to be loved

I'll stay awake
and keep the wolves away
the lights will dim
and the earth will go cold
but I will be here

he has my heart....

Yesterday I received an email from my dear friend Sean.  I am so grateful for him... ----------



Forwarded message ---------- From: "Sean Ross"
Date: 15/02/2013 2:12 PM Subject: 
To: "Sarah Martin" 

I really enjoyed your piece, 'Yesterday, I cried....'   Thank you for sharing that with me. It sounds like there's been an enormous amount of growth in your life. I'm very proud of you, Sarah, and feel certain you'll continue to go from stength to strength, from hereon in. I'm sure you will prove to be an inspiration to others, yourself, in years to come.   

I love you xoxox 



Sean is one of the most talented, beautiful people I know. He wrote this heartfelt touching account of how we became friends, hopefully this gives an insight to how precious he is to me..... At the time I first met Sarah Martin, I had not long auditioned for Maestro Vladimir Vais, and was about to embark upon an exciting new exploration into the art of orchestral conducting. Sarah, herself, was in the throes of completing an Arts degree; majoring in creative writing. Having tired of the few months' exertion I'd endured at the diary factory in Collingwood, I had been searching further afield, for employment that would both complement, and add variety to, my ushering job with the Marriner Theatres. 


Surprisingly, I unearthed an advertisement for the charity fundraising company, Communication Direct, which just so happened to be located in the same neighbourhood as the diary factory. Sarah and I were in the same large group of new employees; commencing work together on the 25th of November, 1999. It was not until around the year 2001, however, that we actually became close friends. In fact, I can't even recall noticing Sarah amidst the throng of new employees, at induction; such were the sheer numbers of people being employed by the company, at the time.        


Indeed, although C.D. was a relatively small, 'boutique-style' affair, at the time the services of Sarah and mine were enlisted, it was nonetheless experiencing a boom in business. Whilst the company would later come to consolidate the full range of its commitments, quite drastically (perhaps having over-extended itself, and in so doing, over-estimated its ability to deliver satisfactory results to a number of the charities concerned), initially, Sarah and I worked on behalf of such charities as the Red Cross, Diabetes Victoria, Arthritis and Osteoporosis Victoria, and another one or two such organizations, whose names seem to have escaped my memory. We worked between the hours of 5pm and 9pm and, for the most part, were engaged in 'cold calling': prevailing upon the public to assist the charities we represented, by accepting a small book of raffle tickets; either to on-sell or to purchase outright, themselves. Originally, the nature of the job appealed to me, because it appeared to be a relatively easy and mindless one, which would no doubt afford me the chance to channel the greater part of my mental energy into my various creative endeavours.        


At the time we actually became bosom buddies, Sarah had yet to undergo the inner metamorphosis that would ultimately produce the strikingly self-assured individual that she had always been, deep down. What I came to admire most about Sarah was her quiet maturity and general nobility of character, coupled with her keen sense of good, old-fashioned fun! Just over two years my junior, Sarah became akin to a second sister, to me; showering light into what would otherwise have been a considerably dull working environment. In turn, Sarah seemed to be inspired by my drive; the sense of purpose and meaning with which my life was imbued. Not having had a clear sense of what she most wanted from life, this very sense of purpose was something to which she aspired, herself. Whilst not endowed with the soul of an artist, as such (as was the case with her mother, Mary Martin), Sarah was nevertheless possessed of quite a creative vein, herself; something which became manifestly expressed in her creative writing. Over time, Sarah became my best girlfriend. We both came to confide in one another our innermost thoughts and feelings; both joyous and disconsolate, alike.         


Perhaps what I remember most fondly about the 'Communication Direct' chapter of our lives is the fun we had at the weekend parties Sarah hosted, at her Grandma's house (where she lived for around four years). Naturally, these hotly-anticipated social events were contrived so as to impinge neither upon her Grandma's liberties, nor her general peace of mind! They were scheduled only on weekends when her Grandma had arranged to stay with other relatives, and presented Sarah with the rare opportunity of being able to lose herself in a state of self-induced oblivion! In an effort to further magnify her enjoyment of these excursions into mindless frivolity, Sarah made repeated attempts to lure me into a similar state of dulled consciousness, but alas, to no avail. Not being as fond of spirits (of the alcoholic variety, at any rate), I could never bring myself to match her level of intoxication!        


I shall forever be indebted to Sarah for the rare and precious gift of her enduring friendship. Her love and support over the years have been truly unconditional. She is a refreshingly non-judgmental person, who has successfully managed to retrieve my head from amidst the clouds, whenever it was in danger of being lost, there!    

 ~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 I am honored to call him my friend and thank him for this beautiful tribute to our friendship. A friendship that has never changed even with space and time.....

Apart from night

by full moon
love whispered
in the breeze
the quest
felt strong
there is no place
apart from night

the men who haven't thrown me from the train

yesterday I cried at work.

yesterday I cried in my manager's office.

yesterday I cried.

I have always had this thing about not being emotional at work and by  showing emotion you are in a sense showing a sign of weakness; I know crying is not weakness, it's an expression of feeling overwhelmed and this bubbling emotion inside needs to be released.

yesterday I cried.

Four months ago I was thrown into a leadership position where I became the supervisor for a division in our contract, Citipower Special Reading.

I never thought that I would be in this position, I never thought I had the capacity to lead people. I never believed I would be given an opportunity to take this role.

yesterday I cried.

I have had four believers in my court....actually as I write that I realise I have a lot of believers.  However, professionaly I have four clear front runners.

Paul McCann our Operations Manager, he's my friend firstly, but he's always been an advocate of mine at work. He's a perfect example of how I want to lead people....

Sean Keuneman my contract manager who I am grateful for the trust he has in me.  Unfortunately we have over my three years with Servicestream had some testing times personally, yet I have come to realise the heart on his sleeve is purely that, a heart.....you can't deny the heart.

Michael Hill who no longer works with us, but he, I think, started mentoring me long before I showed any potential, I see that now.....I will always be grateful for his presence in my life.

Finally Matt Mannix.  He was the reason I cried yesterday.  He is my biggest advocate, he has believed in my ability, tested my capability, put pressure, shown me how to lead, shown compassion, worked with my strengths and encouraged.  I have trusted whole heartedly in him and I thank him for the times he has been in the direct firing line of my impatience, frustrations my self disappointment but ultimately my eagerness to be the best I can be.

Yesterday I cried because of that, and I sit here now filling with that same emotion.

These men have never stopped believing in me even when I have....

for that I am grateful....

my heart is caught

today you came back
I couldn't lock my eyes
into yours
I search for the exit
gasping on air
remembering I did love

The Dream: number 8

in the middle of the night
you lie in the darkness
you rollout your soul
and I pick at its seams
as your eyes ripple
over me like
the mile long creek
flowing through my veins

Gratitude in Pain

Sometimes I even wonder if being a good person, with true, honest and good intention serves you well in a place and time when people who lie, cheat and disrespect others have equally the same "right".

I use the word right somewhat loosely.  We ALL have equal rights and needs and a level of deserved respect, but I wonder where that stops.

I NEVER want to use my platform here to grandstand my ideas or beliefs, I never want to use it for negativity or anger, I want this to be a place of peace, love and joy.

Writing does serve me well, writing gives me clarity, writing will ALWAYS be a voice I cant change.

Today I received some news, that can possibly have the ability to effect the path forward.

I am grateful that these past few months have taught me to breathe and to breathe through what potentially a few months back I would easily have allowed myself to fall in a darkness.......

I am grateful.....