Hi my name is Pritha Dasi thanks for stopping by and having a read.

I have never blogged before but I love to write.

In truth, I have been procrastinating about doing this for some time now and after chatting with a blogger and writer friend last week he inspired me to get blogging so here I am.

This is not a narcissistic attempt to show the world how wonderful I am because I am no more then what you are and this is my point exactly, if I can attain what I have then so can you.  See this as an outreach project for overcoming depression, anxiety, weight issues and the lack of desire to continue breathing on some days.  We are all gurus and disciples in this life and the only way that we can learn from one another is by sharing our stories. So here goes…

I was born on the 30^th of April (some decades ago) into a family that migrated to Australia from Spain in 1964.  My father, Antonio was born in 1930, he was ‘given away’ as a young boy to his neighbours to be raised by them because my grandparents had too many kids to care for and another mouth was just too much.  As a young man he spent a lot of time with a local Priest, Padre Flores and joined the priesthood but women and other desires kept him from becoming a priest. My father was a carpenter by trade, a musician at heart but he was a humanitarian first and foremost.  He was a man of great integrity that would do anything for you and expect nothing in return.  In my young adult years dad and I always argued, it wasn’t until long ago that I understood why.  We would have great disagreements over silly things and we wouldn’t talk for hours but we had a rule at our house that whenever someone was to leave they would have to kiss everyone there and say goodbye just in-case that was their last goodbye.  We were both that suborn that we would wait until the last minute to go to somewhere so the other had to make the first move. Many times we would turn our face to receive a kiss from the other and mutter a ‘goodbye’ under our breath.  As I matured my relationship with my father improved, there was an underlying bond and love between us both that was felt and understood but never spoken about.  No disagreement could have ever broken that bond.
He was (as I am) grossly misunderstood by his behaviour, his aloofness, coldness and abrupt manner in communicating didn’t do him any favours.  He didn’t take shit and he called a spade a spade.  He was too much for most to handle. I would say that he was probably the most sincere person I have ever met.  He was somewhat an acquired taste, you either loved him or hated him but if you gave him the benefit of the doubt you would have gained a friend for life with no strings attached, I believe the ‘buzz’ term these days is ‘unconditional love’.

My mother Franisca was born in 1934 and was a devout Catholic. She married my father in 1953, he was the only man the she ever knew.  She was a full-time housewife and did the best she could with what she had.  Mum was the kind of person that everyone loved, with her softness and polite forgiving mannerisms she won people over instantly. My mother’s ‘saintly’ status mostly came from having to care for my sister, Lynn, who was born disabled and autistic.  Bound to a wheelchair, unable to communicate, eat and drink or anything by herself mum became the link between my sister’s trapped soul and the world we live in.  Mum cared for her 24/7 and never left her side until Lynn passed away in 1986.  She saw us as a burden and a responsibility and did the need to do but with no love, just out of obligation.

My relationship with my mother was a turbulent one that is not to say that I didn’t love her.

So here I am, the product of two devout Catholics.  I thought I would share a brief intro of my parents with you because without understanding the seed how can you start to appreciate the flower?