Begin Again, Don’t Quit!



When you’ve worked your hardest, and given your best,

When you’ve practiced then practiced some more.

When you feel prepared and go for your test,

And confidently step out on the floor

Where all eyes are on you and things can get tough,

But all that you have is still not enough,

Don’t despair or be worried when you take a hit.

Begin again, don’t quit.


When you’ve made sacrifices, dedicated your self.

When you’ve turned your whole world upside down,

Giving all of your passion; all other things on the shelf,

And you hope it will mean you don’t drown.

When things don’t go to plan, as is often the case,

And you find yourself being put back in your place,

Though the life jacket didn’t quite fit,

Begin again, don’t quit.


When you know what you know, and you do what you do,

When you lead, people follow along.

When people who watch you and look up to you,

In a place where you clearly belong,

If the roulette wheel spins and you don’t end up winning,

And results on the day really don’t leave you grinning,

There are friends in your corner and they’re just going to sit….

Until you begin again and don’t quit.


Rachel Sag, May 2018.


The Woman And the Ox; four years on.

ox herding

Hi there! Kampai! It has been a while between drinks. My apologies if you’ve missed me. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I have started a lot of blog posts which I have not finished, or finished but not published. I’m not sure what this shift towards internalising things is about, or what I am afraid of exactly. Perhaps it’s a case of once bitten twice shy, (Getting blogged down). There are a lot of things that I would like to comment on, but by doing so may compromise the anonymity of some parties, and so I stay silent.

It occurred to me the other day that I have been on my karate journey for four years last Friday. It passed without much ado. That’s okay. On the night before though, I attended a rather interesting seminar on Zen in the martial arts. (You can purchase it here: (Using Martial Arts Zen & Strategy in Life & Career Success) One of the things that was discussed was the famous ox herding pictures ( See basic information here ) shown above. I often reflect on my own journey and how it relates to the journey of the boy and the ox. I’m not sure if I have followed the exact path in the “correct” order, but I’m sure I will pass through all the stages eventually, one way or another, to arrive back where I started. I know I have reflected on this concept before (going round in circles), but I felt now might be a time to reflect on again, given that it isn’t long now until I officially start my journey. This may sound like a confusing scenario, given that I have just said I started my journey four years ago, but realistically I’ve just been packing my bags to get ready to leave. Hopefully in a couple of months it will really begin.

Given how much is going on in my head at the moment, I’ve decided again, that it’s probably best to limit myself to verse as a means of communicating my thoughts. I feel it is somewhat legitimate given that the original ox herding pictures have accompanying poetry. However, if you are not a fan of my poetry feel free to stop reading now.

The woman and the ox
By Rachel Sag

When I started on this journey,
I knew not where it would take me,
I knew not it was a journey, if I’m honest with myself.
I had stepped into a world
Quite unknown, and yet familiar,
Though quite why it was familiar, was a mystery on the shelf.

I felt welcome, yet a stranger.
I felt safe, yet in some danger,
And so I blindly fought, just to fit in.
And with every block and punch,
I kind of got the hunch
That “something” I had “found” would soon begin.

When I stopped and looked around,
There was so much to be found,
I just had to go in search of greener grasses.
I hadn’t heard of style,
(And I didn’t for a while),
But my head hurt from the differences in classes.

When one door began to close,
Another home I chose,
Though I took my time to get to know it well.
And though nothing seemed a chore,
Since I first walked in the door,
How quickly I’d progress I could not tell.

I just ploughed on through the years,
Through the blood, the sweat, and tears,
And all my flaws were laid bare on the floor.
Any hang up, doubt, and fear,
Seemed to all just disappear,
I bowed in, and just left them at the door.

Though my skills were more refined,
It was changes in my mind,
That snuck up on me from behind along the way.
And though I’m far from perfection,
I see through my own reflection,
To the person who I will become one day.

Garden Cold Rolls


  • 1 large zucchini, spiralised or cut into noodles with a julienne peeler
  • 2-3 carrots, spiralised or cut into noodles with a julienne peeler, or cut into thin strips
  • 2 to 3 spring onions, cut into thin strips
  • 2 cucumbers (julienned)
  • 1/2 an avocado, cut into thin strips
  • small bunch of basil, or coriander, or mint, or combination of all three, (whole leaves)
  • 3 radishes, finely sliced
  • 3 raw mushrooms, finely sliced
  • 2 cups of shredded lettuce
  • 1/2 red capsicum, finely sliced
  • 300gm marinated tofu, Quorn, Tempeh, or other protein of choice, cut in thin strips and fried lightly.


