the faerie embassy is my home space,a beautiful mudbrick castle in a richly diverse forest. which means I am very passionate about wallabies and pythons and mist spiders and twisted angophoras and the sound of the wind and the feel of the rain . we are an ark ,an island of light, a beacon of common sense in a crazy out of control consumption mad world.we have a composting toilet for goddess sake.
Some flowers hold secrets refrain from public debate others are pushy spreading their charms climbing for status wallflowers wait to be asked and roses demand adulation
painted in the abstract flowers grow in the heart first seeded by tales whispered around fires tended with minds not entirely captured
the heart cross pollinates garnering myth colour legend patterns and dreams seeds take root
sacred datura is in full summer spectacle – I dont know whether I can pick up the thread of the blogging sphere again but dear Ella chirps in my ear at times and says nothing ventured nothing gained -yeah well thanks mum never short of a homily that woman – you would think she had better things to do than flap around my ear like being born again or in some other part of the universe or whatever .
pespectives change focus shifts and we are called to do be something else for a time – in truth we are not a fixed commodity – we are formless -well try wearing that and see how it goes . many stories to tell of life at the faerie embassy which is once again looking beautiful bushy and birdy. 5 years it has been since the fire took us to black ash – 5 years since murray dad father pappap left to wonder off into his future . in that time I have been writing poetry, published one collaborative anthology with 6 other poets and working on a second book with a fellow artist /poet .
Poem for dad
gazing over Raglan beach Dad dozes in the car on a left hand break
surfers in sleek wet suits disappear inside mountains of foam emerging in victory
salute on the other side waves batter away at cliff liquorice straps of kelp
tangle ankles from the arctic hungry mutton birds fly in collapse on black sand
skeletal remains food for kings they say but who can stand the smell
too much pakeha in my blood take it outside we scream after hours of
obnoxious fumes some like a challenge not dad he went to bed not a day
goes by that I do not mourn this heart built for joy and sorrow
Are you well happy creative are you challenged  dealing with life’s absurdities frustrations rhythms are your feet tapping to the music your mouth speaking words of wisdom  your heart laughing?
Rain claims this valley once again thick grey mist blots out the hills droplets poise briefly on leaves the chooks veer between good pickings and a dry verandah leaving a calling card squished into bare feet a grimace a yell bok bok bok they mutter.
frogs quiet this evening birds on last minutes of day business the peach trees have yielded magnificent fruits juicy and warm yellow with that red heart stopping flesh around the stone.
a peach has a story inside a stone surrounded with flesh covered with skin woolly skin ready for a winter it will never see we laugh madly peach juice dripping running down our faces past our chins onto our bodies arms and legs bare to summers warm regard.
our heart like a stone surrounded by flesh  the stone a seed our body moves to do hearts bidding  the seed becomes a tree actions have consequences the tree delivers fruit our bed is made and we lie in it.Â
we are gardeners living on our allotments creating community and culture.
what grows in your garden what blooms in your heart is kindness reverberating about you do you hear wonder on the breeze the symphony of stars in your veins?
are you living in the world you want to live in the world you want for our children’s children a world for platypus wombat and dolphin a world in which ‘other’ is recognised seen heard and cherished ?
summer solstice christmas and behold another year clicking over spinning spinning the wheel turning always spinning the planets moving closer and then further away making patterns forming relationships fielding tensions conflicts harmony Uranus met Saturn again Venus goes retrograde the globe keeps on turning orbits charting their course, allegiances are made on ground zero humans go about their business of learning Being
whichever field of belief we operate out of a way will be found to confirm that which we hold so dear until one day in a single moment born of many moments a question will arise a question without answer that launches the quest for the holy grail.
And the grail –Â a cup chalice dish fountain blessing a dance a mystery, a mythological device fanning human desires to understand from where they came and to where they are going.
Looking within this forest yesterday for a drone that Kingston lost there were times I was swallowed up to my waist in undergrowth-Â ferns grasses broken branches, thick and damp full of spider webs stumbling into wombat burrows and one hoped a snake was not under foot . The drone was not found .
