Q : quotes

On April 19, 2018 By faeriembassy2 Comments

“the threads of words make a river of understanding” John in September 07.

when I told him I had come across this in a journal the other day he said ‘I didn’t say that’. oh yes you did because I wrote it down but unfortunately I have no idea what the reference is.

“you’re not buying my cake” Elsie middle daughter and best friend of guide dog Chloe. She was probably aged about 5 at the time. market day in Bermagui sharing a stall with her sisters. they had made a garish collection of cakes with lurid pink and blue and green icing . privately I considered them inedible but they were made with a great deal of mess and buckets of enthusiasm.

“wait for the moment of inspiration” Jess sister of Elsie and mother of Haydee and the little King . perhaps this is why she is such an excellent midwife.

“I wouldn’t give you a quid for it” Murray father of Sandra , great grandfather of the little king and his sister, aged 91 and going strong thank you. always very definite with his views is dad. in case you are wondering a quid refers to a pound note which was the currency until the change to decimal in 1967.

‘I want that one but that’s too big.’

‘I want that one but that’s so tiny.’

the big spoon and the little spoon. imagine a little child eating her porridge with the table spoon or, using a teensy spoon reserved for mustards perhaps, never anything in the mid range . that would be Zoe youngest daughter married last year to Kean and mother of Frankie.

‘tell the river a story’ Sandra.

If I published a book I think this would be the title.

“must be time for elevenses” says Greg, father of the little king and his sister. in other words morning teatime. got an excellent attitude to food and music and can be found at http://sugarsounds.com.au

“whas ‘at ” translated means what’s that and played on frequent rotation. Frankie aged two and a half, a fizzing popping jumping ball of happy energy. She takes a bite out of every piece of fruit available just as her mum used to.

“you’ve got to risk it for the biscuit” Kean father of Frankie likes to say on scrabble nights. he also says “its all about me”.

P : past place power and pie bird

On April 18, 2018April 18, 2018 By faeriembassy4 Comments

the past is a place we visit but not somewhere we want to live. we travel there to reflect, learn and let go, leave a burden behind or, to reinforce our grudge stories so that we can carry on feeling miserable and filled with hate.

we might find that the path we were on led us in a circle and that we have returned to the beginning with a greater depth of understanding. we might discover that what seemed a terrible time actually served us in some way.

there are stories told and acting out upon this Planet that no longer serve us, not you not me not the Great Mother and most certainly not the Grandchildren . conflicts exact a toll upon the land and the Peoples, the guns are sold the missiles are fired the bombs are dropped . despite all the rhetoric for Peace this story is never going to have a happy ending.

is this even important? isn’t a happy ending something for fairy tales, for children for hollywood , surely in the ‘real ‘ world we do not expect a happy ending.

and yet this feeling of happiness contentment is as common to us as breathing – why else do we have this felt capacity for it?

with the light of the Present moment we can honour our journey thru the badlands and the sweet place of surrender and mercy that we arrive at – the place where we feel free enough of our past to choose truth and respect for all beings.

there are People who stand up and act ,many who are not captured on tele or facebook or make it to newsprint or mentioned in a blog, many who seek to protect place, protect the planet, protect the future. these are the invisible acts of Power .

a community saves a whale, someone stops beside a roadkill and rescues the baby from the pouch, a person picks rubbish up off a beach , a small child is prevented from running out onto the road, a pensioner gives a stranger a lift a meal a bed a smile, somewhere a parent identifies abuse and names the teacher the priest the doctor , soup is delivered to a family bereaved , a woman refuses to be hit anymore and speaks out, friends get together and make gardens hold fundraisers for flood victims, a company identifies its waste cleans up its act and plants trees in a park for the people…

everywhere random acts of kindness are taking place, shaping us as humans, gladdening our hearts and healing our differences. it is a common thread woven into the fabric of human existence .

against the odds, the tragedies the horrors the violence, we return again and again to the surface, daring to live life fully, to dream magnificently, to imagine a place a world a planet home, full of happy beginnings.

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last night we visited Haydee’s house taking an apple pie that John had baked using the pie bird I gave him last year. her Nanna and Poppy are visiting, it being the school holidays and the little king is home.

