Stories, stories everywhere …
By the side of the road on my morning walk today in a quiet, bayside suburb south of Sydney, beneath an unblemished summer’s sky, a treat: a mirror, tall and rectangular, plain if not for the words scrawled in pink lipstick down its centre. Sadly, of these, I can only recall the beginning: “Dear mum and dad, I am going away in search of love …”
I paused briefly, surprised, before continuing on my walk, but then, just metres down the road, I had to turn around and take another look. My dog, Remy, looked at me as if to say, ‘Why are you going the wrong way?’ By the time I’d returned to the mirror, it had reeled in another passer-by. I was going to take a picture to try to record the words but I wouldn’t have been able to make them out with the light reflecting on the glass. Some of the words had also been wiped away, but one part described how the writer wouldn’t have mobile access wherever she was going, so anyone wanting to get in touch would have to take up old-fashioned pen and paper. “God forbid,” she wrote, cheekily.
On the top right-hand corner of the mirror, there was a note written on white paper. It said “free to good home,” but asked that whoever claimed the mirror see “the family” first as the mirror had much sentimental value and they wanted to make sure it went to the right place, with the right people. In all of my years as a connoisseur of kerbside treasures, I’d never seen such a thing!
For the better part of an hour, as I trudged the well-worn route home, I thought about the mirror. Who was the author? How long ago had she written her lipstick letter? Why did she write it on a mirror, instead of paper? And where did she leave it for her parents to find? I was tempted to knock on their door just to find out.
The discovery made me think of how stories surround us, how everything and everyone has a story to tell, from A-list celebrities to lovelorn teenagers living in redbrick houses in a sleepy, leafy suburb. Over the years, I’ve written about both kinds of folks, and everyone in between, and am always honoured to be entrusted with their stories … In my new book, coming in July, I explore the idea of stories as powerful healing tools. In the face of heart-cracking loss, the story of a loved one reaching out—in myriad magical and personal ways—can become a steadying, grounding force, whether the experience is shared with others or simply kept private and close.
I am fortunate enough that many wonderful subjects shared their moving stories with me for the book I’m excited to see published this year. It will be the last in the non-fiction paranormal/spiritual trilogy that began with Spirit Sisters in 2009, so now, being a storyteller, of course my thoughts are wandering in the direction of finding new stories to tell. It’s already inside me, I know, it’s just a matter of uncovering it.
Lucky, then, that there is inspiration everywhere. “Dear mum and dad, I am going away in search of love …” If I follow her, I wonder, where might she take me?
My walking buddy, our four-year-old rescue dog, Remy.
Entering the home stretch
On a quiet Friday night at home, with Better Homes and Gardens for company, I’m thinking about my next book. I’m thinking about the importance of solitude and “thinking time” and how those things are so often at a premium in a writer’s life these days, especially when said writer also has family and another job to attend to. So many writers could relate, I’m sure. One of my biggest enemies is tiredness, and I know I’m not alone there either.
Today I wrote 1500 words and that’s something to be thankful for, but it was the most curious thing. I was battling a debilitating fatigue that only seemed to worsen as the day progressed. Thank God I managed to go for my walk, first thing, but then I just couldn’t understand why I had to take to my bed—twice!
Then it struck me: my sister and her family left for an overseas trip yesterday, and what I was feeling was entirely like jet lag. Could it be that somehow I was tuning into her exhaustion? We are very close, so it seems possible to me. Anyway, am feeling better now and positive about my ability to finish my new book in time for December deadline. I’m also looking forward to spending more time blogging and interacting with readers.
I can’t wait to set my third book free and hear your feedback!
Reclining Lady by Raimundo Madrazo
A new year’s wish
- At December 29, 2012
- By Karina Machado
- In Haunted Places
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As my children lay asleep upstairs and the bush wakes up outside my window, I sit with my laptop in bed, relishing the calm and quiet. I love when I’m the only one awake in a still-slumbering house, it’s one of those simple things I’m most grateful for. The year creeping to a close has enhanced, for me, the importance of embracing simple joys and pleasures, and the older I get, it seems the more I can appreciate this.
At the train station where I get off for work every day from Monday to Thursday, there’s a billboard advertising a company that offers “dream” experiences, like driving a speed car, or hot air balloon rides. The ad popped up before Christmas, the idea being that giving something like this to a loved one would surely trump other mundane gifts. But to me it suggests something else: do we really need to experience a hot air balloon ride to feel alive? I don’t think so, I don’t subscribe to the notion that a big-ticket experience once a year (or a lifetime?), while you drag yourself through the days the rest of the time, is a recipe for happiness.
I prefer to savour small pleasures every day, and be grateful for them. A coffee in bed on a Saturday morning, with a book in my lap. The sound of my kids laughing together upstairs. Hearing those raucous kookaburras outside. The little library at the back of my house. Perhaps the books I write—particularly my next one, about the ways our late loved ones continue to make themselves known to us—have also given me perspective. People lose the ones they love. It’s something I think on a lot at this time of year, since so many of my interviewees (all of those in the upcoming book) would be having a harder time than most during the festive season.
Cherish your loved ones and those tiny everyday pleasures. What are some of those small things you’re grateful for? Thank you for your support throughout 2012—in 2013 I’ll deliver the new book to my publisher and I’m hopeful it will be a worthy successor to Spirit Sisters and Where Spirits Dwell. In the meantime, I wish you and your family peace, good health and joy for the new year, and beyond.
One of my biggest little pleasures: my home library.
A weekend in Melbourne
Hello again, and welcome to my revamped website! For this wonderful transformation, I must thank the lovely and multi-talented Allison Langton, from Big Print Little. Allison did an amazing job of somehow intuiting exactly what I wanted for my website, and making it come true. I can’t thank her enough.
Speaking of Allison, though she’s based in Melbourne, I had the good fortune of meeting her at one of three library talks I gave there this past weekend. Allison dropped by Mill Park, but I also spoke about Spirit Sisters and Where Spirits Dwell at Eltham and Watsonia libraries (both attended by my supportive friend and fellow author, Wendy Dunn). Thanks to my kind friend Suzanne, Queen of Non-Procrastination and marketing and media coordinator at Yarra Plenty Regional Library, for organising this, for driving me around and for the endless laughs … it was so much fun!
Thanks to Lyn, the lovely librarian at Watsonia for promoting my appearance, and for the beautiful gifts!
Here I am alongside a bronze statue of I Can Jump Puddles author Alan Marshall, at Eltham Library.
It had been a while since I’d gotten out “in the field,” so to speak, to discuss my work and meet readers. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy this. One of my favourite aspects of this is how me talking about my interviewees’ experiences often opens up the floor for people in the audience to reveal their own stories. I love sitting back, listening, as others unspool a personal story that, up until then, they have usually kept close to their hearts. It’s a privilege to know they feel comfortable enough in that forum to share it with us.
On the topic of sharing stories, it’s time for me to go, as it’s Halloween eve and I have to prepare to tell a yarn of my own tomorrow night, at a live storytelling event at Cronulla’s The Brass Monkey. Despite the date, there is no spooky theme to the evening, but when I noticed that it was Oct. 31, it seemed I was fated to take the stage (gulp). Wish me luck!
A celebrity ghost tale
The good thing about being stuck at home with a cold for two days last week was that I could catch up on some TV viewing. One DVD that had been gathering dust in the living room contained a couple of old episodes of Celebrity Ghost Stories, which airs on Bio. This was surprisingly good! Low on the cheese factor, compelling, moving and appropriately creepy.
One of the stories resonated with the theme of my next book. Keshia Knight-Pulliam (who got her start in acting playing the little girl in The Cosby Show) told of a visitation she received when she was struggling in a dysfunctional relationship. To recap, briefly, Pulliam, stressed and increasingly fearful of her partner, on three occasions saw a bizarre sight: a dense, contained “cloud” of fog, or mist, floating inside the home she was sharing with her then-boyfriend. The first time she spotted it, it was floating before her eyes in the bathroom; the second time, it was inside her walk-in wardrobe, and the third, it was floating above her bed. Though afraid of what she’d seen, Pulliam also had the feeling the fog represented someone from her family and that it meant her no harm.
Things came to a head one day when the couple were arguing, and Pulliam heard a woman’s voice tell her loudly and firmly to get out. Peace and strength flooded through her. Minutes later, she heard the same motherly female voice tell her that everything would be okay. She packed her bags and left. Shortly afterwards, she learned, for the first time, that her great-grandmother had been in an abusive relationship with her husband, who’d eventually shot her dead.
To Pulliam, it was evident that the love of her relative had reached down through time to pull her out of a souring relationship. And for this she was immensely grateful.
Love, as the biblical quote asserts, “is strong as death.” Do you agree? Researching my previous books, I met many amazing people whose lives have changed for the better following an encounter with the spirit of a late loved one. I’m working on unearthing some more stories like this for my next book. Please get in touch if you’d like to share your experience.
On another note, today is National Bookshops Day, so head to your local bookseller to show your support! Fortunately, it’s great reading weather in wintery Sydney today, perfect, in fact, for a spooky tale or two … fireside position preferable. Enjoy.