  • 20-25 cold roll wrappers (found at supermarkets / bulk at Asian grocers)
  • 8 sheets of seaweed (Nori), cut into thirds (optional)


  • Satay sauce, plum sauce, sriracha (hot) sauce, sweet chilli sauce, bbq sauce (ie whatever floats your boat!)


  1. Grow a ton of zucchini (or optionally buy some).
  2. Don’t see your zucchini-loving friends for a few weeks. (You know who you are).
  3. Be in need of a quiet meal, and have a desire for small people to eat a lot of salad.
  4. In a large bowl soak individual cold roll wrappers in hot water until they are rehydrated.
  5. Place rehydrated wrapper on a plastic chopping board.
  6. If using Nori place in the centre of the wrapper.
  7. Arrange filling as desired, taking care not to over stuff.
  8. Roll in the same fashion you would roll a burrito or similar.
  9. Place on a tray or plate under a damp tea towel or plastic wrap if you wish to use this.
  10. Continue until filling is used up.
  11. Serve immediately (not as good next day but OK), with desired dipping sauce and enjoy a whine free family dinner. (You’re welcome).





Raw Pad Thai Salad




  • 1 large zucchini
  • 3 large carrots
  • 2 spring onions
  • 1 cucumber diced

Optional add ins:

  • 2 cups of mung bean sprouts
  • 1 bunch of coriander leaves coarsely chopped
  • Cubed marinated preprepared or cooked tofu
  • Half a red pepper finely sliced


  • 2 tablespoons of soy sauce or tamari
  • 1 teaspoon of sesame oil
  • 1 tablespoon of lemon juice, lime juice, all rice wine vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon of tamarind paste
  • 1 teaspoon of maple syrup or other sweetener of choice
  • 1 Birdseye Chilli, finely chopped
  • 1 clove garlic, crushed


  • 1/4 cup toasted (or not) whole or crushed peanuts, or slivered almonds


  1. Grow a heap of zucchini.
  2. Don’t see your zucchini-loving friends for a few weeks. (You know who you are.)
  3. Using a spiralizer Julienne peeler, Julienne the carrot and zucchini.
  4. Finely chop the spring onions.
  5. Cut the cucumber in cubes.
  6. Throwing everything (including other optional extras if desired), in a large bowl, and toss to combine (Hands work well at this point).
  7. Mix all dressing ingredients together in a small bowl.
  8. Mix dressing through salad.
  9. Add nuts before serving.

PS. I was intending to take a picture of this salad, but most of it had gone by the time I remembered. Yes it’s very nice.


Gasshuku 2017 and Beyond: Part 2 – Eat in or take away? (There is more than one way to skin a dead cat!)


Some of the wonderful souls I trained with last week.

Training in other dojo(s) has the potential to make you feel like a fish out of water. You are the visitor, the other, with your different uniform and your different style. You try not to stand out, but that is easier said than done. There are so many ways to skin a dead cat that people may look at you sideways if you start skinning a dead cat your way when they skin it a different way, so as unsuccessful as it can be, you try to skin it their way and fit in.

Skinning your dead cats the way they skin their cats can be a double edged sword (I guess a double edged sword might skin 2 cats at once!!!) On the one hand they may look at you in a freak moment when you actually do it they way they want you to, and say…..”Wow! she can skin a dead cat the “right” way!” (subtext “our way”)…..or, when you are not skinning it their way, despite having a red hot go they might say “You’re skinning it all “wrong”! I bet your instructor didn’t show you to skin it that way!” (which then makes you question which memo you missed when on the whole skinning cats thing!!). Don’t ask me why a staunch vegan like myself is talking about skinning cats. I know nothing about skinning cats!! What I do know, or at least what I am starting to realise now, is that whilst cross training gets easier, the more you know about your own style, it also gets harder.

When I started cross training as a white / yellow belt, I didn’t know cross training was a thing, I didn’t even know karate styles were a thing…..I mean a dogi is a dogi right?……And noone looks particularly stylish in one: it’s not the point!! When you are still learning a down block, the subtleties of how far out from your body a block ends, how straight your elbow is, where the block starts, etc, just aren’t on your radar. When you start to feel more confident with the basics within your style though, and someone questions it or tries to change it, even just subtly, it can make you question not only if  you are doing it right (specific to your own style), but also why you don’t do it the same way as they do.