Haydee takes several steps on her own between her dad and me. we applaud .her head ducks a little in surprise and then she too claps , her face lights up and fills the room looking at each of her family in turn.

even the little king is impressed even though all he wants to do is talk fishing with granddad John.

delighted with our attentions Haydee takes centre stage and shows off her ball skills , her new friend red doll, the chewed copy of Miffy , wobbling bouncing chatting laughing she has a moment in the sun and we all laugh with her, delighted to be in the company of pure innocence and unfettered joy.

Watching the grandchildren explore the world reminds of the responsibility I hold , of their need for a beautiful world to play in, to breathe in – a world of generosity and sparkling rivers, of respect and ripe summer peaches, of love and friendships.

O : Oh great spirit

On April 17, 2018 By faeriembassy12 Comments

there is a cupboard in the kitchen and on the inside of one of the doors is this prayer…….

oh vintage

oh great spirit

creator of all

blessed be the big and

blessed be the small.

oh fire that warms and

water that cleanses

light that shines and

love that surrenders.

oh earth that provides and

air that breathes

hearts that declare and

minds that receive.

oh great spirit

friend and lover

blessed be the father and

blessed be the mother.

we give thanks.

N : Norman Kirk

1972 sitting in assembly.

I was 15 recently arrived at a new school – Onslow College.

the 7^th formers a radical bunch

(the counter-culture had arrived in New Zealand)

requested boys be able to have their hair whatever length they liked.

‘no’ said the principal.

‘will we accept no ? ‘ a lad asks.

‘no ‘ we all chanted.

we will stay here until our demands are met

and so we did.

it grew warm the hall got sticky – boredom set off missiles and

whispers became shouts .

the goodie goodies left and were attending classes with a serious lack of students.

a victory – boys no longer had to have the regulation short back and sides

we felt invincible – we felt like we could change the world.

we raised our voices about school uniforms and became the only coed high school in the greater Wellington region to wear whatever we liked.

a tide was turning and we were part of the vanguard.

this was the time of the Vietnam war and

nuclear testing in the Pacific Ocean by the French.

our other cry for protest was

the all blacks playing rugby with South Africa who discriminated on the grounds of race in choosing their team.

apartheid was abhorrent to a country struggling to deal with their colonial racism – a country that was striving to make amends and come together.

today there is a march in Wellington to protest against …..

‘you may not go’ said the principal.

we went, taking over the city stopping traffic waving banners.

I was home in time for dinner.

‘what is it all about ?’ asks Mum.

‘radioactivity fish islanders getting sick

earthquakes our backyard ocean.’

‘always been too arrogant those frogs’ says Dad.

‘tut tut’ says mum ‘they shouldn’t carry on like that.

and what has sport got to do with politics?’

‘racism Mum inequality.’

‘well we have to get rid of communism’ says Dad.

‘where will it all end?’ asks Mum.

still no answer on that one .

in 1972 Norman Kirk from a working class background and then leader of the labour party became New Zealand’s 29th prime minister.

in a government characterised by action on behalf of the common people he withdrew our remaining troops from Vietnam. he abolished compulsory military training and in a speech to the UN was highly critical of the U.S. and their involvement with the coup d’etat in Chile.

suddenly New Zealand was coming of age. it seemed for a brief period of time that there was a meld between the people and the government to stand up – together.

although Norm had said in the election campaign that he would not interfere in the proposed tour by the Springboks, the passionate vocal protests and the potential for violence changed his mind.The tour was cancelled.

NZ took France to the International Court of Justice but this did not deter them from nuclear testing at Mururoa Atoll. Norman Kirk sent two navy frigates in protest with a member of parliament on board ( his name picked out of a hat) along with our fervent prayer and wishes for an end to this atrocity.

there was a sense in the air of revolution, an opportunity to right wrongs, for justice to prevail.

1974 Norman Kirk died in office and the country mourned – he was a big man with a way of looking into something so deeply that much became possible and he was not afraid to act.

