Journey of the Shears

"This is all you'll hear about for the next year and a half" the key anchor for ABC News Breakfast said while I kept blowdrying her hair... "until theres a vaccine".

I think the fires in Australia had only just started to die down. Millions of animals lives had been lost, it was devastating. Temperatures outside had gotten to 45C and we were told to stay safe indoors if possible. But I'd read a story about a man in Sydney who'd decided to go and get a cool drink from the shops, and had a heart attack when he got home, from heat exhaustion.

No one really knew how big this next disaster would be, this new one we were facing. We were all just beginning to process one side of this country being on fire... and it's a really big country.

I'd been working at the ABC as a hair and makeup artist for a few years, as a freelancer, I was usually working many jobs at a time. But I lost all of them a couple weeks later. The whispers of Covid turned into held breaths and silence, watching the screen in the makeup room - with the headlines on repeat.. Huwan something something.. images of people being locked in their homes and the doors being sealed shut still come to mind.

On the drive one day, when I was picking up my daughter from school, I got the official call that I wasn't able to come to work. And, being a casual, I didn't have any annual leave. It was a hard blow but I had to somehow keep calm while I kept going about my parenting duties.

I went home, went into crisis mode. Opened all the cupboards, and did a check of all the food we had. It wasn't much, and the coins in the cookie jar looked mainly silver instead of gold.

I'd been through hard times before. I've lived on the streets, out of cars, lived in rainforests, out of a back pack, on a couch. I know how to live minimal. I'd seen that doco somewhere about folks living lean. Monks do it all the time... I had a book about it somewhere.

But those theories help with the rational side of the mind. Not the emotional. I would spend the next few months inside that apartment, home schooling my daughter solo, being donated food from lovely people and generally watching the collapse of everything.

I thought about how I'd been lucky to have a home, to have my health. My beautiful compassionate daughter with me. I thought about how I would create something, to try and keep my mental health up, and perhaps bring in some extra coin.

It had only been a few years before that I was working in the film industry, on Aliens - Covenant specifically - creating creature suits. In particular I was one of the creatives in the fabrication department, working on set to keep the actor as comfortable as possible and do any repairs to their creature suits. It was on this job, that I received my pair of Fiskar gardening shears. The runner had bought them thinking they were fabric scissors I think. But they worked beautifully on the tough silicone and mesh materials we were creating.

That ended up being one of the last big films I did.. I was being pulled away from my kiddo too much with work. I didn't like the exchange of money for time with her.

I remembered then that I knew how to live lean. That I was creative and could make it work. I wanted to show her I was committed to being there and to show her resilience.

In the first lockdown, I started to rummage through the materials I had. And I found those shears. Still sticky with glues and paint, but working beautifully.

I tried to work out what I was going to do with myself, and I did some sewing, quilting and leatherwork for a bit. But it didn't stick. I thought about how hard it is for people to get enough food, about how so much of this city isn't being used for growing, when there's so many hungry folks. So I started gardening. I only had a little courtyard, mostly gravel. But I was determined to add meaning and purpose to my life, to be part of the change I wanted to see...as the saying goes.

Each morning I'd get up before dawn, journal, meditate, research, contemplate... then I'd go for a walk, and take these shears with me. I'd scramble down river escarpments, back alley ways and abandoned spaces and take cuttings. I didn't have any money to buy plants or soil, but I was learning more and more about growing something from nothing. And you don't need many tools for that. Just a couple, and ones that are reliable.

I did that almost every day for months during those long lockdowns. Mask on, thermos of tea, headphones, scissors, sunrise. Every day.

Eventually the garden came together... around the same time I realised I wouldn't be able to go back to work for a long time. The industry had been amazing for me and I've worked on some amazing projects with big name folks and all that. But my soul wasn't in it.

This urban farming thing was in my soul though.

I thought I'd take a gamble, and look for jobs as an urban farmer. And there was just one. I told myself not to be so ridiculous and there was no chance I'd get the job. I'd done some study, but not enough.

I wrote the resume about an hour before the last minute. And sent it off. And got and interview. And got the job.

I was now, the Farm Manager.

I had all kinds of dreams flood in. I could finally buy a block of land! The bank will finally see me as a viable human and loan me money so I could start my own farm!

I bought an ol' motorbike to fix up. So I could start to fuel the other dreams, of working on other farms and helping out other folks. It was all coming together.

Then.

The next lockdown happened. And I was stood down. I thought it would only last the week. But, instead it turned out I was made redundant. No warning, and only a weeks pay.

It's hard to explain how this made me feel. A mixture of worthless and ashamed to be unemployed again. Even though my manager had to hold back tears while telling me, I ended up trying to make her feel better. Perhaps to cover where my mind was going...

I thought again about what I had in the pantry. About any savings I had. I wondered if I'd done something wrong to deserve all this, and my mental health started to turn down.

My daughter hugged me and tried to make me feel better, but this time I couldn't hold it together. It wasn't just the job. It was the loss of the farm. The loss of the bank seeing me as viable. The loss of an idea and a dream.

I watched hours and hours of documentaries of people turning around climate change. Staring somewhat vacantly through exhausted dried teary eyes and a whole sense of numbness.

I lay awake in the dark through the night, trying to understand what had happened. And how I was going to have to let go of so much.

I reminded myself of how lucky I was to have my health, my daughters health. About how I'd lived on the streets, about how so many people were loosing their jobs, about how so many people have lived with worse for a long time, all around the world. The numbness and exhaustion eventually dominated the anxiety and rushing mind, and I finally fell asleep.

Somewhere in all of that we had been evicted too. The housing prices were skyrocketing around us because of Covid, so the owner wanted to sell. We moved further out to a house that had a huge garden. The classic Australian 1/4 acre block.

The day after the tears and the doco's, at dawn I woke up, and the reality of what had happened came through groggy thoughts, but an idea had struck me. Perhaps I could turn this block into an urban farm. And I'll donate everything from here to folks who are going through worse than what I have been.

So, I picked up those same shears again, and my daughter and I went for a walk to find some cuttings. To start again, again.

Since then, I've set up a Patreon, so that people could donate to help me cover the costs of running this urban farm. The financial support from the government isn't enough to cover rent and bills... but perhaps if I sell some of my creative work, the gap will be filled and I can keep doing this project.

It's early days, but the silver lining is coming through. There's been an absolute outpouring of people offering support, donations, cuttings, tools, mulch, money, food boxes, love, hugs, similar stories and the odd tear.

The motorbike is still there. Waiting to be fixed whenever some funds come through. Once we can all travel again, I'll visit other farms, and learn more about how we can best feed and help others in need. I'll take those shears with me then too.

I saw this story for Fiskars, and I realised I've had those same shears through 3 jobs, 4 lockdowns, multiple heartbreaks, a mental health crash, and 2 evictions, but they're still going. Every time I am in a state of crisis, or loss, I come back to the same point; that I have the skills to pull myself up again, and I have the tools to make these ideas happen.

Along with my resilience, my cunning, and my dedication to show my daughter how to get through hard times, I show her how to think creatively, and how to work the problem.

This little farm won't stay here forever, as I imagine we'll have to move again at some point. I've gotten better at the idea of being in flow with change. And letting go of the safety net of stability. To be flexible, to be thankful, to be mindful of how lucky I really am.

I know I can start a little farm anywhere now. The Wildling Farm will be my legacy. To show how resilience and devotion can bring change.

That we as a community can come together, to be the change we want to see in the world.