an extra 'n' and 'e' just for good measure.
Until adulthood I never found another living soul who had the name Olwynne.
To add to my confusion people would ask with regular monotony was I 'Welsh'? I would reply that I had no Welsh heritage; my mother just liked the name.

As the years went by I found that I had a fondness for Wales and loved to hear the Welsh accent. Until my recent discovery I wondered whether I might have been trying to associate it with my name's origin, and was satisfied at some level by that possibility.

The next layer of this journey is set back in the time of King Arthur and the isle of Avalon times. 
Arthur, Merlin, Guenevere, Vivian, Avalon and Wales have held my fascination for years.  I even played Guenevere in the musical 'Camelot' in 1983.

The legends of Merlin, Arthur, the priestesses and druids are a great passion and interest of mine. In fact, I have been writing a book since 1990 which is set in that time. 

Until 10 days ago I had become stuck as to the setting of my story, trying for years to place it in Britain in and around Glastonbury, which is said to be the seat of Avalon. 

In the true nature of synchronicity, a future monarch of Great Britain and Wales was to play his part in my discovery, when in 2010 Prince William of Wales took a position with RAF Search & Rescue based in Anglesey, Wales.

I don't remember how his appointment came to my attention, I just know that from that moment on, whenever I heard the name Anglesey, it would light up my mind; a warmth and excitement would come over me. I went to Google Maps and looked it up to discover, it was a large island off the west coast of Wales. Seeing the island felt familiar, as if I already knew where and what it was and was just remembering it again after a long absence. I felt quite emotional about discovering Anglesey's presence. How had I not known about it all these years I asked myself?
Well now I did. The question that permeated my discovery was, "why did I feel so strongly about this Welsh island?"

To add to the mystery, every time I thought about Anglesey I heard the words in my mind - The Holy Isle.  On hearing these words my heart would expand, bringing a warmth and excitement with it. The Holy Isle - Avalon?  Merlin?  Ambrosius? Arthur?  Their names seemed to come with the words, but there was more to it as well. Another layer that I just couldn't access; a missing piece to the puzzle.

I love reading and have devoured many books throughout my life. I don't just read any old thing, instead books seem to come to my attention and in the past months I have been experiencing a drought in this area. I wasn't concerned by the absence of reading material as I have been occupied by so much else; my work as a teacher, guide and therapist in the reincarnation, Conscious Living field.

But things were about to change...
During the Xmas break of 2013 I started to read Reincarnation by Ron Stedman
and while research these leads on the internet prompted by the book landed on a site which talked of 'The Druids of Anglesey and The Isle of Man'.  There it was again!

I felt as if another piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Having read much about the Druids, I had not found them associated with Angelsey before. While perusing the information I received a call from my sister Barbara.  We talked about many things until somehow the conversation made its way to our great grandmother. Barbara said, "Our great grandmother came from Wales." I was stunned. Immediately I thought, 'she came from Anglesey', but I didn't voice it at the time.

Barbie sent me an email with the info and sure enough, our maternal great grandmother came from Anglesey, Wales.  Not only did she come from Anglesey, she was born in Holyhead, which in an island, a Channels breadth off the island of Anglesey and is known as the Holy Island.  My heart sang.  The pieces were falling into place.  I felt hugely excited, overwhelmed with joy, and finally whole. I had made sense out of so many of my thoughts and feelings throughout my life. 

As well as my Welsh roots, I am also Irish, English and Scottish and a mix of wherever these lines of lineage are derived from and let’s not forget that I am a New Zealander and extremely proud of that.

As for the connection to Arthurian times, it was as if I could see them all, ancestors, myth and legend along with my great grandmother, all standing in front of me saying - "Well there you go then. You have finally found your way here. Welcome home."

Now to Mr Cleese...

​John Cleese, Garry and Camilla on stage in NZ - image from John Cleese Shot of NZ.  

In December 2005 John Cleese toured New Zealand with his production, 'John Cleese — His Life, Times and Current Medical Problems'.

I had been working as a crew member for professional theatrical touring companies and had recently worked as a dresser on the touring play, 'Then Comes Love', starring Zoe Lucker and Shane Cortese.  The Stage Manager must have liked my work as he recommended me to work in wardrobe with the John Cleese show on the Christchurch leg of the tour.

I rocked up to the Isaac Theatre Royal with excitement and anticipation expecting to meet up with the head of wardrobe only to find that there was no such person. In fact that person was me.  That's when the nerves really set in.  I was ushered into a large dressing room which was full of boxes, trunks and bags etc. and as I always do, I pulled up my sleeves and just got on with it.

A couple of hours later I was ironing this large Ralph Lauren shirt, the property of Mr Cleese, and was interrupted by a voice that we all know so well.

"Hello. Who are you?"

I took a deep breath, checked that my chin was not hanging embarrassingly on my chest and looked up to see the man himself standing to my left, a kind but quizzical look  on his face. 

"I am Olwynne", I replied, "Your wardrobe mistress."

He then said what so many others had said throughout my life - "Olwynne? You are not welsh are you?"

To which I replied as always - "No. I am not."

He then stated with great emphasis - "Good. My parents hated the Welsh."

I would expect no less from this a man.

Well Mr Cleese... I hope you get to read this someday.... I am at last Welsh and very, very proud of it!