When I spent a week intensely cross training, last week, I was essentially cross training in one style, mostly in one dojo (but also attending 2 others of the same style). Even across dojo(s) though, I noticed subtle differences in techniques / style, teaching methods, preferences and priorities. It was absolutely fascinating!

With the exception of my own kata (which are style specific), I tried to follow along as best I could where ever I was. I even followed along with some of the basic kata they were practicing, which gave me even more to think about in terms of the common ancestry of our styles…..(gives more meaning when we affectionately refer to each other as “sister” dojo or our “cousins”). When I trained on my own in between times, I endeavoured to resort back to my own style. That said, I did experiment to a degree with incorporating principles and relevant information and feedback, into my own practice. I took both an eat in AND take away approach. It’s no wonder I came back feeling overfed!! A week on almost and I am still trying to digest it all!

GASSHUKU 2017 and beyond: Part 1 – Going troppo (without actually going troppo)*


Just off the plane back home!!!

*’Going Troppo’ is an exclusively Australian slang term for ‘going crazy’. The  popular understanding about it’s origin is that it comes from stories of the tropical heat in the northern parts of Australia driving people crazy.

This afternoon I returned from Queensland having spent a very intensive 10 days focusing on karate. For the last couple of weeks, my life has been a case of: eat, sleep, train, repeat. Sometimes there has definitely been more of the training, than the eating, or sleeping, but mostly it’s been relatively even.

Hard work; it was. Brain stretching; it was. Although there hasn’t been much blood, there has been plenty of sweat…..OMG……that humidity in the tropics is not something someone from a drier climate like me ever really gets used to, but even with sweat streaming into my eyes, there were no tears. Despite the weather, there was no “going troppo”, even when I was led astray to the occasional post-training glass of Japanese or home-brew cider!!!

During my time away, so many Sensei tachi and Senpai tachi, (my own Kyoshi included), have given of their time, freely, and willingly, to watch me, and guide me, to give me feedback, and just to talk karate with me and answer questions.

Statistics-wise, if I total the “in dojo” and/or “with Sensei” hours (ie not including individual practice or informal training / discussion with others) in the last 11 days, I come up with 32 or thereabouts. That’s way more than I would normally train in about a month. During the last 11 days, I’ve trained in five different dojo, on a beach, in the ocean, predawn camp on the grass, accompanied by birdsong. I’ve also trained with 10 different Sensei tachi (instructors), many different Senpai, and probably over 100 Karate-ka from 11 different dojo in Queensland, SA, and USA.

Everyone has their own teaching style. Some very direct, some tactile, some reflective, but all effective in different ways. It could have been a confusing, and overwhelming, or even downright demoralising experience. I am happy to report that it was anything but that. I was expecting to come home a bit battered and bruised if not on the outside, on the inside, but instead, I feel affirmed of my journey, with renewed resolve and enthusiasm. Apart from giving me a whole lot of ideas about how to improve my own practice, the many instructors have also given me ideas about teaching others.

All the people I had the pleasure of training with, are passionate about their art. I know that I am too, and a lot of people can see that in me, but it hasn’t always been easy to convince everyone that a late, (and relatively new) starter like me, is worthy of the kind of respect, and personal attention, I have been afforded.

Five or six months ago, when I started planning this trip, I was somewhat concerned that it was “too early” in my journey, to even ask for the opportunity to attend classes at the Queensland dojo (s), too much of an imposition on my husband and kids, and even too much of an inconvenience on my kohai here, who are preparing for grading (ie I should be around to help them). I was so distracted by what everyone else’s needs were, and what everyone else would make of a request from a first kyu brown belt, with less than four years training under that belt, asking for an experience beyond what even she thought she could be given, let alone handle.

I’m not the first in our dojo, (nor hopefully will I be the last), to visit our sister dojo(s) in Queensland, or to get feedback from Queensland dojo heads, but my Senpai who went last year, was up there for a shorter time, while staying with family, and was in the throes of preparing for his shodan test not long after he returned. I was in Queensland for a whole week after camp, expecting to rent accommodations and a car in order to be able to live out what I wanted to do with the week. Instead I was welcomed into the homes of 2 members of my karate family and transported by various others.

To all of the people who helped me arrange my trip, those who welcomed me into their dojo (s), who patiently taught me, encouraged me. and showed me knew things, to those who transported me, who adopted me into their families (and not just their dojo families), and showered me with love, and support, when I was away from my own family and my own dojo family, you not only made my stay possible but, also extremely enjoyable and highly productive. To all of you, (you know who you are), I am truly grateful.


