into the zero



zzzzzzz   …….     zzzzzzz  …….    zzzzzzz   …….

being the last letter of the alphabet one could anticipate that we have come to the end 

that it is indeed time for a nap 

a chance to draw breath and contemplate the previous 25 symbols we have journeyed thru

instead we find that we have arrived at another beginning 

a gateway appears and beckons us to explore further

what can we do but leap …

into the zero

the no thing ness

 the unknown…




thank you to all that have  followed me on this challenge this month

to all that have cheered me on

thank you to all that have left such heart warming comments – I don’t always reply but I do deeply appreciate hearing from you ALL.

I am by nature not an every day broadcaster of stories  kinda girl

so I am looking forward to this break and whatever may come along next…

be assured that the faerie embassy is thriving and holding the space for all beings to live well with each other

it will continue to create dreams and sing stories that includes and compliments the heart of life itSelf.



and YET


the yellow sun is shining 

and my friend cheryl has arrived for a visit .

weeks of rain has given way for a bolt of blue

and we are soaking it up.


the Y of it today 

is that I have booked tickets for the opera

La Traviata.

a few years ago I heard cheryl mention that she really wanted to have ‘a go of an opera’ and as her  60th approached  I decided  to make this wish come true.

so today I get to be a faerie bestowing wishes

not bad for a wednesday.

but really mostly we are sitting around talking about our friend  Carole our sheep farmer eccentric extraordinaire

and what to do????

she fell in a hole while chasing errant sheep which  took her an hour to get herself out of and then she crawled home.

over a week later she is still not walking

so this is what she does. 

she has a plastic bucket in front of her on which she places her hands  moves it a step then shuffles her feet forward. 

try it – it isn’t easy or one might say even sustainable but in the country eccentric way of things quite a brilliant answer to getting about.

the thing with carole is that she is so used to living on her own terms doing her  thing that change is absolutely impossible for her  to contemplate. 

we rally around with soup and make sure she has water because she cannot walk the paddock to the shed where she has buckets that collect rainwater.

the whole farming situation blows our minds – and YET we honour that she has the right to live on her own terms 

just that currently it is difficult to know how to proceed when our options as governed by her steadfast stance are so limited



X – ing


x-ing is a  mary daly word  found in the wickedary and here is what  I understand of it.


Mary Daly named it as the symbol for the unknown and variable qualities of questing women.


among these qualities is contrariness

the state in which women go other wise

in which they do things differently

in which they spin anticlockwise  

in which they go against the grain /drain

of the moguls of merchandise

whose only dream is to increase profits.



and then there is


women resident in Being

where women inhabiting their Authentic Original Selves

shamelessly explore cosmic encounters.

They dance and sing with Elemental energies

honouring synchronicity and living in Real Space Time.


another quality of x-ing

is women as boundary riders

always hunting fearlessly for the edge

and leaping off it.



we are x-ing women

when we refuse to be used

when we decline to be denied

and when we rebuff compromise.



Elizabeth Oakes Smith in a speech at the National Woman’s Rights Convention 1852


“my friends do you realize for what purpose we are convened?

do we fully understand that we aim at nothing less than an entire subversion of the present order of society, a dissolution of the whole existing social compact.”


 X-ing women unite !!!




what is it this weight



What is it this weight

that walks  around with  me

this heaviness and deep sighing like feet caught in mud,

like a body of treacle trapped in a tin.


what is it

this perceived problem

this anxiety

this state?


And why is it that it will be better

when I sleep deeply

or when the sun shines 

or next month

 or when I camp beside a surging ocean

or when a lover whispers sweet words to me?


what dependency have I cultivated

to desire peace from a place of uncertainty

to desire truth from denial

to desire a future different from the past present moment?


What stress am I suffering between the layers of cell tissue and organ

when I scheme urge cajole fret court and canvas

options solutions and promises

to dramas solely enacted in my own mind?