On April 16, 2018 By faeriembassy8 Comments

M : earthMind

On April 14, 2018 By faeriembassy10 Comments

my family my house my land my country

my friends my school my view my space

my partner my guru my journey.

my therapist my doctor my hairdresser,

my job my money my business my rights.

we are adept at self identification.

my journal my blog my muse

my pain my wounds my diet my health

my church my religion my facebook

my birth,

and at some stage there will be my death.

me my mine

the possessive pronoun signifying ownership

possessive meaning an unwillingness to share.

there is your god and there is my god

your religion my religion

your politics my politics

your beliefs my beliefs

your faith my faith,

between the yours and the mine can be a division so profound that conflict war and suffering have been the result.

it is not that the use of my is wrong in and of itself though we could learn to use it less,

rather we can inquire why we feel an almost obsessive need to identify everything as belonging to me, my, mine.

am I so insecure so worthless that I need the assurance of all the ‘mine mine ‘ to validate my very existence.

earth mother gaia planet whatever you call her is sharing all of her ALL with us.

what we can do is learn to inhabit earthmind.

without denying our humanness we can cultivate coming from a deeper connection,

a planetary mind,

a mind that thinks from the space of all beings,

that thinks with oneness sharing and respect.

an earthmind that will hold sacred this planet unto seven generations.

an earthmind that knows human is but one of many and while currently dominating the landscape realises this holds no future .

how to cultivate earthmind?

fall in love with the tree out your window,

with a cloud with rain and storm,

with the flowers and birds in a park near you,

with roadside vegetation,

with a creek a river a beach an ocean,

with the spiders in your home and the ants in the gutter ,

with the grass under your feet and the stars above,

with any and all aspects of nature that happen upon your door that peer in thru your window

that offer themselves to you.

feel into the grass seed bending in the breeze ,

the raven on the power lines,

the moth circling the candle,

feel the water caress your skin the sun bathe your body and the rich earth smells tickle your nose.

think /feel as if you are the earth coming to know herSelf for in truth you are and she is

one.

L : Looking into space

On April 13, 2018 By faeriembassy10 Comments

looking into the mirror

catching a reflection of the outer surface thinking perhaps this is what others see when really all see thru the lens of their own heartmind.

labels of who we are become cast in stone like the monuments we place over a grave.

we carve the name the date and homily to make solid that persons presence but over a long long time it all fades, the writing the memories the weathering of the stone.

looking into space

and drawing forth the inspiration that serves the template of the formless warrior.

in some way we upset the apple cart, we veered from the path of the known. children forget, they assume we are there for them when in essence we are only here for our Selves.

truth gets lost in ego self-importance.

the children, the family, are the fodder we munch on to hone our capacities our abilities, our polishing of the Mirror of our Soul.

some time ago our family became embroiled in dark arrows, they flew thick and fast until the air we breathed festered and writhed with shadows and illusions.

negative emotions galloped out of the gate and threw hard balls hoping for a catch, to score a goal, to be thrown back . blame is convenient but only serves to muddy the waters and irritate the heartmind.

attachments self awareness

dependencies self appreciation

judgements self acceptance

comparisons self pleasure

expectations self love

needy child self actualization

ego self-importance impeccability

the seven dark arrows come out of our wounded selves supported by a society that honours them. given space and a willingness to reflect , the dark arrows will peter out, the light will ignite and with love will shine our path thru to warriors freedom.

Once I thought the idea was to completely exorcise the dark arrows as if it were as simple as that.

instead I realise they serve me, bringing me into awareness so that I may know them, so that I can remove the sting from the tail and reclaim my power – Becoming empowered .

in this way the labeling we are so fond of can be renamed, rejigged and seen as a garment that we can change whenever we choose.

such is warriors freedom.

looking into the mirror

we may catch a reflection of the Beauty of our Soul

and the divine nature of our Being.

aum

K : Kiwi reflection

On April 12, 2018April 12, 2018 By faeriembassy6 Comments

at five I walked to and from school – across the road thru the alleyway up and down a gully nicked thru a fence and across the playground.

the gully was really a stormwater drain , the suburb was solid working class with govy houses and my mother had aspirations.

returning home sometimes took a while .

where have you been?

I had to stop at Evas and see the kittens.

well come and have a snack.

can I have one?

what ?

can I have a kitten ?

no .

my mother said no all the time to that question until one day at the age of ten a kitten followed me home from the basketball courts and was busy cleaning itself on our porch before she could get the no word out.

knock knock on the door.

if it’s a friend of yours you are not going out again.

it is moana puarta .