Gender equality: Same, same, but different.


At my last grading – photo credit Brett J.


I have been thinking about writing this for a while and waiting for an appropriate juncture to publish it. I wrote about gender equality a few times (including here and here) but this post is from a different perspective, and was sparked by a few things in my life both in and outside the dojo.

My husband asked today how my blog was going, and I had to admit that it had been somewhat neglected for various reasons. Then a facebook memory came up reminding me that I started my blog 2.5 years ago… in honour of this 2.5 year anniversary, I shall stop procrastinating and share my thoughts.



Just in case anyone missed the memo: Yes, I was born a girl. I “grew up” (in a purely physiological sense, if nothing else) into a woman. If we extrapolate a little, in terms of my karate, I’m experiencing somewhat of a second childhood, so loosely, yes, I am a girl in the dojo (training place).


I’m not here to complain about being born with, and growing up with two X chromosomes; it is what it is, and I’ve never, and will never experience the alternative. As much as at times in my life, the grass has seemed greener, or at least easier to chew, I’m content enough to graze in my designated paddock.


Sometimes though, it’s hard to believe we have arrived, (nearly 20 years ago at that), in the 21st-century. Even in first world countries, where things have improved significantly, and moved toward equality (in things that can and in my humble opinion should be equalised), we still have a higher percentage of men in Parliament, and in leadership roles, and earning higher wages, for doing the same work, women performing a higher percentage of unpaid home and childcare duties, (whether they work or not), and women being objectified and sexualised to sell things. Women are way more likely to be self-conscious about their bodies, and yet are continuously subjected to media images which attempt to dictate how they should look and dress, and even think. The list goes on but I think I’ve made my point.


Although there were traditional martial arts designed for women, karate certainly was not one of them. Women in dojo are a relatively recent addition. Those pioneering women in the art, (in the 70s and 80s), evidently often had a rough time of it. So those that stuck it out, and are still training now, are likely to be tough as nails.


It’s different now, in many ways. Firstly, women are very welcome in the dojo, or at least in my limited experience, and, be this and exception or not, I have the pleasure of training in a hombu dojo (home / original training place within a style) that (including our male instructor), has an even number of males and females in the adult classes, and similar in the kids classes. We train the same things. We train together. We train hard. Whilst I acknowledge the benefits of grappling with similar weight and size partners, conditioning with partners of similar bone structure and conditioning as me, and I know that there are advantages and limitations associated with the body I have at my disposal, which may make some things easier or harder for me, I still occasionally and reminded that to be a karate-ka (karate practitioner) and be a woman, are two things that didn’t always go together.


Being a karate-ka, brings on a certain set of challenges, both mental and physical. Being a woman also brings on a certain set of challenges, both mental and physical. Because I am both, and because I am me, I can only speak from personal experience to this point.


I’ve been a karate-ka (at least in name), for about three and half years. I started as a baby, accelerated through toddlerhood care of some excellent parenting (my instructors probably would call teaching), and have probably now graduated into my childhood / pre teen wonder years. I’ve been a woman for close to 43 years. I started as a baby, took a few years to get toddlerhood, and emerged as a child, where I mucked around for about 30+ years, gradually metamorphosising from adolescent to woman, to wife, to mother, collecting hats and responsibilities as I traveled through life.


At the point where these two circles of my life intersected, I was 39. I was comfortable being me, and being a woman, to the stage where I finally let myself be half way feminine, something which I had resisted for some time. I was working. I was a singer, composer, musician, with regular performance commitments, and I was in the throes of parenting a school starter and a preschooler. I had a billion other commitments besides. In short, I had so many excuses not to train, it’s surprising in many ways that it got off the ground for me at all. I had a good reason for starting training, (my son), though no particular reason to keep it up beyond trying it out. Fortunately, it sparked something inside of me that I couldn’t deny. And, so I did train, and the training kept the passion burning, and the passion kept me training. My one reason (which I couldn’t name until I had been training for probably 6 or more months), overrode all those excuses.


However, let’s look at what could have happened, had I taken the approach I could have taken, and gone with the excuses and not the passion. Where would I be now? I would likely be pretty much where I was then, which would be okay, but not fantastic. I would have missed out on a lot of growing up. I would have missed out on so many learning experiences, including learning about myself, and learning to respect and appreciate myself.


