Sunday in November

a visit with friends to the lily dam

large open yellow blooms

shiny green leaves

shield much of the water

receding in the onslaught of a dry dry  season.

 

they wave enthusiastically at the Sun

towered over by tall gums

bark peeling in strips and ribbons

reveals smooth grey white as if polished by loving hands

leaves, brown bleached and beige

green red purple and glazed,

are being shed to become crackle under foot.

 

the forest is different

open view in all directions

a moment of confusion

what was there before?

where did it all go?

 

how quickly evidence is removed

how fast the slow moving goanna cleans up the dead and decayed

how spritely the rufous whistler sings above our heads.

clouds offer little solace

rain is restricted to drops measured out as if in short supply

the temperature seems hotter than its numbers suggest.

 

too long we have relied upon science

and now at the end of that road

our intuition is atrophied 

our knowing is dormant 

our spirit is disengaged 

the Waking required for Wholeness calls for an effort for which we have had not been trained.

 

and Yet here we are ,

this is how it is.

muscle up

exercise the intuition

practise as if your life depends upon it,

it does.

reach deep into the Knowing

it is there within every cell

practise as if your life depends upon it,

it does.

give Spirit a run

its freedom to be

to determine

to guide

practise as if your life depends upon it,

it does.

xx