I am twelve and had a crush on him .

he was our paper boy throwing ‘the evening post’ off his bike every evening and once a fortnight came to the back door to get the money.

I want to pay him.

well make sure you give him the right amount

and don’t forget the receipt.

early in the morning the bread van pulled up in the street and a loaf was placed in the letterbox. a thin sheet of greaseproof paper was wrapped around the middle of the loaf. my sandwiches for school were then made which was a slice of devon and a smear of tomato sauce or vegemite and lettuce.

in the evenings the milk was delivered – it came in glass bottles pint or half pint size with the cream sitting at the top which we squabbled over. my job was to place the empties and the correct change out at the letterbox. a boy ran up collected the empty bottles counted the change and raced back to the truck grabbed the full bottles back to our letterbox and on to the next neighbour.

on a weekly basis came a small vege truck that pulled up outside our house and taking a basket we climbed up a couple of steps into the back and selected our produce. the veges and fruit were weighed and placed directly into the basket and we handed over the money.

simple transactions , low in footprints.

the Rawleighs man visited every few months – he had a basket of salves and liniments and goodness knows what else –Mum allowed him into the kitchen where he talked about the latest product over a cup of tea.

on Guy Fawkes traditionally November 5^th in NZ we made a guy out of old clothes which we stuffed with paper or sawdust , then we put him in a pram or wheelbarrow depending on our age and how big we were. late afternoon early evening we prowled around our the neighbourhood singing.

“a penny for a guy

a penny for a guy

if you don’t have a penny a ha’penny will do

if you don’t have a ha’penny

god bless you.”

and later that night someone would have a bonfire and we would throw Guy the straw man on and watch him burn.

we bought fireworks from our local milk bar – skyrockets, double bangers ,roman candles, catherine wheels, jumping jacks, all very cheap and dazzled us with their fizz colour and danger.

this day was about celebrating Guy Fawkes who along with his mates plotted to blow up Britain’s Houses of Parliament with 36 barrels of gunpowder. the plot failed and Guy who then dobbed in his mates was hung drawn and quartered.

I no longer live in the kiwi heartland but the kiwi heartland still lives within me.

today my prayers are with my dear dear sister Kay as she undergoes radical surgery in Waikato Hospital. in times like these distance becomes a tyranny.

J : Jellybean Road

On April 11, 2018 By faeriembassy8 Comments

There was a song by Peter Combes ( childrens songwriter and entertainer) called Jellybean Road and in the song he mentions a Jessica and a Rebecca . It was 1986 and John and I were neighbours with my daughters Jessica and Elsie and Johns daughters Rebecca and Zoe. We decided to name our winding track thru and into the forest to our homes “Jellybean Road.”

“When Rebecca goes to kindy
She hops with her Mum
She stops with her Mum
And then they run and they run and they run
To the top of Jellybean Road.

When Jessica goes to kindy
There’s no time to play
She races all the way
With a hurry and a scurry and a rush
To the top of Jellybean Road
And she calls out to her Mum, “Come on Mrs Slowcoach!”

http://www.petercombe.com.au/songs

A proper road sign was made and painted in rainbow colours. The neighbours were invited. A hole was dug and jellybeans were poured in ,the sign was tamped into place and we celebrated. There was scones jam and cream thermos of tea ,sandwiches and jellybeans . Small children biggled on picnic blankets and the bigger ones ran around with dogs, whooping and laughing while the adults chatted and smiled to see such fun.

There is no sign anymore, it was taken down some years ago, though the name has stuck and become an icon to the many souls that have passed thru here . Now it is home and hearth to the next generation .

And so the Journey of Jellybean Road continues with forest and family,

with laughter and tears,

with love and silence,

with plenty birds and creatures

life in all its misery and glory,

in all its aspects.

I :I am breathing

On April 10, 2018April 10, 2018 By faeriembassy4 Comments

Today I have been assisting John in building a mudbrick wall in the shed that is being renovated . I love the whole squelchy muddy business,laying the bricks and packing mud in between. These bricks were originally in the house and came out when we pulled some walls down – they must be about 34 years old and still going strong -you gotta love mud bricks .