Had I been looking for purple flowers ferns mossy logs, had I been looking for patterns , at leaves or the intricate weave of bark or ripe wild raspberries then I could have perceived a holiness – the holy grail of mother earth. Instead I was looking for an aspect of AI, a technology designed to buzz and fly in crude imitation of bird flight , fun in the hands of an 11 year old and a weapon of destruction in the hands of our military. Such is the dance of life where some create to destroy and others create in honour of all of life .
This summer of rain and storms aptly defined by the channel billed cuckoo aka stormbird that screeches over our heads and cheeky willie wagtail chittering and jiggling its tail at us offers green hope and fertility. Figs are swelling and ripening, butter beans zucchinis cucumbers are picked and potatoes freshly dug covered in warm mother earth nourishes our bellies.
And so it is time to farewell that which no longer serves us making a space for the unknown to reveal our true path; having set our course thru stars genealogies patterns via kinship and kindness we weave our tomorrow out of the fabric of oneness and intend a world that we wish our grandchildren’s grandchildren to inherit .
outside the kitchen door a few broken egg shells on the floor I cup them in my hand look up at the mud nest hugging the wall baby swallows have emerged parents zoom in and out in and out in and out.
welcome swallows back in July they turned up and began the renovation a bit early I thought but one tiny dob of mud at a time they added to the nest wall.
life it’s a miracleÂ
these small soft shells held the future of beak eyes wings feathers of migration nest building food gathering, this small soft shell held a vulnerable being not much larger than a walnut made of soft bones and the promise of flight.
on ground level skinks are leaving their hidey holes and lying about in the Sun chasing each other in a never ending flash of bronze scales .
baby wallabies and baby kangaroos bounce past gazing out from their pockets the tribe growing bigger since The Fire reduced their numbers. trees ignited by that fire now densely packed coppices push against gravity to reach the Sun, to seed and bear fruit.
spring bounces along with verve and commitment in The Forest. and beyond that fear is welded in place and coercion is perfectly justified. one has to inquire since when did sickness become a crime?
elderflower opens no discrimination giving all.
…. ……. … time to be attentive to remember who we are. Rise and shine stretch into tomorrow with open heart and mind make the world a brighter place make it happen for yourSelf.
let us hop in and play turn the tables into chairs the saucers into cups the flat into an ashram and a dream into reality.
find the off button and use it pick up the broadcast of wind and stars nod to the trees whispering lie on the ground attend your breath feel the sun on bare flesh the slide of water on skin watch clouds leaves change colour notice bees fly hear birds singing.
toot toot climb aboard the earth train pausing at all stations let go of the clock the week the timetable the news the feeds the lattes.
break the habit of thinking of worry of talking pause breathe again. make the moment your ally it will hold your hand comfort you always be there for you .
the moment of Presence never fails never leaves you, it is your power and glory your hope and redemption your canvas and paintbrush ready to receive your mark of the blueprint of you as divine being.
The old story built on lies forced down peoples throats regurgitated and deified swallowed and perpetrated becomes ever more nasty.
australia today
The people are the problem if only they would behave if only they would tow the line stay in their place of servitude , lip service and compliance.
australia today
we The People serve serve the Truth The Light of The Divine The Most Holy of Mysteries that which animates our Breath and whispers in our Heart.
Earth today
We may have been born slaves but consciousness evolves we hold the space for Truth to Shine for Love to Embrace for Light to Radiate.
Earth today
Take cover bullies your run is over lies crumble to chalk under the spotlight of The Sword of Truth.
Aum on bedroom window
It is shameful the misinformation lies bullying mandating censorship the rubber bullets and pepper spray the denial of liberty in what has been referred to as a democracy.
When it is said it is for our own good we know from past experience from the lessons of history that we are being lied to.
9 million died under the purge of witches- wise women healers midwives mothers tortured and exterminated because malicious forces invented stories of devil worship.
And so we pray:
May all Beings be peaceful May all Beings be happy May all Beings be safe May all Beings awaken to the light of their true nature May all Beings be Free.
first day of lockdown I tell the magpies spread the word flocking together is banned a tilt of the head a quizzical look throat opens and a ripple of pure sound pours forth.