What has this got to do with other women in karate, (and more importantly, women not in karate)? Well, firstly, with the women in karate who stay there, and particularly the mums, they are often there despite the odds being stacked against them. They are the ones, swimming against the current. They are the ones trying even harder perhaps, than their male counterparts, to prove a point, even if that point is only to be proven to themselves. Even if the odds in the dojo are more in our favour now than they were a few decades ago, the odds of society are still largely imbalanced against women, and there’s a lot of life, that happens outside the dojo. It’s very difficult (thought not always impossible) to make men understand this. I get that. I don’t know what it’s like to be a man either. Empathy can only extend so far.


I am rather fortunate to train with men and boys who on the whole treat me like any other karate-ka, with respect. It doesn’t stop me trying my hardest, and possibly at times inspires me to try even harder. The important thing is that it doesn’t stop me from being me and being comfortable to be me. Generally, my instructor treats all of us in the same way, and has the same expectations of us, so being a woman in the dojo, is rarely brought up something out of the ordinary or special. To be honest that’s just the way I like it.


On the flipside, even though I love and respect all my training buddies and instructors, regardless of the chromosomes they were dealt, it is great to have developed close bonds with other women in the art, and it is important we encourage and support each other.


At the end of the day though, I don’t want to be the best woman karate-ka in our dojo, or the first woman karate-ka in our style to be awarded a Senpai (trainee instructor) title, or a shodan (black belt); I am only interested in being the best Karate-ka I can possibly be, and the best person I can possibly be. The rest really is a non issue to me.


So, next time you tell me (or even think about telling me), or my daughter, (or anyone else, male or female, for that matter), to “stop punching like a girl”, think about what you actually mean, and then, think about what it says about you, and furthermore what it says about society, and what it says about how you want society to look like.

Cauliflower and Tempeh Curry

I made this randomly in Perth because there was a change of dinner plans between when I heard about the initial plans and when I rocked up with the shopping. Happy accident. I had been meaning to recreate and record it since I got home and this afternoon I had a spare second and the right ingredients.

INGREDIENTS – serves 6-8

  • 1 clove of garlic, crushed
  • 1-2 cm ginger, grated or crushed
  • 1-3 T curry powder (depending on how hot you like it)
  • 1 T soy sauce
  • 1 bunch of coriander stems and roots, finely chopped.
  • 1 pack of tempeh – 300g (cubed)
  • 2 medium tomatoes, cut in sixths or eighths
  • 2 medium potatoes, cubed
  • 1/2 head of cauliflower, broken into florets
  • 8 or so silverbeat leaves roughly chopped (or 2 cups baby spinach)
  • 1 tin coconut milk / cream



  • In non stick fry pan dry fry garlic ginger and garlic briefly until fragrant and then add soy sauce and coriander roots, mixing until combined.
  • Add in tempeh and brown slightly.
  • Add in potato and cauliflower and fry for a few minutes stirring to stop it sticking.
  • Add coconut milk, tomatoes and spinach and bring to a simmer.
  • Simmer covered, stirring occasionally until vegetables are soft.
  • Remove cover to reduce sauce if desired.
  • Serve over rice or cauliflower rice or both.
  • Can be reheated (or frozen and reheated)

Clockwise from top: Brown rice and Cauliflower rice, mango pickle, dahl, cauliflower and tempeh curry, Jackfruit and chickpea curry. Centre accompaniments = cucumber, mango chutney with tomato, coriander and spring onion.

When Life Begins


The sun sets on my 30’s (No party, but I spent a rare quiet few days away here with my husband when I actually turned 40)

As a young girl, and in my early adult years, I used to hear the oft used catch phrase: “Life begins at 40.” bandied around a lot. Of course, I dismissed it. How could “life” begin when one was so old? Why wait that long to get to the starting blocks? How, at a time when most people are bogged down with the reality of kids, mortgage, dead-end jobs, and bills to pay, and when there was no time for a “life” could life be beginning? Surely this was just something that “old” people said to make themselves feel better about getting old.


If only I knew then what I know now.


In my 20s I was naive. I liked to go out, or at least hang with the cool crowd, and fit in. I beat myself up when I struggled to keep up. I was never into drinking, and though outwardly extroverted at the time, I don’t think in hindsight, I was actually as outgoing as I made out to be.


By my 30s “I” was “we”. I was (still am) married to the man I met in my mid 20s, we had a house (mortgage), relatively steady employment, and were hoping for (trying for) kids. We were happy. We were self-sufficient, and to a degree, self-centred.


We “finally” became parents in our mid 30s. Being responsible for one (and not too much later two) tiny humans changed a lot of things. Suddenly the whole focus of our existence, and the whole reason for our existence, was to nurture these little helpless “bundles of joy” (they were not always joyful, but that’s part of the parenting package I guess).