Next door farmer Warren is slashing paddocks with his tractor having just bought the farm on the western side of us. Not only that he has someone else over there on another machine that I suspect is taking down trees. so it is Warren to the north the west and also to the east but at least Christa is in between us there. Christa rang last night to chat about this development in our patch of paradise, she will have him on two sides of her as well.

Apparently he sprays poison three or four metres over the boundary fence into her place, ‘I have asked him three times not to do that and he doesn’t take any notice’ she tells me.

Jess mother of the little king and his sister said when she heard the news ‘well he’ll be surrounded by more of our love I guess. ‘ And I thought that was a very lovely way of dealing with this shock but now as I sit here listening to him and his noisy machines that seem so close to us – I know I should never have complained about the fridge.

We do not see eye to eye.

Warren is an old school monoculture farmer mostly cows and a few sheep,with no idea about sustainable land management. In fact I am not at all impressed by his style which includes harassing his animals and poisoning and shooting wildlife. The other night Helen wife of Warren rang and said we are putting 1080 baits out tomorrow to take care of the foxes.

Not quite what I consider care is but I knew where she was coming from . Thank you for telling me Helen. I will pass it on.

don’t go there foxes don’t go there kangaroos dont go there wombat stay well away…

I am being seriously challenged here to meet this moment and not devolve into whining and negative self-righteous behaviour. ok just as long as you know that I really want to go there.

Instead I look forward to our future discussions. Warren likes straight and new –twenty plus years ago he had to take us to court to get his straight and new fence line on the northern boundary and now we have another 800m to chat about. A couple of winters ago John and I spent some months renovating that 100-year-old fence with its beautiful red gum posts. We used barbed wire because that’s what farmers want around here, strained it and turned an old tumble down fence into something that kept the cows out. I admit I am very proud of our work. However it may be like a red rag to a bull for warren . not straight enough for starters.

I am breathing…….

H: Happy Birthday Haydee

On April 9, 2018 By faeriembassy5 Comments

It is one year today since the little kings sister Haydee arrived in our lives.

born at home while grandad baked bread and the midwives had cups of tea.
I thought it was a dream said Kingston this morning. Grandad woke me up but then I went back to sleep and next morning I went into the bedroom and there you were he tells Haydee in my spot in the bed. she yabbers back and tries to catch his finger.

almost walking she loves holding hands and tottering around wearing our backs out with a big grin plastered on her face.

Of course her brother loves her to bits and she returns the adoration wanting to participate in everything he plays with. He has learnt to keep his bedroom door shut because when she spies it open quick as a crawling flash she is there sitting on her knees jumping up and down in the middle of his lego kingdom disrupting battle lines and tucking star wars heroes into her mouth.

it is quiet

where’s haydee

I thought she was with you

I thought you had her

haydeeee haydeee haydee

there you are

oooh you’re in big trouble now little one.

if the young king finds her in his room the noise level escalates. first Kingston tries to fob her off with bunny or building site the penguin or in desperation his best friend red dog , but disdainfully she bats the offerings away. next he pries lego from her mouth and hands- getting louder now as she moves into full-blown resistance. finally with a yell of frustration and a call to mum to help him out he picks her up and dumps her somewhere else.

mortally offended she cries gets picked up and soothed offered something else and not one to hold a grudge moves on to explore another world another possibility but if that door is open ….

the verandah is super cool for throwing things over the edge and watching them fall. a couple of times she has tried hooking her leg over as if to climb off it but gets hauled back and told to take the steps .

mischievous most certainly , happy definitely but golly gosh can she growl.

if she can’t have something or doesn’t want to do something some difference of opinion in any way she grrrrrrr owls loudly and clearly clenching her chubby fists.

it is cute and we laugh which sometimes disarms her and sometimes intensifies the growling.

Haydee is a formidable being totally at ease and comfortable within her family and the world.

what a gift to all of us.

and I pray

that we may continue to create a beautiful world for her to grow into

a world where rivers taste fresh and fish swim free,

a world where forests grace the land

and all beings are treated with respect,

a world of sweet air and organic veges,

of grace and laughter,

of kindness and adventure,

of love and peace.