I tell the bush rats they have to leave we are only allowed five visitors or is it none? hard to keep up with “The Rules” too bad they answer stealing another cake of my homemade soap from the washbasin.
gosh not much interest in the forest no social distancing in the bottle brush forget sanitiser and masks look plain ridiculous on birds so……. a human only affair then.
the hills rivers clouds in the sky continue Being the raven flies across the valley calling out frogs at the dam chorus rain is coming next door Warren and the tractor are busy.
how many realities are there? what if there is no one size fits all? what if it is a mosaic of brilliant orchestrated pieces interconnected in a design we are unable to fathom? what if this moment of breath is what we own? And what if we are co-creating this lockdown drama?
it has been a while has it not since we last met up, here we are – once again in a circle holding hands . the faerie embassy is emerging from its winter snuggy unfurling into a windy spring. welcome swallows are renovating a nest on the mud wall outside the kitchen daffodils nod in brilliant yellows around the yard tiny swollen blossom buds on the one surviving peach tree are almost fit to burst . the grey shrike thrush sings magpies strut about on the verandah stand on the back of the rocking chair and carol look in thru the glass door at us begging in a very proud and aristocratic way.
the heart tenderness of spring new life rising – poignant bitter sweet in a forest deep in recovery after the fire the regeneration is fierce, weeds prolific and many dead trees to remind us of the blaze.
Poem
Death comes knocking at her door unprepared innocence answers a beloved companion does not return grief surges without tidal restraint and the day is no longer a friend.
Tragically Chloe guide dog for 8 years to daughter Elsie died words cannot fill the hole sadly Chloe chose to leave on Elsies birthday it reminds how precious every moment we share with our beloveds is.
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code red humanity code red obviously we needed to hear it again we needed it to be spelt out loud and clear if ever there was a time to make some changes now is the hour.
Poem
Unseen
by the shining Sea we sit in liquid silence of silver light unseen the stars weave a quilt our breath a stitch holds on tight.
by the shining Sea we pray regret and suffering come to rest yin and yang circle around hearts remember all are blessed.
by the shining Sea we are immersed within the golden mean a Song emerges from the stars and we who Sing remain unseen.
months have tripped by and life has been unravelling stitch by stitch only to be scooped up examined and mended where possible. post fire life has taken on a different quality and explanations are poor affairs when integration and trauma wrestle for space.
Here’s a tale ( but not all is told) of a man with a mission a dream realised of bravery high drama and fortitude of inspiration and love.
We had been waiting for hours finally a sighting, a white sail bobbing on a big swell crossing the foaming horses galloping into Horseshoe bay. a week since leaving Botany Bay My beloved is almost home. the wind threatening will not allow hats scarves or the use of binoculars hair stinging against cheeks.
Kingston wants to sit in the car play with his ipod. Why love? its windy grandma. heaven help me look here comes grandad he doesnt realise having an adventure at 73 turning your world upside down sailing an ocean tackling your fears giving up comforts hang on a minute, he has a teapot and cosy chocolate cheese and paisley curtains books and charts on bulging shelves a feather pillow for sweet dreams.
Sailing past the heads where is he going grandma? just checking out the bar love no room to get this wrong not on this wild day.
Midsummer blood sport in Bermagui a crowd on the cliff top on a ferociously windy day watching the trawlers, pleasure boats, fisherfolk bump and wobble cross the bar, ooohs and aaahhs chasing.
A tiny 24 foot blue boat Telemachus remember him son of Penelope and Odysseus, went looking for his dad found him, they teamed up and beheaded all of Mums suitors.
The ocean thrashing around wind scudding and bold, Telemachus is caught out on the turn lurches and leans over, Kingston squeals grabs me they are designed to roll I say heart in mouth.
come on love you can do it you’re home love you can do it some madwoman is screaming oh gosh that was me.
All round us people are jabbering phones clicking videos streaming mad as a cut snake this bloke why doesn’t he put his engine on? has he got a phone? goddess help me sever their heads.
The pitching blue boat lines up the bar hand fixed to tiller white sail snapping in the wind. Telemachus rises up bounces falls rises again catches a single moment of calm and sails elegantly through the heads into the harbour. he nailed it grandma. indeed he did.
Thunderous applause claps and cheers from awed bystanders puzzles the tired captain.
all the way from Sydney to Bermagui our hero and no suitors to behead. January 25, 2021.
the faerie embassy 