If I have a spiritual home, it's in Western Australia, 11 km's from the SA border. Eucla is a magical place that draws me to it with a regular pull. Sharon once asked me if I could live anywhere in Australia, where would I want to live, and without any pause I was able to say Eucla.
Unlike many areas along the Nullabor, Eucla is not a glorified shop/garage that is part of a cattle or sheep station, but a town in its own right, albeit a small one. It has a sense of community lacking elsewhere. There are houses, a small museum, the Meteorological Station, police, golf course, and the Amber Hotel/Motel.
But that's not what draws me to it. What calls to me it is less tangible and more difficult to put into words. It's there I feel at peace, a part of this land, not just living on the surface of the continent. I also feel fully myself, both the good and negative aspects of that. Better able to relax, able to enjoy myself without constraint, but more wild and dangerous also. I've traveled through there with many people, shared beds and cuddled with most of them, but rarely had sex there. The most interesting visit was with Kali, before we became sexually intimate, when we laid ourselves bare to our anger and love.
A part of me exists in Eucla at all times, the visualised landscape I use during meditation strongly echoing the landscape of the area. I've talked to my guides while there, both in the meditation dreamscape and the real environment, walking on the dunes at night, the wind off the ocean blowing my coat around me.
I've looked up at the stars while sitting on sand in one of the rooms of the old telegraph station, and relaxed beneath the big old tree that grows next to those ruins. I've walked the beach and along the pier.
And as a place it only ever becomes more magical, more a part of me, while I become ever more anchored to it.
There's many places I can be happy. But there's only one place I belong.
As you may have guessed if you read my post on human odour, I hate strong perfumes.
I would rather smell cow dung that many overdone perfumes, or the women that choose to layer on the smells. I particularly detest it when women overdo the perfume, deodourant or whatever. You know, the ones who walk past and leave a Pepe Le Pew style cloud of over-ripe perfume trailing along behind them. Seriously, if you think you need that much scent to cover your own odour, then you must be a rotting, maggot-filled, bag of pus.
It's like a slap to the face. Some even give me instant but mercifully brief headaches.
Tips for Seducing Danny #3 - Don't wear perfume or overdo the deodourant.