Once I had emerged, from the sleep deprivation, endless nappies, and generally being a slave to routine, that accompanies new motherhood, I had the luxury to explore who I really was, what things were important to me, what I could give to others, what I could learn from others, and what and who I wanted to become. This opportunity came around about the time my son started school, and the year before my daughter started kindergarten. I was working part-time, being a mom full-time, helping out at the school, making music, and fitting in a decent amount of exercise. I needed something more. I wanted to be my own person.


The year things changed, and the year I started to get to know myself better, was, ironically, the year I turned 40. I can’t put my finger on what it was exactly, but there were two things that facilitated the change more quickly.


One of them was starting Karate training. Whether it was just doing something completely different and new for me, or whether it was something that filled a gap I never knew was there, I don’t really know, but it seemed to give me a clarity of mind to figure things out for myself.


Around about the same time, and mostly for health reasons, I decided to try a Vegan lifestyle. That also for some reason improved my clarity of mind. Sure, it made me feel better physically; healthier, and stronger, but it also shifted some of the brain fog, and gave me so much energy to do things, which facilitated me getting fitter and stronger. I seemed to need less sleep (why didn’t I think of going vegan when I had babies?), less sugar, less stimulants, and feel more calm in myself. In time it also got me thinking about why people even eat animals. I could never go back now.


It was more than that though. Both Karate, and being vegan, started to open my mind in a general way, and made me a more flexible thinker, more willing to accept and listen to others, and decide what worked for me. It made me determined, and more importantly determined not to let others define me. It helped me learn and get past learning blocks, some of which had been there more than half my life. It made me more confident in myself. It even gave me the confidence to start this blog. It made me confident to be myself, and it put me on a quest to become the best me I could be. It led me to take an attitude of living life without regret.  It gave me, in short, the impetus to stop being content to exist and to start living.


So now that my 40th year has well and truly passed and a few since then, I can say to all the non believing 20 and 30 – somethings out there, that it’s true what they say: Life actually DOES begin at 40. Life is what you make of it, so own it and make it count.


PS: Just for the record (and the benefit of Gen Y’s and younger ones): NO, I don’t feel old. I feel younger than I did at 30. It may be in part the kilos or the teenage angst I left behind in the last decade, but in reality, it’s probably mostly just an attitude shift. So be assured, although it may not be plain sailing, it certainly isn’t down hill from here!!)


PPS: Eventually I will get around to having a 40th birthday party…..but hey…..what’s the rush, right?

Freedom of choice

I’ve been meaning to write something like this for some time, and was personally reminded about it when a previous blog post entry, commemorating a very important choice I made about two years ago, Anniversary of New Beginnings came up on my news feed in Facebook, but, I’ve been very busy, haven’t had time to sit down and think. And then, today’s photo prompt for #fms_pad was “free choice”. That gave me the impetus I needed, and for the sake of brevity, I used verse.

Below I include my photo and entry for today’s FMS PAD.



Free choice:

This picture was taken on Wednesday night between two commitments when I had a free choice of activities unencumbered from my “Mum” responsibility. I chose to go on a sunset beach walk.

Because I am less of a photographer and more of a wordsmith, I would like to share some words and poetry about free choice and what this picture is trying to represent; some words of inspiration from others, along my life’s journey so far, and some of my own thoughts. I hope you will hear me out.

Firstly, words from Theodore Seussal:

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.”

Secondly, words from an inspirational teacher and friend:

“I like to think that there is no right or wrong path, but the choices we make. Therefore, when stepping forward in life, don’t fear the negative energy you receive and don’t embrace it either, just turn it around and make it a positive pathway to your journey”

Lastly, my own reflections on free choice:

FREEDOM OF CHOICE, Rachel Sag 30/7/17

I have my freedom,
So I get to choose.
I’ve my whole life to live;
I have nothing to lose.

If mole hills become mountains,
I can give up, or climb.
If I can’t do it yet,
I can put in more time.

I can choose to be happy,
Or fight for a new way.
I can learn from the past,
And make each day a new day.

I can listen to others;
Accept and receive,
But I am the one,
To choose what to believe.

When I come to a cross roads,
I can go left or right.
I can choose to stay still;
Stand my ground and fight.

I can choose to plough onward,
Or choose to retreat.
I can ask for assistance,
Or stand on my own feet.

Each choice is different.
No choice is wrong.
So I march to the beat,
Of my own chosen song.