Before posting this first blog, I wrote it, tweaked it and made it a part of a master plan to build not just readers but talkers, thinkers, vibe-makers & customers. And we have to admit it;
Facebook & social media runs through our veins these days.
My blog writing is just the start until others jump on with their takes & viewpoints. Write your thoughts, even if they are doom-focused, but we dare you share what you can do, say or believe to soothe the doom before you type THE END. Because doom has us all shaking our heads these days & solutions seem sorely lacking!
I’ve checked myself out from criticism until I’ve checked in to understand if it’s worth giving it value.
So submit – we’ll read it – research it and if it’s worth sharing – we’ll publish you and find a way of thanking you. But know; it’s a challenge to whip up a cocktail of curiosity that doesn’t snooze the brain, yet include the most improbable ingredients to woo a mind.
If you want to submit –
send your brilliance this way. Say what’s on your mind to see where it takes us. Blogs will be compensated, but not immediately …
So voila – je suis Linda Bell (yep, that’s me, photographer & your trusty guide) and my first swing at it.
A little about me – a lot about where I call home – and all that vibes in between.
I’m about diving into humanity’s evolution through everyone’s eyes on the subjects of everything, because life & future feels like a giant question mark that needs to be unravelled like never before!
I’m kicking off right here in Nimbin, my stomping ground in NSW, Australia (google it). This quirky little spot has
sooo much to offer – and
tooo much if you’re into your pot! Nimbinites thrive on their love of nature & the environment, a place where top-notch smokable greenery grows like – well – weed! But the growers? Total mystery. Out bushwalking? The snakes seem like good guard dog deterrents if you’re out to spot those leafy treasures across the landscape. Meanwhile, the wallabies hop around, giving them a pass in favour of their own native superfoods – grass!
Nature – man – it’s something else!
Yep, weed is available on most street corners & the many people who came here in the early 70’s – never left. I gave up pot years ago, other than the very occasional toke today (cough, cough), but for many here, pot is a daily habit. Thus our peaceful environment.
This was the home of Australia’s Aquarius Festival which celebrated its 50th anniversary in 2023. I was in the region but I missed the first one by a few months. It was the Australian Woodstock for sure. A bunch of hippies took over this wee town which since, has hardly changed. That was over half a century ago. Nimbin is a National treasure.
Filled with things to hear, feel & say, there’s none of that monkey shyte of not seeing, hearing or speaking it. We’re quite an opinionated mob. Many went down many rabbit holes, but on the whole, common sense reigns. It’s alternative & sooo on track, that it makes the rest of the world look mad! Yet we are the ones they call ‘mad’! Yes, compliance is one of the complaints of the sturdy, serious, straight types (or should I say lack of compliance), but nobody really cares. Not even the police until someone in head office in some state city thinks we need a shake up! They’re the disconnect of this environment, the real flaws of our existence.
So I live in my little bubble of escapedom – in Nimbin! I’m retired but not asleep!
Born in New Zealand back when it was a population of just 2.5 million strong; every Kiwi felt the urge to get off the beaten track & explore the contrasts of the country. With nothing that could bite or kill you, it was a safe haven. Independence was easily acquired & Kiwi’s became eager to explore the world. Most of us did. One outgrew New Zealand pretty quickly.
I grew up on a farm then next to a farm, then down the road from a farm. Animals were my pals. I went to school & got my fair share of life lessons there. One of those lessons? Courtesy of the matriarchal principal of my high school. Public school, sure – but she ran it like her personal empire. I still remember Dad’s words that night: “She thinks she owns the joint.” Truth is, I’d already mapped out my exit long before she gave me the angry boot. When she informed me I wouldn’t be returning, I kept my mouth shut. Dad? He understood it, because he understood me. But Mum? All she could see was
the shame!
Boom – suddenly I’m workforce! Couldn’t hold a job for more than six weeks, but who cared? Jobs were a dime a dozen & work was – well – soul-crushingly monotonous. The alarm clock became my sworn enemy. Sure, being part of a work crew had its social perks, but the production line? Equal parts of camaraderie & sheer annoyance.
Back then, nothing was branded ‘hand-made,’ even though
everything was handled. Factories were just endless chains of human hands, passing along decorated plates, perfectly arranged supermarket meat trays, stitched collars on men’s suits, snag-free towels – you name it – every single item in that chain got my human touch – over & over again.
It was as gritty as it was mind-numbing – just to demonstrate how far we still had to go to reach today’s AI-world.
I can say that even though it felt like things weren’t part of a plan (cause I didn’t have one after the ‘put-school-behind-me’ effort); the unknown, full of consistent & constant change, became my go-to position. Some said I was running away; I saw it more as a journey of discovery. I was always moving forward.
Even now I know there are a few more run-away times ahead.
But planning for the future? That wasn’t even on my radar. No one handed me a guidebook back then & honestly, I would never have predicted – or even imagined – the life I got. But, as it turns out, it was vivid, unexpected & mostly good.
I rarely turned down an open door unless I caught a whiff of something sketchy (but let’s just say my radar wasn’t always dialed-in during my youth). I did learn how to spot opportunities and before long, I got good at creating them. Somewhere along the way, I figured out that staying honest & giving my best was a solid strategy (not sure who taught me that!).
Sure, there were exceptions to the rule – always are – but then I discovered karma. And let me tell you, karma became my let-go learning that everyone was responsible for themselves, their choices & handling their own problems. As long as I didn’t do stuff that would earn me bad karma, life was beautiful! It still is …
With no script & zero plans, I launched myself into life; straight into the deep end, crossing the deepest ocean in the world.
The big question onboard circulated like wildfire. It was about a boat, a passenger liner, travelling between New Zealand & Australia. Then at exactly midpoint – the boat goes down. Everyone was asking someone where would the survivors be buried?
Jokes aside, I do recall it being in the back of my mind during my first big adventure as a 15 year old! Six days – or was it seven – at sea – on a Soviet Union cruise ship called the Shota Rustaveli, how many of us would survive? We were 500 or so, going West on the cheapest fare we could find.
And music created each day. The soundtrack?
Daddy Cool’s freshly minted Eagle Rock.
It was thrilling & perfectly chaotic—just like the adventures ahead.
Almost 55 years later, I’ve just finished writing this & Daddy Cool is resonating. Ross Wilson is still touring & played just up the Coast some weeks back, but for those reading this, whether born or bred in Australia or not …