How deep is this well that I have dug for my self

 how high is this mountain that I cannot climb

and how low is this mind that plots ???


can it just Be?

 can it be released riven free from self grasp

and encouraged to flutter

to fly

to transform???






…we are voyagers…

today it is a very very very happy birthday

to jessica may

 a star come to earth to sing and dance her journey.


birthdays are always arriving and departing

memories hover on the fringes of a long long voyage thru charted and uncharted territories.

it is true that the uncharted areas of the map are most often the places where I am most happy.

what is also true is that until these spaces discover us we are none the wiser of their existence.

it is fascinating how you can tell a story to one person and they nod and return the gift with a similar felt presence

and other times we draw a blankness a non comprehension a puzzlement or an outright you are looney…

spaces are the most fun to explore and can happen from exactly where you dwell right now

there is no monetary cost but more than likely the ego will have to sit back

there is no available insurance no guarantees no surety

except that as humans we are voyagers thru a space time continuum

and this space is deep eternal and always there

waiting on the edges of our awareness for a visit.


and we all love you jess very very very much.



going to town today so undie up girls



once upon a time in a mudbrick castle four little girls played 

one year apart from each other,

one of those blended families as they call them these days.


living in the bush meant clothing was a haphazard affair

warm stuff  in winter if you could get it on them

but summer  meant ditching clothes and running naked more often than not 

or wearing only a  ‘kirt or a string of beads

but underpants ,

well lets face it they are very tricky with the whole bladder training thing that goes on.

when you have to go you have to go,  best if there is nothing  in the way.

so we had a rule

and it was

going to town today so undie up girls.

no undies no going out.

 sometimes there were grumbles and sometimes they couldn’t find them

and sometimes they squabbled over what belonged to who

but gradually they got the hang of it.

this morphed into   “ dress ups “ followed with costumes and wearing ‘grown up’

high heels lipstick jewels clips  bows and nail polish

 all too soon  modesty kicked in and appearance mattered

fitting in with ‘the norm’ became important

and to tell the story of the no undie years brought a blush to their cheeks.







a cup of TEA



the water kefir bubbles away on the kitchen bench next to the milk kefir next to the kombucha.

below on the floor in a crock sauerkraut does its blurbling and farting.

fermentation heaven.

or as bec says we are the masters of rotting.

once I only had to sieve the milky yogurt kefir add some water and drink it first thing in the morning to ease its goodness into my intestines stomach and future well being.

before that it had been a squeeze of lemon juice in warm water.

they are all terribly beneficial of course with their anti oxidant rich properties their sour fermented gases their minerals of this and that.

the pressure is on now to accommodate all these other beneficial drinks.

and I am not sure I am up to the task especially since I haven’t given up on pots of tea.

Oh no not on your nellie not ready to give the cuppa away.

afterall there is something sacred about it.

in some ways it smooths out the edges.

it is the upper and the downer

the fix of all fixes.

the highlight of the morning and the classic end to a long day.

it is high ceremony;

a teapot warmed, the cup and saucer waiting, tea leaves added , the water boils and then left to brew under its colourful crocheted cosy.

Add a milk jug  a sugar bowl for those not sweet enough a pot of honey even

then there is the peace and surrender to the  gentle grace of sitting and sipping .

aaaahhhhhh can be exhaled as you place the cup back onto its saucer.


the lewins honeyeaters flying in and out of the wisteria arbour carrying fine threads of down hair and grasses.

a sacred kingfisher flashes its turquoise coat from the fig tree and the heavy scented honey flowers of the angophora drift in bursts to the ground.

skinks slide along the window sill and scuttle about the dishes on the sink.

the black snake cruises the grey water channels tongue busy scouting frog, rat or lizard.

wonga pigeon bobbing its head struts importantly around the shrubberies

whichever season whichever story whatever the joy or the grief

that cup of tea holds a magical place beside my heart